Life in the Mark

[Thalionwen Hunigfolm]

Thalionwen, the Riddermarket Square

The Riddermarket was dark and quiet after nightfall--nothing like the busy, bustling place it was in daylight. Thalionwen knew the place so well that her feet had led her there almost of their own accord. She could spend the night in the back of her shop, as she'd been doing since coming to Edoras, and then continue biding her time until departure once morning broke.

But as Thali slipped through the Market gate, a voice called out. Near the square's center, next to its great fountain, she stopped in her tracks.

"Thali! Wait, I'm sorry!"

There was no mistaking @Culfinwen Lihtarwe's sweet voice. Along with Taeth, she'd been one of Thali's very best friends since girlhood. And Thali no longer had the heart to keep running, so she turned and walked back to her friend.

"Oh Culfy, sorry for what?" Thali asked. "You've done nothing wrong. I'm the one who's at odds here. And if anyone's done things wrongly it's me. I'm just...I'm terrible at goodbyes. I shouldn't even be trying to say them yet, honestly. I should've crept off a week from now and let everyone find out I was gone after it was finished."

[Eléowyn]

Eléowyn's cottage

They ate in companionable silence, the hobbit clearly relishing the meal (though what meal did a hobbit not relish). Almost before the words were out of Ringbold's mouth, Eléo had risen to fill his cup a second time, doing the same for her own.

"Aye, 'tis quite alright," she replied to his query about lighting his pipe. "Aodh does it often enough, and I find it helps him when he has a problem to think through." She paused for a moment, debating whether to offer her guest another slice of toast, but decided not. She would make sure he had a hearty breakfast before she took to the road in the morning. But for tonight, she needed his undivided attention.

"So, about this map," she began. "You say it was not sent by Aodh; but have you word of him? You say that Ælfred has had strange and disturbing dreams about Aodh. Sometimes a dream is just a dream; but I fear this dream may have truth to it. Whether it is a truth of what may come, or of what has already been ... well, how are we to know? And yes, Sauron has fallen, but evil lives still in other forms."

She paused for a moment, taking a sip of tea and looking her visitor over. Yes, he was changed, no longer the carefree holbytla she had known of old. He had known hardships, that much was obvious, if for no other reason than his leaner frame, now tending more to muscle than fat. She did not know if he planned to accompany her, but if he did, she felt assured he would be more help than hindrance.

Setting her mug back down, she decided to get the question over with right up front. "You know, of course, that I must travel to this tafelberg to find Aodh. You are welcome to stay here as long as you like. Or is it your intent to travel with me?"

@Aodh Hammerhelm

[Dimcairien Luiniel]

Zarâm, the Riddermarket Square

After the rather adventures first day of the Mis/ter Meduseld competition, Zarâm needed a breather and so she found herself wandering about the roads of the city. It might not have been the safest place for an orc to be wandering, but it was late at night, so no one would be able to tell that her body appeared to be a bit different than the average human.

Her wanderings took her near the Riddermarket Square where she saw the familiar figure of Thali slipping through the gate. But before she could approach her, another Rohir woman appeared in the square, who seemed to know Thali very well. She decided to stay in the shadows until the strange Rohir woman left, then she would approach Thali and see if the position of "best friend" needed to be filled. The idea of friendship was a foreign one to Zarâm. Any previous relationships with minions only held the mutual benefit of not agreeing to kill each other. But this Thali, she seemed to genuinely care for minions, especially that Orco, but somehow she felt a connection to her as well. It was strange to meet someone who she didn't have an innate desire to maim, but perhaps Zarâm could learn some useful skills from the woman. The more she had heard about her, the more certain Zarâm was that she would fit into Mordor. But it wouldn't due to have the woman walk in unawares. She would need a minion guide to ensure she didn't get murdered right away. Even though Orco was her husband, Mordor could still be a very dangerous place for a human, male or female.

Zarâm waited in the shadows until the strange woman (Culfy) left, and then stepped forward and said, "Thali?"

@Thalionwen (Figured I'd get myself over here so I knew where I was. Feel free to respond whenever it's appropriate.)

[Aodh Hammerhelm]

@Eléowyn's cottage: NPC: Ringbold Took

Ringo took his replenished mug from his hostess’s hand – was that a slight tremble he decried? – and placed it on the arm of his chair. Looking at Eléowyn all the while, he laid out the makings of a smoke in his lap.

He listened carefully to her, smiling slightly as she mentioned pipe-weed’s problem solving power. He smiled again, and not without relief, as she spoke her verdict on dreams. Yes, I do believe she may know the strange truth of things…

The wee hobbit lent toward the hearth and used a stick of kindling to light his long-stemmed pipe. He blew a few smoke rings towards the rafters before meeting his friend’s eyes.

“Go to the Tafelberg, yes, I thought as much,” he said at last, answering her last question first. ”Ælfred warned me you would be set on such a course, and that I should stay you if I could… Not that I could, of course, for I’m but a hobbit, no matter how much the wide world has changed me, and you are a Cavalry veteran. There would be no contest there, wouldn’t you agree?

But above all else you are the love and wife of my friend, Aodh Hammerhelm. How could I deny such a bond? And yet I may have to try… All depends on your answers now… Hear me out, no matter how strange the things I speak seem, for they are mad enough to have you calling the watch to place me in a cell in the Cavalry Courtyard.”

Ringo took a long swig of tea and a good long pull on his pipe before continuing.

“This place, the Tafelberg, have you any memory of it? Have you ever journeyed there, or to a homestead just south of that flat-topped hill? Perhaps you should spread the map out so I can show you the place I mean…

And if you have recollections of visiting these places, do you remember leaving them?”

[Eléowyn]

Eléowyn's cottage

The aroma of pipeweed wafting above her head sent a wave of longing crashing over Eléowyn. Thankfully the hobbit did not also carry the soft scent of leather to mix with it, for if he had Eléo feared the yearning would overwhelm her to the point of tears.

She started to protest against Ringbold’s assessment that she could overpower him, for hobbits could be fierce, and cunning, at need; but she knew that it would take a strength beyond measure to keep her from trying to reach her husband. So instead, she gave a slight smile and listened as he continued.

But as he spoke further, her smile turned to a look of confusion. Had she any memory of the tafelberg? Of a place she had never been? What was he going on about?

In a bid for a moment to think, she rose and gathered the now-empty plates and mugs. After depositing them on a counter in what passed as a kitchen, she returned, picked up the map, spread it out on the large oak table, and beckoned Ringbold to join her.

Almost absent-mindedly she traced a finger along the path that would lead to the tafelberg, counting in her head the number of days it would take to arrive there. When at last she reached the X that marked the journey’s end, she tapped her finger upon it. As soon as she touched the X, a jolt, a flash of light, a series of images, ran through her mind. Alarmed, she jumped back as if struck, looking quickly to Ringbold as if to make sure he was still there.

She drew a long breath, and without saying a word, again put her finger to the X, this time firmly, determined to keep it there. There was no jolt, and the images now were memories, disjointed and at times confusing, but memories. Of that she was sure.

At last she removed her hand and turned to Ringo. “Yes, I have been there. To the tafelberg … and to the homestead. Nadene.” She spoke the name tentatively, as if uncertain. “Nadene,” she said again, this time with more certainty.

She felt panic rising in her chest, and she grabbed the edge of the table to steady herself. “Ringo,” she said at last, her breathing now steadier. “I was there. I see it now. But … I have no memory of returning to Edoras.”

@Aodh Hammerhelm

[Veowyn]

Audley's Past Returns
~Lone Wolf Inn, outside the Deep
Jakiewyn Ellenweorc

She had just taken a fresh loaf of bread out of the oven, and was humming to herself. Her mind just full of the tasks she wanted to complete today. She knew she needed to get ready for a trip into the Riddermarket. That new seamstress shopkeeper had passed on to the kids that she wanted to speak with her. She had been procrastinating it though. She was a little worried that the new proprietor wouldn't want her business any more. Her dyes were more a labor of love, than a career. She made just enough from the commissions for that shop, and the seamstress in the Deep, to put away some money for the holidays. Walking through either city, seeing the people wearing bright, happy colors, always made her feel so proud.

She had heard Rhys approaching, but kept to her tasks. Hoping to get the next meal ready before the guests started to be hungry again. After gently kissing his cheek, he settled into his embrace, her heart fluttering away like he always caused. She was curious about the letter though. It did not look to be from her sisters or her mother. She opened it, gently not to tear it, but also to tease her husband a bit, he would know that he would not get another kiss until she had finished reading it.

"Oh. It is from that new seamstress at Awesnis Gærwe Nædleprica. She just wants prices for a specific dye job. Green, on linen. That is easy enough. I do need to go to her and settle a standard price list soon, I suppose." She folded the letter back up. It was so much easier when they told her what they were willing to pay for such work. As long as it covered the cost of the dyes, she was not worried about the payment so much. As much as her family had been merchants, she had never truly picked up the sales person attitude. Where were her mother or her sister whenever some one presented her with these sorts of queries? "I will respond to her later. Once I have a good answer for her." She set the letter down, and turned her brown eyes up to her husband. She wrapped her arms around his neck, but had not landed her lips on him, when they were interrupted.

Jakie's eyes went wide when she heard Audley. Some thing was really wrong. She merely listened while both men went back and forth about it. She took a look at the letter herself, once Rhys had read it. Her eyes narrowed, and her fist clenched. She was almost always more quiet about it, but she did not take to threats on her family any better than the rest of the Ellenweorcs. She nodded to her husband as he asked her to look after the Inn. She places a hand on Audley's shoulder, resisting the urge to bite her lip in worry. She did not want either of them to leave, now, though. Answers where needed. Should they send word to Rowena? or another marshall? She would rather they were here, safe, where they could all take care of one another.

"Wait. I have something for you, Audley. She swept from the room, but came back quickly. "I was going to save this for another occasion. But, I had something made for you... well for Leylann." She giggled, and held out a small box to Audley. Inside was a small broach that matched the one that Jakie always wore, from her late husband. She had commissioned ones for Rowena, Audreya, Ailura, and other women in their family over the years as well. Kendrick, her oldest son, helped her make this one, though. It was a small replica of a dagger, in it's sheath. However, it was more than a replica. It was a functional, SHARP and pointed dagger when pulled from the silver sheath; even though it was smaller than her palm. This one was adorned with a carved 'L' on the sheath, as well. "I know, you have other, more efficient, blades. But this one is sort of a tradition, and I want you to always have a way to defend yourself."

[Thalionwen Hunigfolm]

Thalionwen, the Riddermarket Square

Saying her goodbyes to both Taeth and Culfinwen had left Thali feeling rather blue. She drooped a little in the shadowed square, but then another familiar voice said her name--this time with a rough edge to it, and at a much lower pitch.

"Zarâm!" Thali said, wiping tears from her face with one sleeve, but smiling genuinely at the orc. "I'm so pleased to see you!"

It wasn't the done thing in Mordor to embrace, but Thali didn't particularly care. She threw her arms around her unusual friend anyway. Orcs were such nice, muscular, pungent creatures. Like hugging a putrid rock. Everyone seemed much too soft and squishy and floral-scented by comparison.

"I hardly had time to speak to you in the market. How are you? Have you found anything intriguing to take back to Mordor for your shop? If not, I'll have to have a nose around myself and see what I can find for you!"

[Dimcairien Luiniel]

Zarâm, the Riddermarket Square

As soon as she had called out the Rohir's name, the woman approached her, wiping tears from her eyes, but smiling in her direction. Then much to Zarâm's surprise and shock, the the woman embraced her! For a moment, the orc stood there stiffly as Thali's arm's encircled her torso. Then very slowly and awkwardly, Zarâm's rough arms returned the embrace. It was a very foreign position to be in. She didn't know how it made her feel. Normally physical interaction involved injury, but this … this was different. She didn't know what she thought about it in the moment, but Thali seemed to enjoy it. It was very odd for an orc to have affection for anything besides murder and mayhem, but in some strange and inexplicable way, Zarâm kenw this woman was more than just someone in her life.

"The Market was far too hoity-toity. What is it with you human's and your need to have decorum with everything?" Zarâm spat on the ground before continuing, "But I have several ideas. Perhaps some of the scavenger hunt items will be of use to sell. And I believe scented candles would be an excellent source of business, though none of those disgusting floral scents. Burnt flesh would be a very pleasing aroma to have around."

[Allacan ob Burzum]

CONTENT WARNING; Body Dysmorphia, despressive/anxious thoughts

NPC Shadowfox, a random doorstep, the streets of Edoras, a short distance down the road from the Mx Meduseld tent

They stared dejectedly at the dirt ground before them, face streaked with tears and the remnants of make-up, trying to stave off the flood of negative, nasty thoughts scrabbling for their attention. “I’m a freak”, “I will never be accepted”, “No-one could ever love me”, “I don’t deserve to live”.

In frustration they snatched the wig from their head to reveal short-cropped, tousled blonde hair beneath. They tugged at the ties that held the elegant, white dress against their traitorously masculine body and pulled it over their head, depositing it on the step beside them so they sat in little more than slim trews, crossing their arms protectively over their frustratingly flat-chest. Guilt overcame them first, and with a fresh bout of self-loathing they carefully lifted the dress, brushing off the dust and folding it neatly back within their pack.

Then the chill of the shade overcame them, and they reached into their bag to snatch out a simple homespun shirt which they threw over their top, and then snatched at a flat-cap to shield their face from onlookers. But they moved just a touch too hurriedly, and even as they extracted their head-covering, a leather fox-mask caught against it and tumbled out of the bag.

It bounced into the road, directly into the path of a passerby looked like they were about to trample it underfoot in their angry stride. Caught in the moment of terror at the possibility of their dearest possession being damaged, Shadowfox threw out a hand, fingernails still painted with dark navy and sparkles like stars in imitation of their performance cloak, and shouted “No!” A second later they glanced up at @Lailyn’s face and were suddenly surprised to see who it was, a wave of shame and embarrassment overcoming them that she might see them thus garbed, but also tinged with an element of hope and gratitude that it was a friendly face.

[Lailyn]

The streets of Edoras not far from the Mx Meduseld tent

Warriors at Helm's Deep, huorns, orcs...her father. It was all too much to process on what Lailyn had anticipated to be a day full of joy and laughter. If she had any warning that the speeches would devolve into a debate over who deserved credit for the victory of defending the Deep and the Mark, she would have been able to prepare herself and put on a brave face.

But she hadn't. It caught her off guard. After she decided to view the contestants with an open mind, forgetting her desire to see a Rider win, she allowed herself to see the best in them, Aelorco included. And yet again, her open heart led to disappointment and hurt feelings. Would she never learn to guard herself more carefully?

She didn't stay to hear what Aelorco had to say. She just didn't care. As she marched down the streets, her pulse was still racing and everything around her was lost in the blur of her emotions. She couldn't logically tell herself what she would have told someone in her shoes: that the opinion of one uncivil stranger did not mar her father's, or anyone else's, memory. And besides, Lailyn knew well she was not the only person who lost someone in the war. It was rare to find anyone untouched by its cruel hand.

Paying no mind to where she was walking or whom she passed, suddenly a voice caught her attention as it called to her, pulling her back into the present. "No!" the voice called and Lail stopped, almost tripping over something strewn upon the street. Then she looked down and saw it.

The fox mask belonging to her fellow contestant.

Lail plucked it off the ground with careful hands and smoothed it with tender fingers, wiping dust from its folds. An arm had stretched out toward her and she glimpsed nails, skillfully painted, that twinkled like stars in the sun. She looked up to see exactly the face of the person she had wanted to speak to before.

"Shadowfox?" she asked as her anger disappeared. "I'm terribly sorry, I almost ruined your mask in my haste to get away from-" she paused, shaking her head. Dwelling on the matter of the speech would not help. "Well, it doesn't matter. I'm glad to see you. I hoped to find you after you left the tent, but you left in such a hurry and I was distracted by someone's speech. I thought I had lost my chance."

Lail noticed the change in their outfit and did not comment, but more than that, she saw a change in their demeanor. Shadowfox had stood with such confidence on the stage in their dress and now she thought they looked discouraged to say the least. Lail could only imagine what they must feel like to have to live a life in a body that they did not belong in. She knew it could not have been easy to take the helm off on stage.

"I hoped to tell you your speech was beautiful. I was afraid just go to on that stage and you..." Lail smiled at them and held out a hand to give a gentle touch on their arm. "You were amazing. You were brave to do what you did. To be you. Truly, I think there is nothing more beautiful than that."

She realised she was still holding their mask delicately in her hand, so she held it out to them. "I hope that one day, you don't need it, that you can be you, but until then..." She held the mask out to them, (@Allafyrefleorhtlig), hoping she had not overstepped their bounds with her words of encouragement.

[Taethowen]

Taethowen's House, Edoras, Riddermark

"...you didn't look like you were the type to buy slaves," Frost said, and Taeth shuddered. No, she most certainly was not. But as he continued recounting his first sight of her, she cringed, chest tightening as mortification swept over her once more. She'd been such a fool that day, and to be honest she likely owed Frost her life.

He must have sensed her consternation, though, as he finished with, "Do you remember the slap you gave me?"

Taeth laughed softly, taking advantage of the offered stress relief, before tossing back the last of her wine and sliding the cup back across the table for Frost to refill.

"Slap?" she exclaimed quietly, holding up her right hand and wiggling her fingers before clenching them into a fist. "I believe I punched you, though it was after you interrupted what I thought was a good deal for silks and dragged me through the street to Bema knows where at the time. You're lucky I'd been out of the Cavalry for a while at that point, and my reflexes were not quite as sharp as they used to be, between time away and then recovering from that illness. However, I have worked to remedy that since our last encounter."

Taeth met his eyes then, as he handed the refilled cup of wine to her. The brush of Frost's fingers against hers sent a thrill up her spine again, but in that moment it was tempered with her only slight humiliation.

"I was a fool," she said, gaze dropping to watch the lamplight reflecting on the surface of the wine. "And I am truly grateful for your intervention that day, no matter what the reason was. However, I feel obliged to inform you that I don't have a drop of noble blood in me. Everything I have is either inherited from my family--and I'm grateful many of them were intelligent and thrifty in years long past--or what I have worked for on my own. We did have a good stock of breeding horses at one time, but I lost track of the lines during the time I was away, and am not sure if I'll be able to rebuild it.

"But I have little to no influence with the line of Éadig currently sitting on the throne, or any other of the noble houses of Rohan. I can't even claim relation or descent with any of our most famous Marshals.

"I'm just... me," she shrugged, taking a sip of wine. "Taethowen Anhyrne of the Eastfold."

Taeth shifted in her seat a little then, wiggling her toes in her boots. She'd been trying to ignore the subtle ache in her heels and toes since the first time she sat down at the judge's table earlier. But now they were feeling quite pinched after all the demands she'd put on her feet that day. But she could put up with it a little while longer.

"We've talked about me quite a bit now, though," she said. "But what about you? I honestly would have never thought to see you again in my life, and then you're here in Rohan hanging around my best friend. How in Arda do you know her? And... you. I will confess that I would like to know more about you, Frost."

Taeth wiggled her toes some more, and then her face pinched as one of her stockings finally gave up, twisting and bunching into a hard knot at the tip of her boot, and she groaned. "I'm sorry," she groaned, scooting her seat back. "These boots are miserable and need to get off me." Bending over, she slid her skirts up to her knees started to loosen the laces.

[Baphởmet]

Taethowen's House, Edoras, Riddermark

Frost rubbed his jaw. Recounting the memory of her fist connecting with it had brought back the pain. It was still a fond memory. He refilled her cup, and then his again. After a long draught of the wine, his head began to feel lighter. He smiled.

“You want to know more about me? You know,” he chuckled, “you’re the first person to ask me about myself in a very long time. Usually, people aren’t that interested in my past.” He straightened up and took another sip of the wine. “There’s not much to tell I’m afraid. I’ve lived a long life but most of the events of my youth are a blur to me. I grew up in Umbar, lived in the waterfront district. My parents were wealthy but not influential. We had a relatively comfortable life, from what I remember. I was sent to live with my great grandmother’s people when I was about 12. Packed up and shipped north, all the way to the land of the Snowmen. It was a bit of a culture shock. I came back after a few years, learned a fair bit of the magic they use up there, and began to get into the smuggling trade. I was accepted into a small guild as a mule, running things over borders and such, but I climbed my way up through the ranks until one day, I was the boss. I expanded the trade into Gondor and Mordor, a few things from the Wild Lands, and now I’m trying my best to open options in Rohan. Haradrim silk really does look lovely on you.” His smirk was dark and mischievous and there was a playful glint in his eyes.

As Taethowen started to undo her boots, Frost eased himself around the edge of the table and knelt to the floor. With deft, if not slightly boozed, fingers he unlaced the Rohir’s boots and tossed them aside, first the right, then the left. “You’ve had a very, very busy day. Running that competition is much harder than it looks I’ll warrant. If you’ll allow me.” He took a seat next to her, and lifted her leg to his lap where he began kneading the Rohir’s tired muscles. “I met Thali in Mordor, in the pub we both ended up working in. It’s a long, strange, and bizarre tale that I’m still trying to wrap my head around. I met her… husband there too. I think. Any memory I have of him is foggy and stilted.” He began rubbing the other foot, firmly pressing his knuckles into the balls of her feet.

“You know,” he said again after several minutes of quiet kneading and massaging, “I can’t tell you what a pleasant day I’ve had. I’m not sure what I expected to happen when I came here, but I can tell you I didn’t expect to see you here. I’m glad though. I think that interaction was incomplete. Maybe we can pick up where we left off, Taethwoen Anhyrne. I do hate leaving things undone.”

[Aodh Hammerhelm]

@Eléowyn’s cottage: NPC: Ringbold Took

The little hobbit watched his friend with mounting concern. In all the years he’d know her he’d seen many emotions play across her fair face. But doubt? Never! He did not help with the clearing of their plates, allowing Eléo time for thought as she busied herself at the sink.

When she was done, he joined her at the table, kneeling on a stool to get a better look at the map. He watched as Eléo traced a route from Edoras to the Wold. Her finger paused above the X-marked hill. Her wedding band twinkled in the firelight. The hobbit almost tumbled off his stool as she jerked her finger away from the chart. He steadied himself as she placed her finger upon the mark again. She stayed quiet for a long moment, a moment long enough for his forehead to crease.

Why had she taken such a meandering path to the Vale of Anduin? A straight run along the King’s Road to the Eastfold and a dash north across the wide plains of the East Emnet would have brought her to the Wold in three days, four at the most. The route she’d traced meant a journey of at least seven.

His friend’s voice pulled him from his musings - “… I have no memory of returning to Edoras.” - her face writhed with bewilderment. Somehow Ringo managed to hold back his reply – Have you considered that’s because you never left the Tafelberg? He hopped from the stool, took her hand gently and led her to her armchair.

“Sit,” he said, quite firmly, as he knelt upon the floor: “Nadene…Yes, that’s one of the names old Ælf’ mentioned, but not that of one I was tasked to find. He said she’s the wife of Arthur… erm, the fellow you call Goldwhæt.

Well, you could have knocked me over with a feather when I heard this. Arthur married? I‘d have thought such a thing impossible. He loves his carousing and drinking too much to settle down, and he's on the wrong side of forty. Not much of a marriage prospect, I’d have thought, especially for one as lovely as Ælfred described.”

The hobbit stood, considering this for a moment as his eyes drifted to the window that looked out over the sleeping city. The eastern sky was brightening. Had the midnight bell rung? Dawn was surely only hours away. He made his decision.

“You need to sleep if you’re to ride out in the morning… I shall not stop you going to the Tafelberg, though I might hinder your swiftness, for I shall travel with you.

No, don’t frown so, I shall not burden you. I've had quiet enough of bumping across Middle-earth in someone’s lap or hidden in the cargo of a wagon or packhorse. I will find a suitable mount – I've become quite the accomplished Rider since we last met – and provisions for the road before we leave.”

Kissing Eléo’s hand gently, he beamed up at her. “Come now, friend off to bed with you. I’d much to say to you, but my tales and thoughts can wait for the open road.”

The hobbit waited for Eléo to leave the room. He sat on the floor listening intently until he was sure his friend had gone to sleep. Rising he collected his little knapsack and crossed to the hearth. He knelt and, as Aodh had showed him many years ago, laid out neatly the contents of his gunna.

There was not much to show for a hobbit of his years – constant roving had taught him to travel light – and soon all his worldly goods lay before him. He checked each item carefully:

• a few pairs of clean undergarments and walking socks

• a much patched wes’kit

• spoons, knives and other cooking utensils

• his set of pots and pans, cunningly crafted to fit one into the other and take up little space

• a quill, ink-pot and sheaf of parchment

• a package of pipe-weed and a spare pipe

• a curiously patterned blanket with a hole at its centre (a serape Arthur called it) for wear over his clothes when the weather turned chill

And last, most precious of all, a small rectangular object wrapped and tied in a stained oilskin.

He repacked his tote carefully; clothing around the parcel and smoking kit to spare them any damage. He carried the serape and writing accessories over to his armchair, placing the latter upon the floor. He drew the serape over his body and in a thrice fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

When the light of dawn found his sleeping form, he stirred at once. He scribbled a quick note to his friend:

Eléo, freond-min,

I’d not the heart to wake you. I’ve gone on ahead of you to prepare the way for our adventure. Meet me outside the City gates, on the field beside the mounds of the Kings. Don’t fret over provisions, I shall take care of that – and a mount for myself.

Ringo

The hobbit placed this missive upon the kitchen table, returned his writing kit to his knapsack and put on his poncho. Out the door he hurried, closing it quietly behind him, and on down the cobbled streets.

An hour later he stood in the morning sun below Edoras. A mule grazed close by, it was saddled and laden with two bulging rucksacks. The beast had been hard won. The young lad in the stables had haggled hard, taking the last knuckle of Ælfred’s silver and the promise of more when Ringo returned to Edoras. The supplies for the journey – bread, fresh fruit and vegetables, a side of bacon – had come cheaper. The hobbit had filched them from carts in the store yard of the Riddemarket.

Ringo handed an apple to his mule, set his teeth to one of his own, and waited for Eléowyn to arrive.

[Eléowyn]

Eléowyn's cottage

It was a fitful sleep, filled with strange dreams, and it was only with an hour or so left before the dawn that Eléo at last fell into a deep and restful slumber. She woke to pale rays of sunlight filtering through the closed shutters, startling her to full awake upon realizing she had slept a good hour past dawn.

There was no sound of movement in the outer room. She quickly gathered together what she might need for the journey and placed it in a saddlebag, then headed from her room to put together a quick breakfast and wake the hobbit.

But there was no hobbit. Nor any of the belongings he had carried with him. For a brief moment, she wondered if she had dreamed the entire scene. This thought was quickly brushed aside when she saw the parchment lying on the table.

So much for large breakfast she had intended to prepare for Ringo. Though his note said he would take care of provisions, she nevertheless gathered the last of the winter apples, a couple of potatoes that were just short of shriveling, a small pouch of tea leaves, and the final crusts of bread. No need to leave anything behind. She knew not when, or if, she would ever return.

Lastly, just before she headed out the door, she carefully stuffed a dagger wrapped in a thin cloth into her right boot and retrieved her sword from above the hearth, then turned to leave. Halfway out the door, she suddenly turned back, grabbed a kitchen knife, and stuffed this into her left boot.

A quick trip to the stable to feed and saddle Daesûl and she was on her way. There were a few people already out and about on the streets. But thankfully the morning chill allowed her to draw her cloak closely about her. Thus she passed, head down, without notice through the streets of Edoras, Daesûl trotting happily behind her.

Once past the gates, she neared the mounds and saw a small figure standing next to a mule in the field. Eléo bowed her head as she passed the mounds, grieving for the King who had died so courageously, and for the son who had never had the chance to be King.

With the sun rising ever higher, Eléo at last greeted Ringbold as he waited. “Nice steed,” she said, glancing with a smile toward the mule. “I hope I have not delayed us overlong.”

@Aodh Hammerhelm

[Aodh Hammerhelm]

Berwenfeld, Edoras: NPC: Ringbold Took

”She’s a beauty, isn't she?” the hobbit said to @Eléowyn. “She needs a suitable name though, something noble, I suppose, if she’s about to head off on a quest.” Ringo grinned suddenly and gave Eléo a mischievous wink: “I’d toyed with “Certain Doom”, but I suppose that’s a little to close to the bone. How about Sandy? See how her coat shimmers like a beach in the sun!

As for delaying me, you haven’t. Steed and saddle haggling took much longer than I thought it would, and I spent a fair while “sourcing” provisions for the road. I suspect I'm about to delay us now though…”

The hobbit peered up at the stirrup and saddle of his mount. Climbing onto Sandy had been easy enough in the stable (he’d a hay bale to use as a step), now, however, the stirrup hung level with his chin and he had no means of elevation… Unless!

“Would you mind lifting me up, Eléo? It’s a bother, I know, but hopefully we’ll only have to repeat the tiresome business two or three times more before we reach the Wold.

How I wish I had the saddle that Aodh made for me: a cunning thing it was with a saddle horn on the left side and a series of five stepped-stirrups to act as a ladder.”

[Eldrith]

NPC post Taedwyn

A Cottage Somewhere Non Specified

You got to pick a pocket or two. You got to pick a pocket or two. Not that he had picked a pocket himself, but those of his household had swarmed through the festivities and done what could be to replenish the coffers. Never too openly, never taking a great risk of discovery. If they were found out, well Taedwyn would have to handle such matters himself before they could talk. Not something he liked to think about but needs must. Other preparations were finished and a test would soon need to be done. Somewhere.. small.. perhaps far away from Edoras. Simply to see if it actually worked. If so.. they would be ready for their first larger target.

He knew tensions were rising. He kept his finger on the pulse of Edoras. Slowly, ever so slowly. Those had been Balcetirs orders. In the past they had overplayed their hands and it had cut deep. Now they knew better. Old business was being handled in Minas Tirith. The past was used as a means towards the future. Instability, uncertainty.. it was a playground where they thrived. But they must be careful. It was better to dig all the tunnels.. before allowing the city to cave in so to speak. Because if one was discovered too soon, they might be flushed out before the work was done. And the work would be done, so all might prosper.

[Eléowyn]

Berwenfeld, Edoras

Eléowyn chuckled at the thought of the mule being granted a noble name. Well, why not? she thought. Had not the War shown that even the most unlikely could be heroic?

As for unlikely heroes, they certainly fit that mold: a mount of questionable lineage; a woman with fewer winters ahead of her than behind; and a small hobbit. Among them, Daesûl looked to be the most likely hero, and even he had a bit of gray around the mane.

"Sandy it is then," she agreed, though she herself had never seen a true beach. She had only been on water once, a river, and that was many years ago--and it was definitely not a pleasure cruise. She laid her finger along her nose at the memory of it, tracing the slight curve she had acquired there.

She stepped toward Ringbold and lifted him into the saddle. "'Tis no bother, freond, only a small price to pay for the pleasure of your company." It would be easy enough to believe they were simply headed out for a pleasant ride on a summer day, for the hobbit was easy to talk to and seemed full of good cheer even in the face of uncertainty.

With Ringo firmly astride the mule, Eléo swung into her own saddle. "Oh, wait!" she cried. "Did I bring the map?" She leaned over to open the flap of the saddle bag and was relieved to find it just insidem though they would not need it for some time, for she knew the roads leading from Edoras well.

"Are we ready," she asked, rhetorically, for she was already gently nudging Daesûl forward.

@Aodh Hammerhelm

[Aodh Hammerhelm]

Fording the Entwade and on through the Emnet: NPC: Ringbold Took

The two friends made good time in fair weather. Ringbold jogged along comfortably on Sandy, as Eléowyn pointed Daesûl due east along the northern bank of the Snowbourn. By midday they'd left Edoras and the King’s Lands far behind.

Driven by an overwhelming sense or urgency, and despite the rumbling of his tummy, Ringo waved Eléo on when she suggested a lunch break. The hobbit had been rueing this decision for some while when their mounts crested a rise. A ford over the Entwade lay below them and beyond the river, the wide open country of the East Emnet.

It was nearly supper time. “Ride on!” the hobbit cried bravely. “We should use the daylight while it lasts.”

The companions rode for two hours more before halting and setting up their first camp. They tended their steeds, ate frugally and without much conversation, then cast themselves beside the campfire and slept. They were up with the sparrows, moving north east with a pace that was neither hurried nor lazy.

Another missed lunch, another push onward until the summer sky finally gave way to nightfall. The third day of the travellers' journey mirrored the first and second. The morning of the forth dawned, the hill country of the Wold lay at last before them.

Ringo stood in the stirrup and rubbed his aching flanks. How he yearned for a detour to the homestead Eléo had mentioned - a copper of steaming suds and a good breakfast would go a long way to making him feel whole again! But the urgency he’d felt at the start of their journey was more palpable now.

”Nearly there,” he smiled at Eléowyn. “One more night under the stars and we should be there.”

The Riders, one tall and one short, pressed on into the rising sun.

OOC @Eléowyn { Fields & Forests, if it please ya' }

[Taethowen]

Taethowen's House, Edoras, Riddermark

Her heart started pounding with the words Haradrim silk really does look lovely on you, and the smirk on Frost's lips wiped away all further curiosities she'd had about his story, at least for the moment.

Honestly, besides the annoyance of the bunched stockings in her boots, she'd bent over to remove them to hide the blush that was creeping into her face. She barely remembered what garments she'd worn that day in Umbar, but she still had that silk chemise and only pulled it out anymore for moments of indulgent luxury.

Taeth found herself suddenly breathless as Frost knelt before her, pushing her hands away from her boot laces. She straightened in her seat, clenching at her skirt with trembling hands as she watched him unlace her boots and slip them off her feet, followed by her stockings. The touch of his hands against her skin sent sparks skittering up her spine.

"...if you'll allow me," she heard Frost say, and to be honest she hadn't caught the first part, but she nodded mutely as he sat next to her and pulled her legs into his lap and began to work the ache out of her muscles.

He was saying something about Thali and Mordor and a pub when she bit back a groan as his knuckles pressed into most tender spot on the bottom of her foot. His touch eased to a soothing pressure, then silence fell as he switched to her other foot.

It was a warm silence, she found. One that allowed her to watch him, unobserved, in the flickering light from the lamp's flame. It was difficult to find a person who could simply let silence be.

It was several minutes later when his hands finally stilled, coming to rest over the tops of her feet, a thumb brushing over her ankle. His dark blue eyes glinted as he spoke again. "You know, I can't tell what a pleasant day I've had. I'm not sure what I expected to happen when I came here, but I can tell you I didn't expect to see you here. I'm glad, though. I think that interaction was incomplete. Maybe we can pick up where we left off, Taethowen Anhyrne. I do hate leaving things undone."

It must have been the wine that made her blabber.

"I was frightened, you know," she said. "Not really of what had almost happened to me with the slavers, but of the draw I felt to you right away. The same one I'm still feeling now, if I'm honest.

"I was still so unsure of who I was back then. I still had some contact with my husband at that time and... I just didn't want to have to make a decision, so I ran away as soon as I could get away.

"I don't want to run away this time."

[Aodh Hammerhelm]

Golde ge Eorcanstan: NPC: Sheemie Rheus

It had been a long old day and Sheemie was right tired. M-O-O-N, that spelled BUSHED, anybody knowed it. He sat alone in the little room at the back of Aodh’s jewellers. Well, not quite alone, Michæl, his wee mouse, waited patiently as the lad ate his supper.

In a cabinet next to his bed, neatly stowed, were Sheemie’s faded pink hat and sandals, his gardening attire. On a table at the centre of the room, next to the burly lad’s dinner plate, stood a large wooden trug; it was filled to overflowing with apples and root veg’ collected during his morning forage in the fields below Edoras.

Sheemie popped the last of his meal into his mouth, collected the crumbs from his plate and held a hand out to Michæl.

“We sawed her, didn’t we?” he said, as the mouse nibbled happily on the specks of bread and cheese. “Lady Golden-Hair – Will’s m’lady! And another fellow was with her, a child, mayhap, for he was right small. But chillens doesn't normally wear swords!”

Yes, Sheemie had seen her, @Eléowyn, far across the fields down near the Snowbourn. He’d wanted to shout to her, but she’d been too far away to hear him. Walking back up the street from the city gate to Auld Town, Sheemie began to think maybe he’d just imagined it; he was feeble-minded sometimes, and prone to daydreaming, even he knew that.

But, not this time! It had been Eléo, Will’s wife; Arthur’s friend! Sheemie would have recognised her straight back, proud shoulders and golden tresses from a mile away.

The lad’s face writhed with worry. He should have stopped her, her and her little friend. If the Beda-sweoster had been with him she would have knowed what to do. They were going East, he was sure of it, and the East was a bad, bad place. Lawks, yes! It was that bad man’s place – the place of the Brack Man!

Sheemie stood and took Michæl up gently in a meaty hand. He crossed the room to his bed and checked that the shutter above his pillow was firmly fastened.

“Well, Michæl,” he said, holding the wee mouse close to his face in the gloom. “There bain’t nothing we can do for them now, I guess. Beda wasn’t there to help us, and now they’ve gone East and we’re here in Edoras. Maybe they’ll find Arthur? Maybe he’ll protect them… Or Will, he’s brave and strong…”

Sheemie’s eyelids fluttered then closed. A smile played at the corners of his mouth. He took the faces of his dear friends with him as he fell fast asleep.

[Rowena Ellenweorc]

Audley's Past Returns

Lone Wolf Inn
Just Outside Helm's Deep

Surprisingly, it wasn't the comforting embrace or the forehead kiss of his brother-in-law that made Audley feel better, but rather Jakiewyn. Well it wasn't a surprise to him that she too would want to help him. Like Audley, she had an undying devotion to all things Ellenweorc. They both had been on the outside of the Ellenweorc circle, and one person had been the catalyst in pushing them into the Ellenweorc tight-knit circle, and they couldn't get out even if they wanted to.  What surprised him though was he had always been believing himself more of a kindred spirit with Rhys. But for this moment in time, however fleeting, he connected with Jakie.If anyone dared question him on it though, he'd deny it, claiming they must be hallucinating. His pride was at stake after all. So when she presented him the little dagger brooch, he bit back his tears of emotion. He pulled a young Kendrick and remained silent.
Rhys however didn't skip a beat, and said, 'So THAT'S what he was working on all this time and wouldn't tell me. I could have sworn it was something for Auron. I should have believed him when he swore on his grandmother's grave it wasn't.'
That got Audley talking again and he smacked Rhys upside the head. 'Of course you should have believed him. One because it is Kend and two because that figure of speech is actually an applicable one. His grandparents have passed.'
Rhys rubbed the back of his head then smacked Audley upside the head. 'Well aren't you going to say thank you?'
'Not yet. Because your wife is a genius. I'm going to give this to Leylann right now.' He gave Jakiewyn a quick peck full on the lips before sauntering off in a renewed vigor.
'Should I be jealous Pretty Boy just kissed you?' Rhys said with an eyebrow raise. He shook his head. 'You know what, I'm just going to assume that was a kiss of the same sort Rowena gives me. Or you. It's just weird because it's Audley. He's relaxed a lot over the years, but he still isn't completely in Ellenweorc culture, at least that respect.' He was confused. This man pretty much only tolerated affection from Rhys outside his immediate family. Sure, he and Jakie had that lively banter feud thing whatever it was going on. They were good friends. And there was no doubt Audley loved his extended family, doted on them. But he just wasn't as touchy feely. That was it! It had to be Leylann. The opportunity to be Leylann was bringing him out if his shell as Audley.  'I'm gonna go check on Audley. Or Leylann. I have no idea what the hell is going on in that person's mind anymore.' He shrugged and then remembered something. 'Hold on. I forgot something very important.'He moved in toward Jakie, leaned in, looking like he was going in for a kiss, but only whispered, 'Tomorrow, when I come back, I'll be wearing that outfit I designed.' He winked at her, and then turned to head upstairs.It was only moments later Rhys returned to the kitchen. 'Huh. I thought sure he'd be upstairs. He's not though.' He scratched his head in confusion and then played with the scruff on his chin. 'He sure is not acting himself today.'

Like Rhys had suspected, Audley had decided to transform himself into Leylann. But he had gone back to the Deep to complete the transformation. He needed to have Aellen right a letter that would have to explain who Leylann was and why she was traveling with Rhys. He'd have had Rhys write it, but even though his dad was illiterate, there was a slight chance he'd recognize Rhys' scrawl.
'Hello?! Rhys here?' Leylann asked as she entered, today's hairstyle a braided bun, something sensible for travel. She wore a green tunic, three quarter-length sleeved, semi low cut. She wore sensible riding pants, brown in hue, and dark lace up riding boots. Slung across her back was a spear, and on her left hip a sword, plain in nature, with a couple small dagger blades on her right hip. (Audley favored his left hand, despite his father training him to be right-handed as well and trying to convince him it was more sensible. So Leylann, was right-handed.) She wore the brooch Jakie had given her on her belt like it was one of the weapons, even though the size was significantly smaller. Since it was more than decor, she didn't think it made sense to wear it anywhere else.
'Of course I am here, cousin.' Rhys said with a grin and arms outstretched. The fact that Leylann asked the question clued him in to play along with the role they had originally planned to have Leylann take on. 'Where else would I be?' He moved out into the lobby, dusting his hands off on his apron. Clearly he had been occupying the past while helping in the kitchen when he wasn't needed elsewhere.
'Any number of places really. But I apparently am supposed to go meet Audley's parents this evening, since they are the closest to parents of the Ellenweorc line. He says he can't take me though.'
'Oh, so he expects me to take you.'
Leylann folded her arms and raised a brow. 'He said you were already aware of the arrangement.'
'Only vaguely.  I only mentioned that we should probably go to the farm, and he just RAN OFF!' Rhys folded his arms and then said, 'So what IS the plan?'
'I have a letter for Audley's father explaining everything else, at least, explaining what you don't know. That's all I know.'
'Lemme see it.'
'Nope. He says we have to let it be unsealed for the first time in his father's presence.'
'Well, can I at least know why I am coming alone with my cousin?'
'I need an escort obviously.'
'Ha ha funny Leylann.'
'I told you, I'm expected to meet his parents.'
'Why is Leylann meeting her cousin in law's parents?'
'Again, I told you, they're the closest living relatives to parents to you and Rowena.'
'And that means you have to meet them why?'
'Like hell if I know!' Leylann asked, throwing up her hands!
Rhys turned and walked back to the kitchen. 'Call on me when you have a better story, COUSIN.' He hissed out the last word irritated.
Leylann blinked. Whatever had she done to incur Rhys' wrath?  She scratched her head and then called, 'Wait... What did I do?'
Rhys turned to face Leylann, and read her expression, and then sighed. He was being a little unreasonable, wasn't he? No. He wasn't.  He was mad, he was confused, he was worried, and he was scared. He shrugged, 'I'm just being dumb, ignore it.  But you do need to come up with a better story, Leylann.  If I can poke holes in it, Cyril will too.'
Leylann grumbled and plopped into a chair. 'Well, what the hell do I say?'
'Well, one, you need a reason why an Ellenweorc can't read, for one. And two, you might fool some people, but I highly doubt you'll fool Cyril.'  He gestured to the tattoos that were slightly visible on Leylann's uncovered lower forearms and the holes in his ears that normally had earrings in them. 'Take those for example.'
Leylann sighed and rested her chin on her left hand, while her right tapped on the table. 'You got any ideas?'
Rhys shrugged. 'I'm thinking about it... But you can't just describe it as a disguise. You know who would pick apart your argument like no one's ever done before.'
'I should just tell him the truth.' She pouted and looked off in the distance
'Maybe. But aren't you scared to do that?'
'What's he going to do? Beat me? Kick me off my own farm?'
Rhys shrugged. 'You know Cyril better than I do. I told you before that I think you don't give him enough credit but you claim otherwise.'
Leylann sighed. 'Our pasts have a way of being passed down on the kids,' she replied. 'That's more what I'm worried about.'Rhys looked at Leylann.
'What do you mean?'
'Let's just say I have my suspicions about the boys. But they will never be confirmed as long as he's around.'
Rhys pursed his lips. 'Now then I guess we go with your gut.'
'I think we should tell him the truth.' Leylann stood up, then said, 'Well, now that we have settled that, let's get you packed, and say bye to your wife.'
'Pack? Hun, it's just a few hours ride. And I don't intend to stay more than one night. Nor am I going to let you.'
'So you intend to sleep in what you are wearing?'
'You got a problem with that?'
Leylann shrugged but didn't say anything.
'Thought so.' He smirked but stood and offered Leylann a gentlemanly arm to escort her to the Kitchen. 'Jakie, sweetheart. Leylann will be riding with me to the farm, rather than Audley. It's too risky otherwise.'
Leylann wrapped her arms around Jakie. 'Thank you again for the wonderful gift. I'll always treasure it!' She then showed where it was on her belt grinning like an idiot.  'And it will be like you're always with me. Which I could use right now, since I intend to go back home like this.' She rubbed the back of her neck nervously.
Rhys wrapped his arms around Jakie when Leylann stepped away from his wife. 'I love you, catte min.' He kissed her sweetly and passionately, caressing her cheek tenderly. 'We'll be back by tomorrow afternoon.'
Leylann pursed her lips. 'If we're successful, I might have the kids and my parents come back with us. Ma will be great help for you.'
Rhys grumbled. 'If we're successful we'll have a grumpy old man here too. And Auron and Kendrick are due to arrive within the next couple days.' He then remembered something, 'Oh, Jakiewyn, did you remember to tell Rowena to check in on your sister and family? I forgot to mention to her that we let Audreya visit them.'
Leylann's eyes widened. 'Audreya's staying with Vandani? Is that a good idea? Isn't the boy she likes there?'
Rhys laughed. 'She'll be fine. Kend and Auron went there with her. And Vandani has a good head on her shoulders. She's not going to let anything Ellenweorcish happen.' 
Leylann raised her brow at Rhys' bad joke.
'Oh don't pretend you don't know exactly what I am talking about. You are one of the worst ones of the Ellenweorcs. I mean you did hook up with your girlfriend's twin.'
'Oh for land's sake! We weren't courting when I hooked up with you! And the whole sleeping with her was part of my job.''
'Sleep in the same room yes, not bed.'
'She was possessed by terrible nightmares. You know that as well as I do!'
'So the marrying her in secret was why again?'
Leylann went quiet, staying silent before finally admitting, 'Okay so we may have followed the same course of action as she had with her first husband... But Bema, she was just --' He didn't have words to describe the emotions of them both.
Rhys laughed. 'Relax, girl. I know the feelings.' He looked at Jakie, grinning at her. 'I lived with Jakiewyn for a long time before she made an honest man out of me.'
Leylann smiled, looking at Jakie. 'I still remember when we caught you two in the park in Edoras. Bema, Rhys, you made a complete fool of yourself.'
'How could I not. I was and still am an idiot in love.'
'You and me both,' Leylann laughed, her blue eyed gaze returning to Rhys. 'Well, perhaps we should get going so we make it there before nightfall.'
Rhys frowned, not wanting to lose the joy of the moment, but Leylann was right. He kissed Jakie again. 'I love you and I will miss you.'

[Eléowyn]

NPC Beda, at her home

Mam had not been happy when Beda had arrived home late from the shop after stopping by to watch a few minutes in the Campian hall. Supper was cold, and Mam was worn out from dealing with the wee ones all day, so Beda ate her cold meal alone and in silence, then helped Mam get everyone into bed. Soon thereafter, she herself fell into bed, exhausted from an exciting day. She felt a twinge of guilt that she had, at least, been able to see a bit of the fair activities, even if she had not been able to participate, while Mam and her siblings had been stuck at home.

Guilt ... Oh my! Her eyes popped open. Sheemie! She had promised Sheemie she would help him set up for the fair, and now it was over, and she had forgotten. She felt so ashamed for having left her friend on his own. She was making plans on how to make it up to him as she drifted off to sleep.
@Aodh Hammerhelm

[Aodh Hammerhelm]

Golde ge Eorcanstan: NPC: Sheemie Rheus

In the hour before dawn, the lowest ebb of the spirit of all living things, Sheemie Rheus stirred upon his rude cot. He had fallen asleep without a blanket. His room was warm, the coals in the inglenook still twinkled fitfully, yet he shivered from head to toe.

His eyes flew open, unfocused, as if looking into some faraway space. He moaned. Michæl, roused by his master’s disquiet, scampered from the crook of Sheemie’s right elbow. He sat upon the lad’s broad chest, head cocked as Sheemie’s voice, faltering at first, drifted across the room:

“Sköldpadda, father… Maturin, Eru… They walk the path of The Light, guide them well! They come in the name of The White, defend them!”

A long sigh escaped Sheemie’s twitching mouth. His breathing eased and his eyes fell shut once more. He dreamed of the moon - M-O-O-N that spells FULL! – until the morning light seeped through the rude shutter above his head.

[Baphởmet]

Taethowen's House, Edoras, Riddermark

The mention of the word “husband” put a knot in Frost’s stomach. He’d dealt with husbands before (and wives) but this entire entanglement was different. There was a weight to this budding relationship that he had not felt in a very, very long time. The feeling was almost alien to him. True, genuine affection was a rarity in this world, rarer than diamonds and mithril. The thought that someone else might be out there was an aurochs crashing through his carefully crafted walls.

The moment passed, however, when Taeth said she didn’t want to run anymore. A warm, almost giddy feeling replaced the knot of panic. He smiled. It was not the usual smile Frost would put on display when he was courting and flirting though, it was a more genuine, more honest smile with hints of longing and sadness. He had reserved such a thing for a select few over his many years.

“Then what is you want to do?” his voice was gravelly and low. He scooted closer to her, close enough to feel the heat radiating from her body. Despite what his name might have suggested, he craved that heat. He wanted to consume that heat, to be consumed by it. The rest of the world dropped away. There was no sight but Taethowen’s gorgeous face; there was no sound but the mixing of their breath. He leaned in, losing himself in the deep hazel of her eyes. His lips touched hers and in that moment, nothing else existed, nothing else ever had existed. His entire world had become Taethowen. He kissed her. Kissed her again. He kissed her lips until he forgot the taste of the wine and only cared for her. He wrapped his hands around her waist and pulled her in as close as he could. Their bodies pressed together for a perfect moment. He pulled back and looked into her eyes again, tracing her jawline with his thumb, pushing back a stray brunette lock.

“I wish I had done that the day we met in Umbar. I don’t have many regrets in my life, Taethowen, but not kissing you was one of them. Now that I have, I never want to stop.” Again, he wrapped his arms around her kissed her hard. Again, he felt her heat mingle with his. If bliss was a thing, this moment was that.

He reluctantly pulled back. “The question again,” his voice was husky and breathless, “is what do you want to do?”

[Taethowen]

Taethowen's House, Edoras, Riddermark

Taeth didn't expect Frost's smile to make her breathless. So breathless that she couldn't find the words to answer as he scooted closer to her on the bench, asking, "Then what is you want to do?"

Her knees were bent over his lap now, the heat of his legs pressing into the back of her thighs, as he leaned in. His blue eyes hid fire in them, one that sparked across her skin and made her shiver. When finally--Bema-damned finally--his lips brushed against hers, her eyes fell shut as she pressed back into the kiss. One kiss. A second. A third, and his hands slid around her waist, fingertips gently pressing into her flesh through her skirts as he pulled her against him.

Taeth reached up to cradle his face with her hands, but then he pulled away. Her eyes fluttered open to meet his. She leaned into his touch as he caressed her face, and then, after confessing he regretted not kissing her all those years before, he pulled her in for a bruising kiss. One of his arms settled heavily around the back of her hips while the other smoothed up her spine to her shoulders and oh it had been so long. So long since she had felt like she could trust someone else to help carry the burden of her past, instead of making it weigh heavier on her.

He broke away again then, and her fingers trembled against his jaw. Why, why, why was she so drawn to him?

"The question again," Frost spoke, "is what do you want to do?"

Taeth took a moment, breath heavy, to find her thoughts, then shifted in his lap to face him. With her right hand, she reached up to tuck a strand of his black hair back, smoothed a thumb over his eyebrow, then down the bridge of his nose to barely graze over the small metal ring in his nostril before finally settling at the corner of his mouth.

"I want you to stay tonight," Taeth murmured, tucking her left palm against his neck, fingers just barely slipping beneath his collar where she could see twisting lines of ink peeking out on his skin. "I know you can't stay here in Rohan for long, but as long as you are here, I want to see what all this between us is. What it could be. If it's meant to last."

Tenderly, she pressed her lips to his, then slid her right hand around to the back of his head, and deepened the kiss.

[Eléowyn]

NPC Beda, her house, then on to Golde ge Eorcanstan

Before the sun was full up, Beda was awake and dressed. She had not slept well, fretting about how she had let her friend Sheemie down. Mam had not even finished making breakfast yet, so Beda grabbed a fist-sized chunk of bread, made an excuse to Mam, then gathered the day's stock of new candles to take go the shop and hurried out.

There was little stirring on the streets of the Riddermarket, only a shopkeeper or two hanging out their shingles, and throwing open shutters. Beda let herself into Leoht Min Fyr, dropped the case of candles, and hurried back out.

Just a few doors down was the shop belonging to @Aodh Hammerhelm, but he had away for ever so long, and Sheemie was left in charge. Beda pushed on the door but found it locked, so she banged loudly and called out, "Sheemie! It's me, Beda! Are you in there? I came to say I'm sorry! Sheemie! Open up! Let me in!"

[Aodh Hammerhelm]

Golde ge Eorcanstan: NPC: Sheemie Rheus

A loud thumping sound brought Sheemie Rheus to full wakefulness. He lay in the half-light of his little room for a moment before leaping from his bed. “Lawks, Michæl!” he hollered, sweeping up his wee companion “It’s time to open the shop.” In his haste Sheemie bumped a meaty hip against the dining table; an apple and turnip rolled from the trug and clattered to the floor.

The lad bustled on through to the shop, skirted the counter and through open the door. He blinked in the bright sunlight - No-one was there! – then looked downward. “Beda!” he tooted happily. “Beda-sweoster, how good to see you! Sheemie’s been having bad dreams, yes. M-O-O-N that spells NIGHTMARES! So he slept late...

He hasn’t made his breakfast yet, or tidied the shop for customers!”


--

@Eléowyn

[Baphởmet]

Taethowen's House, Edoras, Riddermark

“I want you to stay tonight.” Until he actually heard them, Frost had not realized how much he wanted to hear those words. He closed his eyes and kissed her again, harder, hungrier. Time burned itself away and Frost was alone with Taethowen in a sea of infinite void. There was nothing else in the entirety of existence but them. His hands explored her body, tracing every curve and line with delicate, nimble fingers. He craved her touch, her scent, her taste. Frost had never felt something quite so all consuming. What was this? How had all this happened? He pushed those questions aside. All he wanted to do right now was focus on Taeth. He wanted to know her in ways he had never known anyone before. He wanted to feel her in ways he had never felt anyone before. Something came alive in the Númenórean when he was near her. He had felt it at the Mx Meduseld competition, he felt it here, now. He wrapped his arms tightly about her hips and pressed his lips to her neck. He trailed small kisses from her ear down to her shoulder and back.

“I want to stay,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I want to stay as long as you’ll have me.” With that, he stood up, his arms still wrapped tightly around her hips, keeping her body as close to his as he could. “You make me feel things, Taethowen, that I don’t understand. I want to understand them with you.” He kissed her lips again, the very taste of them was more intoxicating than the finest aged wines. He could kiss them forever and never grow bored.

“Where is your bedroom?” He asked breathlessly, breaking away from her lips.

"Upstairs. The door on the right,” she said, just as breathless.

Slowly, he began moving through the house, holding Taeth to him and letting her warmth mingle with his. He kissed her again and again. He moved gracefully through the shadowy house despite having never set foot in here before tonight. He kissed her each step up the stairs and down the darkened hallway to the bedroom.

Gently, he laid her down on the sheets. With a practiced efficiency, he unlaced his shirt and threw it to the floor before laying down next to her. He kissed her again, cupping her face tenderly in his hands. She felt amazing on his bare skin. “Your skin, it talks to me. I shall heed it well.” He mumbled as he pressed his cheek to hers. “You gave me your true name, I think it is only fair, now, that I return the courtesy and tell you mine.” He smiled and bit the edge of his lip. Leaning forward, he whispered it into her ear then kissed her hard on the mouth again.

[Eléowyn]

NPC Beda, Golde ge Eorcanstan

Beda popped through the door as soon as Sheemie threw it open. "It's all right, Sheemie," she said, "you are not late, I am early. I came to apologize for not being there to help you set up for the festival. I feel ever so bad about it, so I came early to see if I do anything to help you today before I have to open my shop."

She took a look around, and it definitely looked like there was some tidying up to do. "Lookee here, why don't you make yourself something to eat while I take care of getting the shop ready to open. Then you can tell me about your bad dreams."

@Aodh Hammerhelm

[Amadhrill]

Meduseld infirmary with @Allafyrefleorhtlig

Her green eyes looked carefully and gentle at Allacan as she listened to the woman's story, letting her finish her words without interuption. "Your years have not been kind to you, but I do hope the future will be kinder to you!"

Finding words to express the sorrow she felt for what might have been, for others and for herself, was not easy. She smiled as Allacan shrugged it off. "Well, the future is all we can hope to change!"

She smiled as Alla admited to some pains. "Well, age do start to catch up with us." She laughed gently, though her eyes and fingers examined the knee, feeling the grating. "Hmm... I did notice that you walked a little... not as I would like you to walk." She picked up Alla's shoes and examined them closely, then she examined her feet. "Yes, as I thought...this can be fixed."

There was a small triumph in her voice, her eyes glittering pleased. "You, freond min, have flat feet. It is not uncommon nor dangerous and it can be helped." She handed back the boots. "See, how your boots are uneven? You need to buy shoes or soles that will give you some extra support. Go to the cobbler and show them your shoes and say you have flat feet, the will make you new soles or shoes, depending on what you need and can pay for..."

"Well, you are cleared for duty! And I will take you up on your offer to help me with the report. My penmanship is not all that..." She laughed brightly and handed over a quill and parchment.

(OOC: Thanks for the medical heads up , I have a degree in humanities )

[Taethowen]

Taethowen's House, Edoras, Riddermark

It was still dark out when Taeth stirred to wakefulness. It was quiet... almost too quiet, and it took her a minute to figure out why the stillness had woken her.

Right, she thought. I didn't stay at the inn last night. Usually by now the kitchen is bustling and noisy and waking me anyway.

Slowly, she stretched, testing her muscles. She was sore everywhere but it was a deep, satisfying ache. The kind that could only come from being shattered and remade, over and over, in another's arms.

A kind of ache she was realizing she'd never really experienced before. He'd barely let her breathe, turning her into a tight coil of sensation and reaction and bliss.

Quietly, Taeth slipped out of the bed, a smile teasing at her lips as she slipped a dressing gown on and then down the stairs.

If there was one thing she missed from some other places in Middle-earth, it was indoor plumbing. But at least it was summer, so she didn't have to worry about wading through a snowdrift to get to the outhouse.

When she returned, the sky was just beginning to lighten along the eastern horizon, the early dawn light spilling across the bed from the window above it. Frost--no, not Frost, Taeth thought, once more shaping the sound of his name, his real name, silently with her mouth. Adûnaic was very different from Rohir or Elvish, almost harsh, but it fit him--lay on his stomach, breathing softly in slumber yet.

The moon had been bright and full last night, enough so that they had not bothered to a light lamp in the bedroom after he'd laid her on the bed. She'd enjoyed learning the feel of him, but now she found she wanted to see him.

She perched on the edge of the bed, and reached out to brush his long, black hair away. It was still a little too dark to make out the details, but she could see the large span of an elaborate, twisting tattoo that stretched from wrist to wrist and curled around his shoulders. She winced, just slightly, she caught sight of some rather deep scratches that matched the span of her fingers.

But her face grew somber as her fingers traced a large, smooth scar on his left shoulder. She knew what a wound caused by impaling looked like, and this was frighteningly similar. And while she was no hæland, even she could tell that it must have come frightfully close to puncturing his lung.

The room was quickly lightening now, and she could finally see that the tattoo was a massive sea serpent. But where it ended, curling around his left wrist, drew her attention to several runes that trailed up his forearm. They were unlike any she'd ever seen before, but when she reached out to trace them, his hand latched onto her wrist, and her eyes flew to his face, where he watched her with a heady gaze.

"That's an image I've been hoping to see for six years," he murmured. "It's every bit as radiant as I'd imagined."

Taeth bit her lip, and ducked her head, letting her hair fall around her face to hide her blush. Then he was tugging at her wrist as he pushed himself up on his elbow, reaching up to push her hair back before curling his hand around her head and pulling her in for a kiss. It was soft and sweet, almost completely the opposite of the desperate, hungry kisses they'd exchanged the night before.

He broke the kiss then to sit all the way up, gently pushing Taeth to her feet before loosening the tie on her dressing gown and tugging it off her, letting it slide down her form to pool at her feet on the floor.

His gaze darkened as he caught sight of a shimmering streak of skin across her right hip. "What's this?" he asked, stroking his thumb across it.

"Ah, I had an unfortunate meeting with an Easterling's spear, many years ago," she answered. "But you have a few scars to explain yourself. And a few tattoos."

She climbed back in beside him, then, reaching for his right hand to run her fingers over the stretched, puckered burn scar. "This one... the one on your shoulder--not the scratches, I know what those are from--that bite on your side. Do you have no self-preservation instincts?"

[Aodh Hammerhelm]

Golde ge Eorcanstan: NPC: Sheemie Rheus

Sheemie shook his head as Beda hurried into the shop. Not late? Beda’s early? Why yes, he saw that this was true; the streets were still empty and the sun had not yet risen over the palisade around the city. He swung the door closed and made his way to his room. “I’ll make us both breakfast,” he called to Beda, “the broom and things are behind the counter.”

Sheemie busied himself at his dinning table: a pot with oats, water and a blob of honey for him and Beda; seed mix, diced apple and a sprinkle of oat flakes for Michæl the mouse. He popped the pot onto the iron grate over the inglenook, and waited for the porridge to come to the boil. He heard the swish of a broom in the shop front and Beda whistling while she worked. The oats began to boil; Sheemie slipped the pot from the hearth and stirred it vigorously as he crossed to the table.

He set the pot on the table and added a handful of apple to the pottage; picked up Michæl’s bowl, a lovely little wooden one he’s picked up at the Summer Festival market, and carried it over to his bedside cabinet. The bowl had the mouse’s name carved into it in fine letters. Sheemie couldn’t read the letters, nor could his wee mouse, he guessed, but both knew it was Michæl’s bowl, and that’s all that mattered.

“Lawks, what’s this?” The bowl shuddered on the cabinet top and Michæl raced off into Sheemie’s sock drawer. The slight tremor beneath his feet ceased as suddenly as it had begun. Sheemie coaxed Michæl out of the drawer with a nut and hurried back to the dinning table.

“Just right,” he tooted, as he filled a bowl for him and his sweoster. “M-O-O-N that spells DELICIOUS, even Beda knows it.”

As he turned to leave the room a fresh tremor shook the floorboards. The bowls dropped from his hands spraying his bare feet and trousers with hot, sticky gruel. Sheemie did not yelp or holler, his eyes were wide open, staring at some point beyond the eastern wall.

“Bird and bear, hare and...” he murmured, then louder and with more assurance as another shudder shook the floor:

“Bird and bear, hare and fish, send my friends my fondest wish.
Oliphaunt, bat, wolf and rat, please, oh please, make sure of that
Lion and turtle, dog and horse, send them pity - show remorse!”

---
@Eléowyn

[Bereth]

Bereth - approaching the Aern Freablod, Home

Her diversions exhausted, the Festival had been timed perfectly, though she hadn’t taken in as much as she’d have liked, it bought her time to settle herself back into the culture again. Her people. She’d missed them. A lot.

And while it was good to be close to the center of that culture, Edoras, and her room above the Inn comfortable enough, certainly moreso than the nights in the open when it was less than hospitable, it was time to go home. Fully home. To the Aern.

She’d hoped to ride out for the first time with Eldrith, but the woman had become quite busy, much to Ber’s (and many others) surprise. And Ber’s sincere delight. She’d been out here long enough, and holding down the estate all by herself. Thus Ber approached alone.

As she crested the last slight rise, the sweep of the valley before her brought a flood of sweet memories. It looked to be in far better condition than she could have hoped, at least from the distance. That pleased her.

The broadly paved walkway was, as to be expected, dotted with tufts of grass that squeezed their through between the flat stones. But the highly arched entryway still beckoned family and friend alike to enter, and the large stone pots at each side were intact, albeit empty. They would need to be cleaned out and fresh soil and flowers installed, but more urgent needs would have to come first.

It took a little effort to push open the carved oak doors, the haunting “creeeaaak” a bit unnerving. She should make notes, “oil hinges”, but not yet. Time enough for that tomorrow. Standing in the doorway, the darkeness was such an absolute contrast to the last Mettare held within, she realized just how tired she was. And she backed away and tugged the protesting doors closed again. Not tonight.

First things first. She returned to Akelda’s side and took up the dropped reign, pulling him along to the spacious stables. The doors were standing wide open, as they usually had been, so the musty, dusty smell of disuse was at a minimum. It was a pity, really. It seemed even more lonely than the house without the earthy aroma of horses to fill it. Another thing for the pending list, find out which kindly neighbors had agreed to take a few of the Freablod stock to their care.

As she began to strip off the tack from Akelda, she kept up a running conversation with him about how she would stay near, she would sleep out here in the next stall tonight, his ears twitching curiously at the new surroundings more than what Ber was rambling on about. Since any hay or oats were long gone from the stables, Ber dipped into the dwindling supply she’d brought along, and tipped out debris from one of the abandoned pans so she could give him his treat.

Before he lowered his head to crunch his fill, he turned to eye her, and quite unexpectedly, nudged his muzzle against her. She fell silent, stunned. It was the first true expression of affection she’d ever seen him give since she’d rescued him. His wounds had been so deep, mistrust a high wall to straddle. And she had tried very hard not to get entangled, not intending to keep him for long. But her heart melted, and she gently stroked the aging neck, whispering, “forgive me for giving you a girl’s name. But it seemed right. ‘A spring of healing.’ Perhaps it shall be for us here ... home.”

[Eléowyn]

NPC Beda, Golde ge Eorcanstan

Beda was quite happy to be doing the tidying, since Sheemie was going to cook a nice breakfast. Her tummy was rumbling; the fistful of bread she had devoured on the way to the shop had not gone far in filling the empty spot in her belly.

She was just finishing the sweeping when the first small rumbling struck. Beda was alarmed, but not overly so. Sometimes the ground would shake when the entire muster of the cavalry would thunder through the city.

Beda could tell by the smell of honey-soaked porridge that breakfast was near ready, so she went to find Sheemie. Just as she entered his room, the second tremor hit, and Beda, struggling to keep her footing, watched in horror as the delicious smelling porridge fell to the floor.

"Oh no!" she cried, watching breakfast disappear onto the floor. "Oh no!" she cried a second time, when she realized the hot sticky mess had spilled all over Sheemie. "Are you all right? Quick, slip out of those trousers, I'll get a rag to wipe off your feet." Before she could make a move, Sheemie began chanting a strange rhyme.

"Are you all right?" she asked again, though her meaning was different this time. Sheemie seemed lost in some reverie and hardly aware of the hot gruel burning him.

[Aodh Hammerhelm]

Golde ge Eorcanstan: NPC: Sheemie Rheus

“All right? Erm, yes!” Sheemie said to Beda, with a shake of his shaggy head. “Oh, no! Sheemie’s ruint our brêkfis… and his clean trousers.”

The gawky lad stood with his hands in his hair for a moment, then shrieked as the hot gruel on his naked skin finally registered. “Oh, oh, Beda!” he hooted, bopping around the room in an impromptu polka. “My piggies are on fire, lawksey, yes!”

After several hopping circuits, Sheemie clattered up against the dining table. He grabbed the water pitcher and splashed its contents over his feet. “S’better,” he grinned at Beda, as he sat heavily on the floor. “But now there’s more cleaning to do, and we’ve got nought to eat!”

--
@Eléowyn

[Éolath]

A half day’s ride north of Edoras
"We…we thought you were dead. You’ve been gone nearly five years.”

“I almost was,” he murmured under his breath and reached out to stroke the horse. The horse bowed his head briefly for the caress, then snorted at him when no apple was forthcoming. He almost smiled.

“What?” His sister’s voice was sharp.

“I – nothing. It’s not important.”

“Nonsense, you said it. If you’re going to say something, say it so it can be heard.”

She sounded so much like their mother. Tears stung his eyes as he glanced back at the graves. “I-I said I nearly was dead. I…I was so angry at father and then…” His voice trailed off, thick with emotion.

Hild sighed. “This is no place to talk, really. You’ll come home with me tonight, meet the children and see Folca. We’ve a bit of room in the attic that will be the children’s beds soon, but you can stay there for now. And plenty of work to keep you busy until you decide to marry and settle down with your own family.”

Éolath looked up at her, puzzled. “I can’t stay, Hild. I—”

“Are you married then? Is that where you’ve been?” Her voice was as quick as her movements as she attached another length of rope to the bay’s halter for a rein. “You’ll bring her to meet us, of course.”

“No, Hild, I’m not married—”

“Betrothed then?”

He remembered how this habit of hers, of always finishing his sentences, had so irritated him. He’d had a dreadful stutter as a child, and always spoke so slowly that she would finish for him.

“No, Hild. Will you stop and listen for a minute? I’m not married, I don’t have a woman. I’ve joined the Cavalry, which is why I can’t stay with you.” He hesitated, stung by her look of derision and disbelief. “I mean, I can stay tonight. But I have to start training soon.”

“They let you, the runaway, join the cavalry?” She snorted, sounding very much to his ear like the horse she was swinging up on. Éolath sighed and tightened the girth of his own horse.

“Yes. The marshal in Edoras said I could train. If I pass my training, I can take the oath. I-I came here t-to see…” he gestured at the burned barn and the graves “to tell father that I was sorry, and that I would make him proud. Even if he can’t be here.”

Hild’s face gentled slightly, but her brow was furrowed. “Father said he’d forbidden you to join the cavalry. Why would he be proud of you still defying him?”

Éolath clucked to his horse, guiding the pretty mare next to his sister’s bay. “He forbade me from joining then, actually from training to join when I was old enough. He said I was still a boy, that I was not mature enough to take an oath when I could not even remember to do my chores or finish my lessons. He said that in a year, if I proved myself responsible, that he would contact mother’s cousin and perhaps I could start training then. You remember her, don’t you? The Gondorian woman who used to be the Westmark marshal?”

Hild looked startled, then amused. “He was going to send you to Cousin Firi? Oh, that would have been entertaining. She’s crazy, you know.”

“But she is a good fighter, or she was. Anyway, that’s what we fought about and I was…so angry. He made me so mad, which, when I look back only proved that he was right. I told him that I was man enough to make my own choice, to live my own life. And if he wouldn’t teach me to fight, I’d find someone who would.”

Éolath rubbed his chin, remembering the weight of his father’s anger. “He hit me then, he’d never hit me before. Not even a swat, mother always did that. And when I stood up, I told him that …” he looked back over his shoulder at the disappearing farm. “Well, that doesn’t matter and I don’t want to repeat it. I left. That night, took my little mare and my pack and rode off. I felt pretty tough for a couple days until I ran out of food. I tried to turn around, to come home but a group of thieves stole the mare and beat me up pretty good. I was in Gondor then, though I didn’t know that for a while. I went from farm to farm, working a bit for a meal or a place to sleep. I hunted a bit, but I never cared much for that and…eventually I got caught stealing.”

He looked down at the horse, where his hands were twisting the mane and the reins into a mess. At sixteen and hungry, stealing had seemed so much easier than working for his supper. Eggs from a henhouse, a bit of bread set on a windowsill to cool, cheese and ale from the springhouse…It had never seemed like a great crime to him.

And then one day, a large hand had grabbed his shoulder as he was about to scamper away with a hot meat pie from an inn.

“Ho! Thief!” He’d tried to twist away, but the hand had a firm grip on his threadbare shirt. The man, fully a head taller and much brawnier, had lifted him and shook him like a terrier shakes a rat. Apples, a half-eaten round of cheese, three onions and a copper coin fell from his makeshift bag. A crowd gathered round at the yell, eyes and faces hard.

“I’m not – I didn’t—” he tried to twist again, the lie that was also a plea falling from his lips.

“You did, boy, I saw you. Do you know the penalty for stealing?” The man was terrifyingly huge.

“N-no.” Cowed, he hung limp. Snippets of old tales came to him. Beatings, whippings, cutting off his hands. He’d always had a lively imagination; now he trembled as it ran wild. “Please don’t kill me. I was just hungry.”

“Did you ask for work?” He shook his head. “Offer to pay?” Another shake. “Ask?”

“N-no.”

“I don’t care how hungry you are, stealing is wrong. There is always plenty to go around if you ask for it. You’re a healthy boy, you could have chopped wood or brought water and the inn would have given you food.”

Éolath didn’t speak. Trying to defend himself seemed foolish now; his theory that stealing was easier than working hadn’t really worked out anyway. Resigned, he looked at his feet. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry you were caught. You’ll be sorrier soon enough. You’ll spend the night in a cellar, and in the morning the council and I will decide what to do with you.”

Éolath shook his head at the memory, able to smile sadly now. “Luckily, the man who caught me was merciful. He made a bargain with me, that if I were completely honest with him about what I had taken and from who, he would make my punishment work to repay what I had taken. And as long as I worked and was honest, he’d make sure I had enough food and a safe place to sleep. I hated him at first, but I was so scared that he’d beat me or something that I agreed. It took me a year to work off the debt. He was a trader, and I worked for him at the stables then on a ship. After a year, he said I was free to go.”

He risked a glance at his sister, but her face was thoughtful instead of angry so he went on. “I was in Pelargir then, we’d just finished a run down the river. I told him I was afraid.”

“Afraid of what, Éo?”

“I don’t know how to get home. I don’t have any money or any real skills. I can work for food, like you taught me, but how will I make a life?”

The big man had stared at him then smiled widely. “I’ll hire you. You’ve steadied into a hard worker, and you learn quick. I need a deckhand, perhaps even an apprentice mate. And in the winter, you can work at the Inn. It’s been a busy summer, they’ll need a strong back to get through.”

“I ended up working for him for three years. It took a long time to save up enough money to come home. I…I guess I could have come sooner, but I gave him my word that I would stay. I wanted to prove to father that I wasn’t that foolish boy any more, that I’d learned to work hard and earn my way.” Tears stung his eyes and he blinked rapidly lest they fall. “I wanted to come back and apologize and tell him he was right, but more than just tell him, you know? I wanted him to see that I screwed up but that I also fixed it. But I waited too long.”

“I think he knew, little brother. He never believed you were dead like the rest of us.” Her voice was very soft. “And he knows now. I’m glad your home.” She reached over to squeeze his hand. “Now, prepare yourself. Your niece will see us when we top this hill, and her voice is …very loud.”

[Eléowyn]

NPC Beda - Golde ge Eorcanstan

"Don't worry about the cleaning, or the breakfast, for now!" Beda cried. "We have to take care of getting you cleaned up and making sure you aren't burned!" She grabbed a cloth and started wiping Sheemie's feet to clean off any of the hot porridge that the water had not washed away. "You really should get out of those trousers as well, to make sure you are not burned on your legs." She thought she noticed a blush creep across his wide cheeks. "Oh, don't worry, I'm not going to take them off of you. I can run down to the baker's to get us a loaf to eat for breakfast. You have some butter and jam, don't you? You get yourself cleaned up while I do that. We can take care of the rest of the cleaning after we've had a bite to eat. It's still early, it will be fine."

As usual, she had prattled on with hardly a breath.

"Are you sure everything is all right?" she asked again. "You were speaking very strangely earlier, when the ground shook. By the way, whatever was that? It was certainly no muster of the cavalry!"

@Aodh Hammerhelm

[Aodh Hammerhelm]

Golde ge Eorcanstan: NPC: Sheemie Rheus

“Yes,” Sheemie said to Beda. “Least ways, I think it is – all right, I means.” The lad’s forehead crinkled as he considered his response. It wasn’t exactly untrue, lawks no, but it was also a little south of truth. Fresh bread and jam sounded perfect, but the thought of Beda leaving him alone in the shop (even for a few seconds!) made him anxious.

“These trousers will do for now,” he said to his sweoster. “They’s a bit dirty but I’m not burned. Anyways I planned to go do some gardening, I always do first thing in the morning, so they’d have got dirty anyway. Wait here a minute!”

Sheemie hurried to his room and slipped on his gardening sandals. He took up his faded pink hat and peeked into his sock drawer. Michæl had finished his brêkfis and was fast asleep, curled up just so and cosy around the pair of woollen hose the kind m’lady had given Sheemie in the Riddermarket two days before. “Sleep tight, little freond,” Sheemie whispered as he left the room.

“Well now, Beda, Sheemie’s ready,” he tooted. “He’s got no jam or butter, so he’ll come with you to find stuff for breakfast.”

This was another untruth - a great big fib, actually! Sheemie could clearly picture the crock of strawberry jam and wooden dish containing a pat of butter on the shelf above the dining table, but he wasn’t going to tell Beda he DID have the makings, or part makings, of ontbyt to hand - not if it meant staying alone in the shop.

“Sheemie will come with you, Beda, to the bakers and to the market… We can get stuff for a picnic and eat it down by the river before I start gardening.”

--
@Eléowyn

[Eldrith]

NPC post Taedwyn

A Cottage Somewhere Non Specified

The festival had proven to be both a curse and a blessing. With so many people, especially strangers, around blending in was even easier and all four of them had swarmed out through the crowds, scouted places where they might usually attract attention, and picked the occasional purse. Not so much that reports would be swarming, enough to be a small but annoying side effect. The badgers were not quite.. ready to do what he had hoped, but another opportunity had arisen. Estrange allies from each other. Cause people to feel unsafe. Make people question each other. It all helped brew the climate in which they thrived, and one of their own had unwittingly played in their hand. The pun made him almost smile. It was disappointing that the badgers were not yet ready but that was a one time chance and then done. He could not risk losing the advantage of surprise in that one.
But that did not mean he couldn't give Balcetir a good report. A new plan was rising. Safety and plenty. If the feeling of either was undermined, there it furthered the cause. He was a man with his ear at the ground. And an excellent sense of timing. Soon.

[Baphởmet]

Taethowen's House, Edoras, Riddermark

The grey morning light flittered in through windows, casting long, bright shadows on the wall. Motes of dust wavered in the sunbeams, dancing back and forth in a breeze too slight to feel. The sounds of urban life began to ring outside, the low hum of voices, wooden doors opening and closing, the clip clop of horses, bells were even ringing somewhere in the depths of the city. The room smelled of the night before, of wild passion, unbridled desire, desperate kisses, making up for lost time, wine, honey, and the coppery scent of blood. The sheets on the bed were soft, cool to the touch despite the heat of their combined bodies. The air, despite the time of year, was cool, sending chills up and down his spine with the occasional breeze that passed through the windows. He could still taste the wine on the tip of his tongue, a dry, sweet taste, he could still taste her as well, the sweet sensation of her skin against his lips.

As Frost lifted his eyes to the dawn, he smiled. Nothing about the last day had been expected, but it had been most welcomed. He watched her reenter the room from his position on the bed, a slow grin playing at the corners of his lips. Within moments of her reappearance, he was wide awake. The hunger that they had shared for each other the night before suddenly came roaring back to him. He complimented her appearance, telling her wistfully of how he’d hoped to see her like this for years now. The imagined portraits he’d painted in his mind paled in comparison to the real thing. Now his mind was full of the real, true visions he’d experienced. He ached, his muscles cried out for mercy, but he moved nonetheless. The desire to feel her again, to feel her skin against his, to taste her lips was strong, an overwhelming, heady feeling he could not deny.

He broke the kiss, and sat up, his eyes roaming over every curve and crevice of Taethowen’s form. He wanted to explore each of those curves and crevices, touch them, feel them, understand them. His fingers traced a scar across her hip, a left over from a battle with Easterlings. The scar made her more real to him, the slight imperfection made her feel more tangible beneath his touch, she was real. He inhaled the scent of her and smiled as if drunk. She was so real.

“You want the stories behind my tattoos and scars?” His voice rung like a bell, a light, airy laugh escaped his lips as her fingers began to explore him once more.

“That one,” he said referring to the burn scar she was tracing, “is from a disagreement with an orc. He preferred the term thaumaturgist over wizard and I felt the need to argue the point. His own was quite clear. This one,” he brought her fingers to his lips and kissed them before bringing them to his shoulder, “is from a random encounter with a fell beast. We were sailing to what we thought was a deserted island with a rocky outcropping near the shores of Far Harad. We found out it was a nesting place for wild fell beasts in a rather dramatic fashion. The barbed tail barely missed my lung. I sliced the tail off in retribution but decided that that was as far as that encounter needed to go, we left that island with all due speed.”

He chuckled and ran his thumb over Taeth’s cheekbone, so close to him he could feel the fire within her. “This last one,” he smirked, touching the bite mark, “is from a shark. I wish I knew more about ocean life so I could tell you exactly which kind but alas. I got it when I rescued a member of my crew during a battle. She had fallen overboard when our ship was rammed. I dove in without thinking and found the waters infested with those terrifying dorsal fins. I thank the leviathan I made it out of the waters with nothing more than an exploratory bite. I do have preservation instincts,” he laughed, “very good ones in fact. Show me a sailor without a handful of scars and stories and I’ll show you a dead man or a liar.”

He pulled her in for a kiss again, devouring her lips. He remembered the night before in all its glory. It had been such a night of passion. The wine may have dulled his inhibitions (not that there were many of those) but not his wits. His shoulders ached from the scratches she had left there, deep gouges of ardor and zeal, he remembered the taste of her fingers after, when he’d brought them to his lips and tasted them, her flesh mingled with his blood. He remembered tasting every part of her, leaving a trail of bite marks down her thigh and up her shoulders. His hands explored those places again now, roaming and wandering. His lips moved down to her shoulders, to her belly where he could still taste the honey he’d placed there. He brought a jar with him on his travels, more for food than pleasure but it had served him well here. Dollops of honey here and there (after tying back Taeth’s hair into a bun) that he’d then kissed clean and shared with her.

“I suppose,” he said languidly, “you’ll have to be going soon. You have a busy day ahead of you. But first, I think I should give you something to remember.” He kissed her again, wrapped his arms about her waist, and pulled her onto his lap so that she straddled him.

[Eldrith]

NPC post Taedwyn

A Cottage Somewhere Non Specified

They did not often act fast. He liked to deliberate. To blend in. Slow boil, Baldecir had said as well. Acting too fast and too openly was what caused Hynneth to rot in a dungeon in Minas Tirith for years now, if she even was alive. Balcedir had stepped into the vacuum, and raised what remained of the young urchins, cutting loose those too high up. He'd built anew, like spores laying dormant until the ground was fertile. Taedwyn had a keen eye for gossip, and when the goal had been to create unrest he had not counted on unexpected help. Things were brewing. He could feel it. And after what he'd seen and heard he knew just the way to add the right.. twist. The smallest one had been chosen deliberately, and the instructions were clear, the target chosen. It could jumble alliances if all went well. Isolate both, which would mean news of their actions spread slower even if one or the other found out. Taedwyn believed in going slow. He also believed in not wasting an opportunity that was thrown in their lap.

[Allacan ob Burzum]

Shadowfox, human, they/them, ok the streets with @Lailorn

“Oh, hello, I, er... sorry” they said, wiping the tears from their eyes shame-facedly as they stood and dusted off their trousers. They took back the mask and held it in their hands as they listened to Lail speak. “You... you liked my contributions?” They straightened a little, lifting their hunched shoulders a little as a little of the shake and nervously fell away. “You have no idea how much I needed to hear that. I’m... so grateful, thank you!”

They were clearly heartened by Lail’s words, and opened up in confession. “I entered because... my only hope in taking part in the competition was to try and hopefully inspire others, or maybe show others, that the competition would still welcome someone like, well, like me. When I saw the sign read ‘Miss/ter Meduseld’ I felt like I needed to try and represent the people who didn’t necessarily fit into those two extremes. But... I wasn’t expecting the second round to be so challenging and then... I felt like I couldn’t do anything but reveal who I really was, and then? Then I just felt so vulnerable and foolish that I just couldn’t cope with that other competitor got angry and it just... got so overwhelming. And now I feel like I’ve ruined everything I went in there to achieve.” Tears threatened again, and they took some deep breaths to compose themself.

"I’m fine. I’m sorry, I’ll be fine” they tried to wave away Lail’s concern even though they seemed anything but, tears brimming once more as she laid a comforting hand on their arm “I don’t want to take up any more of your time, if you have somewhere to be, but if you don’t... maybe... do you mind helping me get this bundle back to Eowyn. It’s heavy and bulky and I’m feeling a little drained. I just... I want to return it as soon as possible and... I don’t know about you, but I’m not ready to go back into that tent and face the people there again. Not just yet, anyway.” They watched Lail’s face, fully expecting a rejection but hopeful all the same.

---

Allacan, human, she/her

Meduseld infirmary with @Amadhrill

She waved away the healand’s concern that her life might not have been an easy one. “Ah, it’s all part of the adventure” she said brightly. Her smile widened at the suggestion that she might not have to suffer sore knees and feet after all, and that their would be a simple enough solution that should make the long watches and sentry walks much more comfortable. ”New boots? Shopping?! Why that’s perhaps the best prescription I ever had; I’ll be sure to get down to the Riddermarket on my first day off for a little retail therapy! And while I’m there I can pick up some new trousers too.” She laughed as stood up from her chair to wiggle the tightly belted replacement trews that were clearly too wide for her around the waist. She dusted herself off as though ready to leave, and then was recalled to her offer as Amadhrill offered her quill and parchment.

“Oh, of course. Apologies; I was so eager to be back to duty. Now, let’s see here... how should we put this.” She sat back down to consider the empty sheet of parchment a moment, and then dictated as she wrote...

"Dryhtguma Allacan Beorhtlig is hereby cleared for duty... She assured me she is of sound kind after her lengthy convalescence in the Eastemnet. Additionally, she confessed to issues regarding pain in the feet after lengthy periods of standing and on examination it became clear that she has over-pronated feet (flat feet). Though these should not impede her ability to perform her duties I have recommended she obtain some new, fitted boots that will offer better support to her foot arches and ankles and alleviate any postural issues. I would expect her to have obtained such things within a week of our examination and she may require a stern word if she has not done so... a little extra incentive never hurt, eh?” she added in an aside to Amadhrill with a friendly wink before turning back to the paper. “She is in all other regards a healthy and fit individual capable of undertaking whatever duties the cavalry ask of her.”

She sat back, considering the contents of the report, before turning to Amadhrill “Hopefully that should cover the bulk of it? Of course I will take no offence if you decide to add anything extra to it before sending it to the Marshals, but hopefully I’ve saved you the terror of staring at a blank page?” she asked warmly. “And if you have nothing more required of me, may I be dismissed to my own duties, Haeland Amadhrill?” she finished with a wink to ease some of the formality.

[Veowyn]

Audley's Past Returns
~Lone Wolf Inn, outside the Deep
Jakiewyn Ellenweorc

The exchanges between her brother-in-law and her husband always made her smile and roll her eyes so hard! But, when Audley said 'no' to saying thank you, Jakie's eyebrow shot up. Had he not liked the gift? She had thought they had shared a moment there. But before her heart could sink, he called her a genius. Then the blonde landed his lips fully on hers. She blinked in surprise as Audley sauntered off. What was that?! She was just as confused as Rhys. She was just happy that her gift had been well received!

"If you are jealous, it is because it was not you being kissed by one of us. You don't get ALL the fun." She teased her husband. He then teased her with a kiss fake out, and then telling her his plans for his return. Her cheeks brightened with a blush. She was going to have to mend her own designed outfit, it had suffered a little damage from him being impatient while "helping" her out of it. When he said that Audley was not upstairs, she knew there must be more that Audley/Leylann wanted to achieve before they headed out. Good, now she had some time to gather some things they could use for their trip. Meat pockets, and some things to "deliver" to Cyril and Alodie.

During the time that Audley took to come back as Leylann, Jakie had been playfully teasing her husband. Whispering in his ear, walk-by pinches on his rear, throwing little things at him to get his attention only to pretend it wasn't her, extra sway in her walk when she knew he was watching her, etc. All the fun, childish,"in-love" impulses. She had almost forgotten that Leylann was due to come back, until she heard the voice. Good, she did not think that her or Rhys could take much more teasing before they pounced each other.

She let them banter about how they should approach this, while she finished up what she was doing. Then she returned hugs and kisses with both Leylann and Rhys. She beamed at Leylann, "I am so happy you like it! I am happy to be there to protect you, in all the places you go, my cousin of heart." Then her whole demeanor changed with Rhys. "I love you, Rhys Ellenweorc. Please, come back safe. There is too much mystery with all of this." She melted into the tenderness of his kiss. It was different than the feverish kisses they shared the other night after the contest. This was needy, but not hungry. Made for butterflies, but didn't make her dizzy.

"Yes, I asked Rowena to check in on them. I am sure it is fine though. It is not like they are going to be leaving Audreya and Cordock alone that much, plus I am sure my mother will be around and LOVE keeping them proper and such." She chuckled at the image of her mother clapping gleefully sitting between Cordock and Audreya while they sit looking at the clouds together or something sweet like that.

"Before you leave..." She stopped them both, then handed then a satchel. "If you do not want to start out with just going to tell your father the truth," She looked at Leylann. "In this satchel is some things I need delivered to Alodie and Cyril. You can say that you were here when I asked Rhys to deliver them, and with the letter, you wanted the chance to meet the extended family, so asked to ride along." She then lifted the flap so they could briefly look inside, and motioned to a small box. "Cyril had asked Caddrick to repair his harmonica. He did his best, but it still does not make quite the right sound any more. So, in the case that he also made for it, Caddrick also made a new one, so now he will have two." Then she pointed to a one of the paper wrappings. "Alode had mentioned how lace is too often in a rose like floral pattern. So I created a sunflower pattern, and used my colored threads." She doubted these two would understand the effort that went into make lace! However, they would know of Alodie's love of sunflowers. She pointed to the last two wrappings, both tied up with bits of twine. "Those are just the meat pockets, and my mother's tea cookies, I remembered how Cyril likes them at the Yuletides that they have joined us here for."

After kissing him again, Jakie then stepped on her toes, and planted another kiss on her husband's nose. "You might be an idiot in love, but you are MY idiot." She then looked at Leylann with a playful glare. "Keep your fingers to yourself, woman. I am entrusting my husband with you, and want him returned still completely MINE." She winked and grinned. "Alright, be off, so it doesn't get too late. Be safe, I love both of you so much."

[Eldrith]

NPC post Taedwyn

A Cottage Somewhere Non Specified


From the three he'd brought with him, he'd selected Aegwarth: the youngest of the 'apprentices' in a way. And a good time for the boy to earn his first kill. The face hidden in a hood and a long skirt on the slim frame were enough, he hoped, especially if only a glimpse could be caught. A bread knife completed the outfit, and his lesson had been short and to the point. Wait for the opportunity. Do NOT be seen. One blow, and out. Leave the knife behind. After all, in this case, appearances mattered.
It would have to happen quick enough to be relevant. The greatest problem was in finding the target, without arousing suspicion. They had only what? A day? Half a day? Which meant the boy had to walk the public roads without attracting attention. The hood would obscure features of course. And he could keep to the shadows of the houses. People were usually good enough to mind their own business and the festival atmosphere brought a lot of strangers in. With any luck, the first blow would be struck, not even bearing the fruit of months of planning but a simple moment of expedience.. a threat made.. and then well... who would care to look deeper if it was followed upon?
Distrust and unsafety. Build it, let it grow.. and then protection could be offered, until structures were hollowed out from within.

[Lailyn]

Streets of Edoras with Shadowfox (@Allafyrefleorhtlig)

Lail looked pointedly away as Shadowfox wiped tears from their face. It was not that she minded weeping. On the contrary, she wished more people would express their emotions so readily, but she understood the feeling of not wanting others to see you in such a state.

“Yes,” she replied, nodding. “Your dramatic performance was particularly riveting! Whomever you work, or worked for, was certainly very lucky to have you entertaining them.”

“I’m glad you signed up! I think what you did will be remembered in years to come and that’s important, isn’t it?” Lail smiled encouragingly, but it faltered when Shadowfox mentioned a certain contestant who’d upset her, too. She tried to keep a positive tone and push away her own negative thoughts for their sake.

“I don’t think you’ve ruined anything. I think you’ve likely inspired others to take steps to show who they are. Even if they take small ones.” She gave their arm a gentle touch after Shadowfox took a series of deep breaths, trying to help calm them.

“WelI, I don’t have anywhere to be,” she replied with a smile and a shrug. “I’d be happy to help,” she offered as she took some of their burden from them and they set off down the street.

“I was leaving the contest in a hurry when I almost ruined your mask.” Lail frowned, a furrow formed between her eyebrows. “The same competitor upset me, too...it seems they are full of hurtful words and not much else.” Her voice faltered as the reminder of grief threatened to wash over her again, but she took a deep breath and pushed it away.

But she glanced at Shadowfox and felt somehow calmer in their presence with this person who revealed their own fears to her. “I like to give folks the benefit of the doubt, but I’m not sure…” She swallowed nervously. “I’m not sure I can this time. And to see my friend married to someone like that...” Lail shook her head and sighed. “I don’t know what to think. I feel as though I am always disappointed by people. Maybe the problem is me. Maybe I just hope for too much.”

She worried now that she was rambling, that Shadowfox wouldn't understand her. But though the reminder of her father's death in Aelorco's speech and the lack of respect given him and his comrades upset her, it wasn't only that. Yet again, she hoped to see the best in someone and she'd been let down. It reminded her of memories still too close and the mistakes she made in trusting someone who was far behind her now, but who still managed to make her doubt herself.

[Amadhrill]

Meduseld Infirmary with @Allafyrefleorhtlig

Ama was much relieved to hand over the quill and parchment, looking over Alla's shoulder as she wrote. «That sounds about right!» She grinned, took the quill and signed underneath. «There, now none can claim that it is trickery or false!»

«You are indeed cleared for duty, I will let the hælends in the Eastmark know that they must check your soles, but really, it should do much of the wonder for you and really is in your best interest to get it done.» A brief moment the stern hælend returned before given way for the merrier side, and she saluted (with a glitter of friendly laughter in her eyes) her friend, for so she considered the dryht. «You may be dismissed, dryhtguma Allacan Beorhtlig!»

[Allacan ob Burzum]

Allacan (human, she/her), in a quiet part of Edoras, morning (a number of days after her physical with Amadhrill)

There aren’t many people in Riddermark who could stand and admire their own memorial. (Unless you counted ghosts of course, and Allacan generally preferred not to; her recent experiences of the ethereal kind were still baffling and confusing her.) It was not a gravestone she stood at - such things were not the way in Rohan even if they were the preferred manner in Gondor and other nations. Nor was it the usual burial mound where Simbelmynë grew, for there had been no body to bury. It was a simple engraved stone, the once bright colours of its celtic symbol faded a little over the twelve years or so since the small monument’s erection here on the outskirts of the cavalry quarter of Edoras, among the quiet memorial garden where fallen and lost soldiers were honoured. It was the very pinnacle of her noblest achievements here in Rohan that she had been honoured with such a lasting memorial.

‘In memory of Allacan Theadwyn Beorhtlig, Eastmarker, Campwisa, First Marshal, who nobly sacrificed herself to protect her comrades while in service to the cavalry of the Mark.’

Her gaze rested on the engraved words pensively. She was simply dressed in riding boots, trousers and a homespun green shirt. She appeared unarmed to even the trained eye, but her clothes were loose-fitting enough that she might have skilfully secreted a few short weapons on her person. Though she might appear distracted, almost meditative, she was in fact mindfully aware of all the sounds around her and all the sights in her peripheral vision, her senses Keene’s to the first sign of anyone approaching. She had no idea how long it would take the once-pubmistress to figure out her little riddle; she had eaten a hearty breakfast in preparation that she might be waiting here a while. Indeed, it was wholly possible the woman might never figure out the cryptic message, especially if she was unfamiliar with this place, and the retired commander was well aware it was somewhat egotistical of her to assume she might. Still, Allacan had been allowed the opportunity to reflect on the events in Campian, and come to the realisation that for too many years she - along with likely every person in Rohan - had underestimated the one-time-mistress of the Ældsel Inn. She would not consciously do so again, because she damn well know that such an error could very well prove to be fatal. Especially now the woman knew what she knew.

[Taethowen]

Taethowen's House, Edoras, Riddermark

Taeth was learning many facts she had not known about herself before. The first being that she'd never actually had a lover who could have been considered skilled. Not until now. Despite not having been a maiden for many years. Despite having been married.

The next fact was that—as intense as last night had been with her vision limited by the darkness of night and forcing her to focus on sensation—she was quite enjoying watching as Frost plied her nerves into a spiraling symphony of need.

The third fact was that if this turned out to only be a fling, she wasn't sure that her heart would ever recover from it, and yet she couldn't find it in herself to pull away. She'd walked away from him once before, in Umbar, and she'd spent the next six years trying to forget his smirk and his haunted eyes, until somehow he'd stood before her again in the tent at M. Meduseld. And she couldn't let this pass her by again.

CW: not-so-implied intimate relations, non-graphic in nature, with relevant character development.
Whited out so people who don't want to read it don't have to.

His fingers trace the indentations of his teeth over her left shoulder as his mouth teases at her throat. His touch is infinitely gentle, though commanding, as he parts her legs and settles between them on his knees, lightly scraping his fingernails over the bite marks he’d left on her right thigh.

His name falls breathlessly from her lips. His true name.

Her fingers twist in the sheets as he kisses his way down her body, his long black hair sliding over her skin, and for a moment she wonders how it would look to have the twist and curl of his locks permanently etched across her ribs like the sea snake across his shoulders. His burning gaze meets her own as he laps at the skin of her belly, the dip of her navel, the crease of her hip.

When he speaks, his words barely register. Something about going soon, busy day, something to remember, and the weight of his body sliding over hers is already a memory she does not want to lose. His mouth presses against hers again, teeth sharp against her bottom lip.

Taeth's breath hitches when he weaves his arms around her, pulling her into his lap. The heat of him settles under-against-inside as their bodies fuse together once more. Her spine arches from neck to hip, her brown hair cascading down her back.

She aches, from skin to sinew to soul. He has torn her asunder, nerves raw and sensitive, so many times already in one night. Yet it only makes her crave him more. Even the slightest movement threatens to shatter her in that moment, and she cautiously sucks in a breath to steady herself.

Taeth trembles, winding her hands over his shoulders to his back, brushing over the scratches she’d left behind a few hours before. She matches her fingers with them again, carefully tracing over them with the pads of her fingertips. Frost groans and clutches her body tightly against his. She feels his heartbeat echoing against her own, and her hands settle along the sides of his neck, fingers twining through his hair as her thumbs brush along his stubbled jaw. As they move together with slow intensity—so, so slowly—Taeth lets herself drown in his blue eyes, and it doesn’t take much more before she crumbles under his touch with a wordless cry.

Sated once more, her eyes flutter closed as she relaxes, tucking her face against the side of his neck while she gasps. He’s not quite done yet, though, and she moves her hands down, tracing over his shoulders, collarbone, chest. Memorizing every part of him, because she knows even if they choose to try a real relationship, they will inevitably be separated by physical distance, either way this is not a night she wants to forget.

He finally breaks when she presses a kiss to his ear, and whispers his name again.

At some point, quite a while later, they end up lying on the bed again, legs twisted together. Taeth’s palms are pressed to his chest, and Frost’s fingers gently comb through her hair. Once she’s regathered her thoughts, she speaks. “You still haven’t told me about the tattoos.”

He chuckles, and she smiles at the way the sound reverberates through her hands. “Tonight,” he promises, and a thrill teases through her as she realizes he does want to see her again. That maybe, just maybe, the pull he’s also admitted feeling for her is as strong as the one that tugs through her entire being.

“You should come see my shop later,” she murmurs as her eyes close, head settling softly against his shoulder. “Maybe have lunch with me too.”

“I’ll do that,” he whispers, his hand resting on her right hip and tracing the scar there over and over again. She hums contentedly.

The moment is broken when her stomach growls, and with an embarrassed laugh she pushes herself up. “I really should be going. The shop won’t open itself, and there’s no food here. Will you be able to get yourself some breakfast?”

Frost nodded, watching her intently as she stood and retrieved her comb, beginning to gently untangle the now-gnarly mess of her hair. Her much younger self would have shied away, pulling her dressing gown on and blushing demurely if her bedmate had watched her as closely as Frost was now. But she found she enjoyed the way his perusal made her feel, and to be honest she was letting her own gaze wander as well.

But eventually, when she’d loosened the last of the knots and then quickly braided her hair back, she re-dressed in the gown she’d worn the night before, then knelt on the bed to lean over and give Frost a lingering kiss. “Take all the time you want here,” she said. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”

---

OOC: And that, folks, finishes out the Fraeth (Frost/Taeth) LitM arc, at least during the Summer Festival.

[Eldrith]

It had taken some time to put things together. The only reason perhaps it clicked was because she had expected a reply from this particular person. That or a knife in the back. The single sigil could lead to answers. It could also lead to the aforementioned knife, she was not sure.
As pubmistress she had heard the tale of course. Of the Marshall who had died in battle.. and then turned out not to be dead. It had been a story. One of the many legends, triumphs and tales of the cavalry, but to her nothing more than that. It wasn't that she had paid particular attention though she'd lifted a tankard along with others, and then had gone back to work.

After what had happened during the Campian, she would have liked to avoid the HCMA all together. In fact she had avoided everyone. Well over a decade building trust, sinking into the weave of rohirric fabric like she was a weft thread belonging there; beaten in carefully by building years and experiences. And then... like a fool she'd thrown it away, simply because she thought... well she had thought it would be fine. Nothing would happen. Courage to take one step would lead to courage to take another. Instead, well...
And perhaps.. with her friends' support that could have been overcome, especially with the kind offer to allow her to.. shape the narrative sent to the marshals. She firmly believed in the passage of time. And there would be other things to talk about soon.

Except for that one sentence. And the fact that she had no doubt explanations were wanted, from both sides. The sigil at first did not tell her anything. Was it a word? A warning? A reminder? Clearly it was rohirric. And clearly it should mean something to her. Represent something. Which brought her back to what she knew of the Marshall. And what the Marshall could expect her to know. Was it a warning? And then it struck her. We need to talk. That's what she had written. And this was the reply. Not a word, not a threat, but an image. A chance to meet perhaps? Which meant it was a place.

It took longer still considering which places were unlikely and finally combining the tales she knew and the things that were unlikely.. she had set out.




- - - - -


It was near dusk when she reached the memorial garden. It brought her closer to the cavalry quarter than she liked but it was quiet. She was dressed as always: Heavy skirts, this time in brown, and a longer green tunic over it. Was that a deliberate choice or simply what she had to wear. Any who had paid attention to her before might notice one thing that was different. Like near all women, she usually wore a small knife at her belt, used for a thousand things a day, including eating. Yet instead of the usual four to five inch blade, this one was near double. Not a dagger, of course. Not really but still.. a difference. She carried a large satchel slung over her shoulder and her tread was careful.

[Moriel]

(Private with Frost)

The big, rangy man on the big, rangy horse halted a ways outside Edoras, amidst the dust of the Great West Road. Kamion leaned forward, resting one forearm on the tall pommel of his saddle, and studied the city. It had been many years since he had been there, since he had come to select a new mount, and come away with Faran. As though he were having the same thoughts, the gelding flicked his heavy ears irritably. Kamion laughed. “Happy memories, eh?” he spoke teasingly, slapping the horse’s neck companiably. Faran was dark bay in color, and his build defied classification. If he were to be described, he would be closest to a destrier; but, being a gelding, his neck was neither as thick nor as arched as many of that type. He was taller than many of that kind as well, with powerfully muscled quarters and thick legs; his face was straight, with a broad jaw, slightly roman nose, and glinting black eyes. All in all, the casual passer-by would no doubt deem him quite ugly and obstinate looking- and they would not be wrong. But a big man (Kamion being some five inches above six feet and very long of leg) needed a big horse, and though quite unalike in temperament, the pair suited each other well.

For his part, the man was broad of shoulder and strong and hard of muscle, but without excessive bulk. Though he was in his middle sixties, the shock of hair that fell just above his eyes was raven-black: Kamion was of the Dúnedain, and though his face been weathered by the sun and picked up a few lines and scars over the years, it was only in his eyes and demeanor that one could truly see beyond the youthful appearance. A long-time Sergeant of the army of Gondor, now a Ranger in the newly formed corps, his back was straight, his seat sure, his hands steady, and his odd, cobalt eyes kind with the depth of many years. The corners of those eyes crinkled as Kamion smiled, and straightened in the saddle. “Well come on then, fellow,” he murmured to Faran, “Let’s find us beds for the night, shall we?” Needing no urging to this task, the gelding set off at a brisk, swinging walk, his head nodding up and down at the prospect of dinner. Again Kamion laughed, and nudged him into a trot. “Very well if you want to show off, do it properly!” Faran had several trots, depending on his mood and Kamion’s needs, and the one he fell into now was a smooth, flashy, ground-eating stride that saw him fling out his front hooves at each step, extending the leg further than anyone would have dared to think such a specimen could have done.

There was never really any need for this particular gait, but Faran seemed to enjoy it, and as it was quite comfortable to ride, Kamion was happy for the gelding to indulge himself. In no time at all they had come to the gates of Edoras, and lifted his hand in greeting to the guardsmen as they waved him through. With the slightest tightening of the reins and shifting of his seat, Kamion brought Faran back to a walk. “Now now,” he said, shaking his head slightly as the horse tossed his head, “You’ve had your fun, don’t alarm the populace.” Clearly annoyed, Faran did as he was told, and Kamion allowed his attention to wander slightly, taking in the sights of the city as they moved through it. Very little had changed since he had last been here, when it came to major features, but of course, time had gone on. Buildings had become more weathered, new ones had been built, and of course the people and fashions had changed, but all things considered, Edoras was as ever it had been. Happier, though. With the war over and Éomer as king the air of nervousness that had dogged the city was gone.

Unfortunately for Kamion, his wandering thoughts meant that he did not see the warning signs of what was about to happen. Faran, already irritated, had snorted and pinned back his ears, tensing his haunches an instant before the dog that had been lurking in an alley exploded out of it in a whirl of snarling fur and flashing teeth. Whether the dog had a death wish, was feeling especially vindictive, or just thought scaring horses was fantastic entertainment would remain a mystery: it charged at Faran, lunging at his legs and haunches. The gelding lashed out fore and aft, hooves skimming fur as the dog responded with agility, infuriating the horse until with a cry that was more bray than neigh, the whites of his eyes standing out starkly, Faran reared up on his thick legs, pawing the sky and dancing about on his hindlegs. Kamion clung like a burr to his back, silent and concentrated, left hand gripping the coarse mane while his right took a wrap on the reins. He applied firm pressure and shifted his leg to cue Faran to return to earth. No response, and he applied both cues again, more insistently. Nose bowing back practically to his chest, physics and training overcame rage, and the gelding dropped his forelegs back to the ground, still screaming at the dog. As the horse came down, the dog chose that moment to launch itself into the air, teeth bared with intent, and made the mistake of doing it on Kamion’s left side. The Dúnadan released Faran’s mane and with a twist of the waist, pistoned his fist at the flying mass of fur.

With a yelp of surprise and pain, the dog dropped back to the street, and when it regained its feet, the confidence seemed to have retreated from it. Faran wasted no time taking advantage of this and charged the dog, jaws agape, neck stretching out, head lowered like a striking snake. His teeth snapped down, ripping out a tuft of fur even as the dog darted between two street vendor’s stalls and down another alley, and Kamion leveraged all his skill and authority over the gelding to bring him to a skidding halt just in front of the stalls. It seemed that Faran was satisfied for the moment however, as he pranced and tossed his head, releasing the fur in a fluffy cloud that drifted over the trays of vegetables in the nearest stall. Both Kamion and the vendor seemed unsure whether they should be amused or chagrined, and the Dúnadan dug into the pouch as his waist, and tossed a coin to the vendor. “Apologies for the mess!” The woman caught it deftly, and winked at him. “Not the first time that ruffian’s caused a bit of trouble around here,” she jerked her head towards the alley the dog has disappeared down, “maybe he’ll give it a rest!” Lifting a small carrot from her stand she broke it in half and stepped forward, offering it to Faran. The gelding whuffed at it with great interest, and in rapid succession crunched up both halves, submitting to her patting of his neck with unusual good grace.

Kamion waved to the vendor as he rode away, Faran content to move at a more sedate pace now, loose and relaxed. “Old fool,” he muttered, scratching beneath the gelding’s mane. They wound through the streets higher up the hill, glimpses of Meduseld visible here and there between buildings. But the Golden Hall was not their destination: a large, well-kept inn loomed up as they came around a corner, and a well appointed stables next to it, both under the proprietorship of his friend Erlinc. Or rather, the inn under the masterful hand of Erlinc’s wife Bergljót, while the man himself ran the stables and breeding operation. Erlinc’s family had run the stables for generations, and when as a young man Kamion’s father had come to them for a horse, a long friendship had be born. Swinging off of Faran’s back with some relief, Kamion looped the reins over the post outside the inn and strode inside to a hearty welcome. Despite being nearly the same in years, he allowed Bergljót to plant a motherly kiss on his cheek, flap her hands at him as he opened his coin purse, and shoo him back outside to take care of Faran, with assurances that Erlinc was in the stable.

Having learned a long time ago that arguing with Bergljót was a losing proposition, Kamion allowed himself to be swept back outside, chuckling to himself as he led Faran into the stable. And indeed, Erlinc was there, just closing up a stall at the far end of the airy row. “Kamion!” he called jovially, striding up the aisle to clasp arms with the Dúnadan, grinning broadly. “Still surviving this hellraiser, eh?” Erlinc reached up to scratch Faran’s face and the gelding tossed his head and snapped his teeth, but without really meaning it. “Aye! I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again Erlinc, there are days I’m incredibly grateful you gelded him, and others where I dearly wish I might have a son of his- or a daughter. Can you imagine a mare with his temperament?” Erlinc shook his head ruefully. “Some things are better left to the imagination, my friend. Come, shall we find a bed for the ill-tempered brute?” He led Kamion and Faran to a large box at the center of the row, freshly filled with clean bedding, and clipped the crossties to either side of Faran’s bridle as Kamion held him in the center of the aisle. “Right!” Erlinc clapped his hands together, “I’ll leave you to settle him, and no doubt see you inside soon. Best prepare yourself for the feast my wife is surely preparing.” He slapped Kamion’s shoulder and was gone, leaving the Dúnadan to his work.

Methodically Kamion untacked the horse, beginning with the harness that held his sword in place at Faran’s side. Typically worn across his back with the hilt at the right height for a clean draw, for long journeys Kamion repurposed the wide baldric that suspended the sword in its scabbard to strap to the saddle, the hilt projecting past his knee toward’s Faran’s withers, where he could still draw the blade if needed. It was Kamion’s pride and joy, the longsword forged for him more than forty years ago when his father had judged him master of the weapon. In the hands of a smaller man it might seem unwieldy, but was perfectly proportioned for its bearer, three fingers broad rather than the full handspan some preferred, and fullered to further reduce its weight. With the efficient grace that was the hallmark of his every movement, Kamion could wield this blade for hours without tiring. For the moment he set it aside, leaning against the stall next to them, and stripped the rest of the baggage and gear from Faran. When he lifted away the saddlecloth, the gelding shook himself with satisfaction and, after placing each piece of tack on its appropriate peg, Kamion set to with brushes and cloths, flicking away the dust and sweat of the road. Faran groaned with satisfaction as Kamion leaned into the stiff brush, and gave a pitiful whinny when the grooming finally came to an end.

“Enough of that!” Kamion lightly flicked Faran’s lower lip. “Supper time for us both.” He unclipped the crossties and, slipping the bridle from the gelding’s head, turned him into the spacious box. While Faran acquainted himself with his new surroundings, Kamion retrieved a bulging haynet and a measure of grain from the feedroom. The trough was already full of fresh water, so he merely dumped the grain into the feedbox with a rattle, and slung the haynet over the stall door, slipping its large loop over the hook conveniently attached to the stall wall for that purpose. “Now,” he admonished the horse as he lifted his sword from its resting place, “behave yourself.” Kamion reflected, as he slung the baldric about his torso and buckled it into place, that he had been saying that to Faran since he had first met him in this very stable, an intractable colt, and it had yet to work. “No biting anyone who doesn’t deserve it, how about that?” Seeming to accept the compromise, Faran blew a few bubbles in his water and flicked his ears. For a third time Kamion laughed, and shook his head. “What would I do without you?”