Publically Drunk

Dol Amroth: Men Ernil - Court of the Fountain

Here ends Men Ernil, the Prince\'s Way, in a grand plaza at the doorstep of the Castle of the Princes. A massive elliptical fountain dominates the court, fully fifty feet on its axis and perhaps half as wide. Made of smooth white stone, it consists of two broad levels which can, and often do, act as benches for the denizens of the City. In the center of the fountain stands a large statue, water burbling \'round his feet in a comely display. The grand collonade of the Men Ernil circumscribes the fountain, and to the north and to the south are the towering walls which flank and protect the road. West lies the castle in all its grandeur, where lofty ramparts mark the beginning of Dol Amroth\'s many-towered, many-walled final defense.

Sunlight gleams almost painfully from all around you, shining as it does from the polished walls and the magnificent fountain. Spray from the burbling fonts surrounding the fountain\'s central statue casts myriad rainbows about, and the court is filled with a gentle buzz of folk moving to and fro on business, speaking quietly, or simply enjoying a stroll. Pennons flutter in the breeze on the ramparts above and to the west, where the Prince\'s white Citadel rests like a snowy cap on the Hill of Amroth.

Season:             Winter

Date:               Orithil - February 7, 3045

Real Time:          Fri Oct 03 19:23:15 2008

The day is cold, even for February, but at least it\'s sunny. Folk hurry about quickly here on this mid-day, many of them visitors preparing to leave Dol Amroth now that the festivities are done.

Among those here is Ceredir, the scout out of last night\'s finery and back into his well worn but rugged clothes for travel and fighting. He sits by the fountain, leaning back and idle, nothing to do for the moment but watch the day and the folk pass by.

[Hraefengar(#15851)]

From one of the side-streets comes Hraefengar, with his dog trotting beside him. He is carrying a bag which is slung over one shoulder, and he walks swiftly, looking neither left nor right. Yet, coming to the fountain, he sighs softly, and sits down, not on its edge, but on the ground, that he might lean back against it. Seeing Ceredir, he nods his head, but does not speak.

The youth jumps to his feet. \"Lord Hraefengar! Are you all right, sir?\" He stoops, kneeling next to the man of Rohir. \"Not ill again, are you?\"

[Hraefengar(#15851)]

\"Not... again... still... am.\" The Eorling manages a strange, twisted smile, then closes his eyes. He tenses, and then his head slumps forwards. Then, for perhaps half a minute, his limbs quake, jerking strangely. Then he is still again, and slumps back against the fountain-side. The dog paws at Ceredir, then settles snugly against the scop, as if to prop him up.

A worried look is given to the Rohir, but Ceredir settles down to sit next to the man. \"But...you fought...and won the joust..?\" he asks, quite puzzled. \"If you are ill like this, how could you possibly joust?\"

[Hraefengar(#15851)]

Hraefengar does not answer, and he sags against the dog, who braces herself without a growl or whimper. She turns her head to lick the scop\'s cheek it is beaded with sweat. Only then do the Eorling\'s eyes flutter, and he gives a soft groan. He lifts his head a little and stares blearily at Ceredir, blank puzzlement in his expression.

\"Can I....? Is there....?\" Ceredir looks about helplessly, but none of those passing by here take enough notice to stop and help. \"Here...\" he kneels again, next to Hraefengar, and offers the man a water skin that the scout had slung across his body. \"Have some water...\" He lifts the skin to the man\'s lips. Likely the water will dribble down his chin and face if the Rohir doesn\'t or can\'t drink.

[Hraefengar(#15851)]

Hraefengar opens his mouth, as if used to this sort of thing. But He cannot drink well or quickly, and splutters, and as much water drips down his chin and into his beard, and as much is choked on, as actually is swallowed. He coughs, coughs again, and then gives a nod. \"Thank... thank... you,\" he murmurs, his voice soft and slow, a bit hoarse. \"Ceredir. I... sorry.\" He shivers, gives a little shake of his head. \"Of course. Inn is there. Well.\"

\"Sorry, sorry...\" Ceredir uses the edge of his sleeve to wipe the man\'s wet chin. \"The Inn...you want help there or you want to just sit here in the sun a bit?\" Then...with a frown...\"how often does this happen?\"

[Hraefengar(#15851)]

\"A moment...\" Hraefengar wraps his good arm about the dog, then leans against her, for support as well as warmth. \"Was... heading for the inn. Too late now. She knows, gives me... some warning.\" He shrugs one shoulder, then lowers his head to hide a wince. \"Sometimes... every few days or so. Other times... a couple of times a day. It all depends.\"

\"The...dog?\" Ceredir blinks. Then looks to the dog and back to the man again. \"But...how could you joust, sir?\" the young man asks, repeating his earlier question. \"I mean...well, you seemed quite injured before...\"

[Faelwine(#31903)]

Into the square from the West an Eorling woman wends her way against the general flow of people, warmly cloaked, though Faelwine\'s hood has fallen back off her braids of strawberry blonde. Her gaze is lifted, scanning the square. A cluster of folk, apparently together by the chatter amid themselves, passes between her and the fountain, but in the brief space before another bunch of people obscures her view, the figures at the base catch the woman\'s eye.

Her demeanor shifts urgent of a sudden, and it is with many murmured apologies to jostled persons that she hurries her way to the fountain\'s base. As she nears, already her hands are at her throat, undoing the clasp that holds her own cloak, though the cold is enough to redden her cheeks. She exhales some measure of relief, noting that the scop is, at least, somewhat coherent. \"Hello, Ceredir,\" she offers a polite nod as smoothly, she comes to kneel at the scop\'s side, holding out her cloak to wrap it about Hraefengar. Her brow is creased, her gaze worried, but her voice remains soothing, gentle. \"Oh Bema... dear love, I am sorry. How long have you been here?\"

[Hraefengar(#15851)]

\"I was... am.\" Hraefengar moves his left arm he cannot lift it very high at all. \"And.... sometimes... memories... haunt me. I was feeling well, day of the joust, and I... I practiced. And then I slept long hours after, for it wearied me.\" His voice is weary now, slow and with the accent of the north that usually does not touch his Westron. He looks up to Faelwine. \"Too cold for you... to go cloakless. I... I am not sure how long I have been here.\"

\"Not long at all, m\'lady,\" Ceredir answers quickly. \"Keep your cloak--Hraefengar is right it is too cold.\" He starts to unfasten his own cloak to drape it around the man. \"I was sitting here watching the folks walk by and the lord sat down, so I was here the whole time with him. He...he says he\'s all right now...drained..\"

[Faelwine(#31903)]

Faelwine arches a brow slightly towards the young man, though it is quickly replaced by a small yet grateful smile and a shake of her head. \"You are kind, friend... but now it is my turn to ask you to keep your cloak, Ceredir. I shall be fine,\" Wrapping her arms about herself, her glance glides back to the scop. \"As soon as you are able, dear husband, I shall help you indoors. Until then, you have more need of it than I.\"

[Hraefengar(#15851)]

\"You... are kind, Ceredir, more... more than I...\" Hraefengar sighs, and he closes his eyes again. \"I can try to manage. It is very cold. I... could you... you explain to him, some? And about the joust? I am afraid... I am not explaining very well. Or makbe if I lean... both of you, we can go in?\"

\"Let\'s get him in,\" Ceredir shakes his head. \"You can tell me about the joust later...where is his cloak? Can you lean on me?\" he tries to help Hraefengar up.

[Faelwine(#31903)]

\"Careful,\" Faelwine cautions Ceredir gently as he tries to help the scop up. \"Take his right side, if you will, Ceredir,\" she adds with a smile. \"His shield arm has taken grave injury in the past, and needs be treated especially gently.\" At his question, she glances around their immediate area. \"I... know not where his cloak is. We shall find it later, though, hrm? Once you are warm and settled, dear.\" Shifting to the scop\'s left side, she wraps one arm about Hraefengar and uses the other to carefully steady his left arm against him, that it does not get jostled. She nods to Ceredir, ready to help Hraefengar up as soon as the youth is ready.

[Hraefengar(#15851)]

Hraefengar nods slowly, doing his best to aid his wife and new friend, or at least not hinder them. \"Sorry, sorry. I...\" He lets his voice trail off, and he ducks his head in embarrassment. Still, he braces himself, to push himself up as best he may.

Moving carefully and following Faelwine\'s instructions, Ceredir slowly gets the man to his feet. \"Don\'t apologize...you were injured in battle...that\'s an honor,\" he says quietly. \"Where to, m\'lady?\"

[Faelwine(#31903)]

Carefully as she may, Faelwine too helps lift the scop to his feet, then nods towards the Lion. \"The inn we aught to be able to find somewhere warm there, where we all can rest a while.\" Glancing to her husband, she offers him a reassuring smile. \"No fault of yours, Hraefengar,\" she murmurs gently, then steps forward to slowly make their way to the inn.

[Hraefengar(#15851)]

Swaying between the pair, Hraefengar shuffles along, his feet dragging. Yet he does his best to walk stubborn pride flickers in his eyes. The bag that was about his shoulder shifts, smacking against him, shifting his balance. He wobbles, and some of the passers-by mutter and shake their heads about drunken visitors. The inn, though, is near, and the door opens.

\"Get out of the way,\" Ceredir snaps at a few of the passersby. \"The man is injured!\" He glares, especially, at those muttering things about drinking--Ceredir\'s eyes are clear again, for a change. \"Come on..in here,\" he says, leading them all into the Lion Rampant. \"There\'s a table by the fire here, I\'m sure.\"

[Faelwine(#31903)]

Faelwine allows the scout to clear the way, silently helping her husband to shuffle along, without so much as a glance at the folk who mutter and stare. It is only when they arrive at the door that she speaks again. \"If they had an armchair or somewhat that could be brought by the fire, that would do well,\" she murmurs, releasing her steadying hand upon the scop\'s left arm to hold the door open as they pass through.

[Hraefengar(#15851)]

Hraefengar wobbles, resting all of his weight against the youth. But though he is tall, his weight is slight, for he is very thin. He smiles wanly, murmuring apologetic thanks. \"You are... too kind, Ceredir. If ever... you need a good word, I shall give it.\" He glances over at Faelwine, and gives a slight nod. \"Armchair would be wonderful.\" His teeth chatter, and he falls silent again.

\"An armchair, please,\" the scout pleads to the servers in the inn, helping Hraefengar over toward the fire. \"It\'s...all right...\' Ceredir answers, trying to support the Rohir while waiting for the workers at the inn to bring over a chair. \"You heard last night what they were saying about Laeghen....the man\'s got new sense of humor and he\'s in a bad mood all the time. Apparently, it\'s not so unusual for him to break a new Scout\'s nose, at least from what I surmise,\" he grimaces, angry again for a moment.

[Faelwine(#31903)]

Faelwine stays close at the scop\'s side, steadying him as she may as they move near to the fire. A pair of servers indeed come not long after they arrive there, bearing between them a cushy armchair, perhaps from some other parlour. After setting in near the hearth, they stare with a mixture of curiosity and uncertainty towards the scop, but the woman is quick to give them something to do. \"Could we get some warm goat\'s milk, with honey, please? And a couple blankets, if you have them.\" The servants nod, and scamper away, and Faelwine turns her attention to helping ease Hraefengar down into the chair.

[Hraefengar(#15851)]

\"That... seems more... something... a creature of the Enemy... would do.\" Hraefengar shivers, sinking down into the chair. A relieved sigh passes his lips, and he leans his head back. \"Some... of them... seemed...\" He winces. \"Some think... it is an effect of the wounds... I took in Osgiliath. Others... say it is a spell of the Black Land, from that witch-woman Mara. Some say worse things.\" He sighs. \"But I have never broken a nose. Thank you, both of you.\"

\"A creature of the enemy?\" Ceredir glances sharply to Falewine. \"Wounds in Osgiliath? He was taken to Mordor? And...\" he directs to Hraefengar, \"he didn\'t break my nose. Close...\"

[Faelwine(#31903)] \"Helm, nay, nay,\" Faelwine answers quickly, looking horrified for a moment, shaking her head. \"Not taken... not to...\" She does not speak the name of that land. \"He fell from the bridge of Osgiliath, defending it, standing as he was commanded. It was there that his shield-arm was maimed, and he injured nigh unto death, and was kept overlong amid the ghosts of that city as he tried to recover, to live.\" The woman shudders a little, then swallowing, continues. \"The witch, she came-- before I lived in Edoras--demanding a tribute of horses, and was refused. I have been told that she cast a spell then, and that Hraefengar fell because of it, because of the shadow of it.\" She glances towards the scop, reaches her hand to him reassuringly.

(scene faded out due to Ceredir\'s player having a nasty cold)