Elendor
Stew and Brew (Three Horses and an Ass TP)
A local, three foreigners and one shady type share some stew and ale in the Pony.
Sort Date: no date set
Location: Bree
Game Date: April 2 1448
IC Time: Lunch hour
Description: Sunday of Spring - April 2,1448
[Hraefengar(#30729)] It does not take long for those with horses to get the animals to the stables, to tend them, rub them down, make sure they are fed. It takes some more little time for them to clean up, and then it is off to the inn. The common Room is warm, and the steaming of wet cloaks mingles with the gathering of smoke, both wood-smoke from the fire and pipe-smoke from those with such things. The smell of wet wool and linen and fur and leather combines with the sharper notes of smoke, and the fare more appetizing smells coming from the stew.
Into the common room comes Hraefengar, dressed in sea-blue and meadow sedge, the blue tunic adorned with knotwork of copper and green. He looks about him, searching for a table, a place to sit.
[Lominhur(#19466)]
Lominhur the Ranger is already seated at a table near the back of the room, alone, though he does not seem adverse to company. A tankard sits before him on the hard wood, untouched as yet, and the man they call the Hare appears to be waiting for something. Hraefengar's entrance perhaps? it seems likely, for as the blond man arrives he lifts his own raven-haired head to draw the other's gaze.
At one side of the room, Menelglir has just nodded his thanks to a serving girl who brought him a mug of ale. The youth draws a sip of the frothy liquid before he turns and heads toward the Ranger's table. He has cleaned up, wet cloak shed so that his white tunic emblazoned with a swan can clearly be seen. His face, too, is freshly washed and his hair, tied back with a leather cord, is wet as well. "I think I convinced at least one of the Knights to have lunch with us," he says as he approaches.
[Aphria(#17221)]
Aphria didn't stay with the group as they arrived, instead angling towards a back entry to the kitchen. And then is gone for a while as well. But soon enough she re-emerges to help the waitress serving the table carry out the stew she'd spoken of to the men. "Here's the stew!" She chimes excitedly. "It smells sooooo good today. It's been cooking all night and morning."
[Hraefengar(#30729)]
Hraefengar nods his head, and he walks over to the table, nodding. He is carrying a long bundle with him, a somewhat-bulky shape that is wrapped in fine but sturdy cloth. He eases himself down onto a chair, settling the bundle carefully beside him.
[Lominhur(#19466)]
"Hail, sir," smiles Lominhur as Hraefengar takes a seat, and looks the man of Rohan over. "I have heard tell that while may hail from this land of Rohan, the others are men of Gondor? Is that the truth of it? We are unused, here, to so many strange names at once."
[Lominhur(#19466)]
He also raises his head to smile to Aphria, and takes a good, long whiff of the stew. "That does smell wonderful..." says he.
Menelglir, now taking a seat at one end of the table, looks to the Ranger, the expression in his sea-grey eyes hardened for the moment. But then, the squire sighs, sounding frustrated if anything, and looks into his beer. "We should serve out the stew," he suggests to noone in particular.
[Gwendion(#24427)]
Heavy boot-falls sound from the staircase leading to the rooms above. Soon after another enters the common room of the Pony, one clearly not of the Breefolk. Armored he is, with his weapon hung clearly at his hip, there is little in way of hiding in his manner that he is a man of war.
He casts his glance over the faces of the room, finally stopping at the Squire's. He smirks, amused, and makes his way toward him and the group he sits with.
[Aphria(#17221)]
Setting down the stew Aphria looks over everyone. "Hope you like it. I think I'm gonna have it be my one free meal of the day." She grins widely at saying this. "Lunch seems like a good time, and it'll taste so good after being wet like that." She smiles to everyone at the table.
[Hraefengar(#30729)] "It is truth, what you say," answers Hraefengar. "And the names of folk here are strange to me." He smiles. "But come, what are you called, sir, that I may not have to name you in my own tongue? It is good to have a place to rest, after long months of travel." A grey wolfhound, long-haired and silken-coated, enters the common room and pads to the Rohir's side.
[Lominhur(#19466)]
"I am named the Hare," answers the Ranger, "though I would be interested in what word your people would use in turn. And I do not marvel that the names here are strange to you. Indeed, it makes me wonder why you are here. Do your folk often travel with the men of Gondor, and where else do they travel?"
Loudly does Menelglir's chair scrape on the wooden floor as he hastens to his feet at the entrance of the armed man. "And here, sir," he says to the Ranger, "is one of the Knights of my Order, Sir Gwendion. Sir Gwendion.." he turns to that man while trying to surreptitiously push the beer at his place away, "this is a 'ranger.' Hare, he is called as you just heard. Or the Hare. He was eager to speak with us."
[Gwendion(#24427)]
The man named Gwendion moves to the table, not with grace, but much like a bull would. He mood is pleasant though and he smiles warmly to the group, "Good morning to you all. I see you have found some friends, Squire."
He nods towards The Hare, "A pleasure, ranger of the North, as I am eager to speak with him." For the Rohir, he greets as well, "Hraefengar."
Then finally looking for a seat, he asks of Aphria, "If you have time, young lady, I would partake in another mug of your Pony's ale."
[Aphria(#17221)]
"Oh! Sure!" Aphria says with a wide grin as she finishes with helping, and then rushes off to the back again, "Be right back!" She calls out, and then returns with the latest mug, which she sets down. "Anyone else want something?" She inquires.
[Hraefengar(#30729)]
"Hara would you be called in my own tongue," answers the scop, smiling. "I would like some mead, if you have any," he adds to the order. "Gwendion. Good to see you. As for why I am here, well, the folk of the Sto-- of Gondor are our allies, our oath-brethren. As they were in need of escort partway, my King did provide Riders to go with them. He sent me because... well..." The scop frowns. "I am a scop, a singer, teacher, teller of tales and loremaster, I suppose would be the word for it. I think my king sent me ... because if wisdom is being sought in the North, I would fain learn it."
[Lominhur(#19466)]
"That seems wise, aye," nods the Hare to Hraefengar, and he glances then to the others. "For they seem in little need of aid in arms. It is my pleasure also, Sir Gwendion," he adds then woth a bow of his head. "Though I am at a loss as to why you should seek me out with any zeal. I am sure yuo have noticed that the folk of Bree do not hold fellows like me in high regard. Do you make a point of looking for the most unsavoury folk in town?" he asks with a grin.
Menelglir, it seems, is a tangle of emotions. At first the Squire sinks back down into his seat, relief washing his face as Gwendion orders a beer--the Squire reaching to reclaim his drink. But that expression fails at the mention of 'folk of Gondor.' He gives Gwendion a sharp look, then shakes his head vigorously, speaking low to him.
"Not by my words did this come to be known, sir."
[Gwendion(#24427)]
"I cannot say I have noticed this as I have met few Breefolk since my arrival and fewer still of those who could claim your," Gwendion pauses, "Lifestyle."
He motions to the Squire, "It is what it is. You may finish your meal at ease, Menelglir." Gwendion then takes a chair from a neighboring table and places it before the table before sitting, "For you have tasks that must be attended to when you are finished."
[Aphria(#17221)]
Aphria listens carefully and nods to that and says, "There might be some in the back. I'll go check with Nob." And once again Aphria rushes off to the back. And this time she does not return right away.
[Hraefengar(#30729)]
"As for use, I do not know. I was not sent to aid in their task..." Hraefengar shakes his head. "Though I will fight as best I can. But no... I believe Theoden King sent me because it pleased him to... because he thought I would find the trip... useful." He looks for a long moment at the Ranger, a piercing gaze, and then he falls silent, and sinks back in his chair, his eyes going distant.
[Lominhur(#19466)]
The sea-grey gaze of the Ranger seems undaunted by the others that surround it, though at length he smiles and looks to Gwendion. "Then may I ask, Sir Gwendion, why you wish to speak with me so eagerly?"
"Yes, sir," Menelglir answers promptly, adding with a quiet sigh, "Likely Sir Arathis' armor has rust to be worked off." Once more he stands, this time to dish out bowls of stew to the group if they have not already helped themselves. He takes his own portion but does not yet sit and eat again, looking from Ranger to Knight biting at his bottom lip. "I'm afraid, sir," he turns to the Ranger, "that it is my fault. I am so full nightly with tales of the locals and colorful things, that I have perhaps talked rather too much about how the good Knight should meet some of the shady folk known hereabouts as Rangers."
[Gwendion(#24427)]
A laugh comes for the Scop's words, "Such is the way of serving your Lord. What is asked, is done. The more cryptic the task, the quick its completion need be," he chuckles again into his mug as he swallows a deep draught.
"Which I suppose brings us to some of the reasons for our arrival, Master Hare," he continues, looking now to the ranger, "As young Menelglir has noted, he has spoke of you. Too, you have some of the look of the men we also call rangers," his eyes meet the Ranger's directly as he speak, "In several ways. I would call you a traveled man by this and one who knows the lands, regardless of the apparently questionable reasons why. There is value in one who has such knowledge. In return, I have knowledge of our lands. News of the South, both tales of great Heros and grim darkness that I would share to strengthen the hearts of those we speak to, and in kind, strengthen our own."
[Aphria(#17221)]
Aphria is gone for a while, but soon enough returns with a bottle and a mug for the Hare. She opens it up and pours it. "We had a bottle down in the pantry. Sorry it took so long!" She says apologetically. "I had to find it, never had to go down for mead before."
[Hraefengar(#30729)]
"You know little of how we serve our Lord in the Riddermark, Gwendion Swan-Knight, if you think that asked is done, without question." Hraefengar shakes his head. "I di--" He stops as Aphria brings the mead to the Ranger, and he shrugs, then shakes his head. There is still a vagueness in his gaze, a disconnect that makes him seem preoccupied.
[Lominhur(#19466)]
"There are many hearts which need such strength," agrees Lominhur to Gwendion, though he looks up to Aphria, a glimmer of surprise stealing across his features. With a shake of his raven locks the Ranger raises his hand to indicate Hraefengar, and he smiles: "I believe our bardic friend here wishes for mead, Aphria. I content myself with the home brews of Butterbur indeed, I marvel that you have such a liquor in your stores."
He looks then to Menelglir, watching the younger fellow with a sympathetic eye, ere he turns once more to the Swan-Knight of Dol Amroth. "I should be glad to hear such tales, Sir Gwendion. What news or tidings would you bring us from the distant southlands?"
[Gwendion(#24427)]
The Knight concedes, "It's true. I know little of your ways of service. I apologize for claiming knowledge of such." Then to the group, "Take my comments for my own experience. The men of Rohan have their ways as we ours and you yours. All deserve a proper respect."
As the Squire fills a bowl for him, he nods in thanks, "Thank you, Menelglir," then digs his soup into the thick stew.
"Know you of the accursed Haradrim and their Lords of Umbar?"
Again Menelglir has settled to his seat, this time to work intently on the bowl of stew, which disappears far too quickly--so that he must spoon himself out another large portion. His manners he remembers, though, smiling up to Aphria. "Thank you. This will not come out of your wages, will it?" he asks. "For I do not think we could accept such a gift."
Talk of Umbar catches the Squire's attention. He pauses, spoon in hand, smile gone.
[Aphria(#17221)]
Aphria lets out a squeak of embrassment. "Oh, that's right! Sorry." She holds it out to the right person and blushes a furious red color. "I'm sorry." She says again, casting her gaze down demurely. But then she looks over and says, "Haradrim and Umbar?" She tilts her head to the side. "What are they?" Then the question asked to her in turn, "My wages? No, I think the waitress will let you know how much it all is."
[Hraefengar(#30729)]
Hraefengar nods graciously to Gwendion, smiling. "Apology is not needed. But I thank you." He reaches for the cup and takes it, sniffing at the mead and then taking a sip. He smiles, then lifts it up. To new meetings and new friendships and... and..." Again his eyes go distant, and he tilts his head, going very still. His pale eyes widen a little, distant. ""o stars that shine in the darkness." He remains still for a moment, then laughs, and repeats himself, this time in Westron. "To stars that shine in the darkness," he murmurs, then drinks deeply.
[Lominhur(#19466)]
At the toast, Lominhur watches Hraefengar's expression, though he says naught of the change in the man's demeanour, instead raising his own tankard to join in. "Aye, to new friends."
He glances back to Gwendion then, his attention given over to the Knight fully it seems, and he replies: "Such names are not known here, in my experience. Who are these lords of which you speak?"
"I..uh..oh, of course," Menelglir coughs to the serving girl, trying to hide his embarassment. "The stew is good at least. You should try some." Cheeks a bit red, he puts his head down and eats with renewed vigor, though from the way his eyes glance up from under dark brows, it is clear that he is listening. First his attention focus on the scop, eyes narrowing ever so slightly as that man again gets a distant gaze. He looks briefly to Gwendion, and then at the Ranger's reply, he once again turns to Gwendion to watch the Knight's reaction. One of his shoulders might be seen to shrug just slightly as he does so.
[Aphria(#17221)]
"If Nob'll let me, mind if I take my break and eat here?" Aphria asks, a suddenly, though still seems to have a somewhat demure edge to her demeanor since the mead mistake. "I do still need to have my lunch. And I get one free meal a day for my work and you're all really interesting. And I want to hear more about all these other places!"
[Gwendion(#24427)]
"To answer your question, dear, far to the south," Gwendion begins to Aphria, "So far south, their names have never reached your ears, young lady, are a people of savage pirates who sail the seas and ride the lands ravaging and plundering all they can find. They are fearsome foes with tanned skin and curved blades who kill and take prisoners as slaves. They are a people completely foreign to us in their ways and in their thirst for conflict. Their history with Gondor is a long one," he laughs, "But suffice to say, they are not friendly and war with them is open and continuous to keep their reavers at bay and from such fair places as this."
Looking back to the group, he continues, "Of their Lords, one holds a bloodline of the old kind, strong and clear in his visage as well as his manner. I would not name him, save even here to bring any to his cause, but he named himself a Raven Knight, in opposition to my order. Sadly, his madness is equally strong and he claimed the throne of Gondor and set upon her with an army raised to retake what he believed to be rightfully his."
His eyes grow sad, his food forgotten for the moment, "We mounted a defense at the great river Poros. Men from all the lands of Gondor, Knights, Soldiers and Rangers, fought and many fell," a sigh, "Too many including one of our greatest Captains of war and they pushed us back into the forests of an area known as Ithilien."
[Hraefengar(#30729)]
The scop listens to Gwendion's words, setting down the cup, and his right hand settles on the table. His left arm dangles limply, still, at his side. He tilts his head slightly, an attitude of listening, but his eyes are distant, as if he is lost in the tale or in some other memory. The wolfhound beside him gives a soft whuff, and nuzzles his side, almost as though she is trying to wake him from sleep.
[Lominhur(#19466)]
Lominhur's eyes widen at the tale, and he takes a deep draught from his ale during the length of it. "A long lost king of Gondor, you say? Such things are marvels that live only in legends, surely? And what did the current King think of this challenge? Did he deny the claim of the Umbar lord?"
"Gondor has no King. Not now," Menelglir puts in, his tongue loosened by Gwendion's freely telling a tale of their land--and no doubt by the ale he now drinks, as well. "The Steward rules the land."
[Aphria(#17221)]
Aphria rushes back to the back again, and is only gone long enough to get a mug of something to drink, and a bowl of stew for herself. And then? makes her way to the table where the men are all tlaking, a curious glint to her gaze. Though she doesn't yet sit down, "They sound really dreadful." She almost seems to pout. "Can't believe people could be so mean!"
[Gwendion(#24427)]
"As the Menelglir says, Gondor has no king. And truly, Gondor needs no king," Gwendion explains simply.
"The line of Kings in Gondor is dead. Our Steward rules in their place. And below him a bevy of lords of the land, such as my Prince, Imrahil, in Dol Amroth in the land of Belfalas."
He shakes his head, "I am losing the path of my story and certainly we could be here long if I were to tell the tale of all the years of my people."
"Needless to say, with our Lieutenant-General Phazganun dead, our resolve was steeled and we pressed against their forces day and night. Dozens died every day and soon the rivers ran not clear with water, but red with blood."
Another sigh, "I wish I could say there was a grand moment, a turning point when the tide turned in our favor, but much like pressing a large boulder, it was slow and arduous. But then they gave an inch, unable to repel us, then another and soon we were marching them back over the Poros. Soon after, their Raven Knight pretender and their forces retreated, beaten by the strength of will of such men as this," he says with a slap on the squire's back.
[Lominhur(#19466)]
All the above seems to interest the Hare greatly, for the Ranger nods and studies Gwendion with his sea-grey eyes as the tale is told. At the end, however, he nods and smiles, raising his tankard anew. "Then if not through splendour, your men won out through sturdy resolve instead. That is a victory all the same, of which all men should be proud. But how did the lne of Kings die, may I know? That seems a heavy burden for a people to bear -- it must have been some great tragedy."
Such men as this? Menelglir, at 16, is untried in war, likely, and the slap on the back--and perhaps the realization that it could easily have been and might soon be -his- blood turning the rivers red--makes him choke heartily on his beer. A coughing fit then ensues, soon soothed by another quaff of the ale and then followed by a sigh.
"My only test in battle, sir," he says quietly to the Knight, "has been the skirmishes in Dunland on the way up here. Which is to say...nothing." And thereupon, he falls silent, a somber look given to the contents of his mug, which he proceeds to contemplate and then drink.
[Gwendion(#24427)]
"Ah, but you have the courage, Menelglir. Don't discount yourself so easily," Gwendion replies, "As to the line of Kings, it has been many generations since that line ended with Earnur, some thousand years ago, so our people have learned to carry this burden well. His tale is one of heroism and sadness as well and in truth, the Stewards of Gondor still await his return."
"For tales, that is all I have time for, sadly. As I have morning duties of my own to take care of." He rises and looks to the squire, "And when you have finished your meal, we shall work the red out of your cheeks, eh?"
Menelglir does not loiter over his foood and drink. The ale is quickly drained and set down, and with a nod to those remaining at the table, he is up and off out of the room, hurrying after the Knight.
[Lominhur(#19466)]
As the men of Gondor depart, Lominhur watches them go, ere he nods and finishes his ale. "Thank you for the ale, aphria, and for the company, Master Hraefengar. It is my hope to see you soon again, and hear next time some tales of your own land."
This said he rises, and walks from the room with a queit step.
[Hraefengar(#30729)] It does not take long for those with horses to get the animals to the stables, to tend them, rub them down, make sure they are fed. It takes some more little time for them to clean up, and then it is off to the inn. The common Room is warm, and the steaming of wet cloaks mingles with the gathering of smoke, both wood-smoke from the fire and pipe-smoke from those with such things. The smell of wet wool and linen and fur and leather combines with the sharper notes of smoke, and the fare more appetizing smells coming from the stew.
Into the common room comes Hraefengar, dressed in sea-blue and meadow sedge, the blue tunic adorned with knotwork of copper and green. He looks about him, searching for a table, a place to sit.
[Lominhur(#19466)]
Lominhur the Ranger is already seated at a table near the back of the room, alone, though he does not seem adverse to company. A tankard sits before him on the hard wood, untouched as yet, and the man they call the Hare appears to be waiting for something. Hraefengar's entrance perhaps? it seems likely, for as the blond man arrives he lifts his own raven-haired head to draw the other's gaze.
At one side of the room, Menelglir has just nodded his thanks to a serving girl who brought him a mug of ale. The youth draws a sip of the frothy liquid before he turns and heads toward the Ranger's table. He has cleaned up, wet cloak shed so that his white tunic emblazoned with a swan can clearly be seen. His face, too, is freshly washed and his hair, tied back with a leather cord, is wet as well. "I think I convinced at least one of the Knights to have lunch with us," he says as he approaches.
[Aphria(#17221)]
Aphria didn't stay with the group as they arrived, instead angling towards a back entry to the kitchen. And then is gone for a while as well. But soon enough she re-emerges to help the waitress serving the table carry out the stew she'd spoken of to the men. "Here's the stew!" She chimes excitedly. "It smells sooooo good today. It's been cooking all night and morning."
[Hraefengar(#30729)]
Hraefengar nods his head, and he walks over to the table, nodding. He is carrying a long bundle with him, a somewhat-bulky shape that is wrapped in fine but sturdy cloth. He eases himself down onto a chair, settling the bundle carefully beside him.
[Lominhur(#19466)]
"Hail, sir," smiles Lominhur as Hraefengar takes a seat, and looks the man of Rohan over. "I have heard tell that while may hail from this land of Rohan, the others are men of Gondor? Is that the truth of it? We are unused, here, to so many strange names at once."
[Lominhur(#19466)]
He also raises his head to smile to Aphria, and takes a good, long whiff of the stew. "That does smell wonderful..." says he.
Menelglir, now taking a seat at one end of the table, looks to the Ranger, the expression in his sea-grey eyes hardened for the moment. But then, the squire sighs, sounding frustrated if anything, and looks into his beer. "We should serve out the stew," he suggests to noone in particular.
[Gwendion(#24427)]
Heavy boot-falls sound from the staircase leading to the rooms above. Soon after another enters the common room of the Pony, one clearly not of the Breefolk. Armored he is, with his weapon hung clearly at his hip, there is little in way of hiding in his manner that he is a man of war.
He casts his glance over the faces of the room, finally stopping at the Squire's. He smirks, amused, and makes his way toward him and the group he sits with.
[Aphria(#17221)]
Setting down the stew Aphria looks over everyone. "Hope you like it. I think I'm gonna have it be my one free meal of the day." She grins widely at saying this. "Lunch seems like a good time, and it'll taste so good after being wet like that." She smiles to everyone at the table.
[Hraefengar(#30729)] "It is truth, what you say," answers Hraefengar. "And the names of folk here are strange to me." He smiles. "But come, what are you called, sir, that I may not have to name you in my own tongue? It is good to have a place to rest, after long months of travel." A grey wolfhound, long-haired and silken-coated, enters the common room and pads to the Rohir's side.
[Lominhur(#19466)]
"I am named the Hare," answers the Ranger, "though I would be interested in what word your people would use in turn. And I do not marvel that the names here are strange to you. Indeed, it makes me wonder why you are here. Do your folk often travel with the men of Gondor, and where else do they travel?"
Loudly does Menelglir's chair scrape on the wooden floor as he hastens to his feet at the entrance of the armed man. "And here, sir," he says to the Ranger, "is one of the Knights of my Order, Sir Gwendion. Sir Gwendion.." he turns to that man while trying to surreptitiously push the beer at his place away, "this is a 'ranger.' Hare, he is called as you just heard. Or the Hare. He was eager to speak with us."
[Gwendion(#24427)]
The man named Gwendion moves to the table, not with grace, but much like a bull would. He mood is pleasant though and he smiles warmly to the group, "Good morning to you all. I see you have found some friends, Squire."
He nods towards The Hare, "A pleasure, ranger of the North, as I am eager to speak with him." For the Rohir, he greets as well, "Hraefengar."
Then finally looking for a seat, he asks of Aphria, "If you have time, young lady, I would partake in another mug of your Pony's ale."
[Aphria(#17221)]
"Oh! Sure!" Aphria says with a wide grin as she finishes with helping, and then rushes off to the back again, "Be right back!" She calls out, and then returns with the latest mug, which she sets down. "Anyone else want something?" She inquires.
[Hraefengar(#30729)]
"Hara would you be called in my own tongue," answers the scop, smiling. "I would like some mead, if you have any," he adds to the order. "Gwendion. Good to see you. As for why I am here, well, the folk of the Sto-- of Gondor are our allies, our oath-brethren. As they were in need of escort partway, my King did provide Riders to go with them. He sent me because... well..." The scop frowns. "I am a scop, a singer, teacher, teller of tales and loremaster, I suppose would be the word for it. I think my king sent me ... because if wisdom is being sought in the North, I would fain learn it."
[Lominhur(#19466)]
"That seems wise, aye," nods the Hare to Hraefengar, and he glances then to the others. "For they seem in little need of aid in arms. It is my pleasure also, Sir Gwendion," he adds then woth a bow of his head. "Though I am at a loss as to why you should seek me out with any zeal. I am sure yuo have noticed that the folk of Bree do not hold fellows like me in high regard. Do you make a point of looking for the most unsavoury folk in town?" he asks with a grin.
Menelglir, it seems, is a tangle of emotions. At first the Squire sinks back down into his seat, relief washing his face as Gwendion orders a beer--the Squire reaching to reclaim his drink. But that expression fails at the mention of 'folk of Gondor.' He gives Gwendion a sharp look, then shakes his head vigorously, speaking low to him.
"Not by my words did this come to be known, sir."
[Gwendion(#24427)]
"I cannot say I have noticed this as I have met few Breefolk since my arrival and fewer still of those who could claim your," Gwendion pauses, "Lifestyle."
He motions to the Squire, "It is what it is. You may finish your meal at ease, Menelglir." Gwendion then takes a chair from a neighboring table and places it before the table before sitting, "For you have tasks that must be attended to when you are finished."
[Aphria(#17221)]
Aphria listens carefully and nods to that and says, "There might be some in the back. I'll go check with Nob." And once again Aphria rushes off to the back. And this time she does not return right away.
[Hraefengar(#30729)]
"As for use, I do not know. I was not sent to aid in their task..." Hraefengar shakes his head. "Though I will fight as best I can. But no... I believe Theoden King sent me because it pleased him to... because he thought I would find the trip... useful." He looks for a long moment at the Ranger, a piercing gaze, and then he falls silent, and sinks back in his chair, his eyes going distant.
[Lominhur(#19466)]
The sea-grey gaze of the Ranger seems undaunted by the others that surround it, though at length he smiles and looks to Gwendion. "Then may I ask, Sir Gwendion, why you wish to speak with me so eagerly?"
"Yes, sir," Menelglir answers promptly, adding with a quiet sigh, "Likely Sir Arathis' armor has rust to be worked off." Once more he stands, this time to dish out bowls of stew to the group if they have not already helped themselves. He takes his own portion but does not yet sit and eat again, looking from Ranger to Knight biting at his bottom lip. "I'm afraid, sir," he turns to the Ranger, "that it is my fault. I am so full nightly with tales of the locals and colorful things, that I have perhaps talked rather too much about how the good Knight should meet some of the shady folk known hereabouts as Rangers."
[Gwendion(#24427)]
A laugh comes for the Scop's words, "Such is the way of serving your Lord. What is asked, is done. The more cryptic the task, the quick its completion need be," he chuckles again into his mug as he swallows a deep draught.
"Which I suppose brings us to some of the reasons for our arrival, Master Hare," he continues, looking now to the ranger, "As young Menelglir has noted, he has spoke of you. Too, you have some of the look of the men we also call rangers," his eyes meet the Ranger's directly as he speak, "In several ways. I would call you a traveled man by this and one who knows the lands, regardless of the apparently questionable reasons why. There is value in one who has such knowledge. In return, I have knowledge of our lands. News of the South, both tales of great Heros and grim darkness that I would share to strengthen the hearts of those we speak to, and in kind, strengthen our own."
[Aphria(#17221)]
Aphria is gone for a while, but soon enough returns with a bottle and a mug for the Hare. She opens it up and pours it. "We had a bottle down in the pantry. Sorry it took so long!" She says apologetically. "I had to find it, never had to go down for mead before."
[Hraefengar(#30729)]
"You know little of how we serve our Lord in the Riddermark, Gwendion Swan-Knight, if you think that asked is done, without question." Hraefengar shakes his head. "I di--" He stops as Aphria brings the mead to the Ranger, and he shrugs, then shakes his head. There is still a vagueness in his gaze, a disconnect that makes him seem preoccupied.
[Lominhur(#19466)]
"There are many hearts which need such strength," agrees Lominhur to Gwendion, though he looks up to Aphria, a glimmer of surprise stealing across his features. With a shake of his raven locks the Ranger raises his hand to indicate Hraefengar, and he smiles: "I believe our bardic friend here wishes for mead, Aphria. I content myself with the home brews of Butterbur indeed, I marvel that you have such a liquor in your stores."
He looks then to Menelglir, watching the younger fellow with a sympathetic eye, ere he turns once more to the Swan-Knight of Dol Amroth. "I should be glad to hear such tales, Sir Gwendion. What news or tidings would you bring us from the distant southlands?"
[Gwendion(#24427)]
The Knight concedes, "It's true. I know little of your ways of service. I apologize for claiming knowledge of such." Then to the group, "Take my comments for my own experience. The men of Rohan have their ways as we ours and you yours. All deserve a proper respect."
As the Squire fills a bowl for him, he nods in thanks, "Thank you, Menelglir," then digs his soup into the thick stew.
"Know you of the accursed Haradrim and their Lords of Umbar?"
Again Menelglir has settled to his seat, this time to work intently on the bowl of stew, which disappears far too quickly--so that he must spoon himself out another large portion. His manners he remembers, though, smiling up to Aphria. "Thank you. This will not come out of your wages, will it?" he asks. "For I do not think we could accept such a gift."
Talk of Umbar catches the Squire's attention. He pauses, spoon in hand, smile gone.
[Aphria(#17221)]
Aphria lets out a squeak of embrassment. "Oh, that's right! Sorry." She holds it out to the right person and blushes a furious red color. "I'm sorry." She says again, casting her gaze down demurely. But then she looks over and says, "Haradrim and Umbar?" She tilts her head to the side. "What are they?" Then the question asked to her in turn, "My wages? No, I think the waitress will let you know how much it all is."
[Hraefengar(#30729)]
Hraefengar nods graciously to Gwendion, smiling. "Apology is not needed. But I thank you." He reaches for the cup and takes it, sniffing at the mead and then taking a sip. He smiles, then lifts it up. To new meetings and new friendships and... and..." Again his eyes go distant, and he tilts his head, going very still. His pale eyes widen a little, distant. "
[Lominhur(#19466)]
At the toast, Lominhur watches Hraefengar's expression, though he says naught of the change in the man's demeanour, instead raising his own tankard to join in. "Aye, to new friends."
He glances back to Gwendion then, his attention given over to the Knight fully it seems, and he replies: "Such names are not known here, in my experience. Who are these lords of which you speak?"
"I..uh..oh, of course," Menelglir coughs to the serving girl, trying to hide his embarassment. "The stew is good at least. You should try some." Cheeks a bit red, he puts his head down and eats with renewed vigor, though from the way his eyes glance up from under dark brows, it is clear that he is listening. First his attention focus on the scop, eyes narrowing ever so slightly as that man again gets a distant gaze. He looks briefly to Gwendion, and then at the Ranger's reply, he once again turns to Gwendion to watch the Knight's reaction. One of his shoulders might be seen to shrug just slightly as he does so.
[Aphria(#17221)]
"If Nob'll let me, mind if I take my break and eat here?" Aphria asks, a suddenly, though still seems to have a somewhat demure edge to her demeanor since the mead mistake. "I do still need to have my lunch. And I get one free meal a day for my work and you're all really interesting. And I want to hear more about all these other places!"
[Gwendion(#24427)]
"To answer your question, dear, far to the south," Gwendion begins to Aphria, "So far south, their names have never reached your ears, young lady, are a people of savage pirates who sail the seas and ride the lands ravaging and plundering all they can find. They are fearsome foes with tanned skin and curved blades who kill and take prisoners as slaves. They are a people completely foreign to us in their ways and in their thirst for conflict. Their history with Gondor is a long one," he laughs, "But suffice to say, they are not friendly and war with them is open and continuous to keep their reavers at bay and from such fair places as this."
Looking back to the group, he continues, "Of their Lords, one holds a bloodline of the old kind, strong and clear in his visage as well as his manner. I would not name him, save even here to bring any to his cause, but he named himself a Raven Knight, in opposition to my order. Sadly, his madness is equally strong and he claimed the throne of Gondor and set upon her with an army raised to retake what he believed to be rightfully his."
His eyes grow sad, his food forgotten for the moment, "We mounted a defense at the great river Poros. Men from all the lands of Gondor, Knights, Soldiers and Rangers, fought and many fell," a sigh, "Too many including one of our greatest Captains of war and they pushed us back into the forests of an area known as Ithilien."
[Hraefengar(#30729)]
The scop listens to Gwendion's words, setting down the cup, and his right hand settles on the table. His left arm dangles limply, still, at his side. He tilts his head slightly, an attitude of listening, but his eyes are distant, as if he is lost in the tale or in some other memory. The wolfhound beside him gives a soft whuff, and nuzzles his side, almost as though she is trying to wake him from sleep.
[Lominhur(#19466)]
Lominhur's eyes widen at the tale, and he takes a deep draught from his ale during the length of it. "A long lost king of Gondor, you say? Such things are marvels that live only in legends, surely? And what did the current King think of this challenge? Did he deny the claim of the Umbar lord?"
"Gondor has no King. Not now," Menelglir puts in, his tongue loosened by Gwendion's freely telling a tale of their land--and no doubt by the ale he now drinks, as well. "The Steward rules the land."
[Aphria(#17221)]
Aphria rushes back to the back again, and is only gone long enough to get a mug of something to drink, and a bowl of stew for herself. And then? makes her way to the table where the men are all tlaking, a curious glint to her gaze. Though she doesn't yet sit down, "They sound really dreadful." She almost seems to pout. "Can't believe people could be so mean!"
[Gwendion(#24427)]
"As the Menelglir says, Gondor has no king. And truly, Gondor needs no king," Gwendion explains simply.
"The line of Kings in Gondor is dead. Our Steward rules in their place. And below him a bevy of lords of the land, such as my Prince, Imrahil, in Dol Amroth in the land of Belfalas."
He shakes his head, "I am losing the path of my story and certainly we could be here long if I were to tell the tale of all the years of my people."
"Needless to say, with our Lieutenant-General Phazganun dead, our resolve was steeled and we pressed against their forces day and night. Dozens died every day and soon the rivers ran not clear with water, but red with blood."
Another sigh, "I wish I could say there was a grand moment, a turning point when the tide turned in our favor, but much like pressing a large boulder, it was slow and arduous. But then they gave an inch, unable to repel us, then another and soon we were marching them back over the Poros. Soon after, their Raven Knight pretender and their forces retreated, beaten by the strength of will of such men as this," he says with a slap on the squire's back.
[Lominhur(#19466)]
All the above seems to interest the Hare greatly, for the Ranger nods and studies Gwendion with his sea-grey eyes as the tale is told. At the end, however, he nods and smiles, raising his tankard anew. "Then if not through splendour, your men won out through sturdy resolve instead. That is a victory all the same, of which all men should be proud. But how did the lne of Kings die, may I know? That seems a heavy burden for a people to bear -- it must have been some great tragedy."
Such men as this? Menelglir, at 16, is untried in war, likely, and the slap on the back--and perhaps the realization that it could easily have been and might soon be -his- blood turning the rivers red--makes him choke heartily on his beer. A coughing fit then ensues, soon soothed by another quaff of the ale and then followed by a sigh.
"My only test in battle, sir," he says quietly to the Knight, "has been the skirmishes in Dunland on the way up here. Which is to say...nothing." And thereupon, he falls silent, a somber look given to the contents of his mug, which he proceeds to contemplate and then drink.
[Gwendion(#24427)]
"Ah, but you have the courage, Menelglir. Don't discount yourself so easily," Gwendion replies, "As to the line of Kings, it has been many generations since that line ended with Earnur, some thousand years ago, so our people have learned to carry this burden well. His tale is one of heroism and sadness as well and in truth, the Stewards of Gondor still await his return."
"For tales, that is all I have time for, sadly. As I have morning duties of my own to take care of." He rises and looks to the squire, "And when you have finished your meal, we shall work the red out of your cheeks, eh?"
Menelglir does not loiter over his foood and drink. The ale is quickly drained and set down, and with a nod to those remaining at the table, he is up and off out of the room, hurrying after the Knight.
[Lominhur(#19466)]
As the men of Gondor depart, Lominhur watches them go, ere he nods and finishes his ale. "Thank you for the ale, aphria, and for the company, Master Hraefengar. It is my hope to see you soon again, and hear next time some tales of your own land."
This said he rises, and walks from the room with a queit step.
Players: Lominhur,Menelglir,Gwendion,Hraefengar,Aphria
