Elendor
Message for the King
Dunsten interrupts Theoden King's dinner to deliver an apparently urgent message
Sort Date: no date set
Location: Edoras
Game Date: March 3046
IC Time: Early evening
Description:
The Meduseld
This is the main chamber of the Meduseld, the seat of power in Rohan. Fourteen great pillars line the hall, seven to each side. Patterned after the symbols of the Eotheod clans, 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 while 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 King's dais, upon whose marbled surface sits a intricately carved, 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 opposite the throne, the main entrance, while the others are in the wall upon which the dais nestles, leading further into the Golden Hall.
The afternoon of this rather brisk spring day is at its very end, the light already beginning to fade in the west and a chill setting in even further. It is time for the evening meal or at the very least, relaxing, business of the day likely completed, and the night beginning to beckon with its promise of the respite of sleep.
And yet here in the Meduseld, a servant rushes into the main hall, obviously seeking the king in haste.
[Theoden(#15851)]
At the end of the hall is the dais, and seated on the throne there is Theoden, sitting back at some ease, with his legs stretched out and his hands resting lightly over the carven horses' heads that adorn the ends of the seat's arms. He closes his eyes briefly, then leans his head back. A soft sigh escapes his lips, and he shakes himself slightly, opens his eyes, and leans forwards. "So," he says softly, looking towards his advisor, who is seated on a lower step, "Do you know what treat is in store? I heard a rumor that the cooks have prepared something splendid for tonight..."
[Faestred(#31903)]
Said advisor lifts his head, drawing a breath through his nose as if imagining the scent of whatever morsel might be brought forth from the kitchen. "Aye, Sire. A treat indeed," he dips his chin, silvered braids waggling slightly, casting a slight, if sympathetic, smile up towards the King. "Rumours of roast duck with a sweet sauce came to my ear, my Lord. Suffice to say, the cooks seem quite tight-lipped about whatever surprise they have in store, which bodes well for those to receive the meal." He gives a low chuckle, one which fades to silence as the servant comes dashing in. Brows knitting, a thoughtful curiosity clouds grey eyes. "A late hour for an errand runner. This must be interesting," muses the advisor aloud, softly.
"Sire," the servant says, nervously shifting from foot to foot. "Sire, begging your pardon at interrupting your supper, but there is a messenger at the door, a Rider from the West. Bringing news that cannot wait, he says."
[Theoden(#15851)]
"Duck? Ahhh..." Theoden smiles, warmth mingling with relief. "I... oh." He looks to the servant, then lifts a shoulder in a brief, weary shrug. "He has not interrupted it he has postponed it. Terribly urgent message. Hrmmm. Maybe my son has finally taken a wife. Senthis Rider in, by all means, and then do go and ask the cooks if they can in any way hold supper without ruining it."
[Faestred(#31903)]
The advisor's lips press together in a firmly contained smile at one in particular of the King's comments, a subdued, almost sad laughter glittering in his gaze. "I fear the messengers would not call such a message terribly urgent, unless said wife was already with child," he comments with a heavy sigh. "Still, we can take consolation that urgent news oft requires swift response, and as such we shall likely still see our supper soon."
"Yes, sire, of course. I shall do both and with alacrity, since haste now may save your meal for later." That said, the servant hurries out of the hall and and young man, known to the King primarily for his sulking, is ushered in.
Dunsten bows low, then waits to be addressed. He is in a traveling cloak and the uniform of the Riders of the West, much stained with travel, his boots muddied to his knees. His helmet he carries under one arm, and his hair is matted from sweat and the helmet.
[Theoden(#15851)]
Theoden straightens as the servant moves, and he masks the traces of weariness that show upon his face. It is only concern that shows, and he nods his head to Dunsten, his eyes glittering with keen focus. "You have driven yourself hard," he says, "and refreshment shall be provided." He motions to another servant, who brings Dunsten a cup of mulled cider. "I trust your horse is being tended. What has brought you here in such haste?"
[Faestred(#31903)]
The advisor shifts, straightens somewhat at the messenger's approach. Grey eyes settle upon the young man, studying him, though his gaze is not unkind. In silence he watches and listens for the moment, as the servants pass to and fro.
[Faestred(#31903)]
The advisor shifts, straightens somewhat at the messenger's approach. Grey eyes settle upon the young man, studying him, though his gaze is not unkind. In silence he watches and listens for the moment, as the servants pass to and fro.
Though he takes the cup and holds it in both hands, Dunsten does not drink--not yet. "Coenred Coensihtson, Aethelwigend, sent me in haste, my lord. I road with him to the Gap, hunting along the way, as it is my profession, and learning the ways of the Riders from he and his men. But we were waylaid near the camp, our camp attacked from the woods. For a time we fought them off, but then we were forced to withdraw. He bid me bring you word of this and to ask for aid...."
[Theoden(#15851)]
A frown pulls down the corners of Theoden's mouth, and a furrow creases his brows. He tilts his head, and for a moment he is silent. "You are of the West-Mark eoreds," he says softly. "Why are you riding with an eored from the east? They do not know the land so well as those who live in the West. And how many men are you? How many Dunlendings? There are eoreds stationed in the West-Mark did you not go to Helm's Deep?"
[Faestred(#31903)]
"What brought a patrol of the East into the West at the outset, I do wonder, Sire," says the advisor softly, thoughtfully as to little interrupt. "If there are not enough Riders in the West to care for their own lands, that Coenred Aethelwigend must ride there also, a grave situation we have indeed."
"I but rode with Coenred, sire, and did not question where he went. I was mainly hunting and learning what I could from the Riders. So your pardon, but I cannot answer your query."
Dunsten shakes his head, continuing. "We were twenty, but the enemy came at us from the woods and concealed themselves well. Some lit a fire north of us as a decoy, the others lurked in the woods and came at us only when it was to their advantage."
"As for why I did not go to Helm's Deep, Coenred bid me come here, and I obeyed his command. Perhaps it was his intention to ride to Helm's Deep, but he felt he must inform the King as well, of course? I can only speculate and poorly so, I'm afraid."
[Theoden(#15851)]
"What woods? How many were the enemy? And do you not have an eored of your own to ride with in the West?" Theoden shakes his head, and his eyes flicker. "For one who rode in such haste, you *do* seem to need the answers dragged out of you. What, when, where, and how many. Do tell me. And do drink something. Did you tend your horse? You did not answer that, either."
[Faestred(#31903)]
The advisor merely leans back upon one elbow with a quiet, drawn out sigh which echoes of dissapointment. His studious gaze still remains upon the young Rider, awaiting the King's answers with much practiced patience.
"We counted 10 of the enemy that we could see outright, more in the trees along the road, for it was not a woods per se. When was two days ago in the evening, and yes sir, I saw to it that my horse was tended first." With that Dunsten takes a hasty drink, nervous. "Sire, forgive me for being such a poor messenger. I was given but little information."
[Theoden(#15851)]
Theoden's eyes narrow, and he waits for a long moment, as if expecting more. Then he blinks, and leans back. "You... were on the road... somewhere... though you do not say which road. At any rate, you and Coenred and his twenty are camped somewhere in some woods-that-are-not-woods apparently near enough to the border for there to be enemies, and it is evening, and apparently none of you check the area, because you are ambushed... by orcs or humans you do not say, and there are... ten but more than that, but can you give an estimate... anyway, they managed to somehow drive away a partol of experienced fighters for some reason, and yet not kill them, and for what sounds like a skirmish you rode like the wind here to tell me so that I could send aid to fight against... a band small enough to need an ambush instead of a straight-out fight. Is this more or less what you needed to tell me?"
[Faestred(#31903)]
"Little informed as a messenger may be, and not to his blame, still his duty it is to collect his mind that others might comprehend his tale," the advisor says gently, his voice low, but resonant enough to carry to the young man. A soft sigh, and the man's gaze flickers away from the lad just long enough to glance up, briefly appraising, to the King. "Unlike Coenred Aethelwigend it seems to me to send with such urgency a message that has little bearing but to waste your time, my Lord. Perhaps in a more," A pause, and he turns his head back to study Dunsten, "Coherent telling would reveal the Aethelwigend's need."
Dunsten's brows draw together slightly, but his tone is polite. "It was beyond the River Isen, in land disputed between us and Dunland, and watches had been set, sire. The enemy set a fire in a field about a quarter mile from us, but Coenred's scouts alerted us it was a trick. And perhaps, sire, I make more of it than I should. Coenred would only alert you to such a small band on the western border out of courtesy. So I beg your pardon? I am new and overeager for battle. It makes my blood run hot."
[Theoden(#15851)]
"Perhaps you should douse it then, lad, in cold water ere you ride forth again." Theoden's voice is sharper now, and if the advisor's words briefly mollified him, it is in no way evident. "Did Coenred actually ask me to send aid, or is that your... ah... interpretation?"
[Faestred(#31903)]
"You blood runs hot, all the while our meals turn cold," murmurs the advisor with a weary sigh. "Perhaps if the young lad here might recall the exact instructions given him by Coenred Aethelwigend, his entire errand might become clear to us all."
"Your pardon..he..." Dunsten reddens and scuffs at the floor with a boot. "He said to report to you what happened. Sire. There are skirmishes with the men of Dunland, the enemy hiding in wooded areas along the road to the Gap, using the cover of the trees and darkness to come at us so that they cannot easily be fought. He thought to let you know this, my lord."
[Theoden(#15851)]
One deep breath, then two, then eight more. Theoden folds his hands in his lap, and for a long, very very long minute he fixes his gaze upon the young, hapless rider. "I see." His words are crisp, emotionless. "I see. Well, then." He regards the youth for another long minute. "Here is what I shall do. On the morrow, I shall send a getaleboda forth to Helm's Deep to alert Theodred and the West Mark eoreds. They will alert the patrols and make the necessary adjustments it is what they have drilled for. You will ride with the getaleboda -- slowly! -- that you might understand and learn how such messages are properly delivered. Then you shall return to Coenred and bid him come to Edoras to report to me. You, too, shall come to Edoras... and for no less than a fortnight you shall work with the eoscealcs... and not ride... that I might be reassured that you shall not ride a horse with such dire haste for... a mere small skirmish. Is that clear?"
[Faestred(#31903)]
A frown creases the advisor's brow, the corners of his lips drawn tight. He, too, appraises the youth for the long silence, though his sigh is one of long suffering. "Aah, at last we have the word that was meant to be delivered from the west," he remarks quietly. "Doubtless, another mount shall have to be readied for him. Two days' hard riding will mean many days rest for his steed. Shall I have word sent, then, Sire, to the stables as such?" asks he with another glance up at the King, his own voice cool yet shaded with something like disappointment.
"Yes, sire, of course," Dunsten answers in his best meek voice, thoroughly mollified. "I will do all that you command, sire. It is clear. May I...may I have your leave to go, sire? My brother, a Rider of the West-mark, wished to send his patrol that way."
[Theoden(#15851)]
"You may go, yes," answers Theoden. "However, you shall not ride with your brother unless the getaleboda wishes it. And you shall return promptly as I have said, for I am... most displeased. Now go, check on your horse, and then go to rest. You shall have an early start."
The Meduseld
This is the main chamber of the Meduseld, the seat of power in Rohan. Fourteen great pillars line the hall, seven to each side. Patterned after the symbols of the Eotheod clans, 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 while 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 King's dais, upon whose marbled surface sits a intricately carved, 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 opposite the throne, the main entrance, while the others are in the wall upon which the dais nestles, leading further into the Golden Hall.
The afternoon of this rather brisk spring day is at its very end, the light already beginning to fade in the west and a chill setting in even further. It is time for the evening meal or at the very least, relaxing, business of the day likely completed, and the night beginning to beckon with its promise of the respite of sleep.
And yet here in the Meduseld, a servant rushes into the main hall, obviously seeking the king in haste.
[Theoden(#15851)]
At the end of the hall is the dais, and seated on the throne there is Theoden, sitting back at some ease, with his legs stretched out and his hands resting lightly over the carven horses' heads that adorn the ends of the seat's arms. He closes his eyes briefly, then leans his head back. A soft sigh escapes his lips, and he shakes himself slightly, opens his eyes, and leans forwards. "So," he says softly, looking towards his advisor, who is seated on a lower step, "Do you know what treat is in store? I heard a rumor that the cooks have prepared something splendid for tonight..."
[Faestred(#31903)]
Said advisor lifts his head, drawing a breath through his nose as if imagining the scent of whatever morsel might be brought forth from the kitchen. "Aye, Sire. A treat indeed," he dips his chin, silvered braids waggling slightly, casting a slight, if sympathetic, smile up towards the King. "Rumours of roast duck with a sweet sauce came to my ear, my Lord. Suffice to say, the cooks seem quite tight-lipped about whatever surprise they have in store, which bodes well for those to receive the meal." He gives a low chuckle, one which fades to silence as the servant comes dashing in. Brows knitting, a thoughtful curiosity clouds grey eyes. "A late hour for an errand runner. This must be interesting," muses the advisor aloud, softly.
"Sire," the servant says, nervously shifting from foot to foot. "Sire, begging your pardon at interrupting your supper, but there is a messenger at the door, a Rider from the West. Bringing news that cannot wait, he says."
[Theoden(#15851)]
"Duck? Ahhh..." Theoden smiles, warmth mingling with relief. "I... oh." He looks to the servant, then lifts a shoulder in a brief, weary shrug. "He has not interrupted it he has postponed it. Terribly urgent message. Hrmmm. Maybe my son has finally taken a wife. Senthis Rider in, by all means, and then do go and ask the cooks if they can in any way hold supper without ruining it."
[Faestred(#31903)]
The advisor's lips press together in a firmly contained smile at one in particular of the King's comments, a subdued, almost sad laughter glittering in his gaze. "I fear the messengers would not call such a message terribly urgent, unless said wife was already with child," he comments with a heavy sigh. "Still, we can take consolation that urgent news oft requires swift response, and as such we shall likely still see our supper soon."
"Yes, sire, of course. I shall do both and with alacrity, since haste now may save your meal for later." That said, the servant hurries out of the hall and and young man, known to the King primarily for his sulking, is ushered in.
Dunsten bows low, then waits to be addressed. He is in a traveling cloak and the uniform of the Riders of the West, much stained with travel, his boots muddied to his knees. His helmet he carries under one arm, and his hair is matted from sweat and the helmet.
[Theoden(#15851)]
Theoden straightens as the servant moves, and he masks the traces of weariness that show upon his face. It is only concern that shows, and he nods his head to Dunsten, his eyes glittering with keen focus. "You have driven yourself hard," he says, "and refreshment shall be provided." He motions to another servant, who brings Dunsten a cup of mulled cider. "I trust your horse is being tended. What has brought you here in such haste?"
[Faestred(#31903)]
The advisor shifts, straightens somewhat at the messenger's approach. Grey eyes settle upon the young man, studying him, though his gaze is not unkind. In silence he watches and listens for the moment, as the servants pass to and fro.
[Faestred(#31903)]
The advisor shifts, straightens somewhat at the messenger's approach. Grey eyes settle upon the young man, studying him, though his gaze is not unkind. In silence he watches and listens for the moment, as the servants pass to and fro.
Though he takes the cup and holds it in both hands, Dunsten does not drink--not yet. "Coenred Coensihtson, Aethelwigend, sent me in haste, my lord. I road with him to the Gap, hunting along the way, as it is my profession, and learning the ways of the Riders from he and his men. But we were waylaid near the camp, our camp attacked from the woods. For a time we fought them off, but then we were forced to withdraw. He bid me bring you word of this and to ask for aid...."
[Theoden(#15851)]
A frown pulls down the corners of Theoden's mouth, and a furrow creases his brows. He tilts his head, and for a moment he is silent. "You are of the West-Mark eoreds," he says softly. "Why are you riding with an eored from the east? They do not know the land so well as those who live in the West. And how many men are you? How many Dunlendings? There are eoreds stationed in the West-Mark did you not go to Helm's Deep?"
[Faestred(#31903)]
"What brought a patrol of the East into the West at the outset, I do wonder, Sire," says the advisor softly, thoughtfully as to little interrupt. "If there are not enough Riders in the West to care for their own lands, that Coenred Aethelwigend must ride there also, a grave situation we have indeed."
"I but rode with Coenred, sire, and did not question where he went. I was mainly hunting and learning what I could from the Riders. So your pardon, but I cannot answer your query."
Dunsten shakes his head, continuing. "We were twenty, but the enemy came at us from the woods and concealed themselves well. Some lit a fire north of us as a decoy, the others lurked in the woods and came at us only when it was to their advantage."
"As for why I did not go to Helm's Deep, Coenred bid me come here, and I obeyed his command. Perhaps it was his intention to ride to Helm's Deep, but he felt he must inform the King as well, of course? I can only speculate and poorly so, I'm afraid."
[Theoden(#15851)]
"What woods? How many were the enemy? And do you not have an eored of your own to ride with in the West?" Theoden shakes his head, and his eyes flicker. "For one who rode in such haste, you *do* seem to need the answers dragged out of you. What, when, where, and how many. Do tell me. And do drink something. Did you tend your horse? You did not answer that, either."
[Faestred(#31903)]
The advisor merely leans back upon one elbow with a quiet, drawn out sigh which echoes of dissapointment. His studious gaze still remains upon the young Rider, awaiting the King's answers with much practiced patience.
"We counted 10 of the enemy that we could see outright, more in the trees along the road, for it was not a woods per se. When was two days ago in the evening, and yes sir, I saw to it that my horse was tended first." With that Dunsten takes a hasty drink, nervous. "Sire, forgive me for being such a poor messenger. I was given but little information."
[Theoden(#15851)]
Theoden's eyes narrow, and he waits for a long moment, as if expecting more. Then he blinks, and leans back. "You... were on the road... somewhere... though you do not say which road. At any rate, you and Coenred and his twenty are camped somewhere in some woods-that-are-not-woods apparently near enough to the border for there to be enemies, and it is evening, and apparently none of you check the area, because you are ambushed... by orcs or humans you do not say, and there are... ten but more than that, but can you give an estimate... anyway, they managed to somehow drive away a partol of experienced fighters for some reason, and yet not kill them, and for what sounds like a skirmish you rode like the wind here to tell me so that I could send aid to fight against... a band small enough to need an ambush instead of a straight-out fight. Is this more or less what you needed to tell me?"
[Faestred(#31903)]
"Little informed as a messenger may be, and not to his blame, still his duty it is to collect his mind that others might comprehend his tale," the advisor says gently, his voice low, but resonant enough to carry to the young man. A soft sigh, and the man's gaze flickers away from the lad just long enough to glance up, briefly appraising, to the King. "Unlike Coenred Aethelwigend it seems to me to send with such urgency a message that has little bearing but to waste your time, my Lord. Perhaps in a more," A pause, and he turns his head back to study Dunsten, "Coherent telling would reveal the Aethelwigend's need."
Dunsten's brows draw together slightly, but his tone is polite. "It was beyond the River Isen, in land disputed between us and Dunland, and watches had been set, sire. The enemy set a fire in a field about a quarter mile from us, but Coenred's scouts alerted us it was a trick. And perhaps, sire, I make more of it than I should. Coenred would only alert you to such a small band on the western border out of courtesy. So I beg your pardon? I am new and overeager for battle. It makes my blood run hot."
[Theoden(#15851)]
"Perhaps you should douse it then, lad, in cold water ere you ride forth again." Theoden's voice is sharper now, and if the advisor's words briefly mollified him, it is in no way evident. "Did Coenred actually ask me to send aid, or is that your... ah... interpretation?"
[Faestred(#31903)]
"You blood runs hot, all the while our meals turn cold," murmurs the advisor with a weary sigh. "Perhaps if the young lad here might recall the exact instructions given him by Coenred Aethelwigend, his entire errand might become clear to us all."
"Your pardon..he..." Dunsten reddens and scuffs at the floor with a boot. "He said to report to you what happened. Sire. There are skirmishes with the men of Dunland, the enemy hiding in wooded areas along the road to the Gap, using the cover of the trees and darkness to come at us so that they cannot easily be fought. He thought to let you know this, my lord."
[Theoden(#15851)]
One deep breath, then two, then eight more. Theoden folds his hands in his lap, and for a long, very very long minute he fixes his gaze upon the young, hapless rider. "I see." His words are crisp, emotionless. "I see. Well, then." He regards the youth for another long minute. "Here is what I shall do. On the morrow, I shall send a getaleboda forth to Helm's Deep to alert Theodred and the West Mark eoreds. They will alert the patrols and make the necessary adjustments it is what they have drilled for. You will ride with the getaleboda -- slowly! -- that you might understand and learn how such messages are properly delivered. Then you shall return to Coenred and bid him come to Edoras to report to me. You, too, shall come to Edoras... and for no less than a fortnight you shall work with the eoscealcs... and not ride... that I might be reassured that you shall not ride a horse with such dire haste for... a mere small skirmish. Is that clear?"
[Faestred(#31903)]
A frown creases the advisor's brow, the corners of his lips drawn tight. He, too, appraises the youth for the long silence, though his sigh is one of long suffering. "Aah, at last we have the word that was meant to be delivered from the west," he remarks quietly. "Doubtless, another mount shall have to be readied for him. Two days' hard riding will mean many days rest for his steed. Shall I have word sent, then, Sire, to the stables as such?" asks he with another glance up at the King, his own voice cool yet shaded with something like disappointment.
"Yes, sire, of course," Dunsten answers in his best meek voice, thoroughly mollified. "I will do all that you command, sire. It is clear. May I...may I have your leave to go, sire? My brother, a Rider of the West-mark, wished to send his patrol that way."
[Theoden(#15851)]
"You may go, yes," answers Theoden. "However, you shall not ride with your brother unless the getaleboda wishes it. And you shall return promptly as I have said, for I am... most displeased. Now go, check on your horse, and then go to rest. You shall have an early start."
Players: Theoden,Dunsten,Faestred
Located in: Rohirrim
