Of Kings and Princes (Three Horses and an Ass TP)

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.

Contents:

Theoden

Faestred

Arathis

Gwendion

Menelglir

Seneschal

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.

[Theoden(#15851)] The noon meal has passed, and the sun is westering, though the shadows are not yet long. The light glistens upon the snow that has fallen upon Edoras, and here in the high hall, the light that comes in the windows has a blue-white tinge for it. Upon the fire, apple-wood burns with a sweetness, mingled with a hint of pine from the heights and sturdier oak for longevity. Over the door-lintels and on the walls are garlands of evergreen and holly, for Yule is nigh, the shortest day of the year. Scents of a feast preparing already waft from the kitchens, and the hall itself is fire-warm and winter-merry. On the dias steps sits a man playing a harp and singing softly. In the high seat upon the dais, Theoden sits, listening to the music, a cup in his hands. A huscarl comes to him, and speaks quietly to him. The king nods and motions with his hand. The doors to the Golden Hall are opened wide.

[Arathis]

Heavy tread heralds the entrance of the men of Gondor, the thud of their boots broken only by the shifting of mail for though they come to halt before an ally’s throne, they are donned yet of war’s wear, whether bid so by ceremony or campaign.

At their fore leads the tallest among them, nearing eight feet with the high-crown of his helm, crested with the white swan feathers of the highborn Knights of Dol Amroth. The armor then removed below its bearer’s arm, the Knight steps aside to allow for the approach of his fellows, ere bowing deeply before the King of the Mark.

And the bow remains without word, seemingly waiting to be released by the sovereign.

[Faestred(#31903)]

On the dais, too, sits another man: silver-grey is his braided hair, and so too is his combed beard. Though his face is wizened with many winters before this one, there is still yet the keeness of a sharp wit to his bright eyes, though for the moment a content smile softens the sharpness of that gaze. A cup rests cradled in relaxed hand, nearly forgotten it would seem for the lovely melody dancing forth from the harpist\'s hand holds the old adviser\'s attention rapt.

Only at the King\'s gesture does Aethelbrand\'s head lift and his attention divert from the music. He watches the company of men-in-arms throughout their leaden-footed approach, studious of them though not unwelcoming, for a cordial smile remains upon his lips. As they near, the old Eorling pushes himself to his feet, returning the deep bow with grace to the guests, then shifts aside lest he block the King\'s view.

[Menelglir(#24827)] Nervous to the point of nearly jittery, a dark-haired young man of about 16 years stands behind Arathis, shifting his balance from foot to foot as the small group comes to a halt. Menelglir carries what looks to be a large shield with him, the device on it covered by a piece of canvas that has been tied protectively around the shield with cord. Despite the youth\'s relative height, the shield is slightly too big or perhaps he is unused to carrying it--he imitates Arathis\'s bow, or attempts to, and the wood scrapes loudly on the floor. Menelglir winces, then looks up, squinting to see if any have noticed.

[Theoden(#15851)]

Theoden watches the arrival of the Stoninglenders with a keen, intense gaze, though he frowns slightly at the scraping of the shield upon the floor. He drinks from his cup, then sets it aside and clears his throat. \"Rise, visitors from the Stoningland,\" he says in the tongue of the Mark. \"I welcome you to these halls. Please, be at ease.\" He turns to a servant and speaks quietly, and the servant departs. \"It has been some time since the Swans of the Sea-City have come to grace this hall, and I wonder why they have come upon the swan-wings of winter-snow? And if they feel un-guarded, that they must needs bring shields into the shield of my hall and protection?\" The last is said with gentle amusement as he regards the youth.

[Arathis]

A wry glance regards the squire, albeit yet unaccompanied by speech.

Only when prompted does the bass of the Knight marshal firmly, arising with the man himself. A measured cadence spaces his elvish-accented Westron:

“Hail Theoden, son of Thengel, King of the Riddermark and Lord of the Horse, whose free citizens and riders know ally in the Prince of Dol Amroth. For it is his voice that I, Arathis, Lord of the Isilrim, carry as his Herald.”

Pausing, he squares his visage upon the sovereign, ere adding in an uneasy Rohirric: “I ask your forgiveness, Sire, but it has been many years since my encampment with Prince Theodred, and my tongue has faltered.”

[Gwendion(#24427)]

Of the Gondorians, there is the other Swan Knight, but unlike the Knight-Herald this one carries not the pomp of the other instead appearing relaxed in presence of the King of Rohan. The words of the King are heard, but there is no sign of understanding. His eyes soon trail away from the dialogue between the pair, looking to the other\'s of Rohan and then the walls and ceiling.

[Faestred(#31903)]

A half-smile pulls at a corner of the old adviser\'s lips, his gaze flickering to meet his King\'s, and for a moment that smile is laced with a weary bemusement. Yet when he speaks again, it is to the one who has named himself Arathis: drawing himself up, Aethelbrand dips his head graciously to the Swan-Knight. At first his voice rolls richly in the tongue of the Mark: \"Westu hal, Arathis of the Stoningland,\" He continues then in Westron, though his voice loses not the cadence of his native speech, nor does the accent leave him. \"Theoden Cyning welcomes you to his city, and bids you be at ease. He asks what carries the Swan-Knights to their northern allies upon winter\'s wings, and wonders also if you feel in need of protection from aught, that shields need be brought into these guarded halls?\" At this last, his gaze, too, finds the youth one grey brow arches, curiously.

[Arathis]

A singular nod bends towards Faestred, as if to reassure the words that follow: “My thanks, good ally.”

Turning to address Theoden, the Lord Herald forsakes none of his formality, but again issues statement borne upon a stately tongue: “May the armors of those who would too perish for your realm impart no insult for we have only recently reprieved from travel to enter thine capital, without chance of rest.

“Yet,” he adds swiftly, with a gesture for the boy to present himself ere scratching the item further, “this shield, borne by squire Menelglir of our Order, we bring as personal tribute from the Crown-Prince Elphir, who wishes it known that the Mark may yet depend upon the aid of Amroth in need.

“And,” turning to Gwendion, “a horse from among the Prince’s own breed, for though it shall prove inferior to your realm’s stock, let it be proof from the Crown-Prince that Amroth shall furnish the Mark even in its plenty.”

No gift is presented from Imrahil himself.

[Theoden(#15851)] \"Westu hal, Arathis, Lord Isilrim, and be welcome.\" Theoden speaks in Westron, his accent clear, though there is, in his pronunciation, somewhat of the cadance of youth, for the tongue learned on his mother\'s knee. \"Your gifts are gracious, and do you credit, and that of the Crown Prince.\" He lifts his head, then speaks, in his concern, in Rohirric once more. \"Is Imrahil Aetheling ill, though, that such gifts should come from his son and not him? Still, let us see the wood of the scion\'s tree.\" He motions to the shield.

[Menelglir(#24827)]

At the gesture from Arathis, Menelglir unties the string that binds a protective canvas around the shield, the youth not knowing what to do with the canvas as he steps forward--trying to tuck it into his swordbelt, but finally giving up and letting it fall to the floor to one side. He steps forward bearing a kite shield, half circular at top, long and triangular at the bottom. Blue it is, with the White Swan in the middle. The wood itself is lebethron, a tree that grows only in Gondor, but likely Menelglir will have to step closer to the king in order for that to be discerned. As it is, the youth holds back, gazing at the floor nervously and not looking at Theodon.

[Gwendion(#24427)]

Gwendion\'s attention returns as the conversation switches to Westron and moreso when he is addressed by Arathis. After the words of the Squire, he bows his head, holding the reins to a horse, unseen, \"King of Rohan, as I present this gift, I cannot claim any hint of superiority, only that like our friendship of peoples it is strong and reliable.\"

He holds them aloft to be taken.

[Arathis]

The Lord Isilrim cups the squire\'s shoulder to compel him forth, seemingly awaiting for the gifts to be presented before answering the King.

[Menelglir(#24827)]

Prompted, as it is, by Arathis, Menelglir steps forward, and at least does not scrape the shield on the floor. He bows.

[Faestred(#31903)]

The old advisor, Aethelbrand, comes towards the gift-bearers, pausing before Gwendion. His gaze rests passively for a moment on the younger man, though there is a flicker deep in his gaze, \"That is well,\" he comments cordially, \"For such claims are not often made towards allies and oath-bretheren, at least not in the Mark.\" Then, with a fold at the waist of his own, he reaches out to lift the reins from the Stoninglander\'s hands, and turning, bears them up the dais. Lowering himself to a knee on the step below Theoden, he hold up the gift in offering.

[Arathis]

Here, the tongue of Arathis is stayed: his mouth opens, but it is only his jaw that first juts.

At length, a grim utterance comes from him, twined flatly atop a hard swallow: “Some among the Order fear the Prince Imrahil dead, though we know only that he has, by dint of treachery among men, been captured by his enemies, whether by the Corsairs of Umbar or those impersonating the fell.”

With this, the features of Imrahil’s Herald graven, and he looks upon the King of the Mark. “These gifts are assurance from the Crown-Prince Elphir that Dol Amroth, whether behind his noble father or not, is ally steadfast of the Mark.”

[Theoden(#15851)] Theoden takes the reins, and he holds them in his hand, his fingers running along the leather. \"Where now the horse and the rider,\" he murmurs softly, his voice richly cadenced in the tongue of the land. His eyes glitter, and he nods his head. \"The horses of the Swan City carry themselves with pride, and I know full well the measure of the gift. I shall see the horse ...\" His voice falters, and he draws himself upright. \"Imrahil is captured?\" he asks, and his voice sharpens, even in the Westron he switches to speak. \"My mother spoke of the fear of the people of Lossarnach of the Corsairs. I do not forget thast look in her eyes. I am full-willing to send men in aid, if such shall be of use. The Riddermark does not forget its oaths.\"

[Menelglir(#24827)]

Shield still in hand, and the gift perhaps forgotten for the moment, with weightier matters discussed, Menelglir has the good grace, for once, to be silent.

[Arathis]

“Good King,” begins the Lord Isilrim, a new humility bowing his head as his speech, “it is feared that the Prince’s capture shall prove a snare, drawing the Prince’s Order and his allies, whether in our Steward’s men or in your noble riders, to premature war.

“For Umbar is seated by a puppet of our Enemy: Mordor lurks, and prefers scheme to sword. We would not fight the Corsairs alone.

“Yet we Knights of the Prince are sworn by Ulmo to him and the House Imrazor and we shall die if due by our oaths. But it has not yet come to total war, for which we would ask the lend of the Rohirrim.

“Nay, I come now to ask for escort along the route past Dunland, for these matters concern more than our Princedom by the Sea and the Crown-Prince Elphir seeks counsel from the northern reaches.”

[Arathis]

The Knight appends: \"Should the route prove safe already, then we need not burden your men. But should it prove hazard beyond our numbers, we shall require aid, as per the friendship of Eorl of old and Adrahil of Amroth.\"

[Gwendion(#24427)]

A eye is raised by the other Knight at the words of Sir Arathis. His jaw tightens at the words of Dunland, but he says naught, casting only a wary glance to the squire.

[Faestred(#31903)]

Grave, too, turns the face of Aethelbrand at the news brought from the south. \"A deep wound has been dealt fair Dol Amroth,\" he intones as he settles himself once more upon his cushion on the dais. His frown deepens as Arathis speaks of travel further northward. \"If it is escort along that road that you require, the Mark has the strength to provide it. Yet, winter\'s grip will grow but stronger, the cold more deadly as you journey northward... farther still from your prince and his need. Great counsel there must be to be found in the north, if it is work the risk of such a journey.\"

[Theoden(#15851)]

Theoden tilts his head, and he glances first at Aethelbrand, and then at the seated harper, whose hand has twitched upon the harpstrings. \"Counsel in the North, perhaps, but it will be cold, for you travel into the dark at the darkest time of the year. But harken now my words. You say that you do not make any claims upon the Oath. Yet Theoden does not forget his mother\'s kin, nor the protection of the Swan-City and the Swan-Lord over them. Fair was the sea shining, waving, like endless fields...\" He smiles, and rises. \"I will send you well-provisioned with a patrol. That is twenty men, and they ride swiftly. Half shall return once your passage through Dunland is assured. I shall send men of the Eastfold and the windy Wold for the most part, for they live a nomadic life even in winter. And I will send provender, and four remounts. For the horses of the Mark go swifter, perhaps, then your mounts are able. But come, now, let me have lodging provided for you, and food and stabling for your horses.\"

[Arathis]

Turning to the Aethelbrand, the Lord Isilrim permits a silence to reign between them, ere steadying his shoulders and answering: “Truly, friend, I know not of such northern counsel, and of am doubt. I am a horseman of the South, and so of a temper to ride steel through the sands of Umbar.

“But my office is not my own I have left Amroth only as Imrahil’s herald.  Perhaps, should the Windlord calm winter for our passage, our journey shall benefit more than our blades.”

With this, Arathis rivets upon Theoden, and bows once again deeply: “Your aid is great, Sire, and of a friendship true that shall not be forgotten by the Swan. May the peoples of Lossarnach find pride in such kin.”

[Gwendion(#24427)]

As Arathis bows, so to does the other Knight, matching him in form and style now. \"Never forgotten, Sire,\" Gwendion repeats.

[Faestred(#31903)]

Aethelbrand, too, rises, lifting his fur lined cloak and shrugging it back over his shoulders. \"I shall go then, my Lord, and see that our guests\' lodgings are made ready, and that word is brought to the Riders of this errand.\" He turns, and bowing deeply to Theoden and the Swan-Knight in turn, he then awaits the King\'s dismissal before departing the hall.