Role Play Log of . . .

An Audience in Edoras

This log was recorded by Elbarad of Gondor on or around the late evening of July 10th, 1997 and is role play of the Gondorians with request for passage through Rohan of King Theoden.

Amarthion arrives from the Sleeping Stallion Inn, laughter and singing spilling out of the doorway as Amarthion pushes through.

Amarthion has arrived.

Amarthion is an IC M Human

Eomer is crossing the square, heading towards the Sleeping Stallion Inn when Amarthion steps out. He quickly stops, smiling, "Hail friend! How are you this fine afternoon?"

Elbarad steps out of the way as the Herald walks out of the inn behind him.

Eomer smiles over at Elbarad as well. "You'll both be happy to hear Theoden King is feeling better and can again visit with our friends from Gondor."

Amarthion's persistent frown is broken as he sees Eomer, "Eomer! Glad am I to see you!" he exclaims, "Pray, is your good father-brother the King well enough to receive us yet? That abominable wretched man of a chancellor - nay, rebuke me not, my opinions will out like them or not - that you call Wormtongue, has tried my patience long enough." he sighs, "This will not take long nor trouble your good King's spirit in the least, regardless of what HE may say, or I mistake my wise Prince entirely."

At the news that the King has agreed to see them finally Elbarad's face breaks into a broad grin. Turning to Amarthion he says, "This is good news indeed my lord. The wait has been almost unbearable despite the fine quality of the Rohir ale. When has the audience been arranged for?"

Eomer's smile dims slightly, but still remains strong. "Do not be overly harsh with Grima. He only does what he thinks is best for Theoden King, and the Mark. Of course not everyone agrees with him, but that is the way of politics, eh?" He chuckles, "When? Why we can go immediately if you wish."

Elbarad's smile grows larger at Eomer's words, turning to face both the lords he asks, "My lords, although I am not accounted one of noble birth do you think it would be asking too much if I were to beg leave to accompany you to the audience with Theoden, King?"

Eomer shrugs at Elbarad's questions, "As long as you remember your place, I have no objections." he turns towards Amarthion, "What say you? He is your kinsmen."

Amarthion's brow perks and his eyes alight, "Excellent, my friend! Immediately suits very well." He looks strangely at Elbarad and replies, "Whyever not?" he asks, "You are the Steward's man, and that ought to suffice." He regards Eomer from the corner of a curious eye, perhaps sensing something... but does not reply regarding Grima.

Eomer motions towards the Queen Road, "Shall we be off then?"

Elbarad offers a small bow, unable to suppress his gladness he smiles broadly, "I thank you both then. " And turning to Eomer he says, "And have no fear my lord. Those long days spent in the Steward's court have well taught me how to keep my place. I shall be silent."

Amarthion nods and steps into stride with Eomer, walking up the Queen's Road.

Eomer heads up the busy Queen's Road.

Eomer has left.

Elbarad falls in behind the lords and follows them.

Amarthion heads up the busy Queen's Road.

Amarthion has left.

You head up the busy Queen's Road.

Landing of the Horse

The Sun is still quite high in the sky and the plains and waters lay sparkling under a clear Winter sky. The King's Road ends here, having reached almost to the top of the hill. Standing here is a high platform above a green terrace, at the foot of which gushes a bright spring from a stone carved in the likeness of a horse's head beneath is a wide basin from which the water spills and feeds a small stream. Up the green terrace run a stair of stone, high and broad. 20 Clan officials and leaders can be seen here as they discuss informal Clan affairs while walking between the various buildings.

Contents:

Amarthion

Eomer

Eirlys

Obvious exits:

Feluseld leads to Feluseld. Queen's Road (qrdn) leads to The Marshall Square. King's Road (d) leads to King's Road (2nd level east). Council Halls leads to Outer Halls. Stairs Up leads to Lawn of the Meduseld.

Eomer turns and heads up the broad stairs.

Eomer heads up to the lawn of the medusled.

Eomer has left.

You head up to the lawn of the meduseld.

Lawn of the Meduseld

The Sun is still quite high in the sky and the plains and waters lay sparkling under a clear Winter sky. You stand upon a flat circular lawn that surrounds the Meduseld here at the highest point in the city of Edoras. A broad stair of laid stone crosses the terraced lawn, and leads up to the covered entry to the hall itself. The highest stair is flanked by a pair of stone seats, where six of the King's prized Huscairls (House guards) sit with swords resting across their mailed knees. Looking at the Meduseld itself, you see that it is a slightly rectangular building, glittering like a monumental longhouse encrusted with gold. The sacred hall is really a two level building built of stone, thatch, and wood, overlaid with gilded filigree accents and gold leaf plating.

Contents:

Eomer

Obvious exits: Meduseld Entryway leads to Meduseld. Stairs Down leads to Landing of the Horse.

Amarthion arrives from below.

Amarthion has arrived.

Amarthion is an IC M Human

Eomer heads up into the Meduseld.

Eomer has left.

You head up the steps, pausing for a bit onn the top step to look backwards out over the entire city of the Rohirrim which lies spread out beneath you, sigh, and continue onwards.

Meduseld

You stand in the main chamber of the Meduseld, the seat of power in Rohan. Fourteen great pillars line the hall, seven to each side. Patterned after one of the seven Tribal symbols of the Eotheod and their Eothraim forebearers, each pair represents the male and female aspects of the Rohirrim's most noble lineages. Light peeks through windows set high here in this main chamber, white tapestries adorn the walls, displaying scenes of racing, hunting, and war. A wide hearth in the middle of the hall provides warmth and comforting company. At the end of the hall, three wide stairs lead up to the Kings dais, upon whose marbled surface sits a gilded throne. Behind the throne a giant tapestry dominates the wall. The tapestry depicts Eorl, legendary hero of the Rohirrim, upon his magnificent steed Felarof, at the battle on the Parth Celebrant. Four doors lead out of this giant hall, one leads back to the outside and is the main entrance. The others are in the wall upon which the dias nestles, and each leads farther into the hall.

Contents:

Eomer

Theoden

Seneschal

Obvious exits:

Plain Door leads to Grima's Personal Chamber. Entryway (west) leads to Lawn of the Meduseld. Southern Door leads to Council Chamber. Northern Door leads to Theoden's Personal Chambers.

The seneschal announces, "Elbarad of Gondor."

Amarthion arrives from the lawn outside.

Amarthion has arrived.

Amarthion is an IC M Human

The seneschal announces, "Amarthion of Gondor."

Eomer enters the great hall, followed by the Gondorians. He turns towards the throne and drops to one knee as he is announced. "Theoden King..."

Theoden sit hunched over a steaming bowl of what appears to be soup. Coughing uncontrollably he looks up red eyed as the senechal cries out the names of the guests. Theoden smiles warmly as one of his favorites, Eomer, kneels before him.. Motioning with his arms, he indicates that Eomer should rise and speak.

Eomer frowns at the sound of his uncle but remains kneeling, his face turned down in respect.

Amarthion is a step behind Eomer and to his right, Elbarad to his left. The Knight follows Eomer's lead, adding a touch of flair with a flourish of his cloak as he does so, in high Belfalan style.

Elbarad follows the lead of both Eomer and Amarthion. Falling to one knee.

Eomer rises, his frown fading as his eyes fall on Theoden, "Tis good to see you up again Uncle." He sweeps back with his arm indicating the Gondorians, "I have brought our guests to see you."

After wiping a reddened nose with a moist towel handed to him by one of the attendants he looks about the room, his focus delaying upon the two apparent Gondorian guests. Brightening with excitement he speaks in their tongue.

Theoden says in Adunaic, "A long time since I have had the pleasure of guests from the southern lands, our brothers.. What brings the Mark such an honor?"

Aelspeth arrives from the lawn outside.

Aelspeth has arrived.

Aelspeth is an IC Female Human

The seneschal announces, "Aelspeth of the Mark."

Elbarad, keeping his promise that he gave to Eomer says nothing, allowing Amarthion to speak for him.

Amarthion rises from his elegant bow, and replies in the same tongue the King has chosen to speak, "(Adunaic) I come bearing a message in the writ of His Highness, the Prince of Dol Amroth, Imrahil the Fair. What he has written or what he intends of me to do with the letter I may but venture a guess." He then reaches into his deep cloak and from a sewn pocket that lines it, he produces a regal scroll, bearing the token of Imrahil, the Swan Ship of Dol Amroth. "(Adunaic) It is here, Your Majesty." He bows as he presents the scroll.

With a curt, but impeccibly polite, nod to the guards that ever stand at the door to the great hall of the Rohirric King, Aelspeth glides her way into the room, healer's satchel lending a faint bulge to the elegant line of the cloak she immediately moves to unclasp.

Eomer steps forward to stand next to the throne, at Theoden's right.

Theoden whispers the name Imrahil to himself, as if it is a name almost forgotten. Taking the scroll from Amarthion he once again slouches into his throne. He fumbles for a moment as he undoes the seal of Imrahil and finally manages to open the parchment...

Amarthion takes a step back from the King after handing him the letter, watching his face as he reads the Prince's scroll.

Theoden's eyes actively roll across the parchment, his lips occasionally revealing what he reads to those who watch closely. Scratching his disheveled beard he pauses in deep thought. Looking up to Eomer he asks...

Elbarad remains on one knee, watching from behind Amarthion as the aged king reads over the parchment.

Theoden says something unintelligible.

Aelspeth's light tread is nearly silent upon the polished floor as she glides to a stop between the pillars along the right side of the hall, deep violet eyes drinking in petitioners and then sliding to the face of her king. They are perceptive, and hard as she takes his measure and remains quiet.. for now.

Eomer furrows his brow in thought, shaking his head, "(UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH)"

Amarthion does not make any attempt to understand the words the men before him are speaking, and stands a perfect statue of a Numenorean lord before his ancient allies of the Mark as they discuss the scroll that he has given them.

Theoden pushes himself from the comfort of his pillowed throne. Pulling a thick hide blanket about his person he moves towards Amarthion and places a weak but steady hand upon his shoulder, "Amarthion the Herald you are? As Imrahil has indicated?"

There is a snaky whisper of sound from the darkness to the throne's left, and a soft sound as another man, pale and with flickering eyes moves into view. He hovers on the edge of sight as he watches everything closely, darting surrepticious looks to Eomer now and again.

Amarthion bows his head before Theoden, "Your Majesty is correct. Amarthion, Lord Girithlin, Herald and Knight of Dol Amroth, and Voice of the Prince when he is predisposed: I am he."

Elbarad momentarily shifts his glance from the king to look at the other man as he steps slightly forward. But having waited so long for the chance to see the King, returns his intrest to the Herald as he speaks to Theoden.

With a smile more paternal than royal, Theoden drags his feet and blanket across the smooth floor as he paces. Although he appears to be with his own thoughts he speaks to the guests, "Alas it is a sad thing to hear that Sirion our brother has..

Amarthion's blue eyes glisten as his old friend's name is mentioned, but he does not allow his stoic face to outwardly show his loss any more than that, "He is with the Valar now," he says softly, "But we miss him sorely, 'tis true."

Theoden says, "passed beyond this world... May Eorl ride with him to greener fields." Theoden remains silent for some time before continuing...."Your master mentions an Erindil.., who was mistreated at our very gates? I know nothing of this and cannot act without"

Theoden says, "being furnished with more information... Would anyone here aid their ignorant king by supplying the needed details?"

Eomer's eyes follow his King. He glances back at Aelspeth occassionally as Theoden speaks.

Grima rubs his white hands with over fastidiousness on the front of his green robe as he steps further out onto the King's dias and locks his eyes on Theoden. His face softens into a semblance of concern and he wets his lips with a pointy tongue in preparation of speaking sometime soon. And that time comes almost immediately. "I can speak of this, oh great King. It is a matter that we didn't want to disturb you with when it happened, you are such an important and busy man."

Aelspeth keeps her attention on Theoden, though she occasionally meets Eomer's eyes over the King's shoulder, her face showing nothing as she waits in silence to see her charge.

Amarthion's eyes meet Grima's for only a brief second, and there is no friendliness in them, but he directs his attention back to Theoden, ignoring the chancellor. "Your Majesty, Erindil is a brother of mine in Knighthood..." he cuts himself off, remembering his place, "But assuredly your chancellor knows well the story in its entirety, and you needn't hear twice."

Theoden's body slowly cogwheels towards his trusted advisor. "As always faithful Grima you do what you feel is in the best interests of myself and of the Mark.. But now that good Imrahil has brought this incident to my attention...enlighten me..or perhaps the..."

Theoden says, "honorable Amarthion would like to do Theoden the favor."

Grima's eyes are dark on the man from Gondor, but there is only absolute concern for his King therein when he turns them to Theoden and assumes an expression of put upon innocence. "In all honesty, great king, I do not remember the details of this small incident as it took place so long ago. It shouldn't have caused the notice of these lords from far away." His voice is glidy and oily smooth, and he stops to look at Amarthion again. "Yes, maybe he would."

Aelspeth, for the most part, conveys not much interest in anything but Theoden, and she shifts her healer's satchel beneath her cloak until one end can be seen protruding from beneath her cloak, but still she remains silent as her liege attends to what appears to be important business.

Elbarad watches the interplay between the king's advisor and the Herald carefully, unsure what is being said between the lines. He shifts his weight abit, slightly uncomfortable on one knee.

Eomer's penetrating gaze drifts around the room, looking upon whomever speaks as he quietly watches.

Theoden sways unsteadily with weakness from the excitement of this meeting. Reaching for the arm of his throne, the king shakes his head as if to shake the evil specter of his illness away from his person.

Amarthion inhales slowly, "Your Majesty, it is no small trifle that a Knight of the Swan be humiliated in the land of ancient allinances, and I am surprised indeed that your chancellor did not find it worthy of either your ear or his own recollection, but be that as it may, it is my unfortunate place not to tell you of it. Prince Imrahil seeks apology for the mistreatment of Erindil of Telpekhor that was done him in the form of incarceration by a man of the Mark not so great in honour as his fair bretheren."

Grima is instantly there at Theoden's side, his long, delicate looking fingers reaching to support the ruler's arm. "You must sit and rest, my King, do not let this excitement disrupt your health." A cold glint is in his dark eyes as they look at Amarthion, but not when he turns back again and leans foward to continue his snaky soft whispery speech. "It is not of the import they say sire, a misunderstanding is all. Nothing to cause all of this."

Eomer's face shows a bit of recognition. He watches Grima help Theoden back to the throne and uses the pause to speak, "Did this occur durring our festivale many months ago? I recall two of your kin being arrested but they were only held for one night."

Aelspeth moves along the side of the hall, her loose hair glinting in the little light to be had from the fires in the room. Silent, her passage is unmarked behind the pillars save by servants, who approach her and hastily departed after a few whispered commands into their ears.

Amarthion blatantly ignores Grima other than a disdainful look out of =he corner of his eye, "Nae-the-less it was unaddressed, my friend Eomer," he says slowly, "And all Prince Imrahil wishes is to know that justice for unjust imprisonment during festivals to which we were cordially invited is being meted. But that was not the thrust of his letter, and merely one of several points he sought to make." He then reaches deep into his cloak, and pulls from the back of his belt a pouch, purple and silver in color, with a glorious swan ship embroidered upon it. The bag is roughly three quarters of a foot in length and half a foot in width, "I come bearing a gift of our good will, Your Majesty." He bows once again, the embroidered velvet bag in hand.

Elbarad leans forward slightly, his interest caught by the offering of the gift.

Theoden accepts his counsellor's hand as he returns to the comfort of his throne. "Surely this is a unfortunate misunderstanding that I am sure we shall be able to make greater sense of with time... As for this gift.." Theoden takes the gift in hand and from Eomer's eyes go suddenly cold as he fixes his gaze on Amarthion. "Alas, I fear the apology Prince Imrahil cannot have his apology. The order *I* gave to have his Knight and another Gondorian arrest was within our laws. We do not tolorate dueling within the walls of the city. Those that draw weapons within Edoras break the law, be they Rohir or honored guests." the ornate packaging, removes a crystal horse that sparkles brilliantly in the torchlight. *Surely such craftsmanship must be attributed to the great dwarven artisians*.

Grima's cold fingers tuck in the blanket around Theoden's seated form, he is the perfect picture of solicitous concern for an ailing liege as he sees to the king's comfort before resuming his place to the left of the throne. That tongue darts out again to wet his bottom lip before he shoots his gaze in Eomer's direction and rubs his hands together thoughtfully, waiting for just the right time to add his famed and valued counsel.

Amarthion's attention on the gift is suddenly shifted to Eomer, and he nods slowly, "I had heard otherwise, friend. I shall report this to Prince Imrahil as soon as my Quest to the north is over, and tell him this. I assure you, His Highness is a wise man and would not seek apology for enforcing of laws."

Elbarad's eyes widen at the gift, so perfectly chosen for the intended recipient. His curiousity sated he relaxes onces again upon his knee.

Theoden's eyes lose their lifeless glaze as the word duel intrudes upon his ears. Looking towards young Eomer the old King appears somewhat distressed, "Tell us more Eomer, surely myself and the our guests would like to hear what, in your view, transpired then.

Theoden strokes the most generous gift between his fingers although his eyes give full attention to young Eomer.

The subtle sweetness of a light, fresh scent lifts to stain the air with a brush of the outdoors as servants bring a pot of boiling water into the room and set it on a hidden table in a shadowy corner. Aelspeth adds a handful of this herb and that from various pouches, watching the King alone with some bare hint of concern.

The King's Counsellor's gleamy eyes narrow on Amarthion at the mention of a trip to the north, he missed this part before he came in, and for a brief moment looks none too pleased at such news. But that is gone as quickly as it flashed, to be replaced with the melted lines of concern and care as he slips back with a whisper of roads to speak in hushed and intimate tones with the King, while they wait for Eomer to elaborate on his tale.

Eomer noticablely relaxes, he even smiles. He turns towards his King and speaks, "There is little to tell Theoden King. During the festivle, I was passing up the King's Road on my way to the ampitheatre when I cam across two men from Gondor before the Sleeping Stallion. Both had swords drawn and were fighting in the square. As that is against your law, and our laws of old, I called for the King's Guard to arrest them. Twas not till later that I learned it was a woman they fought over. And they were held but one night, my Liege. Just long enough to let their tempers cool."

Theoden's face shows visible signs of concern as Grima whispers *sweet-nothings* in his ear.

Aelspeth stands silently in the shadows, fingering a flask of some silvered metal wrapped up with leather strips as her violet eyes grow darker and darker while she awaits the King's freedom.

Amarthion frowns and begins to shake his head slowly, "No... no, that sounds like another incident, Eomer my friend." he purses his lips, "I doubt me that Erindil would fight another man for a woman in a duel in a strange land. Although," he pauses, "I may be mistaken."

Upon hearing Eomer's version of the events surrounding the arrest, Theoden almost smiles, "A woman.. surely there is no better reason to do battle...but as Eomer has already noted... Dueling is not tolerated within the city gates of Edoras..."

Amarthion frowns as he tries to remember the incident, and shakes his head, "Although it may very well have been. Alas! I had thought only one such incident had occurred, and I not available to witness it myself."

Elbarad shifts slightly, as quietly as he can in his chain mail as the lords debate over the facts of this incident. While they talk he takes this oppertunity to glance around the great hall of the Kings of Rohan.

Grima nods where Theoden can see him, supporting what the King he is so obviously devoted to has said. But where Theoden can't see, and when no one else looks, his gaze is sharp and hard, calculating, before he fades that away again cautiously. "Women are lovely creatures, and worthy of being dueled over outside the gates." He doesn't talk to anyone in particular, keeps up his soft hissing background behind the King's left ear. And as he talks of women, his eyes search round for someone, some familiar presence in the throne room that isn't there right now.

Theoden brings his hands together before his face as his thoughts dwell upon this matter. Looking to Grima and then to the Herald from Gondor, "At this point young lad, it is clearly impossible to offer a formal apology for the wrongs against one of your...

Amarthion frowns as he tries to recall the incident, and then his eyes alight. "Ah! Mayhap... yes, yes. This was the incident." He laughs softly, "You see, Erindil Telpekhor did not fight over a woman - he fought for the honour of his sister whom he felt was being courted by a kinsman with very poor manner to the point he felt her honour was challenged."

Theoden says, "brothers, but surely you can understand the actions of our young Eomer... Perhaps with this new information you can ease the bruised ego of Erindil..And I pray that will be enough."

Amarthion raises a hand, "Alas, my memory failed me for the briefest of moments, but the story in full comes to mind. Nay, Eomer's actions were beyond reproach, Majesty." He continues, "It was the subsequent beatings in jail that His Highness felt an affront to the honour of the Swan Knights, and that which he seeks apology."

Eomer's face darkens at the meantion of beatings. His voice raises and for a moment his forgets where he is and his place, "Beatings?!? In our jail?? Who did such a thing? I give him 10 blows for everyone he delivered!"

Grima's pasty white face screws up into a cautious expression of surprised wariness as he lets his fingers run along the side of the throne and then hides them in the sleeve of his robe. "There was no news of beatings when this happened. This would be impossible in one of our cells." His supple voice is soft, leading to a conclusion that he won't openly voice as to where the miscommunication lies.

Amarthion simply responds, "His name is Jared, Lord Eomer, but apology only is what His Highness desires of his own accord, for he is wise and a forgiving man, and seeks justice only, not blood."

Eomer shakes his head slowly, repeating the name, "Jared... Jared... Hmmm, the name seems familier...." He looks up suddenly, enlightment showing on his face but his smile remains sad, "Ahh yes! I remember now. Twas ill tidings I had to deliver to his family. He was slain in an uruk attack. Not as great a lose as I had thought though."

Grima wrinkles his nose a little, careful to keep this shielded from the King he apparently cares for with every ounce of his oily little being. "Yes, soon after the festival. Even your lord couldn't expect noble Theoden to apologize for the actions of a dead man who isn't here to defend himself." Again, no direct accusation does the husky, whispering voice that issues from between his thin lips give, but insinuation is worth so much more sometimes.

While the rest of the room's attention is focused on Eomer's museing, Elbarad takes a chance and quietly switches his position so that he is kneeling on the other knee.

Grima manages quite handily to overlook Elbarad on the floor, effectively releasing himself from the duty of letting the man get more comfortable, and he doesn't even break any rules of etiquette to do it.

Amarthion smiles softly to Grima, "What the King of the Mark chooses to speak is not yours to say, and I do not recall asking the opinion of his chancellor." He breathes, "And even in his great wisdom my Fair Prince Imrahil could not have forseen the death of the man." He nods to Theoden then, "Unbidden," he emphasizes this word, "Your servant speaks the truth: His Highness does not seek apology from a dead man."

The sun sinks in the sky and falls below the horizon. Nighttime takes over.

Eomer turns towards the sound of chain russling and spies Elbarad still kneeling. He glances back at Theoden quizically.

That flash of subdued malice brightens Grima's eyes as he marks Amarthion before slinking around and humbling his demeanor before Theoden only. "Forgive your servant, oh great King," the papery voice is for the ruler's ears alone, "for he did but try to ease your duty in answering this visitor from afar. He meant no offense." And the councellor bows his head a little, tucking in a stray corner of blanket before darting his hands back and away.

Theoden leans forward and despite his decaying appearance, the king is able to feel the friction and heat that develops between his counsellor and the herald, "Now surely Grima may not always choose the most appropriate methods of communicating his thoughts,..

Theoden says, "but he has always had great insight into matters that I, with my illness have no patience or strength to endure."

And through this all, Aelspeth keeps up her stoic vigil of watchfullness.. unwilling to interrupt as she tends the brew she prepares already, and watches the King from her place to one side and in the shadow.

Amarthion looks long upon the King of the Mark, and there is a marked respect in his eyes which forces him to bow his head ever so slightly, "For your sake, Majesty, I shall apologize to Grima." he says slowly, though a very brief flash of his crystal blue eyes in the direction of the chancellor tells him exactly how his opinion remains. "And for the sake of the family of the dead, I beseech you to lay aside this matter, for justice beyond the grave is more than any could ask for."

Eomer addresses Theoden King in a respectful tone, "(UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH)"

Theoden tugging his blankets tighter around himself as he has another coughing fit, the king manages to speak a few sentences before being wracked by his illness. "Alas it is sad to hear of the fate of Jared and as with all who pass.. I pray that Eorl rides"

Aelspeth draws a breath, and decides she has waited just about long enough at the sound of that cough. Taking a cup of fine make, for it is the king's own, she draws enough of her steeped brew to fill it nearly full. Her fingers unstopper the flask, and a dollop of golden rich honey lends sweetness to offset the herbs. She turns then, composed before any and all, and bears the mug into the light and toward the dias, where she is intercepted on the bottom step by Grima himself.

Theoden says, "alongside him as he journeys from us. And I also pray that if he has done any wrong, which we have no way of knowing, that he be forgiven by those he hath done ill."

Grima hisses a few soft words to Aelspeth, looking unctuous and ultimately concerned as his long fingers wrap around the mug's bowl and he draws it firmly away from the Master Healer's hands. His left hand cups over the top as he keeps in the heat and glides back up the dias to offer it humbly to Theoden, only worry on his pale, drawn face. In the interim, he has lost the moment of his apology back to the Gondorian man.

Amarthion bows graciously, "It is forgiven, Theoden King. And may Elbereth watch over him ever after, thus saith His Highness, Imrahil, Prince of Dol Amroth."

Elbarad watches with intrest as the healer brings a medicinal brew for the king.

Theoden takes the warm broth from Grima and offers his thanks to the Master Healer before taking a long satisifying sip.

Aelspeth seems to have no problem with the delivery of her medicinal brew, but she waits right where she is, an emerald garbed figure in velvets and jewels, the bright amethyst intensity of her eyes fixed firmly upon first Grima and then Theoden. There is a professional edge to her stance, a quiet command beneath the softness should she care to invoke it.

The King's Counsellor takes up his position of solicitous watchfulness just behind Theoden's left shoulder, where he can show what he wants of his expressions without disturbing his ruler with them and their meaning.

Amarthion takes this moment of quiet to ask quietly, "Your Highness, I shall not tarry long in your prsence that you may not become exhausted and your illness harm you. Yet ere I go, there is one matter of greater import that I must address upon that scroll. Prince Imrahil seeks passage through the Westfold of the Mark that his Knights may fulfill their Quest."

Aelspeth waits until the soothing herbs have had a noticeable affect on Theoden's wracking coughs.. then and only then, does she turn her elegant self to survey the rest of the others in the room to full extent. Her gaze is calming and encompassing both as she leaves it but a moment on Amarthion, and then Elbarad. She drops a graceful curtsy to Theoden, even though he isn't watching.. and makes to back away, but pauses as her husband's lands are mentioned.

Theoden immediately taking his attention away from Amarthion and to the counsellor he pauses, remembering words recently whispered to him by Grima. "As shall always be if the Eorlingas settle these lands... You and all your people shall be welcome through ... Theoden says, "our lands when they are safe. For surely we cannot allow you to pass through our lands if their are perils that need to be faced.. Just recently, my good counselor has informed me that the roads are currently impassable due to heavy snows in this" Theoden says, "severe winter. I pray you stay awhile in Edoras until the roads become clear for your safe passage. "

Grima's face screws up again, and the flash of a glare at the Gondorians is covered up quickly as he leans over and takes up the same carefully attentive tone with Theoden, his entire being focused on attending his ruler as he nods to the words the King speaks. When their echoes have died away, then the counsellor glitters his gaze at Amarthion and keeps his lips in a set line that is meant to convey a commiserative understanding at the ending of a quest to such unpredictable things as the weather.

Amarthion bows at the waist, a full and graceful bow complete with a flourish of his dark cloak. "My lord is gracious and more, and gladly we shall accept thy hospitality, lord."

Elbarad's face falls as the King decides not to allow passage until spring. His head bowed he remains that way until he can regain his composure.

Theoden turns towards Grima, "Very well my counsellor.. Insure the comfort of our guests in the Feluseld until we may allow them to continue their journey in safety."

Amarthion smiles stonily at Grima, a determined smile that in no way hints that he shall leave the Mark. "And if that is how it must be, I shall wait for the spring thaw." he says simply, "though never has a Knight of the Swan before so badly overstayed his welcome. Yet this Quest must be fulfilled, and I'll not return from whence I came until it is."

Eomer chuckles, and speaks up, "I don't think you'll have to wait that long. The roads usually clear in a week at the most. Isn't that true Grima?"

Grima bows his head to Theoden, focusing on him for the moment as he nods. "Yes, my King, I will do only as you ask. It is my purpose to serve you only." He turns himself around in his robes and straightens up to look down on Amarthion, and he makes his face look warm and welcoming despite the calculated dislike in his eyes. "Only the best rooms for our guests..." He stops in midsentence and hoods his gaze at Eomer before going on with a touch of drollness to his tone. "Of course, too bad the uruk incursions are so vicious this year in that area. They alone might end this quest to the north."

Amarthion frowns visibly, "And never has a Knight of the Swan been delayed by these... 'uruk incursions' and I'll not be the first."

Elbarad's head lifts up from when he had bowed it in defeat. Now hope reflects from his face as Eomer speaks only to be dashed again by the councilor. A slight grinding noise can be heard as he clenches his teeth in an effort not to say something.

Theoden laughs softly to himself. He smiles upon the overly protective Grima, "Always you worry so much and perhaps more than is needed. Surely you can arrange an escort for these fine men as they travel northward once the snows have melted.."

Eomer grins, addressing Grima, "Nor would I, a Marshall of the Mark, allow our friends from the south to fall to such a thing. I will escort them as far as the Fords of Isen once the roads are clear."

Theoden motions towards Eomer as he speaks, "Or surely Grima if you are too busy with other business..Eomer can do the favor."

Grima's heavy lidded eyes gleam thoughtfully on Amarthion, and for a moment he might even smile cruelly to himself. But he doesn't really, he makes that oily servile expression come back and paints himself the dutiful servant run ragged by duties to the crown. "Yes, great King.... Of course."

Eomer is speared by an intent gaze from those almost hidden eyes. "My duties are to you and I will let none ruin your health by attending you falsely, my lord. Surely your sister son is more than equal to the task of escorting our guests that far." His teeth close and stay that way for a moment. "In a few weeks when the storms have passed."

Eomer nods, "Or less, depending on the roads." He turns to address Theoden now, "Theoden King, I have those in my Eored that I can send to watch the roads so we may speed our Friends along as quickly as possible."

Theoden rubs his hands together before pressing himself up and out of his throne. He moves away from the throne and shuffles towards his chambers. He turns around momentarily to address the men from Gondor, "Now rest well in Edoras for the journey ahead wil..." Theoden says, "be difficult. Even the eyes and hands of Eomer and his personal eored cannot make your path light... "

Grima thinks quickly, and then, with a final flaring of ill will that is skillfully concealed to only be hinted at, he swirls around and scuttles smoothly to help Theoden from the room if he should need it, leaving Eomer to handle the arrangements he has already made.

Amarthion restrains himself from speaking as Eomer and Grima vie for the King's ear, choosing rather than to speak in agreement with Eomer to instead allow his friend to speak - it's gotten the best results anyway.

Aelspeth turns finally, to follow Theoden with a pair of concerned eyes, but she smoothes away the creasing of her dainty brow and moves back behind the pillars to regain possession of her satchel and to stuff it with the pouches of herbs she'd taken out before. This takes but moments, and with a lithe grace that expresses itself in every line of her body, she rises and adjusts her cloak about her shoulders.

Eomer chuckles as he steps over to Elbarad. He rests a hand on his shoulder and gently pulls him up from the floor. "Rise friend. You're a credit to your Lord." He turns to address Amarthion, "I'll send out Riders to watch the roads. They'll report back as soon as they are clear. Until then, please continue enjoying the hospitality of the Feduseld and of Edoras."

Elbarad rises to his feet finally, his knees creaking and popping as he does, with a jesting bow towards Eomer he says, "I gave my word m'lord to not go beyond my place. I would have kept it even were I to be lamed. I do thank you though for your words on our behalf. I half think that the King's councilor did not wish for us to leave your city."

Theoden passes throught the northern door on the wall where the throne sits.

Theoden has left.

Amarthion nods to Eomer, "You have been a most gracious host, Eomer, and I have been glad to count you as a friend. Valar be willing, I shall burden you with the presence of myself and my company only a little while longer, but know that if ever a day passes that you come to the Bay of Belfalas, such hospitality shall be showered upon you and any that come with you.

Aelspeth idly seals her satchel up, nimble fingers closing its flaps with a practiced ease that bespeaks many long years at such tasks as that. With the silvery clasp of her cloak sealed beneath her chin, she casts one more observant purple glance about the room and moves to leave.. her path flaring out into the light as her cloak flows with the grace of her steps behind her.

Eomer nods, and smiles toward Amarthion, "If Eorl allows it, I would gladly take you up on your offer." He turns towards Elbarad, "The Counslor can be odd at times. I think he fears the consequences if anything happens to you within the Mark. But he is overly cautious at times."

Elbarad nods and does not argue the point with the one who seems to be most their ally. He says, "In any case we have gotten the needed permission. Now we must simply await the melting of the snow and as an added benefit we shall have you and your men along with us as we travel."

Eomer nods and bows, "Now, if you will excuse me, I will see to sending men to watch the roads. I know just who to send as well."

Amarthion smiles his appreciation as Eomer accepts his offer, but it quickly becomes a look of distaste as Grima is brought up, "The King is wise in many things and widely renowned for his wisdom, but no good shall come of that Grima's being the counselor."

Aelspeth spares the men another enigmatic glance, before she heads for the door, graciously inclining her head to the guards who open it before her before stepping through and outside.

Aelspeth leaves the meduseld.

Aelspeth has left.

Eomer bows once more, then, pulling his cloak tightly around him, quickly heads out.

Eomer leaves the meduseld.

Eomer has left.

Aelspeth leaves the meduseld.

Aelspeth has left.

Eomer bows once more, then, pulling his cloak tightly around him, quickly heads out.

Eomer leaves the meduseld.

Eomer has left.