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In
the varied lands of the Western Mountains, many people and creatures
live their day to day lives; men and women of Rohan tend their crops and
look after their farms and animals, Ents and Huorns shepherd their
trees in Fangorn and the forests around the Southern tip of the Misty
Mountains, Isengard maintains its outward appearance of wisdom and
helpfulness whilst behind the scenes Saruman secretly plots his evil
plans, Moria is plagued by orcs, trolls and Durin's Bane. It is a land
of many tales and here is where you can tell them.Are
you one of the people or creatureswho inhabits the region or are you
just passing through on your own journey? Do you have a story to tell?
Are youhonest and hardworking or are you less reputable? An inhabitant
of Moria or wisened Ent or even a broodingHuornor are you under
Saruman's secret command?How do you live your life? What is your
story? Where does it occur and does it take you anywhere else? This
thread is where anyone can post their story, adventures or day to day
life. Where you can post your thoughts or
actions. Where you can
interact with others or just plot your way across the region on you own.
You choose how to tell
your story.RulesOpen to everyone.It is a free RP but ensure it is in the spirit of Tolkien.Place your location at the top of your post.White out any OOC comments at the end of your post.Use your imagination and have fun.



Edited by: Rowena Annis
  1. Equitatus's Avatar
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    #101







    A Small Village in the Westfold<?: prefix = o ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" />

    NPCs Henel and Family
    "Bring in the baskets from outside,
    quarter and core the apples, and then put them in this pot."
    The words of his aunt
    echoed in his ears as Henel pulled the heavy baskets of apples inside, took out
    a knife, and began quartering the fruits, tossing them into a large pot after
    doing so. The small kitchen, a building separate from the house thank Bema, was
    sweltering. His aunt stood by another large pot, stirring a mass of bubbling,
    steaming apples. Henel was soon coated in sweat as he continued to quarter and
    core the apples for nearly two hours. How many apples he quartered and cored,
    he did not know. He lost count after one hundred and three.Finally, Henel reached into the pot and
    found that there was not a single apple to be had. "That's all of them
    aunt."
    he proclaimed joyfully."Good." said his aunt.
    "Now go into the cellar and get the curds hanging so we can have some with
    our breakfast."
    "But aunt-" protested Henel.

    "The sooner you
    finish, the sooner we can eat our dinner and be done for the day."
    she said firmly. Hanging
    his head, Henel reluctantly headed to the cellar, stepping down the cool stone steps into the darkness beneath. He didn't like the cellar much as it was always dark and scary. Depending on what food she had stored, his aunt would ocassionally let one of the cats roam the room to ensure there were no mice present. He never could see the slinky things and had stepped on one more thanonce, much to his fear and distress at the time.Henel walked to the opposite end of the cellar, pulling back the curtains on a tiny window that was found there to allow alittle bit of light to shine in the cellar. He got to work on the clean buckets that held large amounts of separated milkwhich had been inoculated with who-knew-whatto become cheese. Moving quickly as he was not fond of the smell, Henel poured the cheese-to-be into large clothes, joined the ends of the cloth together, tied a piece of string around them, and hung them from hooks located at the roof of the cellar. He used clothes to keep the fine curd from dripping through with the whey, but he was saddenedto realize thathe still needed to use a stool to reach the hooks. Henel hoped that he would soon be tall enough to reach the hooks on his own, but he obviously was not tall enough yet.His final task finished, Henel joyfully closed the curtain over the little window in the cellar and bounded up the steps on his way out. "Aunt!" he shouted over the loud kitchen noises. "I finished!""She went back to the house to get dinner ready." said Geferan, who was standing in the kitchen."Oh." said Henel. "Are you pleased with yourself that I ended up doing the cheese this time?""Definitely." said Geferan playfully. "It's a task that only the small are honored with.""Ha ha, thanks." said Henel sarcastically. "Now, let's go eat. I'm hungry!"





    Edited by: Equitatus

  2. Amonrandir's Avatar
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    #102
    The Fords of Isen

    When Maldunril awoke the sun had nearly reached its zenith in the cloud-strewn sky. He glanced about, startled. He had dreamt of his brother, still a captive of the Orcs, somewhere deep in the Misty Mountains. Such dreams had haunted him for years, since he left Bree. But he could not tarry at the fords pondering them. He needed to continue eastward through the gap of Rohan. Maldunril arose gripping his staff and walked to the river bank. He filled his flask from the river, splashing some of the clear cold water on his face. Some said that the springs of Isen were poisoned by some sorcery of Saruman's devising, and refused to drink that which flowed from Nan Curunir. Maldunril believed none of these tales, and never shunned Isen's icy water. When his bottle was full he crossed the fords into the Westfold, warmed by the noonday sun.

    The road soon took a southeasterly direction, so that the distant foothills of the Misty Mountains disappeared behind him. The towering slopes of Ered Nimrais now erupted on his right, while on his other side the land fell away into the rolling plains of Rohan. Far off, beyond the grassy expanse of the Westfold, though even Maldunril's keen eyes could not discern it, lay Fangorn. He had heard many tales of that forest, the home of countless unknown terrors, filled with the malice of the elder days. As to whether most of the fables were actually true, Maldunril had his doubts, but he did not wish to find out. He knew little about Fangorn and wished to know less. The one time that he had drawn nigh to the eaves of that wood, he had felt its antiquity heavy in the air, and a strange feeling of foreboding had fallen over him like a veil. No, he knew that wherever his path led him, there it would not go.

    Maldunril turned his eyes back on the road ahead and allowed his mind to wander. It was still many miles to Edoras, and he hoped to be there by the morrow. As the sun slowly sank from its peak towards the sea, he could just make out the fork that led away from the main road to the refuge of Helm's Deep.





  3. Fiery Mommy Row's Avatar
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    #103


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    A Farm in the West Emnet



    Harvest time had come around. The days were growing shorter, the nights
    growing longer, and it seemed all Audley had time to do these days, well was
    deal with his pregnant and unruly wife.
    He loved her with all his heart, that was for certain, and she had been
    through a lot, half of it while she was pregnant, including the near death of
    her beloved sister. But the incessant
    need for Audley to wait on her hand and foot, he was tired of it. So when harvest arrived, and he had to make
    excuses to Rowena so he could teach all the new help how to harvest grain and
    then prepare the lands for winter, it was actually a relief. Unfortunately though, harvest was also coming
    to a close, and the first chills of winter were starting to make their rounds.


    So there Audley sat, milking Ainsley, trying to keep his
    mind off Rowena and her insatiable need for pickled onions on apple
    scones. Unfortunately, all he could see
    when he looked at Ainsley was milk. And that just reminded him of how Rowena
    was pregnant with twins. Nursing twins
    would be next to impossible, and he certainly did not have the kind of money
    where he could hire two wetnurses. That
    was something only the wealthy of Rohan could afford. And while he was not poor, he certainly was
    not abundant with wealth either. So poor
    Ainsley probably would be giving all her milk to those little babies Rowena had
    inside her.


    Behind Audley, the stable door opened, letting in a small
    breeze. Heavy steps made their way
    inside, and soon a coarse hand, hardened by hard labor, made its way to
    Audley’s shoulder. It wasn’t until the
    hand was on Audley’s shoulder that he noticed he had company. He quickly glanced at the hand and said
    simply,
    ‘Yes, Papa? Shoulnin’t ye be
    checkin’ on Finian n’ makin’ sure he ain’t switchin’ the straw fer ‘ay ‘gin?’

    The grey haired man, chuckled a little and then said as he
    looked down at his son, the only child he had left.
    ‘Yeah, I gonna do ‘at inna minute… I jus’
    wanned ta talk ta ye, son.’

    Audley rolled his eyes fairly certain he already knew what
    it was going to be about. His father usually was quite jovial, and easy going, but there was one thing that Audley had done in his life that Cyril wasn't very happy with.
    ‘Okay, Papa,
    talk. I’se lis’nin.’

    Cyril’s normal jovial manner instantly seemed to leave him,
    and he grew solemn.
    ‘Lissen ‘ere son. I
    likes Rowena n’ all, she’s the sweetes’ lass I e’er met, nexta yer Mama a
    course. But I dun approve of ‘ow ye gone
    n’ done things with ‘er. Mos’ parents
    woulnin’. I’se glad ye married her affer
    ye dun got a kid inner—‘

    Audley instantly interrupted him. ‘Papa, I’se tol’ ye afore,
    n’ I’ll tell ye ‘gin. I dinnin’ marry
    ‘er cause I done gone n’ gots ‘er knocked up.
    I married ‘er cause I love ‘er.
    N’ I’se tell ye this. I know I
    ain’t tol’ ye it much afores, but I’se tell ye nows. Marshal Dragon-helm assigned her guards cause
    a ‘at very man been causin’ ‘er so much trouble. I waren’t married, n’ the other guard was, so
    I been the only one who coul’ be with ‘er night n’ day. N’ I was.
    I stayed with ‘er through all dem nightmares she done got ev’ry
    night. I held her when she needed a
    sholler ta cry on. I let her fight me
    till I was black n’ blue whens she thoughts I got overprotective. I fell in love with ‘er, Papa, n’ ‘ventually
    she done fell fer me. We only courted a
    few short months afores we gots married.
    It was small then, cause it been all we could spare with the fest’val
    comin’ up. N’ Papa, I know ye ain’t
    ne’er gonna approve a how we done things, but I will never take back dem nights
    when Rowena asked me ta hold her n’ comfort her cause a dem nightmares. I’d do it all o’er ‘gin.’

    Cyril gave short grunt. ‘Audley son, it ain’t right what ye did. No matter ‘e circumstances, but I ain’t here
    ta lecture ye on yer past with ‘is gal.
    I wanna know when ye gonna make a right man outta yerself n’ marry her
    righ’.’

    Audley sighed. ‘Iffin’ ye mean ‘ave a big traditional
    weddin’ Papa, ye’ll be waitin’ a long time.
    Rowena ain’t one fer ‘avin’ a big weddin’. She quite happy with our small weddin’ n’
    celebratin’ with our friends in the Aethelmund.
    N’ sides, like it or not, we IS married, n’ its ‘ficial. Jus’ cause we ain’t ‘ad no fancy weddin’
    likes ye want, dun me we ain’t married proper.’

    Cyril hmmphed as he folded his arms. ‘Audley, ye needa git
    that gal ta marry ye inna big weddin’ so’s we all’s kin share innit.’

    Audley looked at his father with a raised eyebrow. ‘Really,
    ye think NOW is a good time ta ‘ave a weddin?
    Ye seen my Annie lately? I dun
    think she coul’ really wear a weddin’ dress proper right now.’

    Cyril looked at Audley incredulously. ‘Really, a dress done stop ye from ‘avin’ a
    real weddin’? Where’s yer manhood,
    son? Yer Mama still kin sew like none
    other, she affer all sewed Rowena’s fest’val dress.’

    Audley grimaced. ‘Ye know what Papa, ye try talkin’ ta my
    apple scones with pickled onions obsesst wife, n’ see what kinna response ye
    git outta her…’

    Cyril eyed him as if trying to see if he was serious, and
    then turned on his heels.
    ‘Maybe I will!’ He then muttered, ‘He ain’t got his
    stubbornness from me, ‘at’s all ‘is Mother, ‘ats fer sure.’

    Audley shouted back, ‘I heard ‘at Papa, n’ act’ly iffin this
    conversation been anythin’ ta go by, I got it from ye.’

    Cyril couldn’t help but crack a smile. ‘Still askin’ yer
    wife about that weddin’, son.’

    Audley shook his head and then moved his stool, standing,
    and grabbing the pail out from under Ainsley.
    He smiled to himself and took the creamy milk back to the kitchen, and
    handing it off to Darylene.
    ‘Take kire a
    the milk, n’ then check on Finian fer me?
    Papa has it innis head he has ta try n’ upset yer Mama.’

    Darylene chuckled. ‘I dun see that goin’ ta well. Mama gonna ‘ave ‘im onna floor in no time
    ‘tall.’

    Audley nodded. ‘I agree, hence the reason I gotta stop
    it.’ He kissed his daughter on the
    cheek, and then whispered,
    ‘Make sure you have some of those pickled onions and
    apple scones ready… I predict a scream for them any—‘

    ‘AAAAAAAAAAUDLEY!!!!!!!!’ A hoarse voice called.

    ‘And there’s my cue.’
    He ran off to the bedroom where he found Rowena trying to sit up, but
    having a hard time by herself. He put a
    finger to her lips and whispered,
    ‘Shhh darling, I’m here.’

    Rowena looked at her husband with tears in her eyes and a
    look of frustration on her face. She laid back down and signed weakly at him
    .
    ‘I am so big I cannot do anything myself.
    And I am nowhere even near being close to delivering these babies!’

    Audley shed his clothing, leaving him in his undergarments,
    and then crawled back into bed with his wife, just holding her tenderly.
    ‘Annie, shh.
    Its gonna be all righ’. I’se here ta help, n’ frankly, I love ‘elpin’
    ye.’

    Rowena frowned. ‘But it means I am weak,’ she gestured as
    she looked at Audley.


    Audley couldn’t help but chuckle a little at that remark.
    ‘Darlin’… Ye ain’t weak. Look at ye, ye
    carryin’ twins. N’ ye still is able ta
    heal like no one I know, n’ by Bema, I know ye kin still beat me with no
    weapons, as ye is,’ he whispered quietly.

    Rowena smiled, though it was clear she did not agree. She pressed her head into Audley’s chest and
    then let herself cry more, though she wasn’t entirely sure why she was crying.


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    Edited by: Rowena Annis

    Beadorhaelend/Third Marshal (Westmark)
    May the wind 'neath your hooves carry you swiftly; Bema grant you peace.

  4. Branomir's Avatar
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    #104
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    <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal">The eastfold[/b]

    The bowl of food remained untouched. She was indeed highly suspicious
    of him. Though it seemed a bit extreme, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal">Brano[/b]
    made no point of it. He had offered and if she’d rather go hungry than trust
    him that was her choice. Part of him even understood her in that respect. She
    also reminded him of himself by the long pauses she had when talking. A very
    pensive person that would let a word out without having turned it round a
    couple of times in her head first. He most certainly saw the value in that.

    She too now tried to place him. At first he looked slightly distracted,
    he was sure she would have as little success as he had had. But then she
    surprised him with a name. His eyes went momentarily wide as she named her
    sister. He tried to mask his unsolicited gesture, but he was pretty sure the
    perceptive stranger would have noticed. Just as he noticed when her hand moved
    to the weapon on her hip. It confirmed his needs to keep his guard up. He
    looked puzzled when she mentioned having lost track of said sister, but that
    wasn’t the part that really interested him. The first name meant nothing to
    him, he hadn’t served with her, not closely anyway. But her last name, that was
    a different matter all together. But like his companion, <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal">Branomir [/b]wasn’t all that keen on disturbing ghosts from the pasts.
    His curiosity was too hard to ignore though.

    <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">“I’m afraid I do not know your sister any
    more than I know you,” [/i]he replied. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">“So,
    you’re a Beorhtlig then?” [/i]he tried to ask casually. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">“I’ve heard of them.”[/i]

    He listened more carefully as she continued talking though no more
    alarms were set off as she spoke. His face showed genuine empathy when she
    spoke of her injured horse and his eyes shortly dwelled to Nihtsceadu.

    <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">“A rider on foot? Now that simply won’t
    do,”[/i] he quipped. “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">I am sorry to hear
    about your mount though. I hope he makes a swift recovery. You haven’t been
    back long yourself then? Cavalry business?”[/i] he asked though he knew that it
    were so, she wouldn’t tell him about it. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">“I
    can understand your need for peace and quiet as well as your other needs. I’ve
    stopped at my old home on the way over. But I had Nihtsceadu. It sounds like a
    long trek to me. If you’d like, you can join me back to Edoras, I’m sure my
    horse could carry us both, we’ll go slower but faster than you would on foot I
    imagine. As I said before, you can spend the night in my camp if you wish, so
    you needn’t give me an answer right away.”[/i] He stretched and yawned. He
    didn’t intend to remain up all that much longer.

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    If by my life or death I can protect you, I will.
    <br />Veteran of the Sceaduwigends

  5. Gecko's Avatar
    Counsellor of Isengard
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    #105
    The Eastfold

    As the silence stretched between them, Gecko pulled her own pack free of her shoulders and settled it down between her feet. The leather was scruffy and scraped in places but that was to be expected, she supposed. Gecko had carried it with her when she left Mordor after all and she'd spent many long months in the wilderness trying to come to terms with things. Even now she was still trying to make the two parts of her life come back together in some semblance of normalcy. That was what had led her to begin traveling toward her families home in the Eastfold. Part of her needed to see that place, needed to let the memories wash over her. Gecko wasn't certain what she expected to happen but it seemed important that she do this and deal with that part of her life. She was no longer that foolishly hopeful, fearless child that had ridden way to join the cavalry. That girl had died long ago.

    To keep herself from the macabre thoughts, she undid the straps on her pack and reached inside. She still had a bit of the loaf of bread that she's purchased before leaving Edoras so she cut a small slice of it and balanced it on one knee before wrapping the bread back in its protective cloth. The small wheel of cheese she had purchased was also removed and quickly sliced before both were laid on her pack. She had other food stored in there, dried meat and fruit but they would keep much longer than the bread and cheese so she decided to save those for later. With her free hand, she indicated the food in Branomir's direction inviting him to have some if he wished. Perhaps he wasn't as suspicious of strangers as she was.

    When the traveler heard her sister's name, she saw a reaction in his eyes. There was a slight widening of his eyes, a faint catch in his breathing that said he knew her or knew something of her. Had she not spent years training in the torture pits in Mordor, she might have missed it but she had been. It did no good to have a torturer that couldn't read the minute signs of surprise, pain, or acknowledgment that flitted across a captive's face. If they couldn't discern what was true, they were useless in gleaning information or prolonging the emotional torture. Gecko had been skilled at both. It didn't surprise her that much that he said he didn't know her sister but once he said he knew of the Beorhtligs, she realized he might be telling the truth.

    "Which of us have you heard of," she asked curiously. It was relatively clear to her that the name had put him somewhat on edge and he was trying to make it appear that it hadn't. At least, that was how she saw it. While waiting for an answer, Gecko took a bite of her dinner and was somewhat saddened to find it wasn't nearly as tasty as it had been for lunch. Traveling in a leather pack certainly hadn't improved the flavor. "I had some adoptive brothers as well," she added helpfully to see if he would bite on the hint. To be honest, Gecko couldn't even remember who the brothers were. They had come after she had turned her back on Rohan; their existence had been revealed only during one of her forays back into Rohan. Perhaps Branomir had known one of them.

    "I can't really say as I'm still a Beorhtlig," she added cryptically. "It's been a while since I've been back and I've yet to run into any of them since my return." Gecko left out that she wasn't looking forward to the prospect of meeting any of them in Rohan. Ciarda had turned her back on the hope that Gecko would ever come back to the light and her mother--well, it was hard to tell where Allacan was these days. Perhaps she had been lucky enough to escape Mordor as well.

    Gecko couldn't help but chuckle softly at his quip about her being horseless. It was unusual to find a Rohir without their horse, she supposed but they weren't as necessary in Mordor and she had learned to do without for many things. As he spoke, she finished her small meal and took a drink from her water skin before responding.

    "I've only been back in Rohan a couple weeks," she hedged carefully. "You could say it was cavalry business that took me away though it was nothing official." Gecko let her words trail off as the man yawned and stretched. "Look at me running on like an old woman meeting her best friend in the marketplace. Talking your ear off and you're probably as tired as I am. I think I will take your offer to spend the night here, you have a pretty secure position and I'm not likely to find anything better in the dark. As long as you're sure?"
    Last edited by Gecko; 08/Feb/2013 at 04:22 PM. Reason: Fixing Formatting
    "A leader leads by example, whether or not he intends to."
    ~ Sperewigend ~

  6. Fiery Mommy Row's Avatar
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    #106
    Farm in the West Emnet
    Rowena wrinkled up her nose when
    Audley crawled back into bed with her. She was about to say something
    when the door opened wide revealing a frustrated Cyril. Rowena grimaced
    but merely waited for an explanation for the sudden intrusion.
    Nonetheless, her anger was clearly evident.
    Audley
    rolled his eyes as he noticed his father in the doorway. And he knew
    the very reason why his father was here too. He quickly sat up in bed,
    and then said coldly,
    'Ever heard a knockin' Papa?! I dun intrude on
    you n' Mama!'Cyril merely
    hmmphed at the scolding, and then replied,
    'At least you do SOMETHING
    right, then!' He then matter of factly continued, 'I have come to a
    decision. You two will have a proper wedding. Until then, you' he
    pointed at Audley
    , 'will sleep with me and your mother. As far as I'm
    concerned, you two are not married, and I will not condone...' He
    gestured to Audley and Rowena together,
    '...this.'This
    only served to annoy Rowena more. And everyone knew, an annoyed
    pregnant woman was NEVER a good thing. She looked at her husband and
    gestured fierce
    ly, 'Audley, come around here and help me up.' To her
    father-in-law she gave him an icy glare that dared him to try it. She
    would not let him take away her Audley. She already lost so much, she
    would not lose Audley too. He was hers, and no one would stop them from
    being together.
    Like Rowena
    had requested, Audley stood up and came around the bed. But unlike her
    request, it was not to help her up.
    'No, Annie, you just rest. I'll
    handle this.' He turned to his father and glared at him. 'You have no
    right to order me about. And you'll not separate us. We've been
    together since the moment Marshal Dragon-helm set me to guard
    her. That will never change. If you seek to change it, then you will
    have to find a new person to run the farm for you. For I WILL take
    Darylene and Rowena, and we will leave this farm.'<br id="yui_3_7_2_18_1352403578779_175">'Well
    then LEAVE! I don't care, but I will not have you two together in my
    house until you are married!' With that he stormed out of the room,
    slamming the door behind him as he left.
    Not even moments after Cyril stormed out, a small gentle knock sounded on the door. 'Papa?' came the soft voice.'Come
    in Dary,' Audley said, trying to quench the anger from his voice. How
    dare his father do such a thing. It wasn't like he and Rowena weren't
    married. They were! They just hadn't had a huge wedding like his
    parents expected.
    'Start packin' yer things, deore,' he told his
    daughter. A quick glance at his wife revealed her getting up to pack
    her things as well.
    'Annie, ye ain't doin' nuthin! I'll pack yer things
    fer ye.'Rowena shook her
    head and then gestured.
    'I don't have much, I can do it. You can lift it
    though, I promise. I do have a question for you though, where were you
    planning on going. I refuse to be a wanderer when I'm six and a half
    months withchild!'Audley gave an impish grin. 'You'll see. But worry not, we have a place.'Darylene looked at her father, 'It's finished?'Audley sighed, 'Not as much as I would have liked, but enough to live.'Darylene nodded. 'Good to hear! I'm excited to see it.'Rowena
    looked between the two, and frowned. Harsh gestures said to Audley,
    '
    Okay, since Darylene knows, you will tell me right this instant. It is
    not fair she knows more than I do about wherever we are going.
    Especially given I still have a village to care for!'Audley grinned. 'And your village will be coming with us... As we are going to your village.'Rowena folded her arms. 'I do not appreciate the jokes, Audley. You KNOW my village was destroyed.'Audley
    continued to grin, as he gestured, '
    It was, but no longer is. Did you
    not wonder where the men of your village would go for extended periods
    of time? We've been rebuilding it. Just as it was.'Rowena stared at him. 'You must be kidding,' she finally gestured, after a few moments.It
    was Darylene who next spoke. '
    He's not, Mama. He wanted you and him to
    be the village elders you are supposed to be. Not sitting here on a
    farm that doesn't really have enough room for all the people it
    contains. And your villagers aren't entirely happy, they aren't doing
    what they love. Neither are you. And as for Papa, he loves three
    things. You, me, and the Cavalry.'Rowena looked at Audley, then at Darylene, and
    then back to Audley. Upon seeing the looks on their faces, she
    determined they were serious.
    'Really?'She gave a faint trace of a
    smile.
    'I love you both!' She waddled over to both of them and gave
    them each a hug. To Audley, she also gave him a deep kiss.


    Beadorhaelend/Third Marshal (Westmark)
    May the wind 'neath your hooves carry you swiftly; Bema grant you peace.

  7. Branomir's Avatar
    Stablemaster of the Mark
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    #107
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    <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal">The eastfold [/b]

    Fatigue was more and more starting to take its toll on <b style="mso-bidi-font-weight:normal">Branomir. [/b]He had been riding for a very
    long time and even this conversation itself was somewhat exhausting. No matter
    what his unexpected guest would decide, tomorrow would be another long day on
    the road. He watched her casually as she began rummaging in her pack. It sure
    looked like it had seen plenty of use. This woman was not new to the road. He
    chuckled as she produced food of her own from it and raised an eyebrow when she
    offered it to him. So she wouldn’t trust him, but he was supposed to trust her?
    After a moment’s consideration, he realised that it would be rather
    hypocritical of him to harbour these judgemental thoughts and then proceed to
    follow her example. So he accepted her offer with a polite nod of the head. It
    actually didn’t taste half bad and he gestured as such.

    As she inquired about his connection to the Beorthligs, he quickly
    measured out in his mind how much he would be telling her. His connection with
    the Cavalry was tentative at best and he was still somewhat weary of her.

    <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">“There was a[/i] <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">Beorthlig in my Eored when we rode to war many years ago,” [/i]he
    replied truthfully yet incompletely. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">“She
    was a very good warrior. I heard she did very well for herself after I left.”

    “I can’t quite remember her name,” [/i]he lied.

    <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">“I don’t recall ever meeting any male
    Beorthligs though,”[/i] he continued honestly.

    He frowned slightly as she mysteriously described her status as a Beorthlig.
    But because the matter was sensitive to him too, he dared not press it further.

    <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal">“We’ve both been away then?”[/i] he said, suppressing another yawn. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">“I do apologise, it has been a long day.
    Rest assured it is by no means a remark upon your company. I am quite sure
    about my offer, so please, make yourself at home and if any uninvited guests
    show up during the night, feel free to scare them as much as you did me
    earlier.”[/i]

    He washed down his meal with a sip of water and proceeded to pack and make
    ready for the night, checking the fire, his weapons and the chainmail he’d been
    working on as well as his supplies.

    <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">“I should check on my horse before I turn
    in,” [/i]he muttered half to himself. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">“In
    case you’re asleep by the time I get back, I wish you a good night.” [/i]

    With that and a short bow, he moved to check on Nihtsceadu. His black steed
    seemed to have everything it required and was quite content. Branomir gently
    scratched him behind his ear.

    <i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">“Keep an eye on her for me, ok buddy? I’d
    hate for my good trusting nature to cause me to wake up with a knife in my
    throat,”[/i] he said it half laughingly but checked his knife before he
    returned to the fire.

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    If by my life or death I can protect you, I will.
    <br />Veteran of the Sceaduwigends

  8. Gecko's Avatar
    Counsellor of Isengard
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    #108
    The Eastfold

    After Branomir had accepted her offer of food, Gecko carefully wrapped it all back up in its protective cloth and put it back into her pack. It would make her another meal, perhaps two if she was careful then she'd be back to the dried meat and fruits that was a more common traveling ration. All of it was better than the fare that she'd gotten in Mordor, true but since her time back in Rohan she had come to enjoy the simple pleasure of good food. It was one of those things she'd been missing without really knowing that she missed. Once that was done, she replaced her pack on the ground between them, enjoying the feel of the fire as it chased away the chilly night air. Autumn was rapidly approaching and winter was nipping at its heels. She wondered what it would be like to see snow again. The only thing even close to akin to it in Mordor was the ash that drifted down.

    Her head lifted when Branomir began to speak of a Beorhtlig who had ridden with him in the cavalry many years ago. It could have only been on person as far as Gecko was concerned but whatever connection this man had to his mother, it was probably best to let it lie. There was a lot of history and bad memories associated with what had happened between the two of them during Mordor's campaign into Rohan. What had happened to her after Gecko had fled Mordor, she didn't know. It was possible that her mother was still alive and had managed to survive the torture. It wasn't unheard of; after all, Gecko had survived. But what her mother had become after surviving was probably something that Gecko didn't want to contemplate nor did Branomir if he had known her before.

    "It seems we have." Gecko was still guarded around Branomir but she was trying to overcome some of those feelings to fit more into life in Rohan. Eventually, she might need to tell him more about her story but it wasn't something that was necessary now. Sometime later if she had to at all. "It's a deal then," she replied with a chuckle at his comment about her scaring away anyone else that showed up. It was unlikely she'd really be able to sleep for the whole night beyond dozing occasionally. She wanted to keep watch just in case there were more dangerous things lurking in the darkness besides wolves but exhaustion was tugging insistently at her.

    Nodding when he said he needed to check on his horse, Gecko made herself more comfortable and watched him fade into the darkness where the animal was standing. She had to admit that she was curious about what had taken him away from Rohan and what his story was but she kept her questions and thoughts to herself. If they spent any more time together, she might get some answers but this wasn't an interrogation. She may never know more about him, it was possible that they'd go their separate ways tomorrow and never see each other again. The city of Edoras was large and it was easy to get lost in the multitude of people.

    Shaking her head at wondering about things that didn't matter, she checked her weapon and settled down by the fire with her back toward it, staring out thoughtfully into the darkness.
    Last edited by Gecko; 08/Feb/2013 at 04:23 PM. Reason: Fixing Formatting
    "A leader leads by example, whether or not he intends to."
    ~ Sperewigend ~

  9. Fiery Mommy Row's Avatar
    Thain of the Mark
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    #109
    A Small Village in the Westfold – Rebuilt
    (To be joined by a special guest.)

    Rowena squatted down in a frog like position to pick up a rag from the ground. She grimaced as she reached up to the counter and placed the rag on it. ‘
    By Bema…. I forgot how difficult it is to be pregnant,’ she thought to herself. And that was a fact. It had been eleven years since she was last pregnant. Granted, even then, she had only been pregnant with one. And by Bema, she was never going to have more than one at a time again… if, she even had kids.
    She placed her other hand on the counter and pulled herself up. She stared at the counter for moment before wiping it down again. She growled and started ransacking the kitchen. ‘Where in Bema’s name are the scones and onions!’ She moved the oranges out of the bowl on the table, and peeked in there. It made no sense, but who knew where Audley would hide things to keep her from getting what she wanted, when she wanted it.
    When would the man realize it was just cruel to keep a pregnant woman from her cravings! No matter what they were! She threw the bowl of oranges behind her.
    ‘Fine, I’ll make some of my own! Nevermind the fact it takes a couple weeks to do it!’ She grimaced as she only found apples on the counter. ‘BY BEMA!!!!!!!!!!!!' She started throwing the apples behind her, completely and utterly frustrated.
    She looked around, and signed to herself,
    ‘There’s got to be some bread at the very least! I made some right after I got up!’ Finally she saw the loaf of bread carefully wrapped in a towel so it did not dry out. She sliced herself a couple pieces and spread some of Eadlyn’s freshly churned butter, (Rowena hadn’t had the strength to churn her own.). She then spooned on some apricot preserves, made just the way her mother had done when she was alive.
    She savored every bite of bread she took, but it just wasn’t cutting it. She HAD to find the scones and pickled onions. She’d find Audley and ask him to get them for her. Fortunately in a small town like this, you knew exactly where everyone was at certain points of the day. Granted, Rowena was usually the one to send Audley away. As much as she loved him, he still hovered over her like she was a helpless kitten, and it infuriated her sometimes.
    She determined that aat this point in time, Rice would be switching from a shift at the forge to the Lone Wolf. He only worked until lunchtime at the forge, and then switched to the Inn, taking over for Eadlyn so she could take the twins home, or something. And Audley, when Rowena kicked him out, had developed a sort of habit of meeting Rice at the Inn. They’d share a few drinks, chat about who knew what, and Audley would take that as his opportunity to smoke.
    Rowena thought that Audley’s habit of smoking was a filthy one, but she put up with it. Just as long as it wasn’t in the house that he smoked. She did not want the smoke stench or the smoke itself around her while she was pregnant, and eventually around the babies. Maybe when the babies were born, she could get back into their old routine of Audley stepping outside to smoke, and Rowena joining him, wrapping her arms around his waist, listening to him tell her all of he stresses that bothered him at that moment.
    Rowena sighed, and set her now empty plate on the counter, she’d wash it once Audley got her her needed pickled onions and scones. Forgetting there were apples and oranges all over the place, she took a couple steps forward, but the third ended up on an apple, which caused her to lose her balance and fall. Her head hit the bowl that had once contained oranges, and it flipped over so that it was now cover her face. Her right hand now wore the apple bowl as a glove, and underneath her were squashed oranges, and uncomfortable apples digging into her back. ‘AAAAAAAAAARGH,’ she groaned.
    For a moment she worried about her babies, but a few kicks from each let her know they were okay, just a little bit jostled. So Rowena laid there, helplessly, hoping either Audley would get back soon, or someone would come ask her for advice, opinion, aid, or something. Despite how embarrassing it was to have one of her villagers discover her like this, she didn’t care… She couldn’t get up.
    Maybe that was one of the reasons they always kept their door open. So people could help the fat pregnant lady off the ground if she needed it…

    Beadorhaelend/Third Marshal (Westmark)
    May the wind 'neath your hooves carry you swiftly; Bema grant you peace.

  10. Shivased's Avatar
    Éomer
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    #110
    Braiarwood
    Several weeks after posts above

    Shivased
    stood in the doorway of the nursery and studied the room, pleased with herself. The room hadn't seen much use in the last six or seven years, since Jacen had left it. And it had been ten years empty before he'd used it, since she and their older brothers Sidan and Daran had been old enough to get their own rooms. To say it had been in rough shape was an understatement. It had been dusty and dark, and while not dirty, it had needed some work.

    With Haru's help she had painted the walls white and scrubbed the dark wood borders, then painted, in gold and green, rohirric horses prancing on the walls. Most of the decorations she'd simply had Cook clean and they were put back in. Hanging on the far wall, the only wall without windows, were tapestries depicting courtly scenes of previous kings in the Golden Hall, in cheerful (albeit slightly faded now) colours. Across from them, on either side of the door, were two shelves. One held her own old dolls and a stuffed bear, while the other held toy horses. Granted, she thought to herself as she studied the shelf, she'd never actually played with the dolls...but they had been hers.

    The furniture was a mixture of old and new. Two cradles sat along the far wall. They weren't normal cradles, but were tall, sitting on long legs, and each had a canopy of pale green linen, with matching padded linen inside the cradle. They looked like something for a prince or princess. Shivased knew Haru had brought them down from the attic; they had been used for herself and her older brothers. Her mother had had very elegant tastes, as was evidenced by Braiarwood itself, and though she had initially disliked them, once Cook had replaced the ugly yellow cloth and white lace with the softer, simpler green, she decided they were rather nice. Two small beds would replace them in a couple of years. A changing table sat along another wall along with a basin and ewer of water, and at the foot of each cradle was a small chest of linens. To the left and right of each cradle, turned on an angle to sit in each corner, were two more, larger, chests. These held all the clothing she'd bought, made or been given for the children. Finally, under the window sat a toy chest full of toys, all the same ones she and her brothers had played with. Two elaborate rocking horses with real horsehair manes and tails, armour and real small saddles and bridles with reins, and a costume chest full of old clothing finished off the room.

    The nursery had turned out beautiful, Shivased thought happily,stepping in and heading to the window. She handedthe final decoration to Cook with a smile, so it could be hung between the two windows. She couldn't help it, she had to have a Cavalry banner in the room. She was cavalry, Artan was, and so had Daran and Sidan. So was Jacen now. So to her the brilliant green and gold cavalry banner was right at home.

    As she surveyed the room one last time she grimaced, rubbing her stomach, one hand going to the small of her back. Her back had ached all day today and the children had been moving more than usual. Babes are kicking quite forcefully today she told Cook when the woman glanced at her in concern. A surprisingly powerful kick that lasted a couple seconds had her hissing in pain.

    Per'aps ye should go lay down, m'lady. Ye've been verra busy when ye shouldn't be overtaxing yerself. Cook said, taking her by the arm and leading her to the door. I'll bring ye some tea. As she reached the woman, Cook happened to glance down and frowned. Oh, m'lady. I do believe ye should go lay down. I think I should send fer the haelend, too, she said in a slightly strangled voice.
    Following the woman's gaze, Shivased blinked at the puddle on the floor. Well, she certainly had thought she'd be aware when that happened. Perhaps the kick she'd felt hadn't been a kick at all. Oh. Yes, I guess I should, was all she was able to get out as she was gently but quickly led away. Cook was immediately efficient, shouting for Haru as she ushered her lady into the bedroom opposite the nursery, stripped her, dressed her in a nightgown and bundled her into bed. Shivased did what she could to help, grimacing every time a pain shot across her abdomen, but Cook slapped her hands away each time, insisting she just relax.

    Haru, please send for Rowena. She'll have my head if she isn't here in time. In fact, go get her yourself, she told Haru when the man finally poked his head into the room. And I believe Jacen is in the barn with his stallion, so you should let him know he's going to be an uncle soon. She was strangely calm when she had thought all along she'd be nervous. Really though, there wasn't a lot to be nervous about. She'd faced orcs, trolls, easterlings, southrons, and other vile enemies, been kidnapped, stabbed, poisoned. Surely this couldn't be any worse.

    First Marshal of the Mark
    Taste the Rainbow - Eat Crayons!

  11. Windowcel Alarion's Avatar
    Doorwarden of the Mark
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    #111
    Near Edoras
    "A woman with no home." Windowcel almost giggled as she muttered the words, and then stopped abruptly when she felt tears pricking her eyes. As she looked toward her beloved home, she realized with a jolt that so much had changed that she had no idea where exactly her home was. Edoras looked older and shabbier, as it was wont to do after the fantastic vistas of her travels, yet somehow it also looked more welcoming than ever. No matter. Her joy in returning to the Mark was profoundly dampened by her inability to remember the name of her home. A few more days in the wilderness would serve her right.

    Somewhere in the Westmark
    It was difficult for Windy to lose her way in the fields and forests that were so familiar to her, but not at all difficult for her to be lost to the rest of the world. If anyone had been there to see her she would have made an interesting sight, riding a very tired and remarkably small warhorse who looked well beyond his years of service. She led another horse so young he could almost be called a colt, yet easily a hand taller than the old one. For all of his seeming frailty, the older horse clearly had patience yet, and the colt followed with unhesitating obedience wherever the stallion went.

    She could be thankful for small blessings.

    Windy drew in a sigh and heard Sundance do the same as she dismounted. The stallion had served her well for nearly twelve years now and he deserved the rest she planned to give him when she had trained the colt. Sundance nibbled her hair impudently as she loosened the saddle and she swatted at his head.
    "Don't be giving your friend here any ideas," she grumbled. "I'm going to have enough trouble with him as it is." Sundance huffed and turned away, choosing to nose about for grace instead. Windy shook her head and put down the saddle, then went to take the packs off of the colt and make him comfortable as well.

    "Don't get any ideas from Sundance," she told him seriously. "I trained him when I was very young and I thought his attitude was cute. I have become wise over the years." The colt was still adjusting to his new life and his new mistress's habit of speaking to him as if he could respond, so he did his best to ignore her. Despite her careful words, Windy was disappointed by his lack of spirit and withheld a sigh as she moved away and set up camp by instinct. Some wood for a fire, only big enough to prepare dinner, her saddle and cover laid next to a rock that would give her shelter from the cold wind that was coming, and blankets on the horses. It was second nature to take care of the details of life now, and to do it alone.

    "It's a good thing you didn't end up going home this week," she told herself. "You're not fit to be around people yet anyway. Bema knows, you spend too much time talking to horses and the wind." When would she finally return? Not until she was sure that she had come back to stay. Maybe when she had trained the colt and given him a name. It wouldn't do to ride in with a nameless horse.

  12. Nerienda's Avatar
    Doorwarden of the Mark
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    #112
    Near the southern edge of Fangorn forest

    "I fear we are too far from home to get there before nightfall." Nerienda spoke out loud to her mount Bryne, not simply because she had no other riding companion with her, but because she frequently conversed with the mare. And more often than not, the mare answered in her own equine manner. Sometimes she and I understand each other too well, the Rider mused as she began scanning the area for someplace to set up camp for the evening.

    Her gaze kept sweeping over the dark line of that forest just within sight; too many stories she had heard of the evil that dwelt within its shadowed expanse. And yet, she thought, I know of other stories, of the shadows that are more watchful guardians than any outright evil. Unless, of course, I were an Orc; in which case I would be wise to steer well clear of those trees. But, Orc I am not, and those trees which are not all rooted greenery do not bother me. Not overly much.

    She gently coaxed Bryne to a halt, and sat quiet in the saddle while she listened. The occasional songbird, hushing as a raptor let out a piercing cry; the wind rustling the scrub brush and the tall grass; little else she could discern this far north from Edoras. The mare, ears flicking, gave no jolt or twitch of alarm. All appeared to be as calm as the noises made it seem. "Let me see what I can gather up for us for tonight. Keep one ear to the wind." And with that, Nerienda dismounted and began to scan for fallen branches from the nearby bushes.

  13. Oak's Avatar
    Huorn of Fangorn
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    #113

    Prescott Hartford
    Near a Farm in the West Enmet


    His mother had called his behavior disgraceful--unbecoming a handsome hart with imperial antlers. Even his father Roquefort was ashamed. "Prescott, son, you're going to be pierced through with an arrow someday". Still he didn't listen. He had turned mooching food off of Man into an art. He knew how to choose the ones that were harmless--the females and the 'fawns'. They didn't carry the arrows. He tilted his antlers back and sniffed. He could smell his favorite--green tart apples. He followed the smell to a grove of apple trees. The branches were just low enough that the enormous stag could bite the apples off the tree. The tart taste filled his senses.

    "That's no horse!" Ayla whispered to her mother as she peered out the window.

    "He certainly is as big as one,' her mother whispered back. "Your father will shoot him for sure when he returns from Calvary training. Wouldn't his head look fine on our wall?"

    Prescott's keen ears could hear the whispering--and he could understand it too. Their father was a hunter.. Time to move on. Too bad. Prescott trotted off to the next farm, hoping it would have an orchard. The next farm had a cabbage patch. He took out bite out of one. Crunchy and mildly sweet. Suddenly a man with a rake dashed out. "Get out you big fat Elk!

    Prescott bolted into a clump of trees feeling hurt. Elk-- am I that ugly? Truth be told he was magnificent with large dark antlers, rust red sides and a tawny rump. The rest of him was jet black. But emotionally he was just to immature to think about finding a wife. He was more interested in food-- especially how he could beg the sweet tasting food off of Men and Elves. Elves were a better bet, because they knew right away he was sentient and didn't shoot him. If his luck ran out--he might try that dark forest at the feet of the misty mountains. He gazed toward the mountains. He could faintly see the forest as a green line. Could he find berries and apples in there?
    Last edited by Oak; 02/Jan/2013 at 04:36 AM.

  14. Windowcel Alarion's Avatar
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    #114
    Somewhere in the Westmark
    Windy woke to find that she had slept uncommonly late. The sun was already visible on the horizon, and before she opened her eyes she could tell that Sundance was uncomfortable with her laziness. He was used to having a free rein (that is, no rein) in the camp and therefore was able to rouse his mistress when she overslept, but they had discovered the hard way that the colt responded poorly to being tied alone and so they were both restrained. Windy groaned and stretched a bit before opening her eyes. A good dusting of snow had fallen on them during the night and she wasn’t looking forward to the chill that waited on the other side of her woolen blanket.

    To maintain the illusion that she had a reason to be under her blanket, she positioned herself so she could see both of her horses. She was here to train the colt after all, and it had been quite some time since she had trained a horse.
    Anyone could tell you that Sundance was too old to carry her to battle again, although he was still reliable for riding. He was a pretty little Mustang stallion, less than fifteen hands high, with a proudly arched neck and fire in his eyes, even after all these years. She hoped that he would have a few good years at stud before she had to bid farewell permanently. He had a nice color and… he was her oldest and best friend. It was hard to think of saying goodbye to him.

    By contrast, the colt was everything that the Cavalry expected in a horse. Well, he might have been a bit small, but that was a matter of preference. He stood at an easy sixteen hands and could be expected to grow a bit more, and he had the bones of a draught horse; his chest would start to fill out soon and the strength in his hooves would be a force to be reckoned with. From what she knew of his bloodlines his coloring should have been chestnut, but instead he had a ghostlike quality to him, as if the red had been faded by moonlight; his stark white stockings barely contrasted with the rest of him. Most unusual of all, however, was the dark blaze on his forehead. It looked almost blood-red in the right light.
    Windy made a mental note that she would have to look closer at those bloodlines. It seemed unlikely, but that pervasive paleness made her think of the Mearas. If that was the case… well, she had gotten a better deal than she thought when she purchased this one. With a groan she threw back the blanket, stood and stretched. No use laying abed until the sun had fully risen. The cold hit her with a shock and she folded her blankets by sheer force of will. It wasn’t even full winter yet; no reason to dive for her cloak first thing in the morning.

    She was nearly shivering by the time she had released the horses to graze further afield. “The heat is in the tools.” She grunted at the echo of her father’s ‘sage’ wisdom and took a quick jog around the camp to warm up. While she was here in the fields and forests of her home, she had two main training objectives – to win the colt’s loyalty, and to be able to ride him home. Training for real battle and accustoming him to the smell of blood and noise of a charge could be dealt with once she was in Edoras and possibly had use of the Cavalry training grounds.

    It couldn’t hurt to start with a good meal – for all of them. Reaching into her pack, she took out her only cooking pot, a skin of water, and oats. She built up the fire she had left banked overnight, filled it and heated the water, then poured in the oats, stirring it continuously as she kept an eye on the horses. She pulled it off of the fire before it had a chance to burn and let it thicken a bit, rooting around in her pack again for spices.

    The horses were drawn to the smell of warm mash and she looked up from her search to find them crowding her space. Sundance, who knew something of what was going on, was keeping the colt from eating right now but she couldn’t be sure how long his own self-restraint would last. Win rescued the pot and poured a small portion into her wooden bowl, to which she added some raw sugar.

    “Are you ready for this?” she asked Sundance. “The colt doesn’t know what a treat he’s in for…” She waved the pot teasingly in front of the two of them, until she could see by his stance that Sunnie was reaching the limits of his restraint. “Don’t give me that look. Here you go. Share.”

    The colt would soon come to understand brief commands like that – she hoped. For now, she leaned back against the rock that had been her windbreak, eating her own oatmeal and watching Sundance teach the colt how to ‘share’ a pan of oat mash. As soon as the sun had warmed the fields a bit they could begin…
    ~ Dryhtguma of the Westmark ~
    si vales, valeo


  15. Eafurth's Avatar
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    #115
    Eafurth Hægweard
    Outside Eafurth's Home

    Eafurth was sore from his long ride that day. Her had been to see his friend and Marshal Shivased to inquire about horses in the area. She had pointed him towards a trader a little ways north of Edoras, and Eafirth had quickly made his way there.

    He had looked over the selection, keeping in mind that Telpegond wished him to acquire a sturdy horse, one used to the Northern weather. As he was looking over the selections of this herder, he saw a Friesian; just like the one he was sitting upon! He asked the trader where it had come from. Eafurth was told that a wandering stranger had brought it through to sell. Eafurth's eyes lit up and he asked for a description of the man. The trader described him as a tall and dark man with a scar from his ear down to his neck, with a rayed star pin on his cloak. Eafurth was sure now.

    He approached the Friesian in the herd and saw that it was quite gentle and quite young, only about a year old. It was in healthy condition and it was strong, just what Eafurth was looking for. After further examination,he hit upon a price with the trader and soon was leading the Friesian back home.

    So now he was returning in the dark to his home. He brought the new horse and Aetius to the corral and quickly put them up for the night. He went back into the house, hoping to find Telpegond there and to give him news of his new steed.


    ooc: I apologize I forgot about this!
    I will destine you for the sword, and all of you will bow down to the slaughter.
    Because I called, but you did not answer...

  16. Caran Chamion's Avatar
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    #116
    Telpëgond
    Outside Eafurth's Home

    It was quite peaceful out on the prairie. Telpëgond did not let the quiet day lull him though. He searched the sky for a time, careful to make sure no watching birds were nearby. He did see an eagle, but it was not one that usually was a spy for the enemy. No Men were within sight either, and a Man who could get close enough to see Telpëgond without the elf spying him on this plain was a good deal more dangerous than anyone Telpëgond had ever met before.

    After he had reassured himself that no one was about to see him and report to Curunir or Wormtongue, Telpëgond stood up and went to tend the cattle for Eafurth. He spoke to them, telling them to behave and not to stray from the herd. The cattle would obey a command like that. The elf warned them if they chose to ignore him, he would be there to correct them. He would always be watching them -- for their own safety -- and if they needed help, or correction, he would be there at once. He knew they would believe him -- cattle were a far more trusting lot than most people, and he always told the truth anyway. They would cause no trouble for him.

    He watched them all day, lying invisible in the grass near them, where they could scent him and know he was near. It was not a difficult task and when he needed to, he rested his mind for a time without sleeping. Time passed quickly, watching the herd.

    Telpëgond led the cattle back to their paddock when it was nearly dark. He secured the gate and blended back into the prairie, watching until Eafurth should return. It was after dark when the man did. Telpëgond lay watching him until he had gone into his house -- he did not wish to startle him or his horse, or the young horse he had brought with him. Ah, it looked like a fine young animal. The elf wanted to speak to it, but he needed to thank Eafurth (and pay him) first.

    He knocked softly on the door, calling quietly "It is I, Telpëgond. May I come in?"

    OOC: Just let Telpëgond know what he should pay you as if he asked. Also, what gender is the horse? (And is it a gelding or not? I wouldn't mind a stallion.)

  17. Eafurth's Avatar
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    #117
    Eafurth
    Eafurth's Home

    Eafurth
    heard a soft rap at the door and let Telpegond in. On the table in the room a small candle was burning, and he could see the Elf's eyes by its dim light. He smiled and welcomed the Elf to a seat. "Certainly, certainly!" he responded to his question. "It has been a good day go looking for a steed! Come and I will show you your prize." He beckoned to the Elf to follow as he lit a large lamp hanging on the wall and carried it out with him.

    As they trudged their way to the corral he remembered to thank the Elf for tending his stock. "A mighty fine job you've done! Do you have herds like these where you're from?"

    He opened the gate and made his way to where the new purchase was eating from a nosebag. "This here is your steed! As you can see, he's a stallion, a Friesian no less!" Eafurth looked the horse over carefully. "I have reason to suspect he may be a close relative of my own horse." With a twinkle in his eye he turned to Telpegond. "But you'd have to ask Gederas that."

    He stepped back to see if the Elf approved of it. "What do you think? Oh yes, as for the price, It was 80 gold pieces, quite a nice price for such a fine animal. But we can settle that later. Are you satisfied with the boy?" Eafurth finished, caressing the horse's long and warm coat.
    I will destine you for the sword, and all of you will bow down to the slaughter.
    Because I called, but you did not answer...

  18. Windowcel Alarion's Avatar
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    #118
    Somewhere in the Westmark
    The sun was well up in the sky by the time Sundance and the colt had finished their mash and Windy had cleaned up the camp. Although she did not plan to change her camping location, experience had taught her that it was better to only have out of her pack what was absolutely necessary, and so the pot was wiped out and stowed, the fire banked once again, and her blankets rolled tightly and tied down to Sundance’s saddle, although the saddle itself was still on the ground. Both horses had rope halters in place of bridles, and Windy picked up the coil of new rope she had acquired for this trip. The trade she made for the rope had cost her dear - a rare old coin she had found in her journeys in the north - but it had a special clasp on the end, and she had it from a blacksmith whose reputation was as solid as the muscles on his shoulders. He claimed that the rope would not fray at the connection, and the hook would not slide out on a whim, but could be released suddenly if you knew the trick.

    She had, of course, thought to have him teach her the trick. One of the downsides of doing this beginning training on the open fields was that she had no round pen or anything approaching an enclosed space in which to work with the colt. She would have to rely on this rope and what skill she still had from her father’s teaching, as well as Sundance’s bossiness and herding instinct. She hoped there would be little use for that last, because the stallion did not look inclined to be patient just now.

    Start slowly. It was probably the best advice Windy had ever received from her Da. Ignoring Sundance, she approached the colt with the rope slung over her shoulder and across her chest, and brushes in her hands. For weeks she had been letting him become accustomed to grooming and having hands and brushes all over him, particularly around his head and hindquarters. If he was going to be any good in battle, she had to be sure that he would only be aggressive on command and not as a reaction. It would probably save her a few black eyes as well. He shied a bit at the odd sight of the rope, but relaxed quickly when she murmured to him and began brushing. “You’re a trusting soul,” she told him. “I'll say that much for you.” She knew surprisingly little about the colt, but she knew that he should not be comfortable with her touch. She had picked him up about five months ago in the North…

    Five Months Ago
    Sundance had been glad that they were heading south again. “The Grey Mountains were not as bad as all that,” she told him several times, but it didn’t stop his ears from pricking up as they moved away from the snow and cold, and south to the Anduin River. She had to admit, it was a fine day when she was able to start removing layers of clothing – she could breathe easier with the improved mobility. There was no reason to think that she would be attacked, now, but vigilance was never wasted.

    At first she thought it was abandoned. She stopped Sundance at the brow of a hill and looked down on a decrepit farm, bleached by the sun and battered by wind. The snow had just melted from the fields, and there was more mud than grass. It could be a good place to stop for the night, even if there would be no home-cooked meal, and she was riding down when she saw movement. “Looks like we could have company after all,” she murmured.

    Her sword was wrapped and hidden, but she loosened the knife at her belt just in case. The source of the movement turned out to be a grizzled old man. “Westu hal,” she called. He stopped and looked at her, leaning on his cane. He raised a hand, but his expression remained sour as she approached.

    Since the man posed little threat, she studied her surroundings as she rode up and what she saw raised the hair on the back of her neck and her ire. The buildings were very poorly kept and there was a distinct smell of decay, but either of those things could have been ignored if it were not for the half-starved dog next to the house. Every rib was visible and his eyes were sunk into his head; he stared at his master sullenly, but was visibly shaking. Windy took a steadying breath and resolved to be as polite as possible. Perhaps the man had fallen on hard times and simply needed help.

    The man had clearly noticed her perusal of his property. “You best ride on, lass,” he growled before she had even reached him. “I haven’t got time for the likes of you unless you want to take an animal off my hands. Too damn many, no one to help me take care of them.” Windy was tempted to follow his advice, but Sundance stopped without her signal. She tapped her heels to his side, but he wouldn’t budge. “I do apologize, sir,” she answered the man. “But it seems that my horse needs a rest. Could we trouble you for a drink? I would, of course, be glad to help with any small tasks that I can in exchange for the favor.”

    The man’s expression soured even more, if that was possible, but Windy gave him no choice and in a short time she had busied herself moving hay and cleaning the stable. It was a dank, dark sort of place and she took one stall at a time, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the light. She was halfway through when she realized that there was one horse left there. When she could finally see him, the anger she had been trying to contain exploded.

    Once Windy had coaxed the colt out into the sunlight it was clear that she had been too kind in her assessment of the place. The horse was clearly neglected and underfed, and he was covered with cuts from a whip, with some obvious bruising under his moon-faded coat. All four feet had been hobbled with a rope pulled too tight, and he shied violently from even the most gentle touch.

    Leaving the man alive was an exercise in self-restraint, and she considered it justice rather than theft to take the horse with her. She found his papers and breeding charts in the house, dropped two copper coins in the man’s lap – had she hit him? She hoped so – and rode away. The colt bonded with Sundance almost immediately, but it had been weeks before he would let her approach him. The dog had followed them when they left, and she fed him as well as she could but he had been too malnourished for too long and she buried him after two days.

    “A bit of loving care and we might find some spirit in you, yet,” she said to the colt as she groomed him now. She took her time brushing him down, deliberately rubbing the rope over his back and legs as she went. She lifted each of his hooves to scrape them out, and briefly coiled the rope around them. Remembering where he had come from, it made sense that he was subdued. It made absolutely no sense, in fact, that he would let her so close so soon. “Trusting soul…” For the first time, he turned to her as if he understood, rubbing his nose against her arm. “I suppose we will be friends, after all.”

  19. Fiery Mommy Row's Avatar
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    #119
    Briarwood. Baby Time!
    Rowena had been in her room when Haru came bursting in shouting some utter nonsense. However, despite the fact he was spewing nonsense, she heard two crucial words that she had been waiting for, for the past few days in fact. ‘Shivased… babies.’ Rowena nodded at Haru and said, ‘Thank you. I’m sure you’ve been given other instructions… Now run along…’ Rowena turned her head sharply and looked at the woman she brought with her, giving her a simple few gestures.


    Esme nodded and quickly started collecting various items from the shelves, (Rowena had a habit of making her room at Shiv’s manor an infirmary when she was here) without hesitation while the haelend she worked with buzzed off to Shiv’s room.

    Rowena entered the room, calm as ever, though it was clear she was hurried to get here. ‘Shivased… I hope you weren’t expecting to maintain privacy from me when you were giving birth,’ she said playfully in an effort to help her best friend relax. She looked at Cook and gave her a glare, but otherwise was most respectful… to the best of her abilities… to the woman. ‘Shiv dearest… I need to know how far apart your contractions are… that’s the pain you are feeling every few moments. And how long are they lasting?’

    At that moment, Esme came in with an armful of items, from herbs to cloths, to a bucket, and a kettle filled with hot water. ‘Brought everything, Bealdorhaelend…’

    Rowena looked at Esme and gave a nod while rapidly gesturing, ‘Thank you darling, we’ll be here for a while, so start with the incenses to relax the Marshal.’ She called Shiv Marshal only for Esme’s sake in this situation. She then looked back at Shiv and gave her a soft smile and a kiss on the forehead. ‘Ready for this Shiv? You thought pregnancy changed your life, well, news flash… Be ready to feel like you’ve been run over by a horse.’ She smiled at her and then looked at Cook.

    ‘Cook, you have to be her morale support. I’m sure you are well used to it by now working in the family for years, but prepare to at the very least have your hand broken.’ She looked at Shiv quickly and then said quietly, ‘And especially while I’m at her feet, let me know if she gives any indications of slipping away… She’s strong so I don’t think she will, but I do not want to take any chances.’
    ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
    Many hours later.
    Rowena had just finished cleaning up as much as she could and now delegated the rest to Esme. For a moment, she just looked at her dearest friend, with a soft smile as the woman held her twins, a boy and a girl. Despite her disdain for Artan, Rowena couldn't help but feel a joy for Shivased. The only thing missing WAS Artan right now, but this joyous occasion, she couldn't think of anything she wanted more for her friend.
    After giving Shiv a few more minutes with her brand new children, she moved forward, and then sat on the edge of the bed. 'Shivased Indaril. Its official. You are a mother now. And don't give me that about raising Jacen.' She smiled at her friend and leaned forward and kissed Shivased's head. She then looked at the twins, and gently caressed their tiny little heads.
    'They really are perfect miracles.' She whispers softly. 'Just like their mother.' She sighs happily. 'Not sure I've told you this, but, Shiv, you are one special woman, and I am eternally grateful for your presence in my life. And these two will think the same... I promise you that.'
    Last edited by Rowena Annis; 29/Jan/2013 at 01:35 AM.

    Beadorhaelend/Third Marshal (Westmark)
    May the wind 'neath your hooves carry you swiftly; Bema grant you peace.

  20. Caran Chamion's Avatar
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    #120
    Telpëgond
    Outside Eafurth's Home

    Eafurth was clearly happy about his find in the Edoras market. Telpëgond followed him out of the house and toward the corral, replying to the man's own thanks and question as he did so. "It was the least I could do for you while you were away, aiding me. Chores do not do themselves, after all. I've not had any experience myself at herding before, although there are many herds and flocks in Lindon. But cattle actually listen to what I say, much more than many smarter folk. They obeyed me well."

    Then Eafurth entered the corral to show him the new horse. It was young, true, but there would be plenty of time in the years ahead to train it. Telpëgond was interested to hear that the young stallion might be related to Eafurth's. "Yes, I will certainly ask Gederas about that matter, when I return to the north. If he breeds horses, he certainly has a fine stallion. This one is beautiful. I think I am quite satisfied with him. Thank you, Eafurth, son of Eafread."

    OOC: Sorry, I'm a bit short on time here. Telpegond can give you the money and go, perhaps. I need the transaction cleared before RP in Queen of Iron.

  21. Gecko's Avatar
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    #121
    Eastfold

    The warmth of the fire caressing her back was both comforting and depressing in a way that Gecko found it hard to express, even to herself. The night was cool despite being summer and the first kiss of autumn was in the air making it a perfect night to spend around the fire. There was a reassurance about the way it crackled and threw shadows around the campsite even though she wasn't looking at it directly. The former minioness instead had chosen to turn her face to the open plains that surrounded she and Branomir for a bit of privacy with her own thoughts. Being back in Rohan was such an adjustment for her that she felt a sort of reverse homesickness. She didn't want to return to Mordor by any stretch of the imagination or return to that version of herself, but Rohan wasn't the same as she remembered. Many of her friends had moved on with their lives and were in other parts of Middle-earth. Some of them were living their life out of the city of Edoras so there was little if any chance that she would be able to reconnect with her. All of her natural family had passed on before she'd left but those memories were still fresh in her mind.

    She could remember her mother's gentle, encouraging smile when she had been younger and learning to read and write. She had hated it then, preferring by far to be out in the stables and training rings helping father but they had both insisted. Her father wanted her to be able to help with the breeding books and sales of the animals and in order to do that she had to be able to read, write, and do figures. She had been so young back then, her little sister still a baby by most aspects. Not that she lived beyond the age of three. The memory must have been only a few weeks before both of them took sick. She'd been about eight and it had been a terrifying experience to see them both wasting away and gone in only a few days. It had been the first and only time she'd ever seen her father cry, as he dug those graves in the hill overlooking their home in the shade of some beautiful oaks.

    Things had changed after that, of course. Her father had done everything he could to raise her well and Gecko happened to think he'd done a pretty good job but he expected a lot of her as well. The work had been hard but rewarding as her father gave her more and more responsibility while he went away to check on things and find new horses to bring into their breeding program. Now that she was older, she wondered where he'd gone all those times but she wasn't sure that she really wanted to know the answers to those questions. She had chased that theory only slightly to find that many of his trips had been to Gondor but beyond that she didn't know.

    Eventually though, the grief had finally won over her father and he too had gotten sick. His passing had been neither quick nor easy but she had been there for every moment of it. She remembered the panic of not knowing what she'd do beyond sell the horses they still had in the barns and holding pens, the paralyzing fear of being completely on her own with no one and nothing to fall back on but herself. That, more than anything, had led her to join the cavalry to find a second family. Her betrayal had ruined all of that as well for most of the people she had known. Even being home didn't feel like home any longer.

    Pushing the dark thoughts away, she curled up a bit tighter and closed her eyes. It took a long time to clear her mind of the thoughts that were still haunting her but eventually she fell into a light, uneasy sleep.
    "A leader leads by example, whether or not he intends to."
    ~ Sperewigend ~

  22. corlisswyn's Avatar
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    #122
    Eorforhild, son of Eorformund
    Corlisswyn, daughter of Eorforhild
    Eorforhild Family Farm
    Buckden, West Emnent


    (This begins where I reluctantly last left off, where Eorforhild was brought home intoxicated, as usual)

    Corlisswyn had already set out a cup of tea with a small cup of ale on the counter when she heard the familiar groan of her still-drunk father emerging from his bedroom. The ale helped with his headache, or so he said. She was chopping up vegetables for a stew just beginning to simmer on the fire when Eorforhild entered the main room. She stayed calm as he rummaged around in a couple cabinets before asking him for what he was searching.

    “That loaf of bread from yesterday,” he grunted, scratching his matted hair. “I’m hungry.”

    “It’s gone. There’s a new loaf in the oven as we speak, but it is still baking.”

    “GONE?” He shouted. “WE CAN’T AFFORD TO GO THROUGH A FULL LOAF OF BREAD A DAY!” He grabbed her shoulder and turned her around to face him. “WHAT HAPPENED TO IT?”

    Angered at his belligerence, she stared at him. “I was hungry after dragging you to bed. So I ate it.” She was not about to make his anger explode by telling him she gave it to Sibor the Barkeep for bringing him home the night before, as he did most nights.

    “Why you ungrateful little…” She quickly realized that she underestimated the amount of alcohol still flowing through him and moved out of his way as he stretched his hand to slap her. When he missed, he pointed at her. “You leave now, you coward. LEAVE!”

    Coward. That was the one word that stabbed her through the heart. Since the day she survived the Dunlending attack six years ago, her father has never forgiven her for living when her mother and her baby brother died. Rationally she knew that she wasn’t to blame—she had been only twelve at the time of the attack. But when she heard the word coward over and over again, every time her father got drunk and irrationally blamed her, it started to get in her heard. She always felt a pang of guilt whenever anyone in the village told her she reminded them of her mother.
    But this was the first time he’d ever explicitly told her to leave. She couldn’t tell if Eorforhild remembered that she came of age last week and he could now kick her out of the house or if he was just so angry he stated it without thinking. She knew his grief over his wife and son was inconsolable and to him, she was a constant reminder of what he lost. He seldom wanted anything to do with her, and flipped from ignoring her to berating her whenever they were in the same room. She stayed because her grief too was inconsolable and he was all that she had left. But now he told her to leave.

    Leave. She could do it. Her uncle Wycliffe was in Edoras and offered her a home if she ever needed it. She could train and join the Cavalry, and prove to her father that she was not that cursed word.

    While Corlisswyn’s mind was running through her options, Eorforhild turned away from his daughter and sat in a chair facing away from her as he nursed the ale and his headache. After several minutes of silence, Eorforhild could still feel Corlisswyn’s presence in the kitchen. “What part of leave did you not understand? Get out of my house and never come back, you ungrateful child,” he gruffly stated in a cool tone.

    A tear fell to the ground at Corlisswyn’s feet. So this was it. She took a deep breath to calm her nerves and made her way to her bedroom to pack. To Edoras then she must go.
    Last edited by corlisswyn; 08/Feb/2013 at 07:10 PM.

  23. Eafurth's Avatar
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    #123
    Eafurth
    Outside Eafurth's Home


    Eafurth's
    eyes widened as he listened to Telpegond. The herd listened to him? This was something unusual, and a look of wonder crossed his features as he glanced over the elf once more. This was most certainly not your ordinary happening in Rohan. He attempted to pass over these strange words, but they stuck in his minds and repeated themselves over and over.

    Yet his mind came back to the task at hand as Telpegond let him know he was very happy with the selection. He smiled. "My friend and marshal, Shivased, knows lots of people who deal in horses. She led me to this young thing." Eafurth let Telpegond know the required price (
    don't worry about specifics, wasn't sure myself lol) and then received the money. It was good to help this elf out, he thought. "I bid you farewell then, my new friend. Ferthu Telpegond hal! I wish you safe journeys, and greeet Gederas for me!" Wirth that the Drhyt extended his hand to the elf as token of farewell.

    OOC: (Sorry it's been so long!)
    I will destine you for the sword, and all of you will bow down to the slaughter.
    Because I called, but you did not answer...

  24. corlisswyn's Avatar
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    #124
    Corlisswyn, Daughter of Eorforhild
    Somewhere in the West Emnent


    Keep the Mountains on your Right to Edoras. It was one of the few orienteering lessons her father had begun teaching her before the Dunlending attack. Since the death of her mother and brother, her father stopped caring enough to teach her anything as he was too consumed in his own grief and ale. But that required her being able to see mountains in order to keep them on either side of her. She made the mistake of setting up camp two nights ago and not remembering in which direction she was heading. She did her best to face towards the sun in the morning and away from it at night, but she knew in her heart she should have reached some sort of settlement by now. She had absolutely no idea where she was, only that streams she crossed couldn’t be the Entwash.

    The sun was setting once again, and unwilling to push Roan to any extreme limits, she set up camp. She never learned to make a fire, so she hoped that tonight would be warmer than the previous two. She should never have left in the winter, but her father gave her no choice. She came close to telling Sibor she was leaving, but she feared that he would try to stop her. She had to go. She had to go to Edoras and join the Cavalry, not that she had a clue how to do that. Corlisswyn suspected Sibor knew she was leaving; he packed up much more food than she requested and refused payment. She also found two blankets and a well-worn pair of saddle packs filled with the food and several skeins of water. She thanked him with a genuine smile, knowing he would accept nothing more.

    She found a rock outcropping in the otherwise verdant plains she had been crossing and a solitary Poplar tree up against its edge, which to Corlisswyn made a safer camp than just out in the middle of the plains. She hadn’t slept well the past two nights as the sounds of wild animals terrified her. She hoped that with a solid wall behind her she could sleep a little better. Roan took up station next to the tree and made quick work of dinner feasting on a few low hanging leaves. Corlisswyn built a small fire and immediately wished for a proper fire and oven to cook some hot food. She finished off a package of dried deer meat that Sibor gave her while inventorying her remaining stock. She could go another two days, but if she still did not find a village or house she would be in trouble.

    The night stars had fully come out and the moon was just beginning to wane, which left the plains a pale blue ocean in front of her. She was just about to fall asleep when she saw a black figure in the distance, moving at great pace towards her. She threw herself into a panic, and quickly doused the fire, knowing however that the figure clearly knew she was there. She didn’t have time to pack up and get on Roan without leaving behind too much of her supplies. The figure was moving closer now, though all she could see was a figure on horseback, galloping directly towards her. She pulled a small dagger, her only weapon, from her boot, and stood in front of Roan, waiting for the man to come.

  25. Eafurth's Avatar
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    #125
    Eafurth
    Somwhere in the West Emnent
    (timeloop)

    It was a fine night for riding. He had been off visiting some friends that evening and was returning home. Aetius was restless to get a move on, and Eafurth let him go at his own pace. He was in no hurry, he certainly wouldn't make Edoras by dawn. There was something about riding by night that stirred him within, though. He enjoyed it, the vast plains contrasted with the black night dotted here and there and everywhere with shining orbs of light. He was dressed in full Cavalry garb, as usual, and as always his sword hung at his side. One could never tell when enemies would appear; rumor had been seeping throughout the land of raids on villages in the Westfold.

    Aetius, for some reason unknown to his rider, decided it was time to pick up the pace. He began to gallop at full speed and Eafurth, in no particular hurry to get home, yet wanting the horse to stretch his legs, allowed it to go on at its rapid pace. The stars shimmered overhead and Eafurth gazed over the lonely fields.

    With a jolt Aetius came to a stop, nearly throwing Eafurth out of the saddle. He slipped to one side as the black Friesian reared up in fear, and with much effort he pulled himself back up in the saddle. He saw before him a small black figure, dwarfed by the stallion. Eafurth could not tell what it was, but Uruks did roam these plains. This one did not have the rotten and loathing feel of an evil creature, a worm of Saruman, but one could never tell in these dark times; and in this dark light! He quickly drew out his sword and wheeled Aetius who had somewhat recovered from his fright towards the figure.

    He saw the thing holding a weapon in its fist and he pointed his blade towards it. "Hwæt eart þū? Speak!" he commanded it in his own tongue. If it was friendly it would respond accordingly. Yet the blade was poised to deal a death blow at the figure which had risen out of the ground. He couldn't tell for sure but it looked like a human. They would have to answer him first though, and he was neither dismounting or sheathing his sword until he was sure that this thing wouldn't stab him in the back the first chance it got.
    I will destine you for the sword, and all of you will bow down to the slaughter.
    Because I called, but you did not answer...

  26. corlisswyn's Avatar
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    #126
    Corlisswyn, daughter of Eorforhild
    Somewhere in the West Emnent


    It was the moonlit appearance of the sun on his shield that relaxed Corlisswyn back into thinking clearly. She knew the shield standard well from her childhood when she watched the Cavalry members gather together in the town center. She dared not move out from the shadow of the rock wall as the man’s blade was perilously close.

    “Þance Bema! Mīn nama is Corlisswyn, dohtor of Eorforhild of Buckden!” she quickly dropped the dagger to the ground, relieved to hear it clang to the ground, and hoped the warrior also heard it.

    “I’ve been lost on the plains for three days, wigend. I am trying to go to Edoras.” She smiled as the warrior’s sword was lowered and she stepped out into the moonlight. “I require assistance making my way to the house of my uncle, Wycliffe, in Edoras, if you can render such.” She looked up at him hopefully.
    Last edited by corlisswyn; 11/Feb/2013 at 08:44 PM.

  27. Eafurth's Avatar
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    #127
    Eafurth
    Somewhere in the West Emnent

    He heard the figure respond in his native tongue and he immediately lowered his sword. And this was no orc, not even a man, but a woman! He was surprised to hear the soft feminine voice after expecting a rough growl in response. Nevertheless he recovered from his slight surprise and dismounted from Aetius, who had himself calmed down after his momentary excitement. He heard her drop her dagger, but forgot about it in his own excitement as he dismounted the tall Friesian and sheathed his sword. He moved closer to the woman and clasped her hand. "Well met Corlisswyn! I am sorry if I startled you, my horse seemed to think you were an orc." Though he didn't know if she could see it or not he gave her a warm smile to reassure her of his friendliness.

    He heard the name of Wycliffe and for some faint reason thought the name sounded familiar, but of course there were so many names floating out there that the Drhyt oftentimes found it to o hard to keep track of the all. What was important was that he lived in Edoras, exactly where he was headed! He responded to the plea for aid in a gentle voice. "Most certainly! I am just on my way to Edoras now, to report to the Dragon Room. It would be an honor to escort you to the City of the Golden Hall! He wondered what the last three days had been like for her; it was quite cold this evening, and winters in Rohan were far from balmy. The bitter cold was already beginning to creep into the young man's cloak and through his uniform to touch his flesh and he shivered, thinking of the hardship endured by this brave young lady.

    "But of course, you can't go anywhere at this hour. We must get a fire going to warm you up!" and he glanced about the campsite, squinting to see if there was any appropriate material for building it. That was when he saw the ashes of the fire just recently doused. He instantly knew she had put it out because of him. Feeling a little guilty, he began to gather a bit more wood and to stack it on the remains of the dead fire. Using his tinder and flint from his pack, he soon had a arge fire burning, warm and strong enough to last well into the night.

    "That ought to get you warm pretty quick. Oh! You are probably starving!" He dove for his saddlebag and quickly retrieved some dried meat and a blanket and offered it to her, not sure whether she had food or not. He then sat down near the fire. "Edoras is not too far, we should make it by nightfall tomorrow. You were headed the right way, but who knows what the night brings out here, alone..." He looked at the lonely figure and wondered why she was out here, alone? He almost asked, but his sense of privacy got the better of him. Besides, such things were best left for the morning light. He suspected a dark tale, and it was too close to bedtime - he did not wish to trigger nightmares. The fire burned brightly as he munched on some bread and meat from his pack, waiting to see what the night would bring.
    I will destine you for the sword, and all of you will bow down to the slaughter.
    Because I called, but you did not answer...

  28. Shivased's Avatar
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    #128
    Braiarwood


    Things happened much faster and were much easier than Shivased thought they would. Or, at least time seemed to fly by; she really wasn't sure. It felt like one minute Rowena was entering the room and the next minute her children were being set in her arms. In the end she didn't really remember any of what happened in between, it was all a big blur to her. Finally though, her children, a boy and a girl, were in her arms. Gazing down at them she smiled softly. Cathal and Ceara, she said, dropping a kiss on each tiny head as she said their names. Cathal for Artan's father, and Ceara for my father's mother. Pausing and thinking, she finally made a decision she hadn't been able to make until right then. Cathal Sidan, in remembrance of my brother, and Ceara Ailis in memory of Artan's mother. With a nod she named her children, thinking the names fit them perfectly. And she knew Sidan would be proud to have such a beautiful nephew named after him if he were there.

    When Rowena came to sit beside her, she beamed at her friend. No, this will be different. I love Jacen with all my heart, but these two are mine, she said. She couldn't help but kiss their heads again. She felt herself blush as Rowena continued speaking. You're just as special, and I feel the same about you. The sister I never had, she said.

    The creaking of the door kept her from saying more and she laughed at the hesitant look on Jacen's face as her brother peeked in. Come in, meet your niece and nephew, she told him with a smile. He hesitated a minute longer and then cautiously crept into the room. Cathal Sidan and Ceara Ailis.

    Creeping to the bed, Jacen peered at the two tiny figures in his sister's arms in wonder. Cathal Sidan? he asked, meeting his sister's eye. He had never met his oldest brother, Sidan had died before he was born, but he'd grown up being told about him and, he thought, missed him as much as Shiv and Daran did. Looking closer at the two faces he frowned. They're all wrinkly.


    Shivased laughed at her brother. They're supposed to be like that, at least for now. They're barely an hour old yet. She yawned. Now, it's going to be up to you to take care of the estate for a couple days. So off you go, the horses need to be tended for the night. You can come see the twins again before bed.

    When he was gone she smiled at Rowena again. Thank you, so very much. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been here.

    First Marshal of the Mark
    Taste the Rainbow - Eat Crayons!

  29. corlisswyn's Avatar
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    #129
    Corlisswyn, daughter of Eorforhild

    Somewhere in the West Emnent


    Corlisswyn placed her hand on her breast and took a deep sigh of relief when she saw the wigend’s sword sheathed. The feeling of relief overtook her briefly as her eyes watered and she couldn’t help but let out a quick chuckle in happiness when the cavalryman offered his services. “It is greatly appreciated, thank you.”

    The wigend was seemingly inspired to a quick burst of productive energy as he quickly had a fire roaring before Corlisswyn had the chance to offer her help in the task. The heat radiating from the fire was welcoming and she took a seat near it, pulling her saddlebags next to her.


    "That ought to get you warm pretty quick. Oh! You are probably starving!" Just as he offered her some of his stock, she pulled out a couple of apples. “I’m good; I just ate at sunset. She, on the other hand,” Corlisswyn patted the head of her mare, Roan, who immediately put her nose right in Corlisswyn’s face when she saw an apple come out of her bag, “hasn’t had dessert just yet.” Roan snorted in Corlisswyn’s ear and bumped her nose into her owner’s face. Corlisswyn did take the proffered blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders gratefully before she took a bite of the apple and gave it to Roan. "Edoras is not too far, we should make it by nightfall tomorrow. You were headed the right way, but who knows what the night brings out here, alone..." Corlisswyn was relieved to hear she wasn’t completely on the wrong track, but she had not expected to be out in the wilderness as long as she had been, and she was happy she now had an escort.

    Corlisswyn quickly sped toward sleep with the roaring fire in front of her and a sense of peace. “You know, I don’t believe I got your name, Master Wigend,” she commented sleepily. She figured she should know the name of the man to whom she entrusted her protection.


    OOC Eafurth-OMG that took forever--I got sidetracked filing my taxes. Nothing like getting hosed and robbed by my government! geesh! And I'm operating on the assumption Corlisswyn's never met Eafurth--but you rescuing her will make it much easier when she joins the cav and will know someone!!!
    Last edited by corlisswyn; 19/Feb/2013 at 05:35 AM. Reason: just cuz i can...

  30. Karis Ziranphel's Avatar
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    #130
    Karis Ziranphel (Ziran)
    Southwest of the Gap of Rohan, between the banks of the Adorn and the Isen

    The cold ache of her limbs was ever with her, gnawing at her will to carry on. It was only relieved occasionally by the longer hikes, if she walked long enough to actually find warmth. Ziran sat now on the cold ground, with her knees pulled up and arms wrapped around them as well as she could with linked hands, trying to preserve what was left of warmth before they stiffened again. The long leather leash that ran from the biting collar at her neck was staked back in the darkness beyond the ring of tents, preventing her from getting close to the fire she had built for them earlier....that fire that kept drawing her gaze now.

    It would be easy to be captured further by those flickering flames, so instead she looked away to the tall shadowed mountains in the near distance. A month past they had finally emerged from the mountains behind them and entered these vast grasslands. Her captors finally had a destination and determination in their travels. She had noticed the shift in urgency months before when they were still high up on the southern side of the mountains. They had argued fiercely before coming to a decision, but had moved decisively after that, crossing the Ered Nimrais by little used paths and seeming in a hurry ever since. She didn't mind, even though it meant they were moving further from her home lands. Finally they were relaxing their guard again in their haste. A wild and dark curl of contented ferocity made its presence known inside her chest at that thought, although all that showed on her face was a sudden burn in her eyes.

    She had waited her time, biding in apparent resignation the last few weeks, as if her spirit had finally been broken by the departure from Gondor. They had watched her with wary vigilance in the long months of her captivity, passing her from secret place to secret place, but every watchful and ever quick with the chains. She had killed several when they had gotten too lax, or when she was close enough to settlements to dare escape attempts. Those deeds had earned her many beatings, and even a broken arm at one point...she recalled the agony of tending to it herself, and wrenching the bones to sit right. Thankfully it had set before she blacked out from pain. It had earned her watchful guards who normally remembered to not wear weapons when they came within arms reach of her alone, and who had never attempted to come at her alone after the first few who tried to tup her privately were killed. They had thought that she must have earned her rank on her back...they had learned better.

    But now they were in haste, muttering about the wise one who would pay them good money for her, and even more if she was alive. Momentarily she thought of Galdor, the gruff lieutenant that had accompanied her on her mission, and breathed a prayer for his safety. She had not seen him in a year, as they had been separated not long after their capture, in order to be more easily hidden. She hoped he was well, and not already sold into slavery or death. Refocusing on the men who caroused by the fire, she narrowed her gaze again. Good. They are getting drunk. Perhaps the time has come. Ziran shifted slightly, flexing her arms to test their responsiveness. Yes, the time might have finally come.

    She glanced up at the stars, back at the river they had crossed the day before, and then towards the mountains ahead and on her right. They were huge, dark, and menacing. Yet, she could also see the space where they melted away...the Gap. This was her chance. If they passed the Gap and continued north...she would have to hope that someone friendly came along, and by her luck that would not happen if they were taking her to this wise one for sale.

    One of the men got up from the fire and began to stagger towards where she sat crouched in the darkness, encouraged by shouts of laughter and jeers of incredulity from his fellows. Pretending not to notice him until he got close enough to be shielded from his friends by the darkness, Ziran was instead carefully assessing him with growing hope. The fool. She almost laughed to herself, although she would profit by his foolishness. Wearing his weapons belt still! The boots and cloak would also be useful, as she had lost hers months ago. The man called to her suggestively, commanding her to get herself ready. Oh I'm ready alright... Silently, Ziran stood with an unpracticed shiver, although it was from the cold and anticipation rather than fear. Keeping her head down as if cowering, she watched as he began to unbuckle his weapon's belt a scarce two feet away.

    Suddenly and swiftly, she moved. She caught a glimpse of his face as it changed from a lustful leer to startled fear as she reached for his head with her bound hands. Looping her hands behind his head, she stepped in and brought his head down swiftly and with crushing force to impact his nose against her forehead and drive it into his skull. He did not have time to cry out before he dropped as a dead weight at her feet. Reeling a moment from the impact and what she had done, Ziran was slightly staggered and dropped beside him. Her heart thundered with a mix of fear and elation, and she felt both empowered and slightly shaky for having finally acted again. But she would have to move swiftly if she was to get away before the others got suspicious or sent someone else over to join this one.

    Wiping her now bloody forehead on the rags of her sleeve, Ziran grabbed for the knife at the man's belt. She cut her bonds at wrist and neck awkwardly, having to leave the collar in her hurry. She quickly and efficiently stripped the man, although it was difficult to do silently. She hoped that the others would just think that any noises were of the activities they expected. Instead of stripping off her own rags, she merely layered the new clothes over them for warmth, even though she would love to bathe and dispose of the filthy things. Pulling the man's oversize boots over her cracked and swollen feet, she was grateful for the lingering warmth. Belting on the weapons belt, she marveled again that the man had been so drunk as to approach her with it, as it carried both blades and flint pouch, and a small pouch of their horrible cram rations. Finally, she settled the voluminous cloak around her shoulders, actually shuddering in appreciation as it lessened the bite of the wind. It was time to go.

    Silently, Ziran backed away from the body and further into the dark, slipping back away from the sound of laughter and the glow of the fire. She circled the tents with a quiet tread, and then began to angle directly toward the mountains. She did not dare run yet as the pound of running feet could be heard for a long distance. Besides which, she wasn't sure she could run yet. They would expect her to go back the way she knew, or cut for the river and the Gap immediately. She would go for the mountains first, and edge through the Gap as far up as she dared. She was far out into the tall waving grass before she heard a distant shout behind her. They had discovered her escape....
    Last edited by Karis Ziranphel; 04/Mar/2013 at 07:22 AM. Reason: Name correction
    Karis Ziranphel, Captain of Gondor Thûllir Bregedŷr of Ithilien
    Tirlyn Ithilphel of the Evendim hills

  31. Karis Ziranphel's Avatar
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    #131
    Karis Ziranphel (Ziran)
    The Road Home – a league east of Edoras

    Dawn was near, and Ziran’s lips were parched and cracking as she slowed once more to a stumbling walk. It was now three nights and two days since her escape, and her strength waned now from lack of food and water. The first night had been spent alternately half-running and pausing breathless when a searcher came too near, ducked down in the tall grasses. The darkness had been her friend that evening, and she had headed directly east to the hills. Once beyond the first low ridge of the foothills she turned north and alternated running and walking until her strength gave out.
    Just before the dawn of that first day she had reached the banks of the Isen and drunk deeply of the cool waters before slipping over the ridge of the Gap before she could be outlined by the light. She had dunked a piece of the dry Cram in the stream to soften, and nibbled at is as she tried to keep her feet in motion despite exhaustion from going all night after walking the full day before. The sight of the sun as it rose lighting the tops of the White Mountains to her right and the waves of grass that stretched before her down the hills to the plains toward the far-off gleams of the Entwash and the Anduin made tears spring unbidden to her eyes. It had been so long…

    Eventually exhaustion had become too much of a danger, and Ziran climbed part way up the side of the mount to her right and wedged herself down between two tall rocks so that she was hidden from the trail below and yet could lift her head to see if she heard anyone coming. Curled up in the surprisingly warm cloak that she had liberated from her erstwhile captor and warmed by the rays of the rising sun on the rocks, Ziran quickly fell into a deep and peaceful sleep.

    She had been woken a few hours later by voices arguing along the trail. Recognizing them, she stayed frozen for a few moments, and then slowly and silently eased the knife into her hand as she tried to make out their conversations. Two of her former captors were down below and arguing about whether to continue or not since they had come this far without seeing her, and she was not visible along the trail below. “She wouldn’t have gotten this far! We should have overtaken her long since. Besides, I don’t want to get caught by any of those horse-lords. They aren’t really friendly-like with strangers.” “Quit your whining. You know we can’t show up without her. Not with the wise one in the tower expecting her delivery now. Mayhap she fell and we’ve missed her, or maybe she went back the way we came. She knew folks in Pinnath Gelin area didn’t she? That’s why we had to skirt round that area. P’raps she went back thataways instead. Let’s go a little further and keep a sharp eye out. Then when we turn around we can say we tried.”

    As the voices drew nearer, Ziran tucked herself further down to make sure nothing betrayed her presence to those down below. Her fist clenched around the knife hilt as she fought the warring impulses of fear and the desire to jump out and revenge herself on them. She was safely hidden and it was better to get home alive then try foolhardy revenge now after she had gotten this far. Biting her lip, she had breathed an inaudible sigh of relief when they continued past her small refuge above the trail without any suspicion marking their voices. She rested and waited in silence and growing tension for half an hour before she heard their grumbles pass by her once more as they headed for the Gap and safer roads for their kind. Breathing a prayer of thanks to the Valar for the foresight to get off the road in her foggy condition, she waited a further twenty minutes past the fading of their voices once more before she let herself relax into uneasy sleep. Her body needed to recuperate a little.

    Waking again just past the noon hour, Ziran had checked the trail in both directions before levering herself out of her hideaway in the rocks and stretching out the kinks. At first she moved slowly, feet still tender and bones aching from long abuse and being tucked in that small space, but the warmth of walking smoothed out her gait. Taking off the weapons belt, she re-fastened it over her shoulder and under her cloak so that the long blade dropped between her shoulder-blades rather than tangling with her legs. Trying out a jog, she found that the tapping of the blade against her back was only mildly annoying, and she quickly got used to it. Much better than tripping and falling! Alternating between a loping run and a fast walk, Ziran covered distance steadily. It was dusk when she reached the dike and the trail up the Deeping Coomb toward Helms Deep. Pausing to look up at the looming shadow of the fortress against the mountain far off, a small smile flickered across her face before she turned back to her trail.

    At that stream she had knelt and drank, sat to eat more soaked cram, and rested a while. Soaking her last piece of cram and replacing it in the belt pouch, she took a long draught and then walked on. That had been her last proper taste of water, and now Ziran was dizzy from dehydration and lack of sleep. She had slept a few hours the last morning, and licked at the dew on the grass, but otherwise had kept herself ever moving, trying to get herself further towards home and further from recapture. Her last morsel has lasted through part of yesterday, but now even the remnants were a distant memory, and her belly cramped from lack of water and food.
    Ahead of her she saw the outline of willows, and the faint glimmer of a silver stream as the dawn light began to grow. Hope blossomed anew, and Ziran hurried forward in a stumbling half-run as she aimed for the water. Snowbourn! The name of the waterway flashed through her mind and then was swept away as she half lunged-half tripped down the bank and fell into the welcoming but shockingly cold water. Spluttering a little, she came up for air and then let the cool water wash through her mouth. Despite the cold, she turned herself over and, digging her boots into the bottom and bracing against the flow, let the water wash over her. It had been ages since she had bathed, and she was so parched that it felt wonderful to soak it in through her skin. Eventually she stood and drank more properly from the stream.

    Swimming across to the far bank (she had missed the ford along the way) she deposited the weapons belt and sodden boots, and then waded back in to scrub herself and her cloak as thoroughly as she could to get out the dirt and stench. Scooping mud and a hank of sweetgrass from the bank, she rubbed it in to her skin and clothes as an abrasive, and then rinsed it away again to leave both a little cleaner. Her dark brown hair had grown long and lank in the past two years, and dripped a thick tangled mass over her shoulders, now sporting a thin streak of gray from her right temple as testimony. She briefly considered cutting it, but decided it was safer to not try loping things off quite yet. Instead, she tried to work some of the tangles out with her fingers with the help of the flowing water. Shudders started to course through her frame from the cold just as the first true rays of the sun broke over the horizon, and Ziran dragged herself over to the southern bank and climbed out. Standing, with water running down her in rivulets, she was caught by the sight of gleaming gold to her right by the mountains. Edoras and the Golden Hall!

    A weary grin broke over her face, and she stood another moment to just take in the rare sight, before bending to heft her boots and weapons belt. There were a few willows on this bank as well, and making her way to the center of the small band of trees, Ziran found one not too far off that had an inviting look. Laying down her burdens, she took off her cloak and stripped down to the barest of rags, laying out the rest of her clothes to dry in the sunlight that made its way through the trailing leaves. Taking knife in hand and covering herself with the damp woolen cloak to ward of the chill of the wind, she tucked herself down at the base of the tree and closed her eyes to the growing sun’s brightness. Finally she dared whisper to herself her name in full once more. I am Karis Ziranphel, and I am going home…a faint smile on her lips despite the still creased brow, she slept.
    Karis Ziranphel, Captain of Gondor Thûllir Bregedŷr of Ithilien
    Tirlyn Ithilphel of the Evendim hills

  32. Fiery Mommy Row's Avatar
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    #132
    An Awkward Birthday
    A small Village in the Westfold.


    ‘Why wait so long?’ She had asked him. He had thought the question strange for many reasons, the primary one being that he was fairly certain most mothers wished to keep their girls for as long as possible. At least, his mother always told him that she often wished she could hold on to her children for even just one day longer… But then there was the fact both he and Zara were still quite young.
    The Lady Rowena had tried to explain the logic behind her question, but he still wasn’t sure he could quite make sense of it. He held up the simple band as he remembered Rowena’s words.
    ‘Well you see, here in Rohan, we’re country folk. The value of work is different here, and to put it simply, we also die younger here… But the real reason is, whether you live in a village, on a farm or are one of the weary travelers, there is a need for families to be started younger. And anyway, men are considered adults either when they join the Cavalry, or when they finish apprenticing… Women, well, its pretty much when—‘Jaren stopped remembering Lady Rowena’s words right at that moment. That was a little awkward to think about. And that meant Zara became a woman nearly two years ago… She’d still be a child in Minas Tirith!
    He had given it some thought though, and decided, well since the plan was to stay in Rohan the remainder of their days, it only made sense to do things the Rohirric way. And it meant that he and Zara could be together near all the time. That was a thrilling prospect. Finally, he stood up and walked out of the room at the Lone Wolf that he was staying in.
    Being a small village hardly any knew about, some ways away from the main road, the Lone Wolf was a one story building with only a few rooms. People in town often thought it more a pub than an inn, because of this. So he meandered through the short hallway until he came to the dining room.
    He surveyed the scene. Audley was sitting in a chair at a table in the corner, with two brand new babies in his arms, and a boy and a girl attached to his legs. The ones at his legs were Rice’s two year old twins, Kendrick and Audreya. Rice was behind the bar, serving drinks to Lady Rheda and Lord Valerion… err Rheda and Thurstan. He always forgot that here they were without titles. He scanned the room again, but did not find Rowena.
    Slowly he approached Audley and the children.
    ‘Evening, sir,’ he said somewhat stiffly. Now it was true that Zara wasn’t his daughter by blood, but even still, Audley was her father. And as such, Jaren still had a hard time approaching the man. After all, he was going to be stealing away his girl that he’d only know for a few years.
    ‘Jaren, ye know we dun like those stiff titles… I’se Audley,’ the honey blonde man said.
    ‘Err, right. Sorry s—Audley.’ He looked around uncomfortably and then asked, ‘Where’s the Lady?’‘My wife, you mean? You do realize you don’t need to refer to her as Lady right?’ Audley didn’t dare add that the few people left of their generation in the village only called her that because they were her charges. What was left of the ‘brotherhood’ as she called it. ‘Annie’s in the kitchen, slaving away to make the perfect dinner for the birthday girl.’
    Jaren kicked his feet uncomfortably and then said,
    ‘Oh.’ He then looked at Audley and scratched his head, and said, ‘Are you sure about this? I mean… we are young.’ He played with the ring with his other hand as he waited for a response.
    ‘HA! Neither of you are young. Not here. We told you about Darylene… Speaking of which…’ He stood up as a young woman entered with a man about five years her senior in tow behind her. He held a baby that was a few months older than Audley’s own twins, and a little puppy trotted along behind them. ‘Dary! Its so good to see you! Forgive me if I don’t move, but I got Rice’s kids attached to my legs… make it rather difficult you know.’
    The young girl laughed as she approached her father and kissed him on the cheek.
    ‘Its good to see you too Papa.’ She then looked at Daegan and Shivan in his arms, and kissed their heads. ‘And my how you boys have grown since you were born!’ She then turned and looked at Jaren, ‘You must be Jaren… I’m Darylene. And this is my husband, Leighton, and our daughter, Brecca.’
    Jaren simply nodded at them, almost overwhelmed by all the introductions.
    ‘Pleasure to meet you,’
    he said stiffly. He then scampered off to the kitchen to find Rowena. He had to talk to her.
    Darylene watched Jaren scurry off and shook her head.
    ‘Inneresting fella.’ She then looked at Leighton and smiled before looking back at Audley. ‘So how is everyone doing these days?’
    Audley smiled.
    ‘Doing well. Rae’s squiring to the Third Marshal as you know. He seems to be calming down, perhaps the reality of his turning fifteen finally hit him. He can’t wait to be a Dryhtguma of Meduseld like Jacen. Zara’s adjusting to being home well… I think Jaren being with her has helped because she has to help him adjust too.’
    Leighton nodded and then chimed in,
    ‘So we hears that ye n’ Miss Rowena have cinvincet Jaren t’do thin’s our way? He’s pro—‘ He trailed off as soon as he saw Zara enter and changed subjects abruptly. ‘Aye the farm’s been doin’ mighty well. Jus’ started the planting again. Yer parents says hello too, n’ Cyril’s s’posedly comin’ t’day too.’

    Audley groaned.
    ‘Dear Bema… I should warn my wife about that. Think ya’lls kin pry Rice’s kids offa me?’
    Zara smiled as she finally approached the group. ‘I can help there… Did I hear Granpa’s comin?’ She asked as she first pried away a now screaming Audreya, and then a mute but obviously displeased Kendrick. ‘Oh dear, you two… isn’t your cousin good enough?’ She then handed them each a cookie, which instantly silenced them.
    Audley nodded.
    ‘Aye… excuse me.’

    Beadorhaelend/Third Marshal (Westmark)
    May the wind 'neath your hooves carry you swiftly; Bema grant you peace.

  33. Eafurth's Avatar
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    #133
    Eafurth
    Somewhere in the West Emnent


    Eafurth was glad to see that Corlisswyn had some apples with her - he was afraid that she hadn't eaten in a while. She seemed to be getting comfortable and had fed Roan some of her apples. The night grew deeper as the fire burned. Corlisswyn mentioned that he hadn't officially introduced himself. Eafurth reddened. Why did he always do this to people? Ask Rowena, he thought, she'd tell you how rude I am. He chuckled softly to himself at the irony of his thoughts, but then quickly looked over to Corlisswyn realizing that he was laughing about something she didn't know about yet. "My apologies, Corlisswyn! I am Dryhtguma Eafurth Haegweard of Eastmark - or rather just Eafurth."

    He checked on the horses to make sure they were secure and comfortable."Let's get a few hours rest and we can start whenever we're ready tomorrow. Unless you're in a hurry- we can easily make it even with a slackened pace and a late start."

    He then sensed a prime opportunity to ask her bout herself. "Hwaet, you say your uncle Wycliffe lives in Edoras? The name is not familiar to me but then again I am stationed in Aldburg. What does he do there?" He wanted to ask even more why she was going there and alone, but he knew that would be prying too closely and besides, one should never ask a perfect stranger questions like that. There was no better, or worse, way to get a dagger in your throat while you slept. But Eafurth didn't get that feeling with this woman; still, he would rather she retained her privacy. If she wanted to tell him, she would.
    I will destine you for the sword, and all of you will bow down to the slaughter.
    Because I called, but you did not answer...

  34. corlisswyn's Avatar
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    #134
    Corlisswyn, daughter of Eorforhild
    Somewhere in the West Emnent

    Corlisswyn was quite grateful for the escort, especially as he was more than accommodating to her schedule and pace. Surely a wigend of his stature would move much more quickly than she would on her sometimes lazy horse. “I’ll be relieved to get to Edoras before nightfall. I can’t think of anything better right now than a warm soft bed. The stars above are beautiful, but there’s nothing like the protection of a good thatched roof.”

    "Hwaet, you say your uncle Wycliffe lives in Edoras? The name is not familiar to me but then again I am stationed in Aldburg. What does he do there?" Eafurth asked.

    Corlisswyn
    promptly responded. “My uncle is a former cavalry member, and he travelled from the East Emnent to assist in running the Campian in Edoras. He took a fall off a horse and has been recuperating these past several months. Perhaps with me to help him, he can get the training center up and running again.” She had a feeling Eafurth wanted to know why she was out here alone lost, and her answer thus far did not properly explain. But the way she departed from her father’s home, the things he said to her, she was not quite ready to share with anyone. Wycliffe would require a full accounting, but right now the pain her father caused was too great to release. She didn’t want to cry in front of this wigend, especially as she had the express intent of joining the Cavalry to prove her valor and honor upon her arrival to Edoras.

    Exhaustion was overtaking her now, especially from the rush of relief. Her heightened anxiety level was now draining her of any energy, and she felt herself slip into deep sleep while Eafurth was still talking…

    OOC Eafurth--(
    feel free to turn over into the next day for our trip back to Edoras!! Whoohoo!)

  35. Eafurth's Avatar
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    #135
    Eafurth
    Somewhere in the West Emnent

    Corlisswyn
    spoke of Wycliffe as running the Campian and Eafurth nodded at that mention. He remembered where he had heard the name before since Eafurth was too young to personally know Wycliffe from the cavalry. But still she remained silent as to her own intent on visiting him and Eafurth did not pry. It was her own business and no concern of Eafurth's - he only needed to see her safely to her uncle.

    He looked at the young woman to see her now asleep. She seemed to be at peace after the nervous state he had found her in, so Eafurth smiled softly and got to his feet. He moved to the other side of the fire to give her some space and rolled out his blanket on the ground. He cast his own tired frame upon it and wrapped himself up in it. Sleep did not come as easy to him, however. He was too busy looking at the stars - the lights in the heavens as always held his fascination for some time before he too drifted into the realm of the dreamers.

    ***

    The next morning the sun was just peaking over the mountains to the east. The dew on the long wild grasslands sparkled and shimmered in the frosty air. Eafurth opened an eye, and then the other. Looking over at the sleeping figure on the other side of the smoking embers, he quietly got to his feet. The horses were already up and grazing on their pickets. Eafurth took some dried fruit out of his pack and began munching on it thoughtfully as he turned his eyes south towards Edoras.

    Their rude should be quickly over - the city was in fact just a few hours out of sight from where they currently sat. Eafurth finished his fruit and took out some jerky. There really was no rush to begin the day. Whenever Corlisswyn awoke, they could saddle up and get ready to depart.
    Last edited by Eafurth Hægweard; 17/May/2013 at 01:44 AM.
    I will destine you for the sword, and all of you will bow down to the slaughter.
    Because I called, but you did not answer...

  36. Equitatus's Avatar
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    #136
    NPC ~ Twid
    Near Upbourn


    The day was beautiful. Sunlight broke through the heavy foilage, iluminating a leaf-strewn path ahead. He felt like something, or someone, was just to his right, but he couldn't turn. A sudden, strangled yell broke the relaxing sound of wind rustling through leaves and a harsh weight knocked him out of the saddle. He struggled, but couldn't get away from the crushing weight. A blade reflected the light of the sun that was peacefully shining through the leaves just moments before, and his life flashed before his eyes.


    Twid awoke with a start. The dream had seemed so real that his heart was hammering, his covers twisted around his torso, and his body soaked in sweat. The story had been told to him so many times, the story of how his father had died. He had been traveling through the woods in the Westfold on his way to Helm's Deep when a group of Uruk-hai had happened upon him. Shivering, Twid wiped his brow. He remembered the day the news had come back only too well. He had been a young lad then of only five or six summers, and he had been shocked to hear the news. The day his father had set out for Helm's Deep, he had been so proud to have a father who served in the Cavalry and was off to fulfill his service to king and country. The news had come as a shock to all of his family.

    Rubbing his eyes, Twid rolled off of his straw mattress, splashed his face with cool water, and changed from his sweat-drenched clothes into some dry, work clothes. Already the smell of breakfast was drifting into his room, making his stomach rumble. Having a wife sure was nice. Yes, Twid had married hardly four months prior, and his wife was already two months pregnant. How fast time passed! Marriage had largely eliminated his previous paranoid habits. He occasionally still thought of the pink oliphaunts, but with a new wife and a baby on the way, he was busy enough to largely forget them. He felt weighed down with responsibilities between his wife, the baby, and his duties in the Cavalry, but Twid was the happiest he could ever remember being.

    Slipping on his boots, he stepped out of the bedroom into the kitchen and found his wife placing a hot loaf of bread on the table with a plate of butter and a bowl of strawberries beside it. "Morning!" said Twid cheerfully, sitting down at the table. He picked up a knife and set a hand on the bread to steady it for slicing, only to jump back. "Bema, it's hot!" he exclaimed, pulling his arm back. Being Twid, he pulled back too rapidly, tipping the chair by accident in the process and crashing into the floor as a result. His wife held back a laugh as she watched him hurry back to his feet. "Sorry about that, Inwitsorh." said Twid, turning red as he set the chair upright.
    "Think nothing of it!" she said, laughing lightly. "Just eat your breakfast." Twid nodded and began slicing the bread, though he was more careful this time.
    "Umm....Inwitsorh?" he said hesitantly as he separated the slices of bread.
    "Mmm?"
    "I've....I've been away from the Cavalry for a few months now, as you know. Now that I'm over....well, over the problem I was having...." (he was referring to his fear of pink oliphaunts), "....I really should be getting back to full time service, you know."
    "Yes, I agree." she said.
    "You do?" said Twid in amazement. He had been expecting to have to give a long explanation.
    "Of course!" said Inwitsorh. "You swore an oath, and I would be completely ashamed if you were to not keep it. Your father kept his oath to the very end, and I would expect no less from you."
    "I'll need to leave soon though." said Twid regretfully. "Preferably this afternoon. I'll have to ride to Edoras to let the Marshal know that I am ready to resume my duties, and then I will probably be sent to Helm's Deep." This last part almost killed him. He hated to leave his new wife when she was pregnant with their first child, but duty called.
    "I understand." she said. "Do what you must." Twid nodded and ate his breakfast in silence.

  37. Isolde Alarion's Avatar
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    #137
    Swanholme

    Pulling weeds was defiantly not one of her favorite things but it seemed the darn things were relentless. Pull one, grow two. She threw it in a pile to be discarded and as she looked up along the long tilled rows of the garden she watched her son a moment. He wasn't far. Contently sitting in the dirt, she noticed he watched something on his hand intently. She wondered what it was. A bug perhaps? Before she could say anything he put it in his mouth and grimaced.

    Orlin! She called him as she stood and went to him, quickly helping him to remove whatever it was he ate. She herself grimaced when she'd finally retrieved what it was, a grasshopper...missing a leg and drowning in her sons spit. She tossed it and wiped her hand as she kneeled to search his mouth, to his displeasure, for the other leg. With abit of fishing around she retrieved the leg and flicked it off her finger as he whimpered and wiped at his mouth. Well, what did you expect eating bugs? She asked him but seeing the big teary blue eyes she stood and picked him up. Come on. Let's find you something real to eat then it's nap time. She settled him on her hip as she headed back to the house.

    Entering the kitchens side door she smiled at seeing Ninea, her long time cook and housekeeper, as she stirred a pot of some wonderful smelling stew. Seeing Orlins teary eyes Isolde could already tell Ninea was wondering what happened. He tried to eat a grasshopper. It resisted. She grinned as the housekeeper smiled and nodded in understanding.

    There is a bowl on the table for him, already cooled. She thanked her then settled him down to eat, laying a clothe around him to catch the mess that he liked to make she scooted his chair closer to the table and set the bowl near him but not right in front of him. She started to feed him as she spoke with Ninea. Did you check to see if there was another letter when you were in town? She skillfully spooned a potato into Orlins mouth. Oh, you mean like this one? Out of her apron pocket came a letter and she waved it in the air to tease Issy.

    You've had it all this time?! She asked in surprise. She stood and excitedly took it from the cook then settled back into her seat as she broke the seal and opened it. Quickly scanning the flowing script a smile slipped over her lips. She looked at the date, did some figuring and deducted the time of travel. Ninea! By the date on this they could be here any day, today even! She caught sight of the dirt on her clothes from working in the garden. Oh dear, that wouldn't do. Ninea, can you watch him a moment? The cook nodded, understanding what she was doing.

    She chuckled as she sat to feed Orlin while Issy hurried out of the kitchen and to her room. There she set to washing the dirt from her face and hands and she changed her work clothes. After a quick unbraiding, brushing and rebraid she flipped the long braid over her shoulder to let it settle down her back as usual. Now, that was better. She stood looking at herself, smoothing the clean blue tunic she'd just pulled on and tucked into the waist of her britches. Running a hand over her hair she decided good enough.

    Back into the kitchen she stepped as Ninea finished feeding her son and with a quick face wash along with his hands he was looking good too. Thank you Ninea. She took him and rest him on her hip. She could tell he was tired as he rest his head on her shoulder. She lightly brushed over his light blonde hair, still baby fine it was soft as down. She took him to his room which was the spare room next to hers on the bottom floor. It had all his things there and his toys in a chest but in his crib he had only two things. His beloved blanket and the soft horse he'd had since he was a week old that Nell made for him. She kissed his forehead then lay him down and covered him up, making sure to tuck his horse under his arm. He hugged it closer as he fell asleep.

    Heading back to the kitchen she helped clean up then sat to enjoy a cup tea. It will be good to have Laila back home. She told the cook who took a moment to join her. Aye, she's nearly grown now. Won't be long she'll be bringing some young man to introduce you too. Issy wasn't sure she liked that thought. Ninea continued. So much for the days of using my best aprons and wash clothes to dress up that silly little pony of hers..and the chickens! Chasing them around and dressing them up, scared a good months worth of laying out of them. She sounded upset but Issy knew better. Issy thought back to the day she'd went to pick her up and bring her back to Swanholme. Her parents killed she was sent to her older sister but being the selfish person she was she wasn't willing to care for one more mouth to feed as she put it. Seeing her Issy knew she couldn't leave her in the hands of such a horrible woman. Her sister was so like her own Mother and she knew how it was to be raised under her scornful eye.

    Since the day she'd arrived, bumping along on the back of that speckled pony, Issy had seen her more as a daughter then a niece and she worried over her like she would a daughter too. Like her she acquired a fondness for travel..and adventure. Thankfully during this adventure Bear had kept her posted on how she was doing since she'd been keeping him company. Now she was coming home and he was bringing her. She was happy to get to see him as well. They didn't see each other as much as they used too with her caring for her son and he joining the Rangers.

    ...and Delm wishes ya to come look at the yearlings. Ninea noticed Issy was staring off. Did you hear me? She touched her arm causing her to blink and look back at her. Hu? I'm sorry Ninea what were you saying? She composed her self and focused on the older woman. Delm, wishes ya to come take a look at the yearlings when you have a moment. She sipped her tea. Alright, when I finish my tea I'll head out.
    Mourgan Alarion Soldier Army of Gondor

  38. Fiery Mommy Row's Avatar
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    #138
    This Thread is now CLOSED. Please continue your stories in the new thread in ... ISENGARD!
    Last edited by Rowena Annis; 08/Jun/2013 at 12:22 AM.

    Beadorhaelend/Third Marshal (Westmark)
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  39. Aodh Hammerhelm's Avatar
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    #139
    Vale of the Anduin: Nadene’s cottage: Aodh Hammerhelm and NPC Nadene of the Glen

    Nadene watches her guest eat in silence as the sounds of the wakening day spill through the kitchen window.

    When she’d found the courage to step from her bedchamber, the cottage had been quiet and empty. For a moment she thought the arrival of her husband’s friend – his captain! – had been an illusion. But no, the figments of the night’s imaginings had no voices, and surely that was singing drifting in through the open door.

    She’d found her guest, the man who’d frightened her out of her wits, seated upon the steps of her stoep, his gaze fixed on the mist that shrouded her yard and the vegetable plots beyond.

    She’d stood awhile, enjoying the sound of his voice on the morning breeze. Deep and resonant it rang as he filled his pipe. And though he sang in a foreign tongue, and though the song seemed laced with sadness, Nadene found herself smiling as a sense of comfort, a sense of serenity not felt since she left Fællon and Eléowyn below the tall slopes of the tafelberg, lifted her heart.

    She’d slipped quietly into the kitchen and set about the makings of breakfast, listening above the clatter of pan and crocks as Aodh Hammerhelm wound up his song and made his way into the cottage. He sat without a word at her bidding and set upon the meal as one long famished.

    She let him eat, the beat of her heart uneven and maddening as she sought the words to broach her awkward silence. Watch your tongue, missy, choose your words careful sai, lest you’d heap embarrassment upon yourself.

    Everything about her husband’s friend, everything from the tousled hair to the tips of his dusty boots, intrigues and frightens her and she feels an irrational sense of relief as she notes his attention – those extraordinary eyes (at once so warm and cold) – are turned fully upon the food before him.

    He is comely is he not? Aye, handsomer than her Fællon - but graver also and perilous. None of the boyish clumsiness of her husband sits upon this fellow, none of her husband’s quick wit and frequent laughter.

    ”Did I do well, sire, have I displeased thee?” she asks at last, her hand falling self-consciously upon the waist of the rumpled dress exchanged for the riding apparel of yesterday.


    Aodh does not reply at once for he is lost deep in thought. He cannot remember a meal that sits so well with him - save one: griddle-seared apples drenched with wild honey taken in Eléowyn’s kitchen as a blizzard rips and roars through the streets of Edoras.

    He feels Nadene’s gaze upon him, senses the myriad questions which hang in the air between them. But he makes no move to engage her, keeps his own eyes fastened squarely upon the plate before him as he mops at the last dollop of egg yolk with a hunk of bread.

    He begrudges not the woman who sits across the table eyeing him unabashed, blames her not for keeping her tidings until sun-up. In her shoes he would have done the same, no matter how pressing the errand. Aye, she had done well to let her news lie till the morning. He is rested and renewed, ready to face the long sought time of reunion and reckoning.

    ”Yes, and no,” he smiles, looking up from the empty plate. He watches her intently as she moves to the sinks, marks the way she avoids bumping against table or chair, then stands and joins her with the washing up. The pair stand awhile in companionable silence, then with the last crock gleaming upon the wash rack adjourn to the sun dappled space of the stoep.

    ”Tell all, Nadene,” Aodh says, as he lays out his smoking rig. “Leave naught unspoken, even if it ails thee to speak it.”
    Last edited by Aodh Hammerhelm; 19/Oct/2013 at 05:52 AM.
    ~ Husband of Eléowyn the Fair ~

    Dryhtguma, Meduseld

  40. Aodh Hammerhelm's Avatar
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    #140
    @ Rowena - sorry about posting here, thread showed as open - that is new dialog box appeared.
    ~ Husband of Eléowyn the Fair ~

    Dryhtguma, Meduseld

  41. Aodh Hammerhelm's Avatar
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    #141
    It's been an age since I've been here. Is this thread still open, if not is there another Fields RP open elsewhere? Hope to be in the saddle again during the coming weeks
    ~ Husband of Eléowyn the Fair ~

    Dryhtguma, Meduseld

  42. Fiery Mommy Row's Avatar
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    #142
    oh sorry, I've been dealing with sick kids. The new Free RP is actually the LitM thread. I'll bump it for you.

    Beadorhaelend/Third Marshal (Westmark)
    May the wind 'neath your hooves carry you swiftly; Bema grant you peace.

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