Cavalry Courtyard II

Where now are the horse and rider? In here, probably.
New Soul
Points: 1 217 
Posts: 608
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 8:40 am
Image

The Cavalry Courtyard
The Cavalry Courtyard is bustling with activity. Cavalry members of all ranks are enjoying the summer weather in the Courtyard, taking advantage of the lack of rain to practice skills such as one-on-one combat, archery, and spear throwing. Words of instruction and encouragement can be heard as experienced officers work with and train the new recruits.

Some are at work grooming horses, others rubbing down tack or polishing armor. There is an air of pride and duty about the courtyard, as well as congenial rivalries between riders as training continues and friendly competitions break out. As the day wears on, riders will come and go about their duties and training, and the daily life as soldiers in service to their King.

This is the Cavalry Courtyard, where cavalry members can experience daily life as a member of the elite Cavalry of Rohan. Here cavalry members can RP training, healing, tracking, maintaining armour, weapons, and tack, care for their horses, or any other tasks or daily activities related to their service in the Cavalry. From time to time the marshals will update the Courtyard with orders for specific riders, or other new events

The main Courtyard itself is located in Edoras, and the majority of training takes place there. The Westmark and Eastmark are fortresses, and do not have the extensive training facilities that are in Edoras. However, please also feel free to RP being in the Hornburg or Aldburg.

Edoras
The Meduseld Éored’s courtyard location is just outside the walls of Edoras, offering close access to any supplies, weapons, or food they may require. They are responsible for guarding the King, and the protection of the Golden Hall. While this is a high honor, they are also the closest to the King, and more visible than the other éoreds, meaning they must be ready for any eventuality, and always ready for inspection.

The Westmark
Protected by the mountains, the Westmark Éored makes their home at the citadel of Helm's Deep. Here they deal with the ever-present threat of roaming orcs, wolves and bandits as they protect the Westemnet farmsteads, and occasionally face even Uruk-hai parties coming from the mountains beyond Rohan's borders. Patrols take up much of the cavalry's time here. Free time inside the Deep is rare, but all the more treasured for it.


The Eastmark
Removed from the happenings of the Court in Edoras, yet a lively town itself, Aldburg is the home of the Eastmark Éored, and is a pleasant place to spend time. However, the threat of Orcs and wolves is just as high here as at Helm's Deep, with roving bands threatening the farms and people of the Eastemnet. This leaves little idle time, as the cavalry members here are usually kept busy.



Areas of the Courtyard:


The Barracks: Where cavalry members sleep. A low, long building consisting of several large, open rooms lined with bunks for dryhtgumas and sperewigends, with small adjacent rooms which house the Aethelwigends, who sleep two to a room. Feldmarshals have their own small quarters at either end of the barracks, and marshals are afforded private, larger rooms in an adjoining but separate wing of the building. While some riders prefer to live in the barracks, others sleep here only when required for duty, preferring their own homes outside the Courtyard.

The Mess Hall: A large room next to the Courtyard where the kitchens and mess are. Cooks bustle about making and serving the cavalry their meals, and most times of day any number of Riders can be found congregated here eating and socializing at the long trestle tables that fill the mess. An adjacent room serves as the office of the quartermaster. Behind the Mess Hall are the stores, several small buildings and sheds that store the provisions for the cavalry.

The Courtyard: The open area in the center of the compound, where any combination of many activities happen.

The Stables: Located against the wall of the Courtyard, the stables houses the cavalry's prized horses. Stablehands bustle about caring for the animals, and riders go in and out on various tasks. The tack room is a smaller building attached to the stable where equipment and tack for the horses is stored. There are two large paddocks attached to the stables for horses to roam and enjoy fresh air.

The Infirmary: The realm of the Hӕlends and overseen by the Bealdorhӕlend, this is where the healers can be found. A wooden building with beds lining the walls, with tables set up at intervals holding supplies such as bandages and splints. A small room in the back holds the various herbs and medicines these renowned healers use when treating the injuries of the cavalry. Those who are not healers tend to avoid the infirmary, unless forced to enter.

The Armoury: A building near the barracks that stores weapons and armour. The Armoursmith runs the place with an iron fist, doling out equipment grudgingly. He keeps his armour and equipment in pristine shape, and woe to the soldier who treats his armor poorly! Attached to the Armoury is a small forge used for making and repairing equipment.

The Stockade: A sturdy building with a heavy wooden door and barred windows. The stockade houses cavalry prisoners and the occasional drunken rider. Guards stand outside the door, and only those on guard duty or on official business are permitted entry.

Training Fields:
Outside the walls of the Courtyard are the training fields. An archery range, sword ring, practice field, and riding arena are here, close together. This is where new Sperewigends are to be found, receiving their training, as well as fully-fledged cavalry members honing their skills. Marshals, feldmarshals, and experienced officers oversee the practice and training, instructing and encouraging those in on the training field.

The Memorium: A small area with a simple stone marker dedicated to Cavalry fallen in battle. Set aside from the bustle of the rest of the Courtyard, this is a quiet area with several benches to sit quiet and reflect.


Rules:
~All Plaza and Cavalry code of conduct guidelines apply
~Please put your location at the top of your post if you are not in the Edoras Courtyard (ex. Westmark, stables)
~If you are posting as a secondary character, please place your character name in bold at the top of your post as well
~No godmoding
~Please post in the appropriate color for your Eored: Eastmark Blue - #000080; Westmark Red - #BF0000; Meduseld Green - #008000; New trainees post in BLACK
~Updates and announcements will be posted in PURPLE
~Cavalry members and trainees only. Signatures on please.
Last edited by Gwai on Sat Aug 08, 2020 1:04 pm, edited 4 times in total.
Image
Third Marshal of the Mark
Meduseld Éored

Esquire of The Mark
Points: 612 
Posts: 339
Joined: Fri May 15, 2020 1:46 am
What in BEMA's Name.... she meant.. what in the whole of Middle Earth.. what in.. no. There was no invocation quite strong enough to convey her feeling as to WHAT had happened in this storage room. If there HAD been a quartermaster in charge when this happened they deserved to be drawn and quartered. Well, perhaps that was a bit strong. That is.. not everything could be avoided. Perhaps it had been in perfect shape before it was taken over by... an invasion of badgers? A roaming group of orcs with a drinking problem? Giant moths? What?

She looked down at the floor. Nope. Not a good idea. Up at the ceili... was that.. was that a HOLE???? Oh Bema protect us but... WHAT? It was probably a good idea that she had gone in here alone first. It was probably also a good idea that she had been given an assistant. She remembered how she had once seconded half a unit of Rangers by the sheer expediency of marching into the mess hall and telling them what to do. That.. was not something she could, here. Well.. not.. yet.
But it had made light of the work. And this was going to be work. She actually looked forward to it more than she had to anything of late. Except maybe reopening the Aeldsel. If she were to.. And there was the travel of course, to be taken into account.
But well that was another matter. For now... she had a floor to clear, inventory to take, a HOLE in the ceiling to fix and a lot, a lot more. She was eagerly awaiting Jacen's arrival. Because the boy might not know what hit him, when she started with a list of things to do.
Image
Kill-Stealing Skirt Wench
When others ride out to win renown, let me chosen to tend the house.

Elven Enchanter
Points: 2 265 
Posts: 1451
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 2:15 am
Éomund

When Grimthain had introduced himself, Walpurga had taken it in stride, but he hadn't stuck around long enough to see what else would happen. After exiting the Dragon Room (should he have bowed or gotten dismissed?) Éomund found himself in the main Courtyard. Pacing back and forth, he wondered what on earth he should do. While he was extremely relieved that she was not actually angry with him over the black eye, he still felt very uncomfortable about it. And then there was that only thing with Grimthain and mentioning both his pet cat and the comment about "twenty feet of shoreline and a long stand". It was evident that some amount of payback was allowed, but hadn't he already given the Third Marshal enough grief? He was off to an excellent reputation with the Cavalry at the rate he was going.

As he was lost in his thoughts, Walpurga appeared, having followed him out of the Dragon Room. "Hello," he greeted her a bit sullenly. "Come to make fun of my predicament? Why did I have to kick the Third Marshal!" As he said the second statement, he kicked hard at the ground, stumbled, and sat down hard on the ground. Hands in his head, he let out a load groan. "Bema! Why does it always have to be me?" He had no clue what he should do. The embarrassment of everyone knowing, especially Grimthain, that he had given the Third Marshal a black eye was enough to make him want to disappear, a feeling that was all too common for him, especially since arriving in Edoras. He had never been one for attention, and between the incident in the After Party tent and the the, whatever it was, in the Dragon Room, he was over it.

He didn't want to retaliate and just wanted the whole incident to be forgotten, but at the same time it seemed that Grimthain at least was encouraging him to do … something. At any rate, was the request from the Third Marshal technically an order? If so, he obviously needed to do something. With yet another groan, he looked up at Walpurga. "What should I do about the 'Ent-wife' hunt," he asked, "as they clearly don't exist."

@Frostbite (I assume when Walpurga followed Éomund out of the Dragon Room, she followed him to the Courtyard?)
Image
Artanis / Éomund / Brandor / Zarâm

Knight of The Mark
Points: 828 
Posts: 414
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 3:55 pm
NPC: Jacen

The lad skidded around the corner of a building, tipping sideways enough that he had to use a hand to hold himself upright. He skidded again and raced on, weaving around a couple Drhytgumas and shouting an apology as he went. He was so late, and his sister...er, the First Marshal....was gonna kill him! He had been ordered to come help the new Quartermaster, Eldrith, and he was late! He'd even convinced his sister that he should be given a room in the Cavalry barracks now that he was a Sperewigend, so that he wasn't late!

Reaching the stores he skidded to a halt, or tried to. His dusty boots slid on the flagstones and he went sailing into the room, past Eldrith. He caught himself on a crate but not well enough and crashed into a pile of detritus, raising a cloud of white...flour or something he assumed.

Coughing he looked up at Eldrith once the flour cleared, but caught sight of the hole in the roof first. Holy cow! he declared, then looked around and saw the rest of the damage. What happened? I knew it was a mess in here, but I didn't think it'd been destroyed! I thought the old ba....umm.....man....who ran the stores was just bad at his job! He swallowed and scrambled to his feet, thanking Bema he'd managed to catch himself before swearing.

Umm...Sperewigend Jacen, here to help, ma'am.

OOC: @Eldrith (I am sooo sorry! I totally missed your post! I promise to keep up better!
)
Image
First Marshal of the Mark
Eastmark Eored

Forth Eorlingas!

Balrog
Points: 5 867 
Posts: 3513
Joined: Mon May 18, 2020 11:02 am
Image
Walpurga

After exiting the Dragon Room and it’s stuffy (yet intriguing) formality, Walpurga wandered about a bit. She hadn’t left immediately after Éomund and he seemed to have disappeared into the crowd. Still being very new to Edoras and its winding streets and narrow alleyways, Walpurga got lost. She was swept up in the great movement of people going back and forth through the streets and every time she turned a corner, thinking she could at least catch her breath, she was swept up into another wave of people. Her determination to find Éomund was likely the only thing that kept her from giving up and going in circles for hours. Finally, after managing to break away down and alley and cut back to the Dragon Room, she found him right next door (because of course he wouldn’t have gone far, and wyrd apparently decided that she needed to take the very, very long way around to get those few feet).

Her friend and fellow trainee was pacing back and forth, clearly nervous. She would be too, she told herself, if she had accidently kicked Marshal Gwai in the face and was then given a task so strange and weird that even beginning the task would be a nightmare.

“No, I’m not here to laugh at you,” she said with a soft, sympathetic smile. “I’m here because I wanted to help you, because you’ve decided to dig yourself into the biggest hole anyone has ever seen in Rohan as soon as you’ve arrived.” She laughed, making sure he knew it wasn’t at his expense. “But it could have been worse. You only kicked the Third Marshal, imagine what it would have been like if you kicked the First Marshal? You'd be scrubbing out the worst of the stables for a month with naught but a toothbrush.” She touched his shoulder reassuringly.

“I have no idea what an ent-wife hunt is, though apparently Marshal Gwai and that other one, Grimthain I think, seemed to know what it was.” She pursed her lips and ran her fingers through her hair. Suddenly, her face brightened. “Maybe, if you think that there really are no such things as ent-wives, you dress you up as one? Who’s to say that you aren’t one?”

The image of the very blonde Éomund wrapped up in tree bark and holding branches and speaking very, very slowly appeared in her mind and she burst out laughing.

“It’s… it’s probably not a good idea,” she shrugged, “but at least it was funny. Did you have any ideas? Do you have any idea what…” she forgot the man’s name momentarily, “Grimthain, said about twenty feet of shoreline? I haven’t the foggiest. Do you suppose it means we need to find a river?”
Strange Fruit got holes in the flesh but it ain't gonn' spoil cause it never was fresh

Elven Enchanter
Points: 2 265 
Posts: 1451
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 2:15 am
Image
Éomund
Much to Éomund's relief, Walpurga was not there to make fun of him and the predicament he had accidentally found himself in. "It isn't like I tried to dig myself into this hole!" he protested, but he had to nod in agreement that at least he hadn't kicked the First Marshal. That would have certainly ended in immediate dismissal and not the positive scenario of scrubbing stables with a toothbrush.

Walpurga touched his shoulder as she tried to reassure him as she added that she had no idea what an ent-wife hunt was. And then she had the audacity to suggest him dressing up as one! If Éomund wasn't so distraught, he would have snorted in laughter. Which apparently Walpurga was doing at the same image he had in his head. It was amusing, but he didn't have the foggiest idea of what he should do. And just as quickly as she had suggested it, she backed away saying that it probably wasn't a good idea.

But when she mentioned Grimthain and not understanding his comment regarding "twenty feet of shoreline", Éomund finally looked up, if only for a moment. "It's some stupid phrase officers tell green recruits." Looking back down at his lap, he continued, "FæderaGrimthain (he quickly corrected himself, no one else here knew the specifics of their relationship and he wanted to keep it secret as long as possible. It wouldn't do for the entirety of the Cavalry to know, at least not yet) told me about it when we were travelling to Edoras. I think he meant it as a warning or something.

"No one knows what happened to the Ent-Wives. The legends are legends. But Fædera, well, the way he mentioned the shoreline … it means the ent-wife hunt is probably a joke." The final lines of his sentence were said a bit hesitatingly, as if he wasn't certain whether the the sentence was a statement or a question. He continued, still not quite looking up at Walpurga. "The Third Marshal, I don't think she hates me for it, and honestly that's all that matters right now. If it had been my mother … well, scrubbing things with a toothbrush would be like a trip to Valinor."

He finally was having enough of sitting here on the ground in the middle off the courtyard and he stumbled into a standing position once again. "And no, I don't think we need to find a river. I just need to decide if I want to ignore the order about the ent-wife hunt since it's a wild goose chase or try and do something to let the Third Marshal know that it is indeed a prank."
Image
Artanis / Éomund / Brandor / Zarâm

Esquire of The Mark
Points: 612 
Posts: 339
Joined: Fri May 15, 2020 1:46 am
Storage Room

I... do not know. *it was a hard thing to say but, she could not account for what happened here. And she had SEEN things happen. There had been that time when a drunk Hyandaner had nearly blown up her stove. But this... I mean there was a whole in the ceiling.. there was white.. stuff that she hoped was flour was everywhere. The floor was rotting in places. And half of the shelves looked weird as if they were hanging by a nail, sometimes half a nail. There were pieces of fabric strewn around that once could have been half finished tunics. Or at least she hoped they had only been half finished because she really didn't want to think what caused that. A nd the worst was the moulding leather in stored just about everywhere.*

This.. is bad. I think.. I know understand why the First Marshall actually accepted me IN the Cavalry as a non fighter. Desperation does.. interesting things to people's minds. As does fungus... As long as we're not talking egrot though...

Holding out a hand to Jacen she offered something of a smile* I am Eldrith one time pubmistress and now Quartermaster. And believe me.. I am grateful FOR your service. Hmm.. I think.. we need to get a carpenter. Vinegar. Alcohol. Soap. Saddle soap. A hard broom. A soft broom. And probably a stiff drink.


@Shivased Never a problem! RT comes first and there's so much to keep up with.
Image
Kill-Stealing Skirt Wench
When others ride out to win renown, let me chosen to tend the house.

New Soul
Points: 1 217 
Posts: 608
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 8:40 am
The Stables

Up until recently Gwai had been keeping Brightfyr at the small stable attached to her house in Edoras, but with the recent promotion, he was spending more time in the stables in the Courtyard. The wigends assigned to the stable were most likely spoiling him rotten, and he was probably spending most of his time eating, enjoying the summer sun in the paddocks, and most likely causing trouble. Both of them needed to do some training, and she had brought her bow with that intent, quiver slung over her back. He was in his stall when she arrived, and he whinnied when he saw her. "Good morning, Brightfyr," Gwai murmured, stroking his neck, glad to see him. She clipped the lead rope to his halter and led him out of the stall.

She waved off the wigend who offered to tack him up, preferring to do for herself. She gave him a brief brushdown, although he was remarkably clean already, and quickly tacked him up, before leading him out into the early morning sunshine. She hung her bow from the side of the saddle, and lightly mounted, nudging him with her heel, and he obediently began walking. She was planning on practicing her archery skills while mounted. It was something she was fairly good at, but took constant training to maintain. She guided Brightfyr toward the training fields. From what she could see, they were the first ones going that way this morning, but she wanted to spend a few hours before the summer sun made it too uncomfortable to be on the field.
Image
Third Marshal of the Mark
Meduseld Éored

Knight of The Mark
Points: 828 
Posts: 414
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 3:55 pm
NPC: Jacen
Sperewigend of the Westmark

Storage Rooms


Jacen nodded solemnly to what Eldrith was saying, though he realized he didn't know what "talking egrot" meant, and wasn't sure what she meant about desperation. Was the old quartermaster desperate about something? He didn't know. He nodded anyway like he did, hoping it made him look older and wiser than he was, and took the hand that was offered to him. I can get the cleaning supplies! he declared happily after he had dusted himself off.

That stuff is all kept in the store - his words died out and he grinned sheepishly. It's all usually stored here. But I know where else to find it, and I can bring it all back here! He was so excited he was off and out the door, running away to complete his self-assigned task before he had gotten Eldrith's permission to do so. He realized halfway to the kitchens and skidded to a halt in the middle of the yard, where he stood for a good two minutes trying to decide whether or not he should go back, or just keep going.

Eventually he decided to keep going and apologize when he got back. He continued to the kitchens where he snuck a small barrel of vinegar and a pile of cleaning rags out from under the nose of the cooks. He then headed to the stables and gathered the saddle soap and two brooms, along with a saddle bag he could pack everything in. Last was the infirmary. He had to be careful here, because Rowena was more vigilant than the cook and the stablemaster. He left the brooms by the door and snuck in, looking around as he crept along, but didn't see anyone there. Quickly he grabbed a bar of lye soap and bottle of alcohol and hurried back out before being noticed, grinning to himself.

Halfway back to the stores he had to make a detour back to the kitchens, but this time his target was easily available. Happily, he headed back to the store rooms and dumped everything on the floor in front of Eldrith, grinning widely. Everything but the carpenter! he declared proudly. I snuck it all out under their noses, and nobody saw me! He also held out a flask. I even got the drink, it's from the cook's personal store. Whiskey!
Image
First Marshal of the Mark
Eastmark Eored

Forth Eorlingas!

Balrog
Points: 5 867 
Posts: 3513
Joined: Mon May 18, 2020 11:02 am
Image

Walpurga

As funny as she had found the whole affair, Éomund clearly did not. From Walpurga's vantage point, it almost looked like he was going to be sick. She took a deep breath and rubbed her hand over her face, doing her best to erase the smile that had been there before. A wave of sympathy for him washed over her was she watched him pace and fret. In truth there was really naught she could do but listen to him and hear him out, let him air his worries until the nervous energy wore itself out. She put herself in his position, how would she react if she accidently kicked the Third Marshal in the face then had typo fa e her in the Dragon Room. She would likely run for the hills out of sheer embarrassment. And She would likely rather face an actual dragon than face Marshal Gwai in the Dragon Room. She shuddered involuntarily. Éomund was doing well to just to stand here.

She did notice something as he spoke. An odd name, almost like a nickname. He said it twice, both in reference to Grimthain. Clearly though, he hadn’t meant to say it or for her to hear it so she kept her face straight. Maybe they knew each other and the name was the man's surname. Those were always strange enough. Her own was a constant source of questions her mother never answered. All she ever said about it was that it would lead her to her father. Fat chance of that ever happening.

Finally, it seemed Éomund's energy ran out and he sat down. Walpurga sat down next to him and put a friendly hand on his knee. “So,” she began, “ The question remains, what do you want to do? Do you want to do nothing, knowing it's a prank? Or d do you want to get creative and show Marshal Gwai you understood the punishment?”

Silently, she began thinking, her index finger over her lips. There were a number of things they could do, or at least that she would do. “If you’d like my help,” she said after hesitating a moment, “I think we should find a willow sapling. One that’s female, the one with the seeds, and bring it to her in the Dragon Room. That way we can put in some work while showing we know it was a joke.”
Strange Fruit got holes in the flesh but it ain't gonn' spoil cause it never was fresh

Elven Enchanter
Points: 2 265 
Posts: 1451
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 2:15 am
Image
Éomund

When he finally ran out of words, Walpurga looked at him curiously. "Damn it," he said to himself upon realising that he had revealed his special relationship with Grimthain, but much to his relief, it looked like Walpurga had no idea what it meant. She sat down on the ground next to him and placed her hand on his knee. And then she asked the big question: would he do nothing or get creative?

"I don't know!" he groaned, putting his head in his hands. "It's an order, so I should technically do something, but it's an order that's not supposed to make sense! So should I do something? But if I don't do something, than am I disobeying an order from a Marshal?" Éomund bit his lip, realising that he was now talking in circles and that he was only confusing himself even more. "Sorry," he muttered, looking down at his lap. "You probably don't want to get mixed up in this mess." For what was likely the millionth time since arriving in Edoras, he cursed his terrible luck. "Bema! Why was everything against him!" he wondered. All he had wanted to do was join the Cavalry. Wearing pink sequin beards, kicking marshal's in the face, and going on an ent-wife hunt were not in the plan.

Though when Walpurga mentioned bringing a sapling to Marshal Gwai, he looked up, intrigued. "Hmm," he wondered, "that could just about work. No one knows what they look like anyway."

Éomund pursed his lips as he tried to think of how a saping could work. "If we could find a way to … to dig one up and stick it in a pot, maybe that would be acceptable." As he stood up again he asked, "How hard is it to uproot a tree?" If they were do something like this, it would have to be possible. "Do you think the quartermaster has a shovel we could use?"
Image
Artanis / Éomund / Brandor / Zarâm

Balrog
Points: 5 867 
Posts: 3513
Joined: Mon May 18, 2020 11:02 am
Walpurga
The Storage Rooms


“Well then,” Walpurga announced as she stood up next to Éomund who, despite being few years younger, stood at least three inches taller than her, “I think we should find some shovels. I wouldn’t trust the quartermaster though, I heard some rumors while I was out and about the other day about his, shall we say, lack of quartering and mastering. I think we should find them ourselves and find a nice grove somewhere that they won’t miss a little bitty tree.”

Instinctively, she grabbed his hand and pulled him along to the supply room. She had no idea where the said supply room was, so they ended up getting mixed up more than once. But, bound and determined, Walpurga did not give up looking until she found it.

It was only a musty and… there were people in there (Jacen and Eldrith). That threw the young Rohir off. She nearly barged right into their conversation! She curtsied hurriedly and nearly backed into Éomund directly behind her. The freckles on her face burned red hot with embarrassment. “Oh goodness! I’m… I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything. We were just, I mean he and I,” she pointed vague at Éomund, “were looking for a place that, oh no! No, not like that,” she reddened even more and, back up again, tripped on Éomund’s boot and went flailing into the air. “Ahh!”

She righted herself and caught her balance just before she toppled over. Pointed not looking at her companion, or the two strangers in the supply room. “We were looking for a pair of shovels I didn't see anything, I'm sorry for interrupting I'll be going now,” she said rapidly in a half mumble half wince. Out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of a pair of wooden hafts and hastily grabbed them before realizing one of them was just a stave. She set it back down, coming her fingers through her hair nervously, and grabbed the next wooden handle she found without bothering to look to make sure it was in fact a shovel.

Still without looking up, she darted past Éomund and back into the open air. She hoped she had not made too much of an ass of herself. Galloping stars! She knew why certain couples met in storage rooms and she was not about to be girl that interrupted that! Nope. She was going to forget the whole thing, that or curl into a ball in the corner and hide from the world until they finished whatever it was they were doing. Where was Éomund! She’d left so quickly she had no idea if he’d followed her or not!
Strange Fruit got holes in the flesh but it ain't gonn' spoil cause it never was fresh

Elven Enchanter
Points: 2 265 
Posts: 1451
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 2:15 am
Image
Éomund
The Storage Rooms

Before he could quite process what was going on, or the supposed fact that the quartermaster was incompetent, the slightly shorter woman grabbed his hand and all but dragged him towards the storage rooms. Of course neither of the knew where they were going and they got lost a few times before finally arriving at the supply room.

When they finally arrived in the storage rooms, they were not alone. Two other individuals (Jacen and Eldrith) were in there and they had clearly interrupted their … cleaning? There were some buckets and soap on the ground, but the boy had a drink with him. As he was trying to process what they had interrupted, Walpurga backed up and stepped on his toes. "Ouch!" he said, trying to step out of her way. Walpurga turned bright red and muttered something about "looking for a place" and with that statement, Éomund felt his face start to turn red. She once again tripped over his boot and while Éomund tried to catch her elbow, it turned out his help was unneeded as she managed to right herself, muttered something about looking for shovels, and grabbed at a wooden haft, which unfortunately was a stave. Dropping it, she grabbed another wooden handle and dashed out the door, leaving a red-faced Éomund standing in the storage room.

"We're not doing anything," he stuttered, "just need a shovel … for Cavalry business." He could feel his face growing redder and redder by the moment. He knew Walpurga hadn't meant anything by it, but he still wanted to get out of here as quickly as possible due to the misunderstanding, even though it was likely the other two individuals in the storage room were working, not smooching.

Grabbing another wooden handle, which luckily was a shovel, Éomund dashed out of the shed. He had had far too many embarrassing moments since joining the Cavalry and did not want to stick around any longer. Once back outside, he looked around for Walpurga and when he saw her, she was just as red, if not a bit redder, than he was. "I got a shovel, did you?" he asked, not having anything else he could say. By this point, he was struggling not to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of what had just happened (he certainly had no interest in Walpurga, and weren't relationships between Cavalry members frowned upon?), but he was determined to not laugh as she had not laughed at his moment of embarrassment.

(Still posting in black since this is before L&F)

Thain of The Mark
Points: 2 582 
Posts: 1399
Joined: Tue May 19, 2020 10:44 pm
The Courtyard, Edoras

It had been a very long morning, what with the fiasco at the Riddermarket, and then a very long afternoon between the promotion ceremonies and getting to know some of the Westmarkers, and then trying to make sense of some of the paperwork left behind the previous Second Marshal. Taethowen knew the long haul was still ahead of her, but for now she needed some fresh air and possibly some food.

And she needed to talk to Gwai. When Taeth had finally emerged from the busy-ness, she'd realized Gwai was nowhere to be found in the Dragon Room, and thus she was now squinting into the bright afternoon sun as she looked around the Courtyard. She didn't see Gwai anywhere, though.

A passing dryhtguma wearing a Meduseld insignia caught Taeth's attention, and she flagged them down. "Have you seen Third Marshal Gwai?" Taeth asked.

"Ah, yes, m-ma'am?" the dryhtguma stuttered. "She was in the stables a while ago, and looked to be heading to the training field."

"Thank you," Taethowen said, and dismissed the dryhtguma then headed in that direction. Taeth realized she'd lost more track of time in the Dragon Room than she'd thought when she caught sight of Gwai returning from the training fields.

"Gwai!" Taeth hollered, and raised a hand in greeting. The Third Marshal smiled, if a bit wearily but still friendly, and slowed her steps to allow Taeth to intercept her. Taeth smiled back, but saw no point in engaging in small talk before getting straight to the matter at hand.

"We need to talk about last night," Taeth said, lowering her voice as she fell into step beside the Third Marshal, her eyes glancing casually around to see if anyone might be near enough to overhear. "Do you want to talk now, or in a bit after you've taken care of your horse?"
Image
Second Marshal of the Mark
Westmark Éored

Esquire of The Mark
Points: 612 
Posts: 339
Joined: Fri May 15, 2020 1:46 am
Well.. aren't you a handy lad to have around..

*She knew she should probably ask questions about where Jacen had gotten everything that quick. Considering the timing it was.. highly unlikely that he had followed proper procedures. Then again if she asked and got answers, she would have to discourage the behavior and at the moment.. it had gotten her what she needed. And she would of course not wish to discourage resourcefulness. Neither did she want to encourage sneakiness either but... Before she had made up her mind about what would follow that first sentence all of a sudden Walpurga stormed in, followed by another. She didn't know either, except by sight but before she could try and draft them into helping The first.. muttered something, slipped.. fell, probably covered herself with the white stuff on the floor (Bema's horns, please let it be flour), grabbed a pitch fork and ran out. The second person (Éomund) followed, danced around, got stepped on, tried to stabilize her.. and then grabbed a shovel 'for cavalry business' and ran out as well before she could answer. Probably.. a good thing. for both of them.

Well... *Eldrith stood, hands in her side and eyes narrowed, looking after the pair.* Do you know their names?

*Because if you did, she suddenly had a perfect idea of the first two she was going to see she could get drafted in cleaning up this mess. And there would be a procedure in place VERY soon for borrowing matters from the stock rooms. She ran a tight ship. And if she had to hang a giant ladle next to the door to remind people of that, she just might. Over the last.. decade and a half in Rohan most would have described her as.. soft spoken, avoiding confrontation, almost shy at times, except when her enthusiasm shone through or she was tending to people. Long ago people would have called her the equivalent of a captain on a battlefield, at least when it came to her kitchens.

She would need to write to get permission to hire a carpenter, because the Cavalry would be paying and perhaps they had someone with the skills within their ranks.. if not.. well they'd find someone.

How about you start picking up the debris? *She finally decided, grabbing the broom.* I will clean up the flour. Just stack all the small wood outside and we'll see how far we get in at least getting the floor less of a hazard. Be careful of that rotten spot right over there.. can't miss it.. it's under the big hole in the roof.. *which was of course not a coincidence, but how long would there have been an unattended leak to then cause such a cave in* Give me a few weeks.. and no one will recognize this place...
Image
Kill-Stealing Skirt Wench
When others ride out to win renown, let me chosen to tend the house.

New Soul
Points: 1 217 
Posts: 608
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 8:40 am
Image
Gwai
Training Field —> Main Courtyard

They reached the training field, which was empty at this time. Gwai opened the gate, automatically shutting carefully behind her, pulled Brightfyr’s reins over his head, put her foot in the stirrup, grasped the pommel, and lightly mounted.

She clicked her tongue, and Brightfyr promptly walked briskly toward the training field. The targets were spaced throughout the field, at varying spots.

“Let’s do this!” she murmured under her breath, and she gave Brightdyr the signal and he took off at a slow gallop. Gwai dropped the reins, and reached over her shoulder for an arrow, stringing her bow as Brightfyr galloped.

He was well trained, and smoothly galloped in a straight line, as Gwai aimed and shot at the targets on both sides of the field. There were a total of six, and she sent six arrows whizzing toward them.

She released the last arrow at the end of the course, lowered her seat, sending Brightfyr into a canter, and concentrated on turning the palomino around, without using the reins, and instead just her legs. He responded swiftly, clearly remembering his old training. She stopped him briefly before the next run as she coughed. “I ate more smoke than I realized,” she told him ruefully, before sending him into a chanter.

Her quiver fit 24 arrows, allowing her 4 passes through the course. She pulled Brightfyr to a stop before the last pass, however. Let’s do a fun one, she told him, dropping the reins, stringing her bow, as she urged him into a full gallop.

Brightfyr was not a lazy horse, and enjoyed running full out. Gwai whipped arrow after arrow out of her quiver, aiming for the targets as Brightfyr swiftly crossed the distance from one side of the field to another.

Reaching the end, both of the field and her arrows, Brightfyr nearly sat on his haunches as he slid to a stop. Immensely pleased with him, Gwai leaned forward to pat his neck, before she replaced her bow behind her back, picked up the reins, and once more turned him around. This time they trotted close to the targets, so Gwai could evaluate her efforts. It was not her finest work, but considering how rusty she was, she was highly satisfied with their efforts.

She nudged Brightdyr once more with her heel, and they walked toward the gate. Feeling lazy, instead of dismounting she leaned over and opened the gate. Brightfyr walked through, and she turned him so she could close the gate without dismounting.

He walked toward the common area, and Gwai finally dismounted, wanting to walk him for a few minutes before taking him inside to be brushed down. She again waved away the wigend who appeared with the offer to assist. She preferred to care for Brightfyr herself. It wasn’t she didn’t trust the wigend, but she had been brought up on the maxim that if you exercised a horse, you were responsible. She again coughed, mentally cursing how long she has been inside the burning building, although thankful to have escaped with her life. Particularly as the fire had not been the only danger.


Her named was called, and she saw Taeth walking up, waving. Gwai returned the wave, and slowed, as the Second Marshal came up to her.

“We need to talk about last night,” Taeth told her in a low voice.

“Yes. Yes, we do,” Gwai agreed, the stress from yesterday immediately flooding back. She looked around. There were few people about still, and she suggested, “Will you walk with me while Brightfyr cools down? Fewer ears out here than inside the stable,” she suggested.

She fiddled with the reins as she walked. Much had happened, and there was much that was still much that was unclear. “Let me tell you what I know so far, and you can fill in the blanks,” she suggested.

“I don’t think you saw me last night before the fire, but I was hidden in the supply closet,” she began. “I couldn’t hear everything, but I could hear enough.” She stopped walking, and looked squarely at Taeth. “It is a hard thing to question the loyalties of the HCMA,” she said simply.

“I was outside after the fire, in a strand of trees, and the one who looked to be at least half orc carried Allacan to safety,” she explained further. “They did not see me, through the trees and in the darkness.” She closed her eyes briefly, remembering what she had overheard.

“She was asked directly to whom were her loyalties. Her answer was both to Rohan and Mordor.” Gwai looked down at the reins in her hands, feeling sick this conversation had to take place. “Perhaps she is playing a deep game, but to my knowledge, she would be playing that without orders from the Marshals or the King,” she said, a note of worry in her voice.
Image
Third Marshal of the Mark
Meduseld Éored

Thain of The Mark
Points: 2 582 
Posts: 1399
Joined: Tue May 19, 2020 10:44 pm
Image
Taethowen
with Gwai


"Outside the stables does seem a better alternative," Taeth answered, and followed as Gwai led the way around the yard with Brightfyr.

As Gwai spoke, Taethowen listened and nodded. The supply closet made sense. The only reason Taeth had chosen the Æthelmund's rafters herself was because she wanted a clear shot if one was necessary.

Gwai stopped abruptly, and met Taeth's gaze. "It is a hard thing to question the loyalties of the HCMA."

As Gwai conveyed the information she'd discovered about Allacan the night before and about the HCMA's loyalties, Taeth felt the same worry she heard in the Third Marshal's voice begin to wind its way through her chest.

"Let's keep walking," Taeth said in a hushed voice. "I can... shed some light on some matters, I think, though others are beyond my knowledge."

As the two of them and Brightfyr rounded another corner, Taeth began. "I first need to tell you something about myself," she confessed. "Marshal Shivased knows, but I don't recall that you were there in the Dragon Room when I first presented myself before her and Marshal Rowena. You were a pæth around the same time I was originally, correct? About a decade ago."

She didn't really wait for Gwai to answer, just looked to see if her now-fellow Marshal nodded, and then continued. "Not terribly long after my promotion to Third Marshal, I received word from Gondor that the orphan boy I'd adopted during the Southern Storm campaign had distant kin searching for him. Their proof was substantial, and I had to take a leave of absence to return the boy to his family. It was on my return journey to Rohan that I fell mysteriously ill, and ended up detained in Gondor for months--nay, rather years."

Taeth was truly trying to keep this brief, but there was so much to convey it was a difficult task. "I was on the verge of death for quite some time. The healers who took me in said I ran a very high fever for a very long time, and it was practically a miracle that I retained my sense afterward. However, I have lost a fair portion of my memories, and sometimes even now something which should be easy to retain slips from my grasp. I fully expected to be court-martialed for abandoning my post when I returned, but to my shock I was instead reinstated. However, I had initially sought the Third Marshal post when I realized that the spot was vacant. Not because I wanted the power, but because I wanted a chance to make up for the poor job I did before."

She sighed as she came to how that might be relevant now. "It took me far too long to recognize Allacan as the person who I knew in the past, as Fyrefly. She was one of the pæths I trained as Ærest. I have no idea what happened after my abrupt departure, but from some of the things she said in the Æthelmund last night, I suspect the First Marshal may have some of the answers we seek.

"As for Allacan's loyalties, though... I am uncertain. The way everything came together last night was too disjointed and haphazard to seem like much of a plan. To be honest, it was not Allacan that summoned the Mordorians here. At least three of them were here because of Thalionwen. I do not know what transpired with her shortly before my return to Rohan, or during her Cavalry re-training, but she told me that night at M. Meduseld, when she and I both left rather suddenly, that she was planning to leave Rohan. I know that Frost, the gentleman" --Taeth blushed here because calling him a gentleman seemed like an outright lie, but this was not quite the right time to drop the fact that he was a smuggler from Umbar that Taeth had met in Umbar. That was best left for a drunk night at the pub.-- "with the long black hair, and that the orcish woman were invited by Thali. And the other one--" her lip curled a bit with distaste here "--that called himself Aelorco at the pageant, is somehow Thali's husband, it seems. I do not know the story behind that yet."

Taeth stopped talking for a moment to gather her thoughts. "All of that to say... I do not think Allacan is playing a deep game, at least not intentionally. I think there was a nasty mess of tangled players laid down that just happened to set off some things inside of her. And I think we are right to question her loyalties. But there are far more answers that we need before we come to a conclusion on the matter."
Image
Second Marshal of the Mark
Westmark Éored

New Soul
Points: 1 217 
Posts: 608
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 8:40 am
Image
Gwai, with Taeth
Courtyard



The Courtyard was less crowded than usual, as many had been at the Dragon Room earlier in the day, normal routines suspended due to the promotions earlier in the day. Gwai was grateful, as it made a private conversation easier.

As she and Taeth walked, the Second Marshal told her of her illness and prolonged stay in Gondor, hovering close to death. Gwai tried to imaging the frustration of losing memory, and to still have difficulty remembering aspects of life. She shook her head empathetically, not wanting to interrupt Taethowen’s tale.

“I’m so glad you pulled through your illness!” Gwai responded earnestly. “I cannot even begin to imagine the frustration you must feel, not having all of your memories, and still having residual issues.

“It took me a bit to recognize her, but I did remember her as Fyrefly. The dark hair and the tattoo threw me off for a bit,” Gwai admitted, as Taeth continued to fill in parts of what had happened which Gwai was not completely familiar.

“Some of what you told me I knew,” Gwai finally commented, as they continued circling the Courtyard, Brightfyr walking easily at her side, although he was no doubt wondering why they were wandering in circles. She noted the blush on Taeth’s face when she mentioned the man in the old pub. “I did guess that you were acquainted with the dark haired gentleman,” she said, eyes twinkling, thinking back to the Aethelmund, before the fire had started, but this was not the time nor the place for teasing. “I didn’t realize Thali had summoned the rest of those from Mordor,” she added thoughtfully.

“But I agree that we need more answers. Right now all we have are suspicions,” she agreed with the Second Marshal. “You mentioned Shivased may have some more answers, should we speak with her regarding this matter? Or give Allacan more time to come and explain herself? I would hate to voice these suspicions to more people, and have it be unfounded,” she said, her brow furrowed as she worried about Allacan.
Image
Third Marshal of the Mark
Meduseld Éored

Balrog
Points: 5 867 
Posts: 3513
Joined: Mon May 18, 2020 11:02 am
Walpurga
The Courtyard


By the time she relaxed her breathing, Walpurga realized she had not grabbed a shovel at all but somehow managed to grab a pitch fork. For a long moment, all the Rohir could do was stare at it in disbelief. She squinted as if by looking at it from a different angle the pitch fork would turn into the shovel she actually needed. No such luck. She was, however, not going to go anywhere near the storage rooms. She could still feel the burning of her cheeks from that little escapade. Whatever the two people in there were doing, she was about to go interrupt them again. Where was Éomund! She glared at the pitchfork for daring to exist until she caught sight of Éomund turning the corner. Of course he would have managed to find a shovel. “Bema’s lucky balls,” she swore under her breath. She straightened, giving the damned pitchfork a last glare and sighed.

“Alright,” she said, pursing her lips and trying not to look her fellow trainee in the face, “let’s go find us a grove of willows and see what we can find. Yes,” she said nothing the glance he threw at her equipment, “yes, I know this is a pitchfork but you can be damned sure all the galloping stars are going to fall before I walk back in there and subject myself to that humiliation. No thank you!”

Walpurga whirled around, her hair flying out in all directions, and began walking out of the courtyard. She had no idea where she was going, but she set a pace that was going to get her there fast. How hard could it be to find a willow tree? Surely there was a grove somewhere nearby. And if they had to go on horseback a ways, that was just a good. She had only just arrived in Edoras a few days ago but she had had enough drama and city life for a few hours. She stopped at the entrance to the courtyard, gripping the stupid bloody pitchfork in her left hand as she scanned the horizon for any sign of trees within close walking distance. Surprise, surprise, there were none. Had she really believed it was going to be that simple? She huffed and whirled back again, dancing just out of the way of running smack dap into Éomund again. How was he always just right behind her? It was unnerving how quiet he could be. She shot him a look, then softened, took a deep breath, and slumped her shoulders.

“I’m sorry, that was… I’m sorry. Let’s go dig us up an ent-wife shall we? Do you have a horse? I have a pony but I don’t think she’d carry both of us.”
Strange Fruit got holes in the flesh but it ain't gonn' spoil cause it never was fresh

Elven Enchanter
Points: 2 265 
Posts: 1451
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 2:15 am
Éomund
The Courtyard and The Stables


His cheeks still a bit on the warm side, Éomund found a somewhat distraught Walpurga back in the courtyard, holding a pitchfork of all items. He was glad to have grabbed an actual shovel, though on closer inspection it didn't look to be the sturdiest one in existence. Hopefully it would work for the task at hand. "I have no interest in going back to that room either!" said Éomund as firmly as he could muster. "And yes, let's go find a tree."

Walpurga began to march out of the courtyard and he followed close behind, almost running into her when she whirled around asking if he had a horse. "Yes," Éomund answered, "Sunbeorht is in the stables. I think he could carry the two of us, but probably not a tree as well. As for where to find a tree, the Snowbourne flows close by the city and we could probably find some trees near there."

He paused in his rambling, which was highly unusual for him, to think for a moment. "I'll go saddle him and you can get your pony if you want? Meet you by the gate?"

After waiting for her answer, Éomund hurried over to the stables where he quickly found Sunbeorht, who, despite the recent fires, was very calm. "Perhaps you'll make a Cavalry horse yet," Éomund murmured as he saddled her. He grabbed an extra lead rope on the way out. If they were to dig up a tree, some rope could be useful and he did not want to go back into the storerooms to find some normal rope. "We're getting out of the city for a bit, boy," he said, walking the horse towards the gate. "You don't want to spend all day in the stables, though it's much nicer than the one back in Sceornbeorg." Éomund didn't know how to refer to the town of his childhood. The word "home" didn't seem to fit, and it hadn't for many years, but Edoras also wasn't a place he could call home, at least not yet. The Hornburg wasn't home either, but it certainly felt the most like home to do to the company that he kept there. Perhaps Edoras would start to feel that way soon enough, especially as Fædera would be around.

When he got as far as the city gates, Éomund shook his head to try and come back to the present moment. And then he waited for Walpurga to arrive so they could go find an ent-wife.

Thain of The Mark
Points: 2 582 
Posts: 1399
Joined: Tue May 19, 2020 10:44 pm
Image
Courtyard, with Gwai


"I think we should give Allacan a little time," Taeth said. "I know she's also gotten herself tangled up in the attempted murder at the Riddermarket this morning, so I suspect we may not see her again until that is sorted out, given the letter she sent. But I do not think that the personal matter she spoke of was that."

Taeth's steps began to slow, then, as she and Gwai neared the main part of the courtyard again. "Shivased definitely knows something, though. I don't know if you could hear from the supply closet, but Allacan said something about Shiva protecting Allacan, and never informing Rowena of her death and re-birth. So the First Marshal definitely knows something.

"As for Allacan's loyalties to both Mordor and Rohan... I suspect Shiva's knowledge will make sense of that. However, I will admit that I... empathize with her a bit. I spent most of the last five years traveling Middle-Earth, and some of it was to... places that might be considered unsavory for a Rohir to be. But... the truth is that all of those places are filled with people, who are not all that unlike ourselves. And I think we would be wise to not simply paint people with assumptions of their morality based on where they come from."

Taeth turned to face Gwai, then, and smiled. "I think I've taken enough of your time now, though. You need to tend to Brightfyr, and I... need to get some sleep. It was a long day--and night--between finishing the Summer Festival, and then the fires, not even including this morning's adventures. You should probably get some rest soon as well."

With that, Taeth excused herself, fighting the sudden wave of weariness that washed over her. She wasn't sure if she should try and make it back to her house--where her empty bed awaited with rumpled sheets, and no warm arms to curl up in and hide away from the world for just a bit of time--or if she should find an empty bed in the barracks for now. Probably the barracks would be best.
Image
Second Marshal of the Mark
Westmark Éored

Thain of The Mark
Points: 1 271 
Posts: 660
Joined: Wed May 20, 2020 9:40 pm
Æthelwigend Grimthain, human, he/him
Pre-Lost and Found RPG and therefore pre-youthifying haircut


He was astounded at how quickly and efficiently both the Second and Third Marshals had managed to disappear from sight after they had exited the Dragon Room shortly after their promotions, but then he supposed that both being ex-paethfindians meant that they were good at getting off the radar if they did not want to be found. He was grateful in the end, it gave him a chance to calm down a little after his conversation with Amadhrill had come to an abrupt and slightly anxiety-fuelled ending when he realised that his personal possessions - for the most part still at Helm's Deep - might be gathered up and sent to his new barracks in Meduseld without his oversight. He spent the time going for a walk all around these cavalry grounds; familiarising himself with the layout of the buildings and memorising each location for future reference, and was just contemplating going to the canteen in the hopes one or both of the Marshals might appear there when he spotted Gwai leading a beautiful looking palomino horse towards the stables.

He marched over to her, then checked his steps halfway across the courtyard and settled into a more casual pace; it wouldn't do to approach his new commander in a manner that might be misinterpreted as confrontational. He caught up with her just as she reached the stable door.
"Third Marshal, apologies for bothering you while you are... off duty?" he ended the phrase with just the slightest hint of a question that made it a query. "If now is not a good time, by all means let me know and I will wait if I must. Its just I have, erm... a personal request to make that I am rather worried I might already be too late to submit." As he waited for her response his eyes were instinctively drawn to the horse he was now stood much closer to, and he exclaimed under his breath without realising he spoke out loud. "My word, he is a handsome fellow!"

Image
Æthelwigend of the Meduseld Éored

New Soul
Points: 1 217 
Posts: 608
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 8:40 am
Image

Gwai, Main Courtyard


Taeth had shed much light upon some of the recent events Gwai had not understood, and had given her much to think about. “While I agree we should not judge people merely from where they hail, I think it is also important not to take lightly she did not deny she is conflicted in her loyalties. However, as you say, there is much that is yet unclear, and we will not make any assumptions until we hear from Allacan herself, or have more concrete information,” she agreed, hoping the HCMA would soon return to offer an explanation. Gwai was unable to stop herself from worrying that Alla was chasing the would-be assassin in the Riddermarket alone.

Taeth soon excused herself to get some rest. “Sleep sounds like a good idea, for all of us!” Gwai replied, not realizing until then how tired she was. Her voice was still hoarse from the smoke when she was trapped in the old Æthelmund, and sleep sounded like an excellent idea.

She coughed a bit as she started to lead Brightfyr toward the stable to give him a quick rub down before she followed Taeth’s example to steal a quick nap, when Grimthain soon approached, asking for a moment of her time. “Of course, Grimthain!” she replied with a smile at the newly transferred Æethelwigend. “I suppose I am off duty, but despite the excitement of last night, poor Brightfyr here still needed some attention! And please, call me Gwai, I’m not terribly formal outside the Dragon Room, and no doubt we will be working closely together!” she told him. "I am truly glad to have an experienced Æethel here in Meduseld, and hopefully the Second Marshal will not be too upset we have stolen you away from Helm's Deep!" she teased gently.

Gwai had already liked Grimthain on their first meeting in the Dragon Room, but his comments on Brightfyr made her like him all the more. “Thank you!” she said with a smile, patting Brightfyr’s neck, who pricked his ears at the older man. “I’m proud of him. His name is Brightfyr, and we’ve been through quite a bit together, haven’t we, freond min,” she said, the last comment to Brightfyr, who snorted at her, likely bored with the conversation and wanting his lunch. “I raised him from a foal, and he was my cavalry horse from the beginning. We were together in the Southern Storm Campaign when I was just a young sperewigend.” She added with a laugh, “He got me through more than one mistake!”

Realizing Grimthain hadn’t actually come to talk about her horse, Gwai sobered a bit. “I’m sorry,” she said with an apologetic smile as she once more tried to stifle a cough. “Horses are one of my favorite subjects, this one in particular, and when you add a bit of sleep deprivation and smoke inhalation on top of it, I get sidetracked! What did you want to speak about?” she asked curiously, absentmindedly running her fingers through Brightfyr’s creamy mane. "If it is a private matter, we can go back to the Dragon Room if you prefer, although it is most likely less crowded out here today," she said, glancing about at the lack of normal activity in the Courtyard.
Image
Third Marshal of the Mark
Meduseld Éored

Thain of The Mark
Points: 1 271 
Posts: 660
Joined: Wed May 20, 2020 9:40 pm
Æthelwigend Grimthain, human, he/him
Pre-Lost and Found RPG and therefore pre-youthifying haircut, with @Gwai


He blinked, but gave no other hint of surprise at her casual familiarity when she asked him to drop the formality and call her simply 'Gwai'. He was used to his commander's at Helm's Deep being referred to by their rank at all time, so as to not appear too friendly and maintain the reminder of the chain of command even during downtime activities, and the new approach was a little shocking to him, but not in a bad way. If anything, it made him feel even more welcome in his new Éored, even if it would take some getting used to. Still, he coughed a little at her comment that they would be 'working closely together' as that unfamiliar surge of emotion rose up again, and he was grateful that she was momentarily distracted by her gorgeous mount for it gave him an excuse to step up to the horse and turn his head away as he pretended to admire the conformation of the beast while he hid an unexpected blush at her friendly warmth.

Thankfully, her reminder of his request brought him back to focus and he .
"Here is fine Third Mar... aah, Gwai, sir." He said, inwardly grimacing at his apparent inability to 'informal', and gave an apologetic shrug and a muttered "Old dogs... Then he stood up straight and tried to cut to the meat of the matter, not wishing to keep his commanding officer any longer than was necessary; he had noted the stifled yawn and suspected he was keeping her from some long-needed rest. "I was just speaking with hæland Amadhrill in the Dragon Room about the recent promotions and my own transfer. My transfer to Meduseld Éored was a bit of a surprise to me, albeit I was very happy at the news I would be serving beneath yourself." he samiled at the Martial, before hastily averting his eyes back to stroking the horse so he did not betray the emotions he was trying very hard to keep hidden even from himself. "I came to Edoras on a personal trip and had planned to make my own transfer request, but on arrival discovered that another had already done this for me and the transfer had been made effective immediately. My concern is that I now have duties and tasks expected of me, such as getting to know the sperewigends and dryhtgumas who will be under my guidance and supervision, but I only have a few of my belongings with me and left much of my cavalry regalia at the Deep. Amadhrill led me to believe that, in my absense, my personal possessions would be gathered together by a sperewigend back at Helm's Deep and forwarded here to the Meduseld barracks." He looked back at her then, allowing a little of his concern to show through.

He scratched the thick beard on his chin subconsciously as he tried to work out how to phrase his request without seeming overly critical of his old comrades in Westmark, reflecting mildly that the dense hair was uncomfortable in this heat, for there was surely no other reason for him to sudden feel so flushed.
"I do not wish to be overly critical of my cavalry comrades, but I am concerned that if such a task were left to the sperewigends or Dryhtgumas that were under my command previously, they might mistake some of my dearest possessions for rubbish and, I confess, I am uncomfortable allowing them an opportunity to root through my belongings. I have nothing to hide, I assure you, its just that... I have never really gotten along with many of my subordinates on a personal level; I suppose lack the people skills to bridge the gap between commander and friend. I have often had to take a firm hand with one or two of the more rebellious types, and I'm sure you can imagine how some might take this opportunity for a little light revenge against the strict and impersonal commander who isn't likely to return." He was surprised at how much he was sharing, especially regarding his own failings as a junior commander. He had intended to keep his request brief and to the point; perhaps it was because he was so concerned that he would be refused if he did not explain fully, or perhaps it was because his new Marshal had clearly mastered the approachable and patient nature that was fast becoming the trend among these younger cavalry commanders.

He tried to relax, to stop speaking so formally and awkwardly, his words sounding clunky and off-beat as he said them, and took a softer, more confessional tone.
"I don't own much, Gwai, I am prone to thriftiness and prudence, but it means that what little I have I treasure that much greater. I confess I would be very upset if any of my few precious belongings were handled without respect or should come to harm or, worse yet, go missing in the move." He swallowed then, still feeling awkward in the request even despite his attempts to explain, but courageously pressing on with it all the same. "I would ask you; has word already been sent to Helm's Deep of my transfer and request for my goods to be transported? And if not, could you... perhaps... delay the same until such a time as I can attend there myself? Or, at the least, might I be allowed to choose someone - a rider or sperewigend I trust - who might be sent in my stead, please, sir?"He knew she would probably disapprove of the formality tagged on at the end, but for him it felt only proper to refer to her rank while making such a personal request of his superior officer, especially when it regarded proper conduct of Éored transfers and here he was asking her to disregard the same for him. He held his breath, silently, trying to brace himself for bad news.


Image
Æthelwigend of the Meduseld Éored

Knight of The Mark
Points: 828 
Posts: 414
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 3:55 pm
Store Rooms
NPC: Jacen
Sperewigend of the Westmark


He knew he should be blushing or ashamed or something about how he had....acquired...everything so quickly, but truthfully it was a skill he was proud of. When you grew up in a house with your older siblings, you had to learn to be resourceful. Especially with his siblings. Shiva was strict and had eyes in the back of her head, and Daran was so good at judging people he knew immediately when his little brother was lying. So he'd learned ways around all that. Not that he used it for wrongdoing. Just...fun.

Instead he grinned proudly at Eldrith and was about to explain about his siblings when they were interrupted by two people coming into the stores, grabbing a broom and shovel (he held tightly to the broom he'd pilfered in case they tried to get that) and left again but not before the first one, Walpurga he remembered, stuttered something about them wanting a place to..well...something. He felt his ears redden as his mind supplied the rest, and suppressed a giggle at the confusion.

When they left he let out the laugh he was holding in. Eomund, I think the one was. The other one, that fell, was Walpurga. They're new to the Cavalry. He grinned some more. He was pretty sure he would have some more helpers soon if the new Quartermaster got her way.

At the orders to start picking up the debris and stacking it outside he nodded and held out the broom. When Eldrith took it he moved to do as ordered, starting with anything that was still useable. He grabbed a crate of what looked like ceramic cups, half of them spilled around the room, and quickly set to work picking up the intact ones, then set them outside to one side of the door. Then, heading back in he went for the next thing, this time choosing all the broken boards and larger bits of debris he could pick up and carry. Once he got that out of the way he figured they'd have more idea what stuff could be saved and what couldn't.


@Eldrith
Image
First Marshal of the Mark
Eastmark Eored

Forth Eorlingas!

Balrog
Points: 5 867 
Posts: 3513
Joined: Mon May 18, 2020 11:02 am
Image

Walpruga
Stables, City Gates, and Onward


She nodded to Éomund and turned in the direction of the stables. She found her pony, Svanhilde, near the end of the row. The dark bay pony whinnied as she came near, Walpurga smiled and her hand gently over the mares back. “Hey there, did you miss me?” she cooed. She ducked back outside, grabbed an apple, and fed it to the pony as she began to saddle her. She began humming tunelessly as she laid the saddle blanket, a weaving of her own making, over Svanhilde’s back then placed the saddle on top. She cinched up the ties on each side, chiding the pony as she tried to hold in her breath . “It’s only going to worse for you if you do that, silly girl.” She scratched behind the pony’s ear reassuringly then tested the saddle to make sure it was secure. Once she was satisfied, she bridled her pony and led her out. “We’re going to go on a little adventure,” she said she returned to the courtyard. Éomund was already saddled and ready. She nodded and mounted Svanhilde, who neighed in mock protest. “You stop that!” she chided again. “We’re going to get out of the city and have a good time. You behave now!” She smiled and rubbed the pony’s shaggy neck.

She nodded to her companion, seated a little higher than she was. “Ready?” Without waiting for a reply, she nudged Svanhilde into action. The pony snorted and began walking at a slow trot. The streets were relatively clear this time of day and Walpurga made good time navigating the streets. “Who knew all you needed was to be on the back of a pony,” she said aloud. As if in answer, Svanhilde whinnied her agreement. Walpurga actually laughed, forgetting for a moment the utter embarrassment that the storage rooms had been. She had her pitch fork in hand (how much use it was going to be was debatable) and her eyes set on the gate. The sun was high the sky and heat radiated out from seemingly everywhere. Summers in the Riddermark were no laughing matter. She could already feel herself beginning to sweat. She wiped the back of her hand across her forehead and felt the dampness. “A fine day to go digging for a tree,” she said with a soft chuckle.

She stopped at the gate, making sure Éomund was with her. “And away we go,” she said to both her companion and the pony. She nudged Svanhilde forward and moved into a medium trot, the fastest she was going to push her pony in this harsh summer heat. “Would it kill you to throw some clouds in the sky?” she asked no one in particular as they reached the bottom of the hill. She exhaled and patted her pony on the neck again.
Strange Fruit got holes in the flesh but it ain't gonn' spoil cause it never was fresh

Elven Enchanter
Points: 2 265 
Posts: 1451
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 2:15 am
Éomund
City Gates and headed towards a river


It was a hot day as they headed out towards the river. As they journeyed out of the gate, Éomund looked sadly at the skeletons of houses and piles of burned wood. He could hardly believe that such a devastating fire had occurred only the day before. He laughed when she asked the sky for some clouds. Some more rain would certainly be nice. Hopefully the ground was still a bit wet by the river. It would make digging out a tree that much easier.

Before too long, the pair arrived at the Snowbourne. Éomund dismounted and began to look around for a smallish tree. It would have to be small enough for the pair of them to dig up and transport back to the courtyard, but at the same time, it needed to be big enough to work for their purposes. Eventually he found one that seemed suited to their purposes. It stood a head or two shorter than him and the trunk's diameter was now bigger than his thumb, but still plenty big enough to use. The branches were covered in rich, green leaves and no one knew what ent-wives looked like anywayNow all they needed to still do was dig it up and transport it back to the courtyard. "Bother!" cried Éomund, "I forgot to grab a bucket!" Well, they would have to make do. Perhaps between the pitchfork and the extra lead rope they might be able to make something?

Éomund stood there for a moment, eyeing the tree. This would be much easier of both of them had managed to procure a shovel, but the one would have to do. Hopefully it was in good enough shape to be up to the task. He angled the shovel in the dirt a few inches away from the base of the tree, and pressed his foot down on the shovel's edge. It slowly sank into the dirt, which was still a bit on the damp side. Whether that was from the rain or from being close to the river, Éomund didn't mind, but he was grateful. He began to dig a trench around the tree, hacking away at the roots as needed. By this time, Walpurga had also dismounted and approached the now sweaty Éomund. She offered to take a turn at digging, which Éomund gratefully accepted. The two continued to alternate digging (and took a few breaks to splash some water on their faces) until the trench surrounded the tree and a great many roots had been broken off. "Now, to get it out," Éomund said at last, wiping some sweat off his brow and smearing dirt across his face in the process. He looked a mess - his hands were covered in dirt and his trainee uniform was wet, from both river water and sweat, and dirt clung all over. Walpurga didn't look much tidier.

He edged the shovel under one side of the root ball and pushed down on the shovel handle. The tree shifted ever so slightly, so he repeated the process. Walpurga joined him in pressing down on the shovel handle. "More weight should help," she explained. Eventually between the pair of them and the help of the lever, the tree toppled over onto the grass.

"How are we going to get this back to the courtyard?" wondered Éomund. "Do you think we could tie it onto Sunbeorht?" He held up the extra lead rope he had brought with him.

@Frostbite (slight godmodding of Walpurga done with permission)

Elven Enchanter
Points: 2 265 
Posts: 1451
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 2:15 am
Éomund (AFTER THE THRONE ROOM)
The Memorium


Blinking in the sudden sunshine after exiting the Throne Room, Éomund had no idea where he should go. As much as he wanted to go and find Grimthain, he knew that he should leave his uncle be for now. The rush of never-seen-before emotions that Grimthain had displayed frightened him, and even if he could go and find his uncle, he had no idea what he would do or say. Once again, he hoped that he had done enough. In so many ways he had depended on his Fædera, and now he wondered if it was time for him to be there for Grimthain.

Éomund's feet took him in the direction of the Courtyard and to the quiet corner known as the Memorium. A simple stone stood there, in memory of all the fallen Cavalry members. He sat down on a bench nearest the stone and laid the sword across his lap. For a few minutes, he sat there in utter silence, the only sound the chirping of a few birds, his eyes closed, head bowed, hand gently resting on the sheath. At last he opened his eyes and stared once again at the memorial. "Fæder," he murmured, reaching into his pocket to once again feel the presence of the letter, "Why did you have to leave me? Why did you have to leave mum?" He could feel the tears coming once again, but this time there was no need to wipe them away: he was alone and could cry in peace. He wept for the loss of his father, for Grimthain's pain, for his strained relationship with his mother. But most of all he wept for himself: for his anger at not knowing his father, the love shown in the letter, the grief he had unknowingly carried his entire life.

At last, when all his tears were shed, he gripped the hilt of the sword, lightly tracing his name. Gently turning the sword over, he repeated the process with his mother's name. It felt strange to be handling such a weapon, to be holding something that was a prized possession of his father's. How much had this sword seen? It was very simple in design, as made sense for the sword of a poor, lower ranking member of the Cavalry, but Éomund could tell that it had been treated as if it were the sword of the king himself. And he was determined to always treat this sword with the respect that it deserved. He clenched his eyes shut as he tried to once again recall the memory of polishing the sword with his father's hand guiding his.

Through blurry eyes, he looked from the memorial, to the sword, and back to the memorial. For as long as he could remember, he had desired to know his father, but that was not to be, could never be. With the upheaval of the day, taking his Cavalry oath, receiving the insignia of Dryhtguma, receiving the sword, and reading his father's words for the first time, Éomund felt both closer to his father and more aware of the ache in his heart. But here, sitting in front of the memorial, he finally felt at peace. "I want to make you proud," he said, clenching the sword hilt in his hand. "I want to live up to your memory, to be worthy to be your son." He took in a shuddering breath and murmured, "Fæder, I wish I knew you. I wish you had lived to see me grow up. I wish we could've been a happy family." Éomund closed his eyes once again and rocked back and forth as he tried to think of what else he should say. "I wish you were here to celebrate this day. Thank you for defending this world. Thank you for being a friend to Fædera. I don't want to think about what life would be like without him. He was there, as a father, when you could not be." He hiccuped as a few tears once again threatened to fall down his cheeks as he realised with words something that he had always known deep inside. Grimthain had carried the burden of being there as his father, despite the persistent grudge his mother had held, and had always been there for him. He may not have truly gotten to know his father, but he had a father just the same.

Éomund slowly pulled the sword out of the sheath and looked at it. He could just catch his reflection in the polished blade. His eyes were puffy and his nose a bit red. "I look a sight," he muttered, but then once again he took a deep breath. He knew what he needed to do. "I don't know if there's supposed to be a ceremony for this," he said to the sword, "but I name you Ædsceaft (new birth)." This day had been full of new things and perhaps it was finally time for him to accept himself as he was: Éomund from the Westfold, now Éomund, Dryhtguma of the Eastmark. His father was Éodred, the hero of Sceornbeorg. His father was Grimthian, the haunted man who had so willingly stepped into the role of guiding a young boy through life.

His whole life he had strived to become someone his father (both father's he realised) could be proud of. And for the first time in his life, he knew that was true. Some words of the letter floated back to him: "Éomund, I want you to know that you will grow into a wonderful young man. I regret not bring there to see you grow up, but whatever you do in life, will make me proud. You’re my son." He had made his father proud and now it was time to make a name for himself. The past was the past and the best way he could honour the memory of Éodred and the persistence and guidance of Grimthain was to try and step out from this shadow of the past that he had created and become his own man. He sheathed Ædsceaft, but didn't make a move to stand up just yet. He needed a few more minutes to simply sit here in the quiet and think.

@Allacan ob Burzum (Feel free to have Grimthain find Éomund here and then proceed to the Riddermarket or Éomund can just head over there and we'll do our handwaving of the timeline. I just needed to get this scene written out before we did anything more and it morphed into a larger and more dramatic post than I had intended.)

New Soul
Points: 1 217 
Posts: 608
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 8:40 am
Image

Gwai, with Grimthain (@Allacan ob Burzum)
Main Courtyard




Gwai covered a smile as Grimthain stuttered over calling her “Third Marshal” rather than her name, muttering something she couldn’t quite overhear except for “old dogs”. She vaguely wondered exactly how old he really was, before deciding it was absolutely none of her business.

She concentrated instead as the Æthel made his request to return to Helm’s Deep, or dispatch someone he trusted to retrieve his belongings. “Grimthain, I apologize, I had not thought of that at all!” she exclaimed, chagrined. “I should have realized you had no time to attend to that. Your transfer was so sudden. My only excuse is the last few days have been so hectic, between the fires, the promotions…” she trailed off, feeling guilty she had ignored the needs of one of her people.

“Of course, you must go to Helm’s Deep yourself!” she said firmly, patting Brightfyr on the neck, who was busy watching a nearby butterfly. “I would not care to have somebody else packing up my belongings either, particularly some of those I may have needed to take a stern approach with!” she said, shaking her head as she thought of what sort of mischief (or worse) that could be done to his personal things. She was impressed with the self-confidence it took to be able to discuss he felt he lacked people skills. As she was probably too friendly on occasion, she was even more glad he had transferred to Meduseld. "Nobody has been dispatched to do so, either," she added, again feeling quite guilty she had not thought of this issue.

She noted his continued use of formality, but did not comment. If he was not comfortable with informality, then she would not press the issue. She had a feeling this request had been difficult for him to bring up, although she was not entirely certain why, as it was an eminently reasonable request to make.

Gwai studied him for a brief moment, pushing some hair that had strayed out of her braid back behind her ear. “If you are anything like the cavalry men in my family, I would suspect you haven’t taken personal leave in quite some time?” she queried with a slight smile, raising her eyebrows, not wanting to offend him. “Please take all the time you need to pack your belongings, and finish anything you may need to at Helm’s Deep!” She realized she knew very little about the man, who for all she knew had six children he would need to move from one of the villages. “Do you have a family that will be moving with you?” she asked, before continuing, “When you return we will sit down and speak more about the Éored, and review what training the newer recruits have completed, and what you would recommend we proceed with in the future,” she proposed, flipping Brightyfr’s reins against her palm absently. "But please, take your time, and do all you need to. I promise I won't scare off our entire Éored while you're gone," she teased gently.
Image
Third Marshal of the Mark
Meduseld Éored

Balrog
Points: 5 867 
Posts: 3513
Joined: Mon May 18, 2020 11:02 am
Image

Walpurga
Down by the River & Back at the Courtyard


The work was arduous, hot, and dirty but at least it was done now. Walpurga wiped the sweat off her brow and leaned heavily on the pitch fork. The sun was higher in the sky and everything around her seemed to shimmer in the heat. She could see Edoras in the distance but a mirage of water shimmered just below it. She tried to swallow but her throat was incredibly dry. She watched under tired, heavy eyes (not to mention tired muscles) as Éomund stood looking at the willow sapling, his gaze looking contemplatively at the the extra lead he brought with him. Walpurga nodded, pushed herself purposefully away from he or pitch fork and stood beside him.

“It’s a tiny little thing, if you can find a good place to the it on your horse then I’m sure one of us could just carry it back. If fact,” she grabbed the sapling from the ground, hefted in her hands to test the weight and nodded sagely, “we may not even need to the it down at all. I could cradle the thing in my arms on the way back. If I get undo portable we can switch. How does that sound?”

Éomund looked at the sapling for a moment, thinking, “ Aye, that could work too.”

“Excellent,” she said with a smile. Without waiting or hesitating, she climbed up on Svanhildr, balancing the willow sapling in her left hand as she grabbed the horn of the saddle and pulled herself up. The pony neighed impatiently. Walpurga waited as Éomund mounted up on Sunbeorht. Once they were both ready, she nudged Svanhildr into action and they were off. It took the promise of several apples for the stubborn, moody pony to move quickly, but once she did they made good time. It would only be late afternoon by the they got back to the courtyard. The tiny sapling made her itch when it rubbed too much against her arms and after about fifteen minutes she readjusted it so it was cradled at an angle and over her shoulder rather than across her arms. That made it much easier to carry, and to see. She hadn’t realized how much the tree itself had blocked her view. She sneezed a few times as the sapling bobbed against her shoulder.

“Bema bless you!” Éomund called out from behind her. She waved back him, rubbing her nose. The sooner they got rid of this willow the better.

The rest of the trip was spent in silence, both Cavalry members too tired, hot, and exhausted to try and carry on a conversation.

Once they made it back to Edoras, they switched and Éomund carried the sapling through the city streets. Walpurga was glad to be rid of it, as soon as she handed it over she stopped sneezing. Éomund took the lead on his horse while Walpurga pulled Svanhildr back and scratched her mane. “A few apples between us and a good brushing will do us both good.” She murmured.

They reached the courtyard quickly, she suspected that Éomund knew a better route through the city despite all her wanderings. Once there, she re-stabbled Svanhildr while Éomund did the same with Sunbeorht. She gathered up their shovel and pitch fork and quickly (and quietly) replaced them in the storage room. On her way out, she grabbed a medium sized clay pot and presented it.

“Here you are, I think that’s all you’ll need.” She smiled and touched his shoulder gently. “Good luck in there.”


OOC: ( minor godmodding done with @Dimcairien Luiniel's blessing)
Strange Fruit got holes in the flesh but it ain't gonn' spoil cause it never was fresh

Thain of The Mark
Points: 1 271 
Posts: 660
Joined: Wed May 20, 2020 9:40 pm
Æthelwigend Grimthain, human, he/him
Pre-Lost and Found RPG and therefore pre-youthifying haircut, with @Gwai


When she went to apologise, he feared the worst and felt his chest clench, but then he realised he was apologising for... neglecting him? He tried to shake his head, to tell her it was fine if she had not thought of it with everything that had been happened, to put her mind at ease, but her words continued on before he could reply. He breathed a deep sigh of relief at Gwai's re-assuring response that he himself should go to Helm's Deep, and the implication that no orders had yet been sent there to remove his belongings. But more than relief he found himself overcome once again with wonder at this woman, who cared so for the soldiers under her command that she focussed instead on her own duty toward them and not on the impact it might be for her to lose her Æthelwigend so soon after his re-assignment. He was enchanted by her compassion, her patience, her warm easy company. He realised suddenly that he needed to excuse himself quickly before he did or said something inexcusible, and yet he found himself drawn to remaining in her presence a little longer while he responded to her queries.

He cleared his throat and kept his eyes trained on Brightfyr and stroking the horse to help maintain his own calm.
"I have no family that I live with, nor do I have any surviving relatives that I am aware of. I have resided within the cavalry barracks for most of my adult life, I have never really had any other home. My personal affairs in the Westfold should not take long, but it is good to know I am permitted to take the time to see to them. As for leave I..." he considered his words carefully, seeking the best way to say things without immediately revealing his relationship with Eomund when he was as yet unsure if the younger man wanted to make that clear, and when he himself was reluctant to see the lad treated differently for his association with him. "There is someone very dear to me who has recently moved to the city to... achieve something specific. And I would prefer to remain here and in service to the cavalry long enough to support them in that endeavour. But I assure you, as soon as that is completed I will take some proper personal leave and return to Helm's Deep to collect my belongings and resolve my affairs there. If you would be kind as to ask Second Marshal Taethowen to refrain from sending any commands to clear out my stuff from my shared room in the Westmark barracks before then, I would be very grateful."

He smiled at her final joking remark then, and with great mental effort and the mental resolve of a professional soldier, forced his face not to flush as he finished. "If they scare off so easily, then we will have plenty of work to busy us as we drill them into shape! I would greatly appreciate a chance to sit down with you and discuss the Éored, the training of new recruits and your plans for the future, at whatever time and place is most convenient for you. But perhaps after we have all had a chance to recover from these fires, and maybe after my return from settling my affairs in the Westfold, if it can wait so long?" he suggested with a smile as an unexpected hope unfurled somewhere deep inside him. Recalling himself, and her weariness then, he added "And definitely after you have managed to get some rest away from pestering Æthelwigends" he grinned companionably to take some of the bite of the self-admonishment out of the statement. Then he stepped back and straightened up into a formal salute that was somewhat disarmed by his warm smile, now less deferential, more a respectful acknowledgment between, dare he hope it, friends. "Permission to be excused, Gwai." he forced himself to use her preferred term, though it felt awkward and made his stomach flip in that weird, excited, anxious way he had not felt since he was a teen, and waited for her dismissal before leaving her to her horse and, he hoped, her rest.


Image
Æthelwigend of the Meduseld Éored

New Soul
Points: 1 217 
Posts: 608
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 8:40 am
Gwai
Main Courtyard with Grimthain (@Allacan ob Burzum)



Gwai felt a twinge of sympathy for Grimthain as he calmly told her he had no family, or even any relatives. She said nothing, however, as she did not know him well, and was unsure how he would respond, not wanting to make him uncomfortable.

He vaguely described someone he was trying to assist, and Gwai forbore to press any further, as his business was his own. She tried to stifle a cough, mentally cursing having let herself get stuck in the old Aethelmund. She concentrated instead on what he was saying. Someone dear to him, and she wondered briefly whom, before turning her thoughts back to the matter at hand. “I will confess, I am relieved you are delaying your journey somewhat!” She glanced around for anyone near, but they were alone in the Courtyard. She lowered her voice anyway. “I was just recently informed there was an assassination attempt in the Riddermarket,” she told him. “In broad daylight! That, with the fires breaking out yesterday, has me a bit nervous, and it will be good to have you here.”

But they could discuss this later. Her throat was aching from talking, and bed was calling her name. “We most certainly can plan the training when you return,” she told him, with a smile at his joke. Perhaps he wasn’t as straightlaced as she had thought at first. He had quite a nice smile too, she thought, when he decided to show it. “And I’ll be sure to mention to Marshal Taethowen to issue orders to leave your belongings alone when I see her next!” she added. She returned his salute, saying, “Of course! We’ll speak later,” and clicked her tongue at Brightfyr, who looked to have dozed off, looking forward to some well deserved rest.
Image
Third Marshal of the Mark
Meduseld Éored

Elven Enchanter
Points: 2 265 
Posts: 1451
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 2:15 am
Image
Éomund
Main Courtyard - before F&F

After they arrived back in the Courtyard, re-stabled their horses, and Walpurga had returned the tools, Éomund found himself standing in the courtyard with a clay pot and the (now slightly bedraggled) willow sapling. "Now what?" he sighed. He was beginning to wonder if he had thought this through. What on earth had possessed him to engage Walpurga in this crazy endeavour? The smoke from the fires of the night before must have gone to his head. That was the only logical explanation for this level of insanity.

With a groan and a sigh, he heaved the sapling into the clay pot. Thankfully it managed to just fit, though the roots appeared to be a bit squished. "Ok," he murmured, "now to make you into a convincing ent-wife." He looked around the courtyard and noticed a handful of wildflowers that had been spared the inferno of the night before. While the main body of the courtyard didn't have too much damage, there was still a smell of smoke and a light dusting of ash everywhere. He picked a few of the brightly coloured flowers and arranged them in the branches of the tree. Ent-wives liked pretty things, right? He also found a few branches that had likely fallen off of some trees during the storm the night before. They could serve as arms, though whether or not ent-wives actually had arms was beyond him. He managed to shove them into a crook in the tree and murmured a prayer that they would stay put.

Several flowers later, Éomund decided that the project was just about complete. But how should he present it to the Third Marshal? (He still had no idea what her name was and the woman still terrified him, though he was extremely relieved that she didn't hate him for injuring her). He had no interest in dragging this project any further than he already had, so presenting it in the Dragon Room was out of the question, but perhaps he could simply wait in a corner of the Courtyard? At least for a little while. Surely she would be coming through at some point as you needed to pass the main courtyard to get to the stables. He sighed, and sank down to the ground. At least the willow sapling, now temporarily serving as a "ent-wife" provided some amount of shade while he waited. He hoped that the Marshal would appreciate the joke. Grimthain had implied that it would be a good idea, but now he was starting to doubt himself.

Image

@Gwai ((We can totally have Gwai find Éomund and the "ent-wife" the next "day" as I know your character needs some rest after the fires. He can easily hide it in the courtyard overnight and reappear the next day, waiting for you. And I think this picture of the "ent wife" is the result of my alcohol induced plaza posting.))

Esquire of The Mark
Points: 612 
Posts: 339
Joined: Fri May 15, 2020 1:46 am
Mmm... I think I shall put a request in..

*she murmured, as you gave the names. They'd come in here, grabbed equipment, ran out without as much as a by-your-leave, and something about the quartermaster position brought her back to the strength she'd felt in Gondor as a cook. There had been no doubt at the time who held the scepter, or rather the ladle in her kitchens. And peeling duty had not been an uncustomary 'appointment' for rangers who needed time to 'think about their behavior.

As Jacen started to work though, she had the feeling that this was the beginning of an excellent partnership. He was quick, creative, and not work shy. The fact that she could see a streak of mischief more than common in young boys throughout didn't deterr her from that thought. Work was the making of a man. And they were making a start. That's what they were doing.. clearing out debris, and dust would be the first step. After that would be structural changes, though until that could be done.. she was not a carpenter, but even she knew that the hole in the floor was caused by the hole in the roof. And that the hole in the roof was the first thing they would need to stop. But how?*

Do you know a carpenter who might want to take on the roof, and in the mean time... how comfortable are you climbing?

*She would do it herself if you were not comfortable, not willing to ask something of another that she didn't think safe, but you were younger, more agile, and quite possibly more than ready for a chance to get on the roof..

@Shivased
Image
Kill-Stealing Skirt Wench
When others ride out to win renown, let me chosen to tend the house.

New Soul
Points: 1 217 
Posts: 608
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 8:40 am
Main Courtyard
A Later Date than the Day After the Fires


It was a pleasant morning, and the hint of smoke that had lingered over the last few days had all but disappeared. It was early still, with few around, and Gwai headed toward the stable where she had left Brightfyr last night, since she had been planning on returning early today. They would work on some training exercises in the field before she headed to the Dragon Room for other duties. Paperwork, most likely, she thought glumly with a mental eyeroll, adjusting the bow she had slipped over her shoulder, stifling a lingering cough that hadn’t quite resolved.

In her head she was already on the training field, and it took a brief second for her to register the odd happenings in the Courtyard. Éomund she immediately recognized sitting on the ground, under a willow sapling that was decorated incongruously with bright flowers she was fairly certain did not belong in willow trees, as well as some branches which most certainly were not willow branches, sticking out like arms.

Gwai halted abruptly, staring at the tree in the pot, trying to make sense of what she was looking at, before looking at the young trainee. “Éomund,” she said slowly. “Did you...did you bring me an Entwife?” she asked, astonished, her blue eyes sparkling. She tried to keep her lips from twitching as she held back a smile, impressed with Éomund’s ingenuity, if that was truly what this was. Or perhaps he was a budding horticulturist, and she had misread the situation. If he was, however, she would recommend he not quit his cavalry day job.
Image
Third Marshal of the Mark
Meduseld Éored

Elven Enchanter
Points: 2 265 
Posts: 1451
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 2:15 am
Main Courtyard
After the Fires, but Before Lost & Found


As he hadn't come across the Third Marshal immediately after completing the "Entwife", Éomund decided to try again on another day. And so, early one morning he was sitting under the potted willow sapling (which thankfully was still happy looking). The air was already getting much cleaner and most of the smoky smell was starting to dissipate. As he sat there, Marshal Gwai came around the corner. She stopped in front of him and looked rather surprised. When she asked if he had brought an entwife, Éomund quickly leapt to his feet.

"M-Marshal," he stuttered, trying to regain his composure. "Y-Yes, I-I did." Bema! Why did he have to be so awkward in front of her? He knew she didn't hate him, but he still had injured her, and that naturally made him terrified that she would change her mind about him. "It-it was an order." He clenched his fist and gave a quick salute, hoping that it was the right action.

He stood there, rocking back and forth on his feet, trying to maintain some sort of demeanor. Would she appreciate how he had interpreted the order? He bit his lip (it was a wonder his lip wasn't a bloody mess considering how often he found himself doing that exact action), and waited to see what she would say. He tried to look up at her and in the quick glance he managed to make, noticed that her eye still looked swollen and painful. Éomund quickly averted his eyes and waited for her judgement. He desperately hoped he had followed Grimthian's advice correctly. If he hadn't, he highly doubted he would ever want to show his face in Edoras again.

@Gwai

Thain of The Mark
Points: 1 271 
Posts: 660
Joined: Wed May 20, 2020 9:40 pm
Æthelwigend Grimthain, human, he/him
Pre-Lost and Found RPG and therefore pre-youthifying haircut (days before Gwai's meeting with Éomund)
Entering the Barracks and then going on 'patrol'


As he exited the courtyard, pointedly ignoring the melancholy feeling of regret that he had not spent more time with the Third Marshal, or perhaps taken her up immediately on her invitation to sit together and discuss about the future of the Éored. He was more than aware that it was unprofessional and distracting for him to be having these feelings for his commanding officer, and he needed to get them under control as soon as possible so they would not compromise his capability to serve or stand in the way of his duty. "She was only being friendly, and acting in the best interests of the Éored, it had nothing at all to do with you." He whispered to himself as he reached his barracks room, still bereft of any personal touches. He had been surprised to discover that he had a twin room to himself, for now at least - either the cavalry numbers had dwindled indeed or space was less of an issue here than in the Deep.

He sat down on the bed and tried to clear his mind.
"She's an excellent woman, and she will make an excellent commander, if you can stop thinking like a testosterone-fuelled teen and pull yourself together Grimthain!" He chastised himself in muted angry tones, then shook his head and sighed sadly to himself. All this ridiculous daydreaming was pointless; she would never consider a social recluse like him; someone like her needed fire and passion and charisma, someone to sweep her off her feet and make her appreciate herself; qualities he felt himself sorely lacking. No, he would not try it; all things pass, and soon enough this strange obsession he was developing would too.

He tried instead to focus on the words she had spoken in low, soft whispers that had momentarily stunned him such that he had not found the words to respond at the time.
“I was just recently informed there was an assassination attempt in the Riddermarket, in broad daylight! That, with the fires breaking out yesterday, has me a bit nervous, and it will be good to have you here.” He tore his hopeful heart away from considering those last throwaway words again and focussed on the first ones. An attack in the heart of the capital on a bright summer's day like today, hot on the heels of last night's fires? He reached up a hand to pensively play with the coarse, singed ends of his beard - he really should cut them away, but his grooming kit was still in Helm's Deep - and pondered what he should do. Gwai had spoken to him in confidential terms, so she clearly expected him to keep this news to herself, but it seemed foolish to not at least encourage the soldiers to be on their toes for any further mischief.

Filing away his feelings for another day, he took a deep breath, pursed his lips and stood up as though coming to attention. He was the new Meduseld Æthelwigend on duty and it was past time he made a name for himself. The Meduseld troops might be exhausted from the fires last night and taking some well earned rest, but they could not afford to grow lax or lazy when there were malicious would-be murderers in the city. He was still dressed in his finest cavalry regalia after dressing so to answer the summons, and he may as well make use of it. He was not a person who preferred to throw his authority around with hasty summons, barked orders and exhausting drills; at least not if a solution could be found by less aggressive, authoritative means. Lead by example, he had always said, and so he would. With renewed purpose, he set out on a full round of the cavalry grounds and beyond, a solo patrol in marched formality that also served to introduce himself to the troops, as each time he saw a cavalry insignia he stopped and broke into informality to speak and familiarise himself with the soldiers, greet them and introduce himself, possible crack a few jokes, but always explaining his *personal* concern that some of the fires may have been arson, and how he *personally* would be keeping vigilant in the days to come. Subtle, gentle, not so authoritative as an order and not breaking Gwai's confidence, but all the same spreading a calm and steady word to keep your eyes out for more mischief, a message it seemed that at least one of two paid heed to.


Image
Æthelwigend of the Meduseld Éored

New Soul
Points: 1 217 
Posts: 608
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 8:40 am
Main Courtyard
A Later Date than the Day After the Fires

Éomund jumped to his feet and stuttered that he had, indeed, brought her an Entwife. Gwai felt bad for the young man, who looked as if he were going to jump out of his skin he was so nervous. She returned his salute. “Stand at ease,” she said.

Gwai put her hands on her hips and surveyed the tree, flowers plastered to it, and little branch arms. “Éomund,” she said slowly, surveying the tree, “This is, without a doubt, the best example of an Entwife I have ever seen!”

She paused a moment, eyes twinkling as she smiled at him. “In fact, it might be the only example of an Entwife I have ever seen! I think we should plant it somewhere nearby, don’t you?” she asked him.


@Dimcairien Luiniel
Image
Third Marshal of the Mark
Meduseld Éored

Elven Enchanter
Points: 2 265 
Posts: 1451
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 2:15 am
Main Courtyard
After the Fires, but Before Lost & Found


The Marshal returned his salute and told him to stand at ease. Éomond tried to relax his pose a bit, but found it to be very difficult as he still had no idea how to act around any Cavalry officers. The only one he had ever spent any amount of time with before was Grimthain, and he was practically family, so that didn't count.

The Third Marshal almost appeared concerned while she spoke to him, but why would a Marshal care about a lowly trainee, especially one who had injured her? And then her next words caused him to stumble back and almost fall to the ground. She liked it! If he hadn't been nearly frightened to death, Éomund would have let out a whoop, but as it was, his face managed to crack a slight smile and he let out a long, nervous sigh.

And then she asked a very unexpected question. Éomund gave her a blank stare for several seconds, before licking his lips and saying, "Pl-plant it? W-Where?" Part of him wanted to run away and hide since this extremely strange task was done, but he also wondered why on earth the Third Marshal would even be interested in planting the extremely odd tree.

@Gwai

New Soul
Points: 1 217 
Posts: 608
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 8:40 am
Image

Gwai, with Éomund (@Dimcairien Luiniel)
Main Courtyard
After Fires, Before Lost & Found

Éomund seemed to go from amazed she liked his Entwife, to shocked she would want to plant it. Her heart went out to the young man, who seemed so unsure of himself. She knew little of his past, but hoped he would soon find self-confidence. The cavalry was a good place for that.

“You went to so much work, I think we should enjoy it! Granted the arms and the hair accessories probably won’t last,” she said with mock seriousness. “But I don’t think a willow tree would last in my office for long, it’s pretty cramped in there already,” she laughed. “I need a small plant for in there, not a tree!”

Sobering a bit, she then said, “But you completed your mission admirably! We do not have to plant it if you’d rather not. If you have training that requires your attention, you can leave it here with me, I don’t want you getting into trouble with your Larm for being late! Do you have any idea where the shovels are kept?” she queried.
Image
Third Marshal of the Mark
Meduseld Éored

Elven Enchanter
Points: 2 265 
Posts: 1451
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 2:15 am
Éomund, with @Gwai
Main Courtyard
After Fires, Before Lost & Found


The Third Marshal began to explain her reasoning for wanting to plant the tree and Éomund felt that he could agree with her. It wouldn't be treating the tree very well to simply let it wither away in the pot. She reassured him that he had completed his mission and that if he had other tasks to complete, he was free to go and do them now. Éomund felt his shoulders start to relax, but the moment the Third Marshal asked about where shovels were kept, his face began to turn bright red.

He found a very interesting speck of dirt near his toes to stare at. "Th-the st-storage r-rooms," he stuttered, as he nervously fidgeted with his hands, while trying not to think about the embarrassing moment of the other day. Thankfully he hadn't seen either of the two cavalry members since that fateful moment and hoped to keep it that way for as long as possible.

He still wondered if he was cut out to be a member of the Cavalry. Yes, he had helped with the fires, but that was what anybody with a lick of common sense would do. But the Cavalry was such a prestigious position. Would he ever be able to wear and deserve the uniform? There was some sort of training exercise coming up and Éomund knew that he would either pass and be able to live up to his father's memory or fail and go home in utter disgrace.

Knight of The Mark
Points: 828 
Posts: 414
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 3:55 pm
Store Rooms
NPC: Jacen
Sperewigend of the Eastmark


Settling the last crate of save-able equipment outside, this time a crate full of water skins, Jacen dusted his hands on his pants and surveyed the room. It looked a bit better, at least, and it just left the debris to clear. He quickly finished up with the bigger debris, piling it on the opposite side of the door from the saveable things. It didn't take long, the larger pieces - roofing, broken boards, a couple piles of thatch roof and some broken shelves - were cumbersome but not hard to move.

He figured it had only taken a couple hours before the place was somewhat clean, and they could get to the task of repairs. Or he hoped so. He knew a bit about repairs and the like, but not much and he was the first to admit he didn't have an interest beyond needing to know basics so he could repair things around his family's stables. Still, he hoped it would be enough in this situation.

Sure, I can climb! he replied to Eldrith with a wide grin. Trees, beams, barns, houses....I've pretty much climbed it all. He glanced up at the hole in the ceiling, and then studied what shelving was left and the beams above them. I bet I could do it without a ladder, too. Those shelves look sturdy enough still, and if I get up them, I can get onto the beam and then up to the roof!


@Eldrith
Image
First Marshal of the Mark
Eastmark Eored

Forth Eorlingas!

Esquire of The Mark
Points: 463 
Posts: 233
Joined: Fri May 15, 2020 3:48 pm
Edoras – infirmary
(After Fires and Lost & Found)

Was it already several months since she retook the oath and offered her sword to the King again? The months had flown by in a flurry, and she had hardly set her feet in the infirmary between it all. She had been sent to do the physicals of the Westmarkers, then accepted back in Meduseld eored. Then there was the ill-fated retraining/team building/ mission... Ama shuddered at the thought, though no longer fuming as she had been in those first days. Of course, it had helped to see the First Marshal as angry as the five-year old when he didn't get it his way. She smiled a little at the memory of the First Marshal on the back of æthelwigend Grim, there was a sight to be held.

The hælend had spent much of her time in the training grounds, after all she had hardly wielded any weapons in a decade. She had been given the option to serve as a healer only, to not pick up the sword that for so many years had been on the bottom of a locked chest containing what little valuables her family possessed. She had considered it, to continue only with the medical part of the position. It wouldn't have made such a big change from her everyday life of the last decade, only access to more herbs and some help when needed. Her skills in healing was well-known in the Auld Town of Edoras, and around the homestead in the Eastfold where she had grown up, so those wounded or sick had made their ways to her doorstep. And she welcomed them, treating them as best as she could with what she had. But she was a hælend, and she knew that. She had always wanted to be among the hælends of the cavalry as a child, in time she had been trained by Fëawen and Áfor and others she had forgotten the names of. But they had always imprinted it in her, first a warrior, then a healer, doing what was needed at the moment.

Then she had met Shivased at the pub, how strange that evening had been. As if the wind itself had called her and so many from her half-forgotten past out that very evening. And she had been asked, almost implored, to return, even without weapons if she would only offer up her skills in herbs and medicine. Then the wigend had come, saying he had orders to visit all old wigends and cavalry members and request their return, if possible. She could not say no, she had taken the oath many years before. Yes, she had been released from her duties in the cavalry, when the cavalry was well stocked, the hælends plenty and young Rohirrims riding in daily to join in the cavalry. But once taken the oath had its hold on her, she was released from duty, but she had never been released from the oath, nor would she go back on the oath. As long as she was able to fullfill it, it was her duty to do it.

So she had returned, offering the old sword and her skills again. For she knew herself, she would not be able to see her comrades fighting, know that she was more needed on the battle field, and not be there. It was who she was, Amadhrill the hælend, warrior and healer as ordered. It was who the hælends of the cavalry were, wielding their weapons with great skills, whether it was herblore and needles or sword and dagger. Each to its use.

But it had taken her the spring and the summer, and it would take her longer, to be back at the same level as a warrior as she had been. She had spent as much time as she could in the Training Fields. It had been good in many ways, recieving training in swordmanship and the use of other weapons. Finding that the skills, allthough not used for many a year, still they returned when needed. And she found that age and experience in other areas had given her other advantages then she had when she was in her twenties. It had not been easy, finding the time to retrain and hone her skills as a warrior, between taking care of her home, garden, and fields they tended as a family. But the children were older now, they could be trusted to help more then before. So they had made it work, as a family.

Her steps are light as she enteres the infirmary of the Meduseld eored. She takes in the sight, clean and tidy, everything in its place and the smells of herbs. If she closes her eyes she can still find everything, the various herbs, poultices, instruments, rags, bandages, everything has its designated space, placed where it has always been placed. It is peaceful now, she smiles, the calm between waves and storms. She enters the tiny bed chamber that holds a bunk bed and the room for two chests, at the moment her chest is the only one there, ideally each of the bed chambers would have two hælends, but their numbers are small, so she is the only hælend and only a few wigends are placed on medic duties. She takes off the simple, faded dress and changes into an equally simple undied dress with the white linen pinafore over it. Her golden red hair is already tied back, but she changes the headscarf too. Again, she washes her hands carefully, readying herself to make a round.
Image
Hælend of Meduseld

New Soul
Points: 1 217 
Posts: 608
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 8:40 am
Image

Gwai, with Éomund (@Dimcairien Luiniel)


They had started out on the wrong foot (literally, when Éomund's foot collided with her face), and then she had clearly scared him when she sent him on the Entwife hunt. But just when Gwai thought she and Éomund had reached a more easy understanding after he brought his creative "Entwife", he immediately began blushing and stuttering. What could I possibly have said? she wondered to herself, mentally reviewing the last few minutes, confused. All she had done was ask about shovels!

"Ah, the storage room, that makes sense," she replied with a nod, feeling badly she had made the trainee uncomfortable once again. "I'll just go grab a shovel and have this tree planted in a trice! Perhaps by the Memorium would be an appropriate place," she said decisively.
Image
Third Marshal of the Mark
Meduseld Éored

Elven Enchanter
Points: 2 265 
Posts: 1451
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 2:15 am
Image
Éomund with @Gwai

Much to his relief, the Third Marshal clearly had no idea about the embarrassing incident surrounding the mention of shovels. Éomund kept his eyes firmly on the interesting bit of dirt while the Marshal mentioned getting the shovel and then planting the tree by the Memorium. It sounded like he wouldn't need to be involved with that bit, which he was extremely thankful for.

Éomund finally managed to look up, but tried to avoid making direct eye contact. He caught a glimpse of the black eye, which still looked awful considering it had only been a few days since the accident. "M-may I be excused?" he asked, doing his best to still stand there until he was officially dismissed.

New Soul
Points: 1 217 
Posts: 608
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 8:40 am
Gwai, with Éomund (@Dimcairien Luiniel)

Poor Éomund seemed to be profoundly nervous, unable to even look Gwai in the eye. Am I really that intimidating? she wondered to herself. He did ask, however, to be excused. "Permission granted," she said with a nod, turning to head toward the storage room to find a shovel and plant the "Entwife". It would be nice to be outdoors for a while, before heading to the Dragon Room.
Image
Third Marshal of the Mark
Meduseld Éored

Elven Enchanter
Points: 2 265 
Posts: 1451
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 2:15 am
Éomund, with @Gwai
Main Courtyard —> Stables —> Training Grounds


Much to his relief, the Marshal granted him permission to be excused. Éomund clenched his fist and saluted before hurring off as quickly as possible without running in the direction of the stables. After the insanity of the last few days, he needed some alone time with Sunbeorht. Yes, he had taken the horse out only the day before, but that was for Cavalry business. Today he simply needed to go and ride. "Hey there, boy," he whispered when he arrived. He reached out and stroked Sunbeorht's face. The horse nuzzled him and Éomund laughed, "No apples today, at least, not right now."

He began to saddle the horse, relishing in the sanctuary that the stables were offering. It was here, in the quiet that he felt most at home. He didn't need to worry about any other people, at least at the moment, and the horses always made him feel so calm. He never needed to worry about what they said or thought, they simply were there and at least Sunbeorht could always tell how he felt and knew just how to comfort him. Before long, the horse was saddled and Éomund made his way towards the training grounds, hoping to avoid the Third Marshal on his way.

Gwai:
(Thanks for the fun! And don't worry, Éomund will eventually get over his nervousness around Gwai.)

Thain of The Mark
Points: 2 582 
Posts: 1399
Joined: Tue May 19, 2020 10:44 pm
Larmægister Eideard
Larmægister Eideard is an NPC. His use is restricted to the Marshals only.


The Cavalry had been quiet for far too long. So long, that Eideard had practically retired. But mere days ago, he'd received summons from the First Marshal and the King, stating that there had been a change in command, and that new recruits were beginning flock to the Cavalry, and old veterans were returning.

Larmægister Eideard is tall and burly, and though his height is intimidating, if one watches closely they can see age starting to just barely stoop his shoulders. The top of his head is bald and shiny, but down his back trails a long braid which is more gray than blond when the light hits it right. He tends to roll his sleeves up just past his elbows, no matter the weather, and faded scars are visible across his arms, some from battle and some from reckless trainees. His eyes are steady and bright, a steely blue which seems to pin you from across the field if he catches some transgression in the works. However, those eyes can also be kind and compassionate when the situation warrants. His voice is gruff, but can still ring across the training field clearly.

Eideard is old. Old enough to be a veteran of not just the Northern Wind and Southern Storm campaigns, but also of the War of the Ring.

Eideard's skills are required again, though, and today he stands tall with a calm resolve in his heart, at the training fields outside Meduseld again. He'd been informed of two trainees - Corlisswyn and Hadassa. Both had some prior experience in the Cavalry, or least in training, and he was looking forward to the challenge of whipping them into shape.


@corlisswyn
@Pele Alarion (Hadassa)

Please report to Larmægister Eideard here in the Cavalry Courtyard within the next three days (by end of day Sep 18) to begin your Cavalry training. Upon your report, the Larmægister will assign your first tasks within 48 hours.

Training will consist of a minimum of 5 questions/tasks, each with a three-day deadline to complete.
@Pele Alarion - as per the discussion in the Dragon Room, your training will focus on weaponry.

@Dimcairien Luiniel If you wish for Éomund to follow along with the weaponry training, please report for training to Larmægister Eideard by end of day Sep 18 as well.
Image
Second Marshal of the Mark
Westmark Éored

High Warden of Tower
Points: 3 504 
Posts: 2316
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 2:58 pm
Hadassa
Reporting for training


After leaving the Dragon Room, Hadassa did not linger too long, only enough to eat the little bit of dried up bread she had kept in her pocket. She supposed the training would not be easy, so it was best to have at least something in her stomach.

What passed for a frugal meal finished, she hastened towards the training grounds. There she spotted an older man, tall and all business-like looking, and she could only guess that it was him she had to report to.

"Westu hal," she approached in a determined step and coming to a half before Eideard, snapped off a crisp salute. "Trainee Hadassa reporting for training, sir!"
Image

Elven Enchanter
Points: 2 265 
Posts: 1451
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 2:15 am
Éomund
Reporting for Additional Training


Upon leaving the Dragon Room, sword now resting at his side thanks to the (albeit slightly embarrassing to him) help of the First Marshal, Éomund made his way once again towards the Courtyard. While he was a member of the Cavalry, his swordsmanship skills were still sadly lacking and he had been informed that he was welcome to join the latest new recruits as they began their training. He had decided that such a course of action was probably wise.

When he arrived in the Courtyard, he was not alone. He spotted the Larmægister and another unfamiliar figure (Hadassa) who must be one of the new recruits that he had heard about. He listened as she introduced herself (if only he could have such confidence in his voice!) and when she was done, he slowly approached. "Westu hal!" he said, saluting Eideard. "Dryhtguma Éomund reporting, s-sir! I-I need to improve m-my sword skills."

He hoped that the Larmægister wouldn't think too poorly of him for requiring the extra training. Despite his new-found confidence, he still thought that he had many things to learn before he could be worthy of the badge that he was currently wearing. Hopefully learning how to properly wield his father's, now his, sword would help.
Image
Artanis / Éomund / Brandor / Zarâm

Post Reply