Arrival in Edoras
A tale freshly told of the Gondorian
Daerien and Ceredir arrive in Edoras on their mission of trade, the former making a less than favorable impression on Theoden, while Faelwine\'s words seem to ease Ceredir\'s introduction to the Rohirrim king.
Edoras: City Gates
The Sun hangs slightly above the western horizon, and the dark purple shadows reach toward the east. You see the Moon making an early appearance in the clear Spring sky.
Here is the entrance to the King\'s City, where the Great West road runs meets well-guarded city gates. The road sweeps away to the west in one direction, though it bears north towards the King\'s Barrows and out of sight in the other. The city is surrounded by a stout earthen rampart, which is itself encircled by a thorny hedge and deep ditch. Atop the rampart is a low stone wall and walkway. Beyond the three manning the gates, several guards are set to posts atop the wall. A steady stream of humanity passes through the gates, all under the keen scrutiny of the guards.
[Theoden(#15851)]
Dawn has come and dawn has passed by, but the morning is still early, the day still dewy-fresh. The fields are green with the new grass, and the buds of wildflowers and some early flowers are waving amidst the grasses. In the fields close by the city, horses run, high-hearted, tails streaming behind them, stallions and mares, some with new colts frolicking, some heavy with foal. The air is filled with whinnies and birdsong, and here and there the sound of a voice uplifted in song. Along the road, carven poles are being raised, hung with wreaths of twined green and some flowers. For it is spring, and the Sun\'s days wax, and there is gladness and festivity.
From the North along the road walks a lone man, dressed all in green and white. He is old, his hair white as the simbelmyne on the ancient mounds, and set upon the snowy locks is a slender fillet of gold, as perhaps some noble might wear. In his hands he carries a bowl of wood with horn inlaid and workings of bronze upon it. It is filled with white flowers, and he carries it almost reverently as he walks back towards the city.
Two riders now appear on the road, riding toward Edoras from the north. Though no Rohirrim are these: One, Ceredir, is glad in a greens and browns, the hood of his cloak pushed down to reveal a head of black hair and the grey eyes of Gondor. Their horses, too, though fine by any other standards, are not the mounts of the Horse Lords. The horses come trotting up behind the lone man, Ceredir calling out to him as they draw near. \"Hail man of Rohan! Good morn to you!\"
[Faelwine(#31903)]
From across the wide plains comes a horse and rider to the city returning: a sleek chestnut, the mare\'s winter coat already shed, she gleams burnished copper as she skims the grass in an easy canter. Upon her back a woman with braids tinged a rosy hue of gold, dressed in dark green, her eyes the same hue as the spring grass. Swiftly the horse\'s long strides bring them close to the city, close to the man bearing the bowl. The woman checks her mare, settles her to a walk, then draws her to a halt just off the road, ahead of the snowy-haired man.
A smile to match the day lights the woman\'s face, and she dips her head graciously first to him. \"(Rohirric) Would that I call \'Fair morn\' to you, Sire, but such a greeting seems too ordinary for so glorious a day,\" Faelwine greets warmly, then beams to Ceredir, some measure of suprise, and no small measure of delight in her gaze. \"Hail, friend! A fair day indeed! Either you rode fast to come here, or your Lord granted your request most promptly. Either way, it is wonderful to see you. Welcome to the Mark... I trust your journey was well?\"
[Daerien(#21777)]
With an audible sigh of relief as the city comes into view, Daerien almost tumbles from the saddle, his legs bowed, his steps hesitant as if loathe to let flesh brush flesh and aggravate the plethora of bruises and abrasions that this ride has brought to him. Hardly at all resembling more then a sack of slightly mashed tattys. He doesn\'t speak to anyone, allowing his companion to speak for both of them, as he takes hold of the bridle of his mount and slowly walking it off the road to let it eat the grasses to the side, though the animal, with more sense then his rider refuses to chew the dusty scrub so near to the road, instead with ears flicking back and forth he regards the herds beyond, horse dreams of running free in sunlight amongst a herd, and with a reproachful dark gaze he turns his long neck to regard his inexpert rider. A shrug of shoulders as the water skin is retrieved from the saddle and moistened lips slightly chapped from exposure in such a long journey, but with an ungentle, but not unkind tug, he tries to guide the beast back to the road, lips parted as if to speak but forestalling this as another approaches and offering only a brief smile, then wincing as the mass of the animal forces him to quickly shuffle to one side letting his backside touch the leather of his pants, a sharp whistling sound of pain from between clenched teeth.
[<#15851>]
The old man looks up at the woman, and his blue eyes twinkle, and he laughs softly. Yet he does not speak, and he nods towards the flowers. Then he turns to the men, and regards them thoughtfully his eyes keen. The sun glints in them, and on the clear gem in the center of the narrow circlet. He raises one hand in greeting, some concern in his gaze for the sore-rumped one, but yet he says naught. Instead he turns to the gate, and he holds up the bowl. He calls out in a clear, ringing voice, chanting in the tongue of the Mark:
What is the true word the wind did call them?
Name we the nameless now in our tales?
Whose is the horse, and who is the rider?
Sing, be not silent, sing of them now
All are, Eorlingas, ours is the tale!
A pair of young girls run forth from the gate, and take the bowl from him, bowing low. He smiles and gives them the bowl, then kisses each child upon the brow. Only after they have left, carrying the bowl between them, does he turn again. \"
\"Lady Faelwine!\" Ceredir smiles broadly in greeting and surprise as the woman speaks. \"This is unexpected indeed. My companion and I got leave to conduct official business here in Rohan, but our time is short here and I had hoped only to manage a note to you and your lord. Yet here you are, on our very arrival into your homeland. How fortunate for us.\"
Quietly, then, Ceredir dismounts as the old man presents the bowl to the young girls, Ceredir moving carefully, but not appearing to be in nearly as much pain as his traveling companion. Then, too, the mare that he rides seems a bit more docile than Daerien\'s mount. \"I\'m afraid, sir,\" he nods toward Theoden, \"That I don\'t at all understand your language, though your expression speaks your intention.\" He gives a short bow at the waist. \"Well met to you. Is this...a festival day?\" The question directed to the old man and Faelwine.
[<#31903>] As the two now dismounted guests near, Faelwine\'s chestnut mare flattens her ears, eyeing the two men darkly. Reaching down to place a placating hand on the mare\'s neck, the woman murmurs softly to her to quiet her, then reins her back a couple steps, away from Ceredir and his companion. Looking to the old man, Faelwine again inclines her head deeply to him, \"
[Daerien(#21777)]
Glancing up, his brows knitted as fingers grip tighter at the leather straps. His grey gaze fixed upon the old man, now identified, but his own knowledge so limited that he isn\'t sure how to act, \"I would bow, I would kneel, though I doubt I could rise again from such obeisance. Hail King Theoden, Horse Lord of Rohan and ally of my homeland.\" his voice is slightly rough, throat too long held silent to allow for that lilting musical note so often sought by the lords of Gondor. He does not carry himself as a noble, though evidently this is so as he is the one to speak now, a glance held to let Ceredir understand this as well. \"Do not worry overlong about me. I have learnt to sleep standing upright since I was sent on this trip. I will heal in time, I hope.\" a rueful smile. He seems about to speak to the still mounted Rohirrim but it would seem he is loathe to do so now that this older gentle has been identified with the filet upon his brow seeming to hold more significance then ornamentation. \"I carry word from the Mormegil houses of Ithilien, whenever you see fit to recieve our missives, we shall speak with you. It is a minor matter, hardly worthy of your time, but I entreat you to hear us out.\" his free hand rising to rub at the stubble of his beard and scalp, attempting by the brush of long fingertips to obscure his own decrepit state at this meeting.
[Theoden(#15851)]
\"I was unaware the noble houses of Gondor were so lax in their tutelage nowadays,\" answers Theoden, his eyes flickering. The smile fades from his lips, though he does not exactly frown. \"I am unused to being told with whom I shall speak, even when the time is left to my own choice and discretion. I am not accustomed to such at all, with not even a bow from the waits. The barest child in the Mark understands that much. Your companion understands at least this much, though I do not know if he knows who I am. And do tell me... do your lords even bother to teach the tongue of the Mark to their children, their apprentices, or are my people expected to have to ever speak a foreign tongue in their land if they wish to trade with you?\" He glances at Ceredir, and the smile returns, kindly, without ire. \"It is indeed a festival day, as Faelwine has said. Welcome to Edoras, Ceredir scout of Ithilien and friend to Hraefengar Scop. You...\" He turns to the other Gondorian. \"Have you a name?\"
Indeed, Ceredir seems about to speak, his mouth dropping in surprise at Faelwine\'s words, when Daerien sends him a -look.- The younger scout balks under that gaze, his eyes narrowing in some anger at Daerien for a moment, Ceredir drawing himself up to his full, proud height, as if to demonstrate that he, too, is of noble blood. Still, he heeds Daerien\'s look, not offering any words until the king addresses him.
\"Forgive me, Sire,\" he answers after a proper bow to the king. \"I have been spending all my time struggling to learn the use of a blade and have had no leave to learn your tongue. Perhaps the Lady Faelwine and her husband can remedy that in the brief time that I am in your lands, if they are so inclined.\" He smiles briefly to Faelwine before returning attention to Theoden and falling silent once more.
[Faelwine(#31903)]
Faelwine catches the scout\'s glance, her lips flickering to return his smile, offering a slight, affirmative dip of her head to him in response. Yet her glance then strays uneasily between the other Stoninglander and her King, biting a little at her lower lip when it is upon the latter, her gaze is unquestionably apologetic. Beneath her, her mare is growing increasingly restless with this standing and talking, talking and standing. Arching her neck and tossing her mane, the chestnut paws violently at the earth with a foreleg. Faelwine reaches forward again to stroke her neck soothingly, which the mare protests with another shake of her head.
[Daerien(#21777)]
A shrug of his shoulders as he just glares at the elder Rohirrim as the words seem to strike with a phsyical lash, cutting deep into the flesh of the man of Gondor. Breathing deeply, jaw clenched, muscles flexing at his neck to stave of crying out from the pain as he drops to one knee in the dust, clouds spewing out beneath his limb as his head bows with some effort to avert his gaze. \"I was not raised by the civilized, or trained for the mission we have been sent on. If you percieve insult where none was intended, then punish me as you see fit. This is your land, your people, your laws. I would lay no compunction upon you, and none in Gondor would gainsay your right, unless they choose to face me down first. I will fight for your right to exact your retribution if that is your desire.\" Looking up he manages a smile, though there is little warmth there, even if the sardonic humor that seems to run like a river through his life hasn\'t left his visage entirely bare, yet. \"My name is Daerien, only recently allowed once more to call myself Cuthalion. I am no diplomat, but for whatever reason the present leader of the dispossessed has seen fit to have me carry his message to you. So I do so.\" he does not attempt to rise, or even to move from his kneeling, indeed, it is unclear whether he could rise even if he chose to. The horse, released from his grip wanders off, a calm, almost passive animal used to carrying the unskilled, but of too good a humor to create too much trouble as he bows his head to bite at the cleaner grass to the southern edge where the road dust hasn\'t stained the new green as dark yet.
[Theoden(#15851)]
Theoden watches the Gondorian kneel, and he speaks no word, and no emotion comes into his eyes. He watches, then nods his head. \"Think not that the larger part of my ire is towards you, man of Gondor. It is to your lords first and foremost that it goes, towards those who ought to know better. I excuse you, and think you have already been punished enough. Here, rise, and welcome to Edoras.\" He holds out his hand for the far younger man to take. With the other hand, he gestures to one of his men who have drawn near. \"Go quickly, Guthlaf, and have two eoscealcs come to take their horses to the stables and tend them well. Send word to have two guest rooms prepared at the Feluseld, and have two attendants draw baths, and be ready to serve our guests. You have come on a day of festival, and no business shall I conduct today, at the least. But you are welcome to participate, and to rest and have your hurts soothed. Both of you,\" he adds, turning to Ceredir. \"Both are welcome, and have leave to come and go within the limits of the city, save for the Halls of Justice and the Hall of the Horse, and, of course, the Meduseld. There you must ask entrance.\" He looks to Faelwine. \"Is your husband recovered? I wish him to sing tonight... and I know that the children of the city will be fair disappointed if he is not out teaching them our tales.\" He glances towards the field, and there a white horse runs. The stallion turns his head, then heads towards the green hedgerow, and leaps it easily, galloping head on towards them, though the king seems unafraid.
\"We thank you for your kindness and hospitality, Sire,\" Ceredir answers, speaking quickly, perhaps to forestall words on the part of Daerien. \"We are little used to riding horses, save for these last 10 days, and I\'m afraid we have a bit too many hurts to heal,\" he adds with a bit a humor in his tone and a grimace. \"So that a festival would be most welcome...especially if we can stand for a while.\" Humor lights his eyes, but the younger scout speaks no more as the king addresses Faelwine.
[Faelwine(#31903)]
The chestnut mare dances sideways a few steps, until at last with a gentle but firm murmur from her rider, she suffers herself to be stilled for a few moments yet. To the King, Faelwine offers a single nod of her head, the corners of her lips lifting in a smile. \"I shall tell him, Sire he would not have your wish go unmet.\" Turning her gaze back to the two Gondorians, she adds, \"And welcome, once again. You have arrived at a joyous time of the year, even if business is your main purpose, I hope that you have the chance to enjoy yourselves, as well. My lord Ceredir, I shall seek you out after you have been settled my husband will wish to visit with you, and the my lord Daerien is also welcome. Perhaps we could take our noonmeal together?\"
[Daerien(#21777)]
His eyes still cold, like dirty water frozen in his skull. But he manages a smile \"I could not rise if Steward Denethor himself commanded it King Theoden. Take no offense, but I suspect at least for the start of your festivities I will remain here on your dirt.\" thinking better of it though he drops a hand and attempts to lever himself upright by the flexing of his shoulders, but his lower body won\'t properly respond, so he plants face first down into the dirt at the feet of the noble lord of the horse people. Lips, moistened from the need to speak so much after so long a silence, now smeared brown with the dirt, an attractive hue of muddy lip gloss as he attempts to find a way to stand without having to use his hips or thighs. Finally able to lurch himself back into a kneeling position and looking up \"Whenever it is most convenient for you to recieve the missives of the Mormegil, summon me and I shall find a way to present it to you. In the interim we thank you for your renowned hospitality and the kindness of your people, friends.\" his duty, momentarily done. He lets his mind explore his pain, as a man might probe a loose tooth despite discomfort. His own eyes wide, studying the approaching white horse with evident apprehension, sure that at this moment he is about to be trampled into that same dirt that he so recently \'kissed\'. But he is resigned to his fate, as always, so he waits for the others to depart that he might find a moment of quietude and peace to rise without further injury to his remaining dignity.
[Theoden(#15851)]
\"I trust that weariness and the aches of the unaccustomed riding have addled your thoughts for the time. Instead of wallowing in anger and self-pity at your pain, and in our dirt as well, you could rise, if you took my hand as offered in friendship and in some honor at our ancient Oath. Since you refuse it, I shall not offer it again. One of my men shall come to help you, or carry you if need be. We shall speak again when you can match your pretty words with the expression in your eyes, and with your deeds, Cuthalion.\" He watches as the white horse slows, then rears up, pawing at the air and shaking his mane. \"Ceredir, I shall not keep you from needed rest, and trust that you shall be well-attended. Faelwine, I shall see you with your husband tonight. Until we next meet, welcome, and be well.\" So saying, the old king springs lightly onto the white stallion\'s back, and turns him without saddle or stirrup or rein or bridle. He laughs and urges the white horse away before even his men can react.
\"Sire,\" Ceredir bows again, the scout\'s mouth dropping open as the king jumps on the horse and rides away. He bilnks several times before he turns toward his companion, his eyes rolling in anger. \"Get up, you fool,\" he snaps at the man, offering him a hand to roughly pull him up if he can. \"A fine way to begin trade negotiations, that is.\" Then, remembering himself, Ceredir turns to Falewine. \"Aye, lady, the noon hour. I will look for you then.\"
[Faelwine(#31903)]
As the white horse speeds away, Faelwine\'s chesnut lifts her head and snorts, eager to follow, then half-rears and skitters side-ways when her rider checks her. The woman murmurs something in her own tongue to the mare, then smiles to Ceredir, even as her horse dances beneath her, slight bemusement in her gaze as the scout snaps at his companion. \"Until then, fare well to you both.\" She nods to each in turn, then turning the restive chestnut about, they jig lightly on up into the city.
[Daerien(#21777)]
Glaring up towards Ceredir he mutters \"I couldn\'t take his hand, there was horse **** on my hand. I figured it was better to play the idiot then insult him a wet grip. Now leave me be, I have no hamstrings left, I wasn\'t joking when I said I could n\'t stand up. Go on, have fun. I will stay right here.\" and glancing back over his shoulder to Faelwine and just nodding his head as he lowers his jaw to his chest and breathing deeply, attempting to abate the pain that courses down his spine across his legs creating a numb sensation across his lower body that it quivers in spasms that threaten to topple him again to the dirt \"Never rode a damned horse, and that fool decides it would be smart to send a wildman riding halfway across the world to speak with people he\'s never even thought of meeting. The brilliance of his plan is lost on me.\"