Departure from Edoras (Three Horses and an Ass TP)
A tale freshly told of the Gondorian
Swansmen from Dol Amroth depart for the north, accompanied by the Riders of Rohan.
[Arathis]
The first light of morning falls unhampered upon the west of Edoras: the heavens are today without storm, the gild of twilight paling with ease into the dawn. A number of birds putter upon the winds about the city’s gates, their chatter adding to the commotion stirring there already, well despite the sleep of the Mark’s denizens.
For a wagon sits before the exit of Edoras, surrounded by the haste of many men, outfitting the vessel with provisions and other goods. Nearby, the Knight Arathis coolly assesses the preparation, ere shifting his attention to the skies.
Above, a hawk circles.
[Theoden(#15851)]
Twenty Riders sit, ringed together, shaking their heads. Finally one of them rides up to the Gondorians, and he folds his arms. \"We would go faster and easier, you know, if we took supplies as pack, on horses, and forgo the wagon. For who knows the conditions of the road, if it is even kept, and wheels do not go easy in the deep snows, or in spring thaws.\" The man\'s voice is rich, deep, and heavily accented with his own tongue. \"It is foolhardy to travel so.\"
[Menelglir(#1394)]
On one side of the wagon not far from Arathis, the White Squire Menelglir has just finished struggling to lift a heavy canvas bag into the wagon. He grunts, and his breath comes out in a hiss as one of the horse lords suggest that they -not- take the wagon. \"Sir?\" he addresses Arathis, waiting for his decision--Menelglir trying hard to keep the irritation out of his tone and expression, but failing miserably at it.
[Arathis]
The Lord Isilrim looks upon the approaching Rohir, and smiles lightly at the address: “We transport more than provision, friend. Should the winter prove unkind enough, then we shall leave it upon the road.
“And if your brothers would for this reason not stay with our passage through Dunland, I shall not begrudge them.”
His final words are spoken flatly, albeit without particular point. With this, he regards the avian above once more so he says, here glancing to the squire, “It is time to depart, all the same. Have you eaten, Menelglir?”
[Theoden(#15851)] %rThe Rider\'s eyes glitter, and he snorts. \"Have it as you will. If you wish to discard the advice of those who live on the winter plains, lifelong and journey each year in winter, that is your affair. We are oath-bound and duty-pledged by our king to escort you safe through Dunland. That we shall do, and should it come to it, we shall protect you. Your wagon, though, we shall not protect.\" He shakes his head, then takes his position with the others. They have pack horses, though not over-many. Finally through the gates rides Hraefengar Scop, warmly dressed, with a pack-horse behind him, and his dog as well.
[Menelglir(#1394)]
\"Yes, before we started loading the wagon, sir,\" Menelglir answers, the relief in his expression at Arathis\'s decision tempered by the words of the Rider. \"But...if we lose the wagon, then how will we make our way and carry our provisions? There aren\'t enough horses?\"
The youth\'s eyes go along the gathered Riders, stopping in surprise when he sees the scop. \"He..is well enough to come?\" he asks the Rider who has been addressing Arathis. \"Just the other day he had a dream of some sort, though he was awake. Spoke in Sindarin about the storm already being on us...and the man with him said he was nearly frozen to death.\"
[Dirnaro(#31829)]
One thing that the Claimant to Edainemyndon will say for Rohan, there is no land more fit for riding in all the countries he has visited. His remaining hand clasping a length of wood clearly meant to stand in for a sword, he rides the horse without the reins to steer it - directing it with precise but gentle nudges of his boot. It is when Dirnaro spies the small gathering about the Gates that he discards the stick, taking control of his mount to his hands once again, and begins a swift trot in their direction.
[Arathis]
A singular nod dismisses the Rider, followed by a gesture of similar ilk to the squire, as if to prompt the youth against further questions. The knight does, however, comment freely, “
Upon recognition of the bard, Arathis adds, too in the Elvish tongue, “It is a trait unseemly in warriors. But for those whose arm is wit, emotion shall true the heart. And it is not impossible, Menelglir, that our hearts shall require along our journey the encouragement of one bid by emotion.”
He speaks loudly enough to be heard by the approaching Eorling, and, with a bow of the head, hails him: “A fair morning, Hraefengar.” The same turns to the mounted Swansman: “Dirnaro, you tire your horse before a day’s ride!”
[Theoden(#15851)]
\"It was fair,\" answers Hraefengar, speaking in clear Sindarin. \"Though it shall not be, if you continue to speak so of my kinsfolk. What is unseemly, perhaps, in a knight of Gondor is not unseemly in men of the Mark, and you would do well to remember that when we seek to give aid at our own peril on an errand that is not ours.\" The scop shrugs. \"All the same, let us behave as friends, and let us go and quickly. The roads of the Mark are not made for wheels, and it shall be slow going.\"
[Menelglir(#1394)]
\"Twas not encouragement but..\" Menelglir starts in Sindarin, then backs off at the gesture from Arathis. He frowns, coloring at Hraefengar\'s response, the White Squire, at least, showing embarrassment over Arathis\'s criticism of the horse lords.
[<#31829>]
\"
Dirnaro bows his head slightly in deference to the Swan Knight before he turns to look to Menelglir, though he speaks not. He is scarcely known for speaking when not bidden to, after all.
[Arathis]
Arathis pauses upon the arriving bard, permitting a dull silence with the tilt of his helmed head. At length, and with little evidence of understanding, he nods once more towards the Eorling: \"Though little trodden, the roads of old Calenardhon were well crafted, linking the twain of Dunedain kingdoms. If they have lost their quality, it shall prove unfortunate. But we shall make due upon them.\"
Turning to Dirnaro, he too pats the lad\'s mount, ere stating clearly, \"Very good. I am of little doubt: steeds find energy swiftly about these walls, it would seem.
\"But we must leave them. Ensure your supply sufficient, and that you too have wear for the spring.\"
[Arathis]
Arathis\' visage of command shifts to the white squire, imparting the same task wordlessly.
[Theoden(#15851)]
\"They are trodden, man of Gondor,\" answers Hraefengar, his eyes narrowing. \"But it is your affair. Obviously you would know more than I about roads that, no matter who crafted them, I have ridden for nigh two score years. Let us go, then.\" He shrugs, then clls to the Riders in their own tongue, and the score plus one gather to the side, watchful, apart.
[Dirnaro(#31829)]
\"My supplies are readied, Hir Arathis, and have been for some time now. Though I do love the land of the Horse Lords, I wish to see what lay beyond. Ancient texts and stories told in a thousand different ways scarcely do it all justice.\"
Dirnaro pats the saddlebags on the horse and rolls his shoulders a little, his remaining hand falling to the fold of cloth that masks the grievous wound that resulted in the loss of his forearm. His eyes narrow momentarily, almost glaring out toward the horizon.
[Menelglir(#1394)]
\"I\'m ready, sir,\" Menelglir insists upon Arathis\'s look to him. \"And as far as I\'m concerned, the sooner we are on the road and traveling, the better,\" he says, looking at Dirnaro as he speaks, the White Squire\'s chin lifting a touch as if in slight challenge to Dirnaro\'s flowery words. \"Though one day I would like to come back here and stay longer--my wish to leave now has nothing to do with the land here or its people.\"
[Arathis]
“You have been heard,” answers Arathis plainly to the Eorling bard, a stately calm finishing his utterance, “and I have said that we must ride the road with our wagon regardless.”
He seems content to here disengage the men of the Riddermark, turning instead to his fellow Swansmen and here, a word of warning, ridden upon a foreboding bass of censure, “We leave now our allies to enter lands ancient to the Dunedain. Distract your head with their histories, and you shall fall to the works that now befoul them.”
His eyes narrow then, following the flight of the hawk yet above.
[Theoden(#15851)]
Hraefengar raises his brows, then shakes his head, and he takes his place amidst the company of Riders. Their horses stand, shifting impatiently, and the dog takes time to roll in the snow. First one man, then another, begins to sing in the slow tongue of the Mark, a song of parting, perhaps, or of longing for the open plains.
[Dirnaro(#31829)]
Dirnaro trots along dutifully behind Arathis, eyes turning for the moment to the White Squire who accompanies them. The slight raise of his chin not unnoticed, the young man who now appears far more aged and world-weary than he should snorts a quiet laugh to himself and rests slightly in the saddle.
[Menelglir(#1394)]
For the moment, at least, Menelglir gets the unglorious task of riding in the wagon, sitting on a sack of supplies and ostensibly guarding them. Whatever pride caused the White Squire to tilt his chin up at Dirnaro quickly vanishes as Menelglir climbs awkwardly into the loaded wagon--though not before acknowledging Arathis\'s warning with a dutiful nod.
[Arathis]
As the men of the Mark erupt in song, Arathis grasps the reins of his sable destrier, gliding them in ready through his gauntlets. To Menelglir he then barks, his voice hardening against the travel to come: “Squire, we have no extra men. You are to drive the wagon.”
Thus departs the Lord Isilrim from the gates of Edoras, removing his helm in wordless gesture towards the accompanying Riders.
[Theoden(#15851)]
The riders sweep forwards without any word of command their only voicing is that of the song. They ride in strange unison, keeping loose formation, their horses\' legs stepping high, heads held high and ears pricked. Slowly they start off, the west wind in their faces.
[Menelglir(#1394)]
So commanded, Menelglir scrambles to the front of the wagon, taking the reins and following the procession, looking grim--possibly at being given this particular job.