(Archive) Rohan -- The King\'s Feast

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.

Obvious exits:

Plain Door leads to Grima\'s Personal Chamber.

Entryway leads to Lawn of the Meduseld.

Southern Door leads to Council Chamber.

Northern Door leads to Theoden\'s Personal Chambers.

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Real time is: Sat Jan 12 13:17:12 2008 - Rohan weather is: Clear

Elendor time is: January, 3043

The Moon is: first quarter

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[Theoden(#15851)]

The afternoon is waning, as is the light of the short day, and outside the doors of the Meduseld the wind blows fiercely, whistling and howling as if it wishes to be let in. And well it might wish it, for the hall is brightly lit: lamps are hung from the beams and set in pillar-sconces, and the hearth-fire is burning high, scented of apple-wood and pine. Light falls, flickering, dancing, upon the hangings and tapestries, and long tables with benches have been set in the hall, with many candles of beeswax. In low stools on the dais men sit, playing upon gilt harps. Though food has not yet been laid, the air is fragrant with the scent of all manner of good foods. All is ready, awaiting the feast.

Common and noble mingle this day as men and women enter the hall to celebrate the driving off of the Orcs and honour the victorious dead. Among the latter walks Bardawulf, clad in a blue-green tunic and trousers that, if plain and unadorned, are at least clean and new. He bears no staff this day, but his uneven footfalls can barely be heard above the murmur of conversation. He pauses in his steps to gaze across the sea of heads, gaze sharpening - seeking faces known to him, perhaps?

Leofwen stands quietly in a corner, looking at the people arriving for the feast. She closes her eyes for a moment, and lets the music, comming from the harps, fill her with joy. Her green tunic is adorned for the occasion, and she seems eager to let the feast begin.

[Coenred(#30388)] Among the commoners are Coenred and his family. The Maegisterwigend\'s usual shirt of mail has been exchanged for a fine tunic and also his wife and children - the latters all grown up - are clad in fine linen today as it befits the occasion.

[Dunstan(#32533)] Likewise among those listed as common is Dunstan. Dressed in a red-brown tunic and brown trousers, with a plain brown cloak against the weather outside draped over one arm. He pauses just inside the door (after the door has closed) to look around, then veered towards the side wall ... one of the few places where he\'d not get trampled on by the crowds. For now, he is content to watch others make merry.

[Theoden(#15851)]

There are children, even, laughing, skipping about, and some dance in a ring in the corner to the music of the harpers. Rather tolerant servants weave in and out of the tables and the people arriving and the children, now setting platters of breads and cheeses and dried fruits on the tables. Others carry pitchers with foam at the top, welcome pouring-vessels of rich, red-brown ale.

Bardawulf\'s glance pauses on the slender girl with closed eyes, and he smiles a little. Perhaps the music calls to him too, for he turns to gaze toward the dais, frowning a little. After a moment he shrugs and looks away. Noticing Coenred, he raises a hand in greeting, though he makes no move to join the extended family group.

[Leofwen(#32333)] The food smells wondefully, and makes Leofwen glance at the table. Not willing to go over there yet, she settles with looking at the busy servants. From her face expression, she seems to feel pity for them. She then looks at the children dancing infront of men playing the harps. She slowly walks over, and begins to clap her hands, grinning.

A flushed and bright-eyed little girl of perhaps about 7 or 8 summers eyes the platters of food being brought in and reaches up a hand to snatch up a few dried fruits. Fleeing the servants\' reprimand, she darts off, brushing past Bardawulf to join the circle of young dancers that Leofwen applauds.

[Dunstan(#32533)] Dunstan is not shy about heading for the tables when some manner of food and drink make their debut. A hunk of bread and cheese in one hand, and a mug of ale in the other, and he again retreats to his spot on the wall, but not before he sees Coenred and Bardawulf. Hands full, he settles on nodding in their general direction by way of acknowledging that he\'s seen them.

[Theoden(#15851)]

The harpers, grinning, quicken the tune. Another man comes to join them, carrying a third stool, and after sitting, he brings forth a wooden flute. He begins to play a merry harmony, and not few are those that begin to clap in rhythm. The tune is old, well-known, and one voice raises in song, then another.

Perhaps it is the music that calls him forth, or perhaps he waited for it to come, but the king enters the hall from a small door near the dais. No fanfare accompanies him, no shout of the heralds. Unannounced, he slips into the room, standing just beside the door. Leaning against the wall, he watches the folk making merry. He speaks no word, but a smile comes to his lips, and his bright eyes flicker with delight.

Caught by surprise, Bardawulf struggles for balance for a moment as the child rushes past. Straightening again, he chuckles and remarks ruefully, \"Ah, would that I had the energy of those youngsters.\"

He sees Dunstan\'s nod, and raises a hand to wave at him. \"Dunstan, wasn\'t it? I trust the horses have been treating you better than when we last met?\" No, it seems the Eoscalc will not be left to enjoy his feast in peace.

[Dunstan(#32533)] Dunstan grinned when Bardawulf started talking. He didn\'t /mind/ company and conversation, after all. It was just that mingling with /this/ many people wasn\'t really his thing. Well, at least not until he\'d gotten a few pints of ale in him. Then he wasn\'t quite as ... shy, for lack of a better word. \"Yes, and they have, thankfully. Haven\'t gotten my foot stomped on again.\"

[Theoden(#15851)]

Another stool is brought to the dais, and a young lad, just beginning his teens, joins the other minstrels. He looks more nervous and downcast than happy, but he manages a nervous smile as he sits. He is wearing a fine green tunic and leggings, and woven onto the neck of the tunic are white otters. He nods and begins to sing, his voice high and clear, not yet breaking and deepening.

The king, as yet unnoticed, turns his eyes towards the musicians, and then outwards again towards the hall. Upon lord and commoner the bright eyes gaze, upon man and woman, young and old. A wayward child, five or six winters, dashes up onto the dais, nearly running into a servant, and then nearly falling against the king. Laughing, Theoden stoops and scoops the girl into his arms. Straightening, he holds her close, whispers into her ear, and then steps forwards.

Leofwen laughs merrily when she spots Bardawulf looses his balance, because of the little girl. She notices what the girl is holding in her hand, dried fruit. And it is not just the little girl who has supplied herself with the food. Leofwen decides it is time to find some food, herself. After all, it has been a long time since breakfast, and her stomach rumbles. She walks over to the table and takes a piece of bread with cheese on, and decorates it with three grapes. She is about to take a bit, when she spots the King.

The King\'s presence goes unremarked, for a little while. But as he steps forward first one pair of eyes and then another turn toward the dais, and slowly a hush begins to fall over the room. The little girl who had joined the dancers finishes in a grinning heap, giggling merrily in Leofwen\'s direction, before turning to see what all the commotion is about. Her mouth falls open, and a dried berry rolls to the floor.

[Dunstan(#32533)] It\'s not until the chaos on the dias that Dunstan even notices anyone is up there. He gives the King a mock-jaundiced look. \"He does love to sneak up on people, doesn\'t he?\" He mutters to Bardawulf as silence begins to fall.

Bardawulf follows the direction of Dunstan\'s glance, and nods, looking almost relieved that something has broken the awkward silence that had fallen. Perhaps Dunstan is not the only one who feels a little uncomfortable in large social gatherings. \"Indeed. Let us be thankful that such skills of stealth belong to the Mark and not to the Orc we battled,\" he murmurs, the corners of his mouth twitching, then falls silent to await the King\'s words, if such are forthcoming.

[Theoden(#15851)]

Theoden\'s eyes crinkle at the corners as the hush begins to fall upon the hall, and he carries the girl to the table set upon the dais. There he sets her on the bench, standing beside him, and he rests a gnarled hand gently upon her head. \"You turn to face me,\" he begins without preamble, his voice strong and clear so that it carries easily. \"And yet I ask you to look instead upon this girl-child. Look upon her, well-fed, well-clothed, and hale and happy. Look at her standing here with joy in her eyes instead of fear. Look upon her and know that it is you, the people of Eorl, that have done this. It is you who have secured this girl\'s health, her well-being, her hope, her future.\"

Leofwen follows Theoden with her eyes as he carries the girl to the table. She has already put her plate back on the table, and waits for him to speak. As he begin, Leofwen looks uncertain from the King to the little girl, before she understands where this is going. When Theoden begins to praise the people of Eorl, she grins and raises her glass up, like a toast. Mostly for herself, though.

The youngster with the dried fruit turns scarlet and starts to cough. Hurriedly she stuffs a fist in her mouth to try and stop the sound. What if people start looking at /her/ like her playmate up there?

The servers, meanwhile, move unobtrusively through the room refilling cups.

[Coenred(#30388)] The coughing does not seem to distract Coenred and his kin, for they follow the king\'s speech, eyes set upon Theoden and the girl he is praising.

[Dunstan(#32533)] Dunstan\'s gaze does flick from Theoden to the girl, then settles on the King once more. He doesn\'t seem too comfortable with the praises, shifting slightly where he stands.

[Theoden(#15851)]

The girl upon the dais, though, doesn\'t much seem to mind being looked at, though she stares up at the king with wide eyes, not sure what he is talking about. She reaches up to touch his hand upon her head, then twines her fingers in his.

\"When the rains did not come, spring and summer before last, when the crops failed, you did not despair. When the fires came, you fought them. When the famine came, you stood together, shared what you had. Some of you went to the Stoningland for aid. When spring came, despite the harshness of the year before, you toiled and worked and filled the Mark with your food. When the folk of Mordor came, you did not quail, and when the orcs followed, you fought them. Because of your hope, your hard work, your perseverance, your valor, your trust, this girl stands here at my side with the hope of a bright future. This girl stands beside me in joy instead of despair. Because of you. Please, raise your cups.\"

Bardawulf, beside Dunstan, chuckles once more, and lifts his own cup for filling - not refilling, for it is as yet empty. \"You were there in the East, weren\'t you?\" he murmurs to his companion during a pause in the King\'s speech. Don\'t look so discomfited - the high-born simply have a fancy for using fine speech and many words. It comes down to naught more than a simple \'thank you\'.\" As the king ends he pushes himself awkwardly to his feet, and raises his cup - a gesture echoed by many in the hall. Tables creak and benches scrape.

[Efen(#12047)] \"Ow!\" protests one loudly amongst the throng as a lifted cup clumsily banks against the back of her white-gold skull. \"Buckets of boar--\" and the rest is drowned out by ambient noise.

[Coenred(#30388)] \"Hail Theoden King!\" The noisy call comes from many throats and many an arm is lifted into the air with a full cup to do as the king bade. Coenred, too, raises his cup, to king first, then to his loved ones to celebrate the safe return from his second voyage to the Eastmark. Somewhere in the crowd, he espies a familiar face or two at last, across the hall.

[Dunstan(#32533)] Dunstan obediently lifted his cup, nodding to Bardawulf. \"Yes, I was.\" He says, then joins in the hail to the king, before tipping the mug and drinking deeply. \"T\'was an ugly business.\" He says when he finally comes up for air.

Leofwen raises her cup once more. She looks down at the child beside her. He is jumping up and down, the view to the King is clearly shut because of the huge crowd. Leofwen scoops him up in her arms so he can better see the King.

[Theoden(#15851)]

A servant brings Theoden a great horn, fitted with graven silver that has been patterned in the likeness of running horses. Lifting it up, the king smiles, then gestures to the child, who is given a small cup. Then he turns his gaze towards the crowd again. \"To those who have labored hard, whose efforts we will enjoy in feast, hail! To those who fought against our foes, hail! And lastly, to our victorious dead! Hail!\" This last word is almost a shout, and he takes a long drink from the horn. Then he holds it to the girl\'s lips, letting her drink from it. The servant then takes it, and begins to bring it to others in turn, passing the great horn.

Bardawulf takes a draught of his own, not as deep as Dunstan\'s. \"Yet a necessary one.\" His voice is grave, almost chiding. \"Your part in it was well done.\" He reaches out to rest a hand on Dunstan\'s shoulder, if the man will allow. \"Many are the tales of valour I heard from the men I treated ...\" His voice trails into silence, and he gazes around the feast-hall.

The \'Hail\' echoes throughout the room ... and the scarlet-faced child with the dried fruit breathes a sigh of relief. Satisfied that noone has noticed her misdemeanour with the berry, she sidles along until she can crawl under one of the tables. Safe in her \'tent\', she watches the proceedings and munches in grave silence.

Efen rubs the back of her now slightly damp hair, and raises her cup. Empty cup. Because the fellow behind her who spilled upon her noggin is now lot looking so festive, nor as dry as he was before. Yet these things will be honored as well by dribbles as by a gulp as the horn goes round. Efenwyn tilts her head but slightly to one side, watching the base of one table not terribly far from the healer\'s position. A faint, hard little smile comes.

[Theoden(#15851)]

Theoden holds up his free hand for silence once more. Smiling, he waits, and then lifts his head higher. \"Many more words I might speak, but truth is not seen in words, but in deeds. I give you my thanks, and in thanks have brought you here to feast. So, no more words have I to say but these: Let the feast be served!\" So saying, he leans down and whispers in the girl\'s ear again, then lays both hands on her head and kisses it. Then he scoops her up again, and hands her to a servant, who carries her into the crowd to her rather startled parents.

[Dunstan(#32533)] Dunstan just squirms all the harder. Seems he\'s not overfond of praise. But then, as far as he\'s concerned, he\'s been doing his duty, and doing one\'s duty and doing it well is reward enough. No need for ... well, this. The hand on the shoulder is allowed, despite his discomfiture. \"Valor is in the eye of the beholder, I think.\" He says. \"So far as I can see, we were just doing what needed to be done.\"

Bardawulf waits until the King\'s final words have died away before answering Dunstan. \"Can any man claim more?\" he enquires softly. \"Of such things are songs made.\" Once more that half-frown, that gaze round the hall - and then he shrugs. As he looks back to Dunstan, the corners of his mouth twitch. \"If you\'re lucky, a bard might give you a mention - if you\'re unlucky, a whole stanza.\" He chuckles, and reaches for a hunk of ripe cheese to partner his ale.

[Efen(#12047)] Efenwyn presses her empty into the low hand of a rider amist the company known for \"friendly\" hands, applying the block thoughtlessly as she passes. The sharp creature takes up a place to assist in the serving, with others gathering pitchers and trays to carry amongst the revellers.

[Theoden(#15851)]

Now the servants (and their helpers) really scurry, carrying the food into the hall. There are golden tarts filled with cheese or meat or vegetables, and tureens filled with savory stews and warm potage. Savory sausages are brought in, and boiled eggs and roasted chickens and mushrooms and parsnips in butter. Succulent bowls of candied fruits, and dishes of cream, puddings sweet and savory. And then, carried out is an entire roasted boar, which is set up on trestles and carved right there in the hall. Theoden\'s eyes light, and he takes his seat at the high table. The harpers begin to play once more.

[Dunstan(#32533)] Dunstan wrinkles his nose. \"Save me from being sung of by bards.\" He says, but then gets distracted by the food being brought in. His mouth starts to water. \"Ghods, but that smells good. And doubtlessly tastes better. Let\'s find a place to sit before things get too crazy.\"

Bardawulf\'s chuckle echoes once more, a little louder this time. \"Ah, you should have heard the attempts of one of the Riders I treated out yonder,\" he jerks his head eastward. \"Let\'s see ... Coenred the unconquerable, courageous carrion-slayer.\" Believe me, the rest of his rhymes were equally bad. One trusts that he has never considered a second profession as a wordwright.\"

At Dunstan\'s final suggestion, he nods vigourously. \"Now, to that I have no objection. This night is a night to celebrate ...\" And if his expression as he speaks those words is a little wistful, well, what of that?

The feast has begun in earnest. There is music, there is eating and drinking, there is laughter - and, from underneath one particular table, there is the soft sound of snoring.

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

Efen delivers, thunking down trenchers in front of famished merrymakers in thirty minutes or its free! She pauses by the edge of the one table, and surreptitiously toes a loaf of soft, warm bread under the board. She moves along. Crossing the dancing, she twirls once, and steals back a mug for herself, \"Theoden-king will need his sword o carve that monster! By Bema, who slew such a thing? And which poor horses bore it here?\"

[Theoden(#15851)]

As the food is served, and the boar carved with a monstrously-sharp long-knife, Theoden looks about him, and his gaze flickers once more from person to person. He frowns slightly, and then rises. A wry, lopsided smile appears on his lips. \"I ask your indulgence,\" he says clearly, loudly. \"There are some who I forgot to thank. The battles were long and hard, and there was suffering. So hail to the healers who tended the brave and the fallen! And hail too, to the talumirages and the scops, who remember the valor of all and sing of it so that it is remembered.\" Then he waves his hand, and sits down once more, and begins to eat.

[Dunstan(#32533)] Dunstan weaves through the throng to a table, and snags two seats before they get taken by someone else. A quick refill on the ale, and he starts trying to figure out what to sample first, of the foods presented.

Bardawulf follows Dunstan, slowed by that dragging left leg. He is no more than half-way to the table when a hand reaches out to clamp itself round his arm, and he finds himself the recipient of verbose and rather fuddled thanks from one of his former patients who by the sounds of it started the celebrating a little earlier than most. With a grimace of apology in Dunstan\'s direction, Bardawulf sighs and allows himself to be toasted.

[Theoden(#15851)]

The harpers look thoroughly embarrassed, save for the lad, who turns his head towards the doors and sighs. They speak among themselves for a moment or two, and then begin to sing the praises of the people of the Mark, in rather lighthearted fashion.

[Dunstan(#32533)] Dunstan grins when Bardawulf gets waylaid, and continues on with his attempt at figuring out what to eat. Eventually he settles on a range of dishes, loads his plate, and begins to eat, glancing around the room as he did, as much to see if there was anyone else he knew nearby as to enjoy watching everyone having fun.