Life in the Mark

[Rowena Ellenweorc]

Welcome to the land of the horse and the Rider. Spring is fading into summer, and that means it is the time of year to start anew. Farmers are plowing their fields and planting, villagers have thrown open their windows to welcome the sun after what seemed an endless and dark winter. Travelers have decided this is the perfect time of year to visit the lush lands of the Rohirrim. Trade once again picks up, begging for people to accept lovely wares. Cavalry resumes its heavy patrols of the lands, challenging the Wildmen and Orcs that often plague the lands to try and mess with them.
That begs the question, what is your story? What do you spend your days in Rohan doing? Are you friend or foe? Guest or native? Villager or farmer? Do you hear the call of the city beckoning you, or are you out in the plains of Rohan? It is your story, and here is where you can tell it.

Rules:
~This is the daily life free RP thread of Rohan. A new thread will open for travel specific adventures (Fields and Forests). So try to keep the traveling at a minimum.
~Please leave bold purple for the TR
~Keep Cav colors to Cavalry specific activities. (RED GREEN BLUE)
~Have fun!

[Eldrith]

NPC post Taedwyn

A Cottage Somewhere Non Specified
Things were moving slowly. That was for the best of course. Blending was the right option, but he was glad to have moved closer to what passed for civilization. Mixed ancestry was helpful for all of them of course, and had made blending easier. He'd been to the market several times now. Getting his face out there. Being seen. Lurking in shadows was something that people tended to notice. And there wasn't anything to be noticed for. They might have to consider opening a shoppe, though it was considerable effort. Still, they were in here for the long haul, settling in.
There was a division of labor being established. He counted himself as head of the household so to speak. And it worked well. There were the normal daily tasks to do, and of course the need to feed everyone, though for that he'd sent out some of the others. Each one their job, after all, right?

[Éolath]

A half day’s ride north of Edoras

The ruin that had once been a barn still showed the inky black of soot on stone. Éolath stood staring at the tumbling stone and broken timber. He’d heard of the fire that had come suddenly in the night, but even his imagination could not match the wreck that had been his father’s barn. It drove home, again, what he had lost. Far beyond the fallen walls and rotting wood, his father had died there. Rushing in, he knew, to save the animals stabled. The animals his father had loved as much as his children.

He turned, blinking away tears to walk towards the two mounds, ringed with stone. The left was the mound raised for his father, covered with the delicate simbelmynë. He reached down to touch the petals, his voice husky as he spoke to the undying wind. “I came home, father. I came home as soon as I was able. But too late.” His head ached with unshed tears, but no drop fell. “I learned, father, as you said I would. And I missed you, you and mother. I wanted to tell you that I am sorry, and I wanted your forgiveness…”

Heart heavy, Éolath turned towards the other mound. This time he picked a tiny flower, kissed it gently. His mother, dead of grief, lay below. He knelt, pressing his head to the soft grass as he had done as a child in his mother’s lap. The wind caressed his hair, and he sighed, oddly comforted. “I’m glad you’re with him, mother. He never did well when you were away.”

Éolath tucked the flower into his shirt as he stood again. He finally turned to the house. It stood abandoned but sound. No laughter rang from the herb garden, no wild shout of children playing in the spring, no—wait. His ears pricked, and he turned towards the sound of a horse’s shrill cry of challenge. His own mare cropped grass near the garden wall, an ear flicking lazily at the sound. A bay stood near the spring house, and Éolath walked toward him slowly.

The horse snorted, arched a proud neck but shied when he drew near. He could see the mark of saddle and harness and he smiled. His sisters had married, one of them must still have the horses that survived the fire. He reached out a hand as a strange voice spoke from nearby.

“He remembers you.”

Éolath turned, eyes wide. A woman stood, dressed in rough trousers and a dirty shirt. “Hild?”

“I wasn’t sure you’d remember me, little brother. It took you long enough to come home.”

[Amadhrill]

A small farm at the outskirts of Edoras

Yesterday they had finished the main part of the spring work, the fields had that light green look belonging to the new crop of barley and oats growing quickly in the warm weather. The kitchen garden was still bare, but the small seedlings and perenials were doing their best to fill the garden and later on the pantry. Only a few small plants were still carried outside after breakfast, so that they could gradually get used to the wind and weather outdoors. Amadhrill had just sent the three children outside to play and was carrying the last seedling and a cup of tea when she heard the knock on the open door, but no foot steps followed. The lack of sound was surprising, most of her neighbours, friends, and family knew that it was only to enter when the door was open. Well, no matter, she had just to turn the corner and the open door would be visible to her.

«Hælend Amadhrill?» She looked at the young wigend wearing his Meduseld insignia, greeting her with a salute as if she was his officer while standing in the door frame, obviously unsure of whether he should enter or not. How young the wigends were these days! Had she and her comrades been that young back in the days when the cavalry was her life? From old habit she nearly saluted back, but she took herself in the movement and instead she waved her hand as a way of dismissing his salute, old habits stay strong.

«I am not in the cavalry, sperewigend, nor have I been for many years. There is no need for the cavalry formality.» She gave the young boy a friendly smile and made her way towards him, pot and cup still in hand. The wigend lowered his hand, unsure of how to stand and act. He had orders from the Marshals, orders to seek out the former cavalry members still living in Edoras and deliver the call to return and offer their sword in servide to the King once more. The Marshals had specifically told him to behave as a proud member of the cavalry and reminded him that those he approached had once held ranks higher than his. Many of the names were legends in the cavalry, names mentioned around camp fires when tales of old battles were retold time and time again, but also tales of comradery, foolishness, crazy antiques, and many a good tale was told to prevent that very same behaviour. Yet this hælend dismissed his salute and talked to him as if he was a mere boy, a civilian. He respectfully moved out of the way and let her pass him as she walked to the other seedlings, gently setting down the pot as she spoke. She made no effort to conceal the curiosity it sparked in her to be visited by a wigend greeting her as if she was still part of the cavalry. «I trust that there is no need for my skills as a hælend, the cavalry has many a good healer and you are here dressed in your cavalry uniform. You do not seem in a rush nor are you lost, even if this was your first day, the Meduseld can be easily seen from all parts of Edoras. What is your business, sperewigend?»

Amadhrills look was sterner now, carefully watching the boy's face for any sign that could give her a warning as to his business. She had an ill feeling for this, she had seen the members of the cavalry dwindel, yet she had not thought much of it while busy with babies. But it was only a few days ago when she had visited the new Horse and Rider Inn, and there found herself in the middle of what felt like a reunion of old cavalry members. The words belonging to the Marshals then had been friendly, but there had been a tone there, perhaps a slight plea, wishing for her return to the cavalry. She had laughed it off, she was old, well not old, but older, and definately not young any more. And she had her children, her husband, the farm, a whole life that didn't include the cavalry anymore. Yes, she had noted the streaks of grey in the hair of the marshals, then again, the marshals had never been young, it demanded much knowledge and training to reach that rank. But now, there was a Sperewigend on what looked like cavalry business fidegeting in front of her. «Speak!» she demanded, surprising herself with the authority in her voice. The wigend straightened himself, clearly preparing himself to speak in an official manner.

«Hælend Amadhrill, the King and his Marshals are calling you to return and offer your sword in service of the king». For a moment they were both silent, then in a less confident manner the wigend continued. «A call has been put out, we are sent all over the Riddermark to ask former cavalry members to return and offer your sword again, ma'am.»

She felt bad for the wigend, he looked uncomfortable with the call, perhaps he too felt bad for conveying this message, though it was not his order. He looked at her just as her youngest child, a boy of 4 years came crying around the corner of the house, bleeding from a scrap on his knee. Amadhrill nodded as she picked up the child and started to sooth him, but when she spoke to the wigend her voice was clear and strong. «I will seek out the marshals.» It was not a yes nor a no, but the sperewigend nodded, saluted again, and took his leave as she blew on the scrapped knee and sent the child back to his play.

A friendly suggestion in a pub, even one made by two marshals, was easy to dismiss and forget, but a direct call to return was not. The oath she had pledged so many years ago, she was not released from that, even if she had been released from her duties, retired. A call has been put out the words rang in her ears as she drank her tea.

[Éolath]

A half day’s ride north of Edoras

“I wasn’t sure you’d remember me, little brother. It took you long enough to come home.”

He stared, transfixed as by a ghost. As her words sank home, he dropped his eyes to the ground and his shoulders hunched. Was it worth it to tell her? Could she understand that he’d tried to come home, that he’d wanted to? He sighed, feeling as though he was a boy again.

“Of course I remember you, Hild,” he said quietly, after the silence had dragged to an uncomfortable length. “I haven’t forgotten any of you.”

She made a sound; he wasn’t sure if it was derision or acceptance of his words. “Well, you’re home now. Are you going to open the house again?” She pointed her chin at his parents home, and he turned to study the door.

“I…I don’t know,” he said uncertainly. Part of him yearned for his childhood home, and yet he wasn’t sure he could live with the memories that were embedded in those simple walls. “You – I mean, uhm…Don’t you, or Æsa want it?”

“Æsa lives near the Entwash now, with her husband and children. She does not come here any more.” She stepped up to the horse, fashioned a quick halter from a hank of rope. “Folca – you remember him?”

Éolath nodded. She’d married him months before he left Rohan, a man from a nearby farm. He was a big man, but he’d been gentle and loved his sister.

“Folca and I have the horses, we split our time between our farming and breeding the herd. I come here twice a moon to check on the house, but I have my own home now. And I cannot leave the children.”

“Children?” he knew he gaped like a fish. “You have children? But you hate…”

“It’s different, I’ve learned, when they are your own. And not annoying little brothers.” She smiled finally, and led the horse to him. “I’ve two, a girl called Frëawyn and a small son. We called him Éolath. We…we thought you were dead. You’ve been gone nearly five years.”

[Gwai]

Dragon Hall to the Western Part of Edoras

Gwai left the Dragon Room and walked briskly to the hitching post where she had left Brightfyr, the palomino she had raised since he was a foal. He pricked his ears up as she approached, most likely noticing a new spring in her step. She had just re-enlisted in the cavalry, and had an assignment already. It had been a while since she had been a dryhtguma, but she was happy to start at the beginning, and was glad she wasn’t assigned to something indoors.

She paused before mounting Brightfyr, rubbing his white mane, and absentmindedly thinking she needed to replace the cheekstrap on his bridle. He probably need a whole new bridle, but there were other priorities. She unrolled the notice the Marshal Rowena had given her for her assignment to track down a “suspicious character,” mentally again thanking her mother that she had been forced as a child to learn to read, when all she had wanted to do was help her father train horses.

Apparently there had been reports coming in, predominantly from the poorer areas of Edoras, that a suspicious character had been seen lurking about. There were quotes from various witnesses which seemed to be inconsistent. One witness described the man as a “greasy fellow, skulking about, with plastered down yellow hair and blue eyes, quite suspicious.” Another witness described him as “looking like Gríma Wormtongue, back in the flesh, very suspicious”. A third quote described the man as short with brown hair, brown beard, acting suspiciously, and a mangy dog following him about. If there was one thing Gwai knew about witness testimonies, was that five different witnesses would describe five different people when they all had witnessed the same thing. However, all were agreed that the fellow was ill-favored and “suspicious”, although that was not necessarily a surprise, as many Rohirrim were not quick to accept strangers into their midst. She quickly discounted the possibility that Gríma Wormtongue had returned as, while she had seen him herself quite a while ago when she was much younger, it was widely said that he had died.

The report went on to say that, while there was no proof the man was committing a crime, the outcry about it warranted investigation. Gwai agreed. While Edoras was a bustling place, and had more visitors lately than it had for quite a while, it still had a small town feel to it, where everyone knew everybody else, and more particularly, everybody’s business. Strangers were generally accounted for, and most often were seen at a local pub or established at an inn, or visiting a family member. There was no information about this man. That did not necessarily make him guilty of anything, Gwai reminded herself, but it was quite odd.

Years of traveling alone had Gwai talking to her horse. She pulled the reins over his head, placed her hand on the pommel, left foot in the stirrup, and lightly mounted. “Let’s solve this thing,” she told him, settling her other foot in the stirrup, his ear twitching to prove he had heard her. She guided him toward the main road. The man had been last seen in the western part of Edoras, so Gwai nudged Brightfyr to a trot. She had her sword strapped to the saddle as she hadn’t wanted to overstep her boundaries by wearing it into the Dragon Hall when she approached the Marshals, and decided it would be prudent to belt it around her waist when next she dismounted as she was acting in an official capacity for the cavalry now, and when confronting an unknown person of possibly suspicious character and criminal intent, an abundance of caution was warranted. Thinking ahead, she decided to question the residents to see if anyone could point her in the right direction or knew anything helpful. Hopefully they would be receptive to questioning as she was acting on their complaints. She guided Brightfyr down the well-groomed roads toward the other side of town, the maintained roads and cheerful, well-kept houses with bright flowers growing outside soon giving way to more ramshackle buildings with more weeds than gardens. She began encountering more suspicious glares than friendly waves, and soon knew she had found herself in the right place to begin her investigation.

[Amadhrill]

A small farm at the outskirts of Edoras

She finished her cup of tea, the wigends word mixed with those of the marshals Rowena and Shivased repeating themselves inside her mind. She would have to talk to Frithwine, her husband, about it. She put her hands in her head, she had a husband, three children, a farm, it took most of their time to care for the farm and the children... of course, the income from the cavalry would make the economy more roomy, yet, they had all they wanted and a little extra when necessary. And her children, could she really leave them and go to battle if needed? But then again, could she stay? The oath she had half forgotten still lay heavily on her, yes she had been released from service years ago, but that was a different time.

There was nothing else to do, she would not be able to consentrate before this had been settled! She was about to stand up when the familiar steps of her husband came to her. «Was the cavalry here?» He asked in his deep voice, and she nodded. «Was it about the things that have gone missing? Is it a thief roaming around?»

Amadhrills green eyes looked into her husband's grey eyes as she shook her head. «No. The wigend came with a call from the cavalry marshals... that I should return and offer my sword to the King service once more.» She sighed deeply, and her husband nodded. «Yes, I have seen the numbers of wigends dwindle among here. But I had hoped it would not come to this...» He put his arms around her and for a moment she seeked the safety there. «You will go?» He looked down on her, for a Rohirrim she was rather on the short side, but she had fared well in the cavalry before, this much he knew.

«I met the marshals the other day, when I went to that new Inn. They even offered the possiblity of not fighting...» Frithwine stroke her chin and lifted it up. «Hælend and warrior, you always said they went hand-in-hand out there. You have been teaching Ædelwyn, Glædwine, and Heardwine to wield a sword from they were old enough to hold one... we can manage this, make it work if you are needed in the cavalry.»

So it was settled. She found the key to her chest and unlocked it, in it she found the sword and the old cavalry clothes. For now she would just take her sword. She unsheathed it and looked it carefully over, yes, it was still in good shape. The clothes she had worn in the cavalry also lay there, for now they could stay there, whatever was decided in the Dragon Room, she would return home tonight.

[Gwai]

The Outskirts of Edoras

There wasn’t a lot of travel on horseback in this part of Edoras, and children playing in the streets fell quiet and stared at Gwai as she trotted Brightfyr toward them. Up ahead a harassed looking woman was hanging clothes out to dry, several children running around her, and this seemed a likely place to start the investigation.

Gwai dismounted lightly. She had her sword in a scabbard attached to her saddle, and as she was on official cavalry business, she pulled it off and strapped it around her waist. She looked around for a hitching post but there was none, so she shrugged and ground tied Brightfyr, knowing he wouldn’t stray far. She walked toward the woman working outdoors, and said with a friendly voice, “Westu hal. My name is Gwai Feorsteorra, I was dispatched by the cavalry to respond to several reports we have had of a suspicious character lurking about this area.” The woman stopped what she was doing and looked at Gwai, but didn’t respond, merely staring blankly. A bit disconcerted, Gwai continued, “Do you know anything about this person? Or do you know anyone who has seen him?” she queried. A silence ensued, and finally the woman shook her head, shooed the children who were staring at Brightfyr inside the house, and firmly shut the door. Gwai blinked, and shrugged. Hopefully this wouldn’t be her welcome everywhere.

“You’re looking for that Gríma Wormtongue man?” a high pitched voice from across the street asked. An old woman sat there on the porch, a corncob pipe in her mouth. “As a matter of fact, I am,” Gwai replied, crossing the dusty street. A group of street urchins was up the road watching, and as an afterthought Gwai took her money purse out of her saddlebag before walking up to the old woman.

“My name is Gwai,” she introduced herself to the old woman. “You have seen this person I’m looking for?” The old woman grinned, revealing three remaining yellowing teeth. “I’ve seen this fellow around for a couple of weeks now!” she complained, taking a puff from her pipe. “I’ve complained three times and nobody has done nothin’!” she added, stomping her foot. Gwai took a deep breath and replied patiently, “We have to prioritize our investigations, and this man has not committed a known crime,” she pointed out politely. “However, that is what I am here for. When was the last time you saw him, and where?” she questioned.

“I see him most every day,” the old woman replied, gesturing with her pipe toward the north side of the road. “He comes through, stares at everyone with his dead eyes. I think he’s Gríma Wormtongue come back to haunt us for how he was treated, and we can’t have ghosts on the streets!” the woman ended theatrically.

Gwai blinked. Most people did not sympathize with the king’s old advisor. Much the opposite, in fact. Either way, at least this was a lead. “Do you know anything else about him? Have you spoken to him, or know why he is here?” she inquired. The woman replied, “No, I’ve never talked to him. But I can tell you there’s something off about him, and that dog too,” the old woman said, getting up in a surprisingly spry manor and going into the small shack, slamming the door.

Brushing off the dust that had accumulated on her shoulders when the door slammed, Gwai crossed the street back to where she had left Brightfyr. At least they had a little more information. She led Brightfyr down the street, toward the gang of street urchins that had gathered and were now watching her.

The biggest of them, probably around 8 years old, boldly stepped up. “What are you doing here?” he asked, squaring his shoulders. Gwai looked at him skeptically, but thought the local children might be a good source of information. “I’m looking for a man the cavalry has had some complaints about. He’s supposedly an ill-favored man, a stranger, and might be accompanied by a dog. Have you seen anyone like that?” she asked, giving the boy a smile.

The boy shrugged, but another boy, perhaps seven years old, took a step forward. “I know who that is!” he exclaimed. “And I know where he is, too! Well,” he backtracked, “I know where he’s going to be.” The older boy shoved the younger one, and said, “Stop! Why are you talking to her?” The younger boy shrugged the other off and said, “Because we need to get rid of that man, that’s why!”

Gwai took a step forward and grabbed both children by the arms, physically separating them before this could come to blows. “Stop it!” she said firmly. “Both of you.” Looking to the rest of the urchins watching the encounter, she said with authority, “The rest of you get out of here. You two,” she said, looking at the two disheveled boys, “are going to take me to where you saw this person.” Taking pity on them both, she added, “There will be a penny for each of you when we’re done.” Both of their faces lit up, and they immediately began nodding.

“Now,” Gwai said, squatting down so she was at eye level, “What are yours names?” The older boy piped up, “My name is Seamus, and this is Alfred,” he said, pointing to the younger boy. “Very good. You can call me Gwai,” she said, “And once you’ve shown me where this man is, you can be on your ways a penny richer!” Picking up Brightfyr’s reins, she led him down the road as she followed the young boys.

The boys led her through a maze of narrow streets, lined by houses which surprised Gwai by still standing. She hadn’t realized Edoras had even had an area like this. Some ill-kempt men looked up from some ales they were drinking on overturned barrels in a yard. One began getting up and lurching toward Gwai, Brightfyr, and the children, but a look from Gwai and a hand on her sword soon had him stumbling back to his companion.

The dust from the poorly maintained street soon had Gwai wishing for an ale at the pub. Brightfyr clearly was not enjoying it either, although they had both been through much worse. About twenty minutes later, the boys stopped, and pointed to a particularly dilapidated house, the last one on the street, right on the edge of town where the grassy fields began. Seamus pointed toward the house. “He’s in there,” he said solemnly.

“Of course he is,” Gwai rolled her eyes. Of course the man she was looking for was living in one of the scariest looking houses she had ever seen, and she had been to Mordor, more than once even. Digging in her pocket, she held out two pennies. “Thank you for showing me,” she said with a smile. She looked at Brightfyr, who, while he was too experienced to be nervous, also probably should not be left alone in this area so no one would try stealing him. Sighing, she dug around in her pocket again. “I have another penny for each of you if you stay with Brightfyr here and keep him company.” Eager nods met this request, and she warned them, “I’m keeping the pennies until I come back, mind you,” she warned with a smile.

Placing a hand on her sword hilt, Gwai walked up toward the house. It had an empty feeling, and she would be surprised if someone actually lived there. She stopped before she reached the stoop, however. There were some footprints on the path leading into the house, too big to belong to one of the boys. It had rained two days ago, so these were fresh. Perhaps there really was somebody in there.

Still, it was entirely possible the man had every reason to be there. It was even possible he owned the house, even though it seemed unlikely considering the appearance of the place. If the only crime was trespassing, she would let the man off with a warning. A slight movement from one of the tattered curtains hanging in a window proved there was someone in the house. She approached the door and tapped briskly on the door, and stood slightly to the side.

It would have been too easy if there had been a response right away. She knocked again, and still nothing. “Cavalry business!” she announced herself sharply. “Open the door!” Still, no response. She tried the door handle, which was unlocked, and, keeping her right hand on her sword, stepped quickly into the house, looking first at the side from which she had seen the motion of the curtain moving.

What she saw stopped her in her tracks.

[Elarith]

East of Edoras and onwards to Eastemnet

The two riders in front slowed their horses and turned back in the saddle. "Are you managing there, ma'am? Only I should like to cross the Entwash in the next hour, before the light starts to fade," called the smaller and broader of the two.

"My horse is not built for speed, Hereward," Elarith replied at a shout. "But we shall catch you up before the river." Hereward nodded, gave a knowing glance to his companion Wigmær, and kicked his steed into a canter.

Elarith's heart sank somewhat as the two dryhtgumas pulled away. They had plenty of miles to cover before they arrived at Briggastun to meet their captive, and at Lígesliht's current pace it would be two more days' travel. As fond as she was of her horse, she would have to see about a proper warhorse if she was going to serve in the Cavalry again. "Get on, Lígesliht, or I'll sell you for glue," she told the mare, and nudged her faster. Lígesliht snorted in disapproval.

Wigmær and Hereward were waiting for her at the Entwash, laughing at some joke as she reached them. Both were younger than her, and were likely not in service before she left. She wondered what, if any, action they had seen.
"Come on, let's cross as soon as we may. We'll ride another hour or so then camp for the night," she said to the pair as she walked past.
"Aye, best not halt that mare of yours," said Hereward, swinging himself back into his saddle. "She's taken all day to reach that speed."
Elarith laughed as she kicked her horse into the river water. "Well, it's not a race. Lígesliht and I are more used to the hills of the Westfold where we value sure-footedness over speed. The terrain there is more interesting than these dull plains," she replied over her shoulder.
"Dull?" spluttered Hereward. "Eastemnet's not dull! I could tell you many a tale of the happenings of the Eastemnet."
"Save it for when we've stopped and got a fire going. Sometimes I need a little help to fall asleep," she told him, grinning. Wigmær guffawed behind her.

On a small hillock, Wigmær proved capable of pitching a couple of tents whilst Hereward saw to the horses and Elarith took care of the fire and food. She wasn't too bad a cook now - at any rate, she was decent enough that her surly teenage nephew and his younger sister would eat it with little complaint. As they ate, she let Hereward tell her stories of his upbringing and other going one in the area to make up for ribbing him earlier. She soon got lost off with his many relatives but tried to look like she was keeping up and deeply interested in that time his aunt Eadgith had run off with his other aunt's husband.

A bird with a loud and unfamiliar call woke her not long after the sun came up. Wigmær and Hereward were presumably used to it, as they didn't arise for another half hour. After some breakfast and a wash, Elarith made herself as smart as she could, pulling on a cloak borrowed from her sister-in-law that was much neater than her own. If she was acting with Cavalry authority, she would need to look the part. They were soon on their way, and even with Lígesliht taking her time, they were at Briggastun by lunchtime.

[Amadhrill]

In and around the cavalry stables

She felt some of the old spring and feel of purpose in her feet as she exited the Dragon Room, the heavy doors closed behind her with the old familiar thump. The wigends standing guard in front of the doors sneaked a peek at her, checking to see if they needed to salute her. She followed the outside wall of the grand building and found the stables much as she remembered them. One of the dryths asigned to the stables helped her find a horse that was not much used along with the necesary equipment. The choice had fallen on a dark horse with light spots, named Yri.

Outskirts of Edoras

Together the horse and rider made their way out of the cavalry quarters and towards the outskirt of Edoras. The sense of adventure that for a little had brought a new, or rather old, glimmer in her eyes slowly changed as she came approached her homestead. For a moment she had forgotten about the husband and children at home, the garden and fields and animals, all demanded much of her everyday, now she had to leave those duties for a little while. She turned a corner and could see the homestead, she smiled of the sight, home! The children came running at the sound of the horse, an unfamiliar horse was not a common sight in these parts and both her own and the neighbouring children came running towards her. «Mama got a new horse!» «Mama! Look what I have» «What's his name?» Children's voices mingled together as she dismounted the horse.

«It is not our horse, my loves, it belongs to the cavalry» She smiled as she tied the horse to one of the threes in their garden. «Come inside now, where is your father?» She gently stroked the youngest hair and lifted him up. She caught the eyes of her husband, smiling slightly appologetic, he probably understood what was going to happen, the horse was a clear sign. Together the family went in, she did her best to keep her voice light and carefree.

«Mama's got to go to the Westmark for a little, I don't know how long but I will return as soon as I can. The king needs Mama's sword and hælend skills again, you know Mama was in the cavalry before you were born, and now Mama is needed again.» Ædelwyn, the oldest looked at her. «Is it war, Mama?» Ama put down Heardwine and lifted up her eldest girl. «No, darling, it is not. But there are few members in the cavalry, so those of us who can still serve have been asked to return. And the marshal have ordered me to go to the Westmark for a little, to prove that I am still able to do the duties of a hælend in the cavalry. So I must go as soon as I have packed, and then I will return as soon as I am done in the Westmark.»

She explained what she could, as she packed what she needed and changed into her old cavalry clothes. She was pleased that the tunic and trousers still fit, allright not as they had years ago, but still comfortable to move around in. It was not much that she needed to pack, some clothes, her weapons, a few supplies for the ride... she went through her hælend bag, it was not as if she was going into war, yet there were still things that where of more use when traveling and in the cavalry, as opposed to in her daily life, so she would need to stop by the infirmary to pick up some essentials and double check that there hadn't been any changes in the physical requirements in her long absence. She packed up the rest on the horse and set off again towards the infirmary.

[Gwai]

The Outskirts of Meduseld

There were charcoal drawings nailed up everywhere, covering every portion of the walls. The rickety appearing table in the middle room was stacked high with more drawings. Most were of the Golden Hall from various angles, but others depicted other buildings surrounding the hall such as the stables, and several of the Dragon Room as well as the cavalry training grounds. A large drawing dominated the middle, and Gwai recognized it right away, as she had met her on several occasions in the past. It was the Lady Éowyn. An ill-kempt and ill-favored man was watching her warily from the corner of the room, holding the rope leash to a skinny dog next to him, who looked at Gwai suspiciously.

Keeping her hand on her sword, Gwai faced the man. “Cavalry business!” she said briskly. “Who are you? What is all this?” she demanded, gesturing to the drawings.

“Get her, Grond!” the man yelled at the dog, dropping the leash, and the dog leapt toward her. Fortunately Gwai got along well with most animals, and this dog didn’t seem naturally vicious and did not seem to be living up to his name. She held her hand out so he could smell it, and when he didn’t immediately bite her, she dug in her pocket for a carrot slice she always carried around for Brightfyr and offered it to the dog. He immediately scarfed it down, and looked at her hopefully for more. She had a couple of more slices in her pocket, so she threw them toward the other end of the room, and “Grond” immediately loped over to look for them.

The man looked crestfallen at the lack of attacking his dog had done. Gwai repeated the question. “What is all this?” Clearly the man was crazy. “This isn’t your house.” She tore one of the drawings off the wall. He was a good artist.

The man let out a hideous scream and ran full-force toward Gwai. She had her sword, but preferred not to use it if possible, as the man seemed to be a poor opponent. She neatly side-stepped his attack, and as he slowed to change directions, she grabbed his right arm and bore it backwards, kicking his right posterior knee at the same time. He let out a howl and dropped to his other knee, and Gwai pushed him down by his upper back so he was lying on the floor with his face pressed into it. The dog trotted over, and nosed Gwai’s arm curiously. “Good timing, freond min,” she murmured to the dog, untying his leash and using it to bind the man’s hands behind his back.

“Get up!” she ordered, grabbing the man’s upper arm and forcing him to his feet, marching him to one of the chairs, shoving him into it. He glared at her, and spit at her feet, doing a poor job and ending up with saliva on his chin. Gwai rolled her eyes. She took stock of the room. Besides the drawings covering the walls, there was trash everywhere, and the stench was vile. First things first. There were drawings everywhere, but there looked to be a small bag of provisions on the table. Keeping an eye on the man, she opened it, finding some stale bread and dried hardtack. Shrugging, she put it on the floor for the dog. “I’m sorry buddy, that’s all there is right now. I’ll get you a full meal later.”

The dog immediately tore into the poor meal, and Gwai began her interrogation. She picked up a stack of the charcoal drawings from the table leafed through them. Meduseld from several different angles. Throwing them back on the table, she grabbed the other chair, flipped it around and sat down, resting her arms on the back. She confronted the man head on. They would start with something easy. “What is your name?” she demanded. He looked belligerently at her for a moment, but Gwai didn’t flinch, returning his gaze without blinking. He looked away first, and seemed to deflate a little. “Goldgar,” he muttered.

Now they were getting somewhere. “What is all this, Goldgar?” Gwai questioned. “What are you doing with this?” she asked, gesturing to the multitude of drawings littering the house. So far Goldgar’s only crime was maltreating his dog, and attempting to harm a member of the cavalry, although he really had not been much of an opponent. She had a suspicion, however, she would soon find out much more.

Goldgar just stared at her, his eyes cold and ice blue. Gwai understood why some of the locals had mistaken him for Gríma Wormtongue. His stringy hair, cringing attitude, and dead eyes were reminiscent of the old king’s advisor, whom Gwai had been unfortunate enough to run into on more than one occasion, although granted it had been quite a while.

“Come now, Goldgar, we can talk about this here, just the two of us,” Gwai said without rancor, “Or I can take you down to the Dragon Room.” She paused for effect, before adding more grimly, “I can guarantee you’ll enjoy that conversation much, much less.”

[Thalionwen Hunigfolm]

Aldburg, The Keep

Thalionwen didn’t like prisons.

She didn’t much like battles or the making of war either, which was inconvenient, for someone who’d previously served in the Cavalry and was now on her way to rejoining it.

Sometimes, she saw the reason for both of those things—there were times when they seemed necessary to her, almost inevitable—but other times, they seemed pointless. Why fight or imprison if diplomacy or mercy might serve instead?

So Thalionwen walked into the prison below the great keep of Aldburg with her senses already sharp and uncertainty singing in her bones. She’d no intention of judging the peculiar riddle set before her until she’d tracked down every last detail of the situation. Perhaps the man Second Marshal Rowena had sent her to question and treat had done wrong, perhaps he was presumed mad, but he deserved mercy and justice to the same extent that Thalionwen herself did. To the same extent as anyone else.

Appearances could be deceiving, and sometimes there was more to a person than meant the eye. If Thali had learned anything over the last few years, it was that.

“I’m here to see Alwin of Sailes,” Thalionwen said quietly to the warden, in the dim stone antechamber leading into the rest of the prison. “I’m Thalionwen of the Eastfold, Second Marshal Rowena sent me.”

The warden, a broad-faced man in a leather jerkin, leafed through a ledger before noting down her name.

“See what you can do with him, Miss,” he grunted. “None of us have made any headway. He’s been here for weeks, but we can’t let him out, on account of he flies into rages, and might be a danger to folk. Keep your distance, and if you need anything, just call out.”

“Could I have the key to his cell?” Thalionwen asked.

The warden frowned. “Whatever do you need that for? You can see him right enough from outside.”

“The key,” Thalionwen told him firmly. “Please and thank you.”

With a sigh, the warden handed it over. “Here you are then. I’m posting a guard in the corridor to keep a sharp eye on you, though. Won’t have something unfortunate happen and the Marshals coming down to make trouble for me, on account of I didn’t look after one of their own well enough.”

“That’s fair,” Thalionwen agreed.

Taking the key, she slipped down the shadowy central corridor of the prison. It wasn’t nearly as bad as some she’d seen, but there was a dispirited air to any place like this. Most of the cells stood empty, but a few housed men or women awaiting trial. They sat or lay listlessly on the narrow benches the cells were furnished with. How demoralizing, to be locked away like animal, left to wait upon the court or to live out your life in isolation. Shaking her head, she carried on to the corridor’s end.

There, in the last cell on the right, sat an unkept, sunken-cheeked man.

At first glance, he appeared at least a decade older than Thalionwen, but her time as a haelend had taught her to read well the signs in an individual who came into her care. Perhaps he looked older, but Thalionwen doubted he could be much past her own age. A man still young and full of potential, who could be a valued part of his community, if only they saw his worth.

“Hello,” Thalionwen said to the man in the cell, her voice soft as she glanced warily at the armored guard who’d taken up a place on the opposite wall of the corridor. “May I come in?”

The man glanced up blearily. His clothes were stained and filthy, and he was shivering in the chill of the keep.

“What?” he said, voice cracking on the words.

“May I come in?” Thalionwen asked again. “I’d like to, but I won’t without your permission.”

Blinking at her, the man hesitated. But after a moment, he gestured to her to enter.

Thalionwen turned the key in the lock, and without requiring an order, the posted guard stepped forward to lock her in. Momentary panic surged up in her core as she heard the bolt slide home, but she pushed it aside and turned to the prisoner, offering him a smile.

“I’m Thalionwen of the Eastfold,” she said, holding out a hand. “I have the advantage here—I already know you’re Alwin of Sailes. Well met, Alwin. I’m a haelend, with the Cavalry. They’ve sent me to look after you.”

Alwin only stared at the offered hand. He remained where he was, perched on the edge of his bench as if ready to flee, though there was nowhere to go.

Not wishing to crowd him, Thalionwen settled herself on the cold stone floor, her back against the wall of his cell.

“Will you tell me about yourself, Alwin?” Thali asked. “The Cavalry told me a bit, but I want to hear it in your own words.”

Alwin gave her a sidelong look. “Not much to tell. Grew up in Sailes, joined the Cavalry myself before the war, fought in it, ended up injured and discharged with honor. Been in and out of trouble since then.”

“What sort of trouble?” Thalionwen pressed.

“Fights, mostly.” Alwin ran a hand over his face. “I’ve got a temper, miss. It gets the better of me. I’ve tried to keep it in check, but that’s one battle there’s no winning.”

“Is that how you hurt yourself?” Thalionwen asked. She gestured to the man’s face, where the last of a black eye was fading, and to his wrist, which bore a dirty bandage.

“Broke this in my last fight,” Alwin said, raising his wrist. “Got the bruises from one of the guards here.”

“They’re mistreating you?” Thali asked sharply.

Alwin shrugged. “One of them came to clean out my cell, and it was on a hard day. They were doing things I didn’t like—touching what I’d set just so, making a lot of noise. Lost my temper, just like I kept doing outside these walls. Might be it’s better for me to stay in here.”

“I doubt that’s true.” Thalionwen glanced down at the records she’d been given for Alwin. There was precious little about him or his medical history, just a list of his arrests and charges—and there’d been several—and a note on allergies.

“You said you have hard days,” Thalionwen asked. “What do you mean by that? What’s that like?”

Alwin shrugged. “I don’t know. Just there’s some days where everything gets under my skin, no matter what. Where the whole world seems too big, and too loud, and I know from the start that at some point, I’m going to go off on someone, and maybe hurt them. I can feel it in me, building, but I don’t know how to stop it.”

“That sounds difficult,” Thalionwen offered.

Another shrug from Alwin. “It is what it is, Miss. Been that way since the war.”

“Was it that way before the war?” Thali asked.

“Don’t remember.”

“And what about family?” she pressed. “What was your living situation like, before you were arrested?”

“I live alone,” Alwin said bleakly. “My whole family died during a raid by Uruks. I haven’t had anybody since then.”

“I’m so sorry,” Thali told him. “It’s a hard thing to be all on your own like that.”

“Suppose so,” Alwin admitted. “Truth is, I’m less alone in here than I was out there.”

His sad words cut at Thalionwen.

“Miss,” the guard in the corridor said politely. “I’m afraid we only allow a few minutes with the prisoners. Time’s up.”

Getting to her feet with a sigh, Thalionwen looked down at the lonely figure of Alwin of Sailes.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” she promised him. “If that’s alright with you?”

Slowly, Alwin nodded.

“Goodbye until then,” Thalionwen said.

“Goodbye Miss,” Alwin answered. “I’ll be…I’ll be looking forward to it.”

Thali smiled, to hide the way tears pricked at the back of her eyes. Then she was ushered back out into the corridor and down it, to the warden’s desk once more.

“Make any progress?” the warden asked.

Thalionwen gnawed at her lower lip, thinking hard. “I believe I might have. It’s a bit soon to tell for sure, though. But I’ll be back tomorrow, and I’m going down to the Cavalry infirmary now—I want all of Alwin’s medical records. Everything we’ve got.”

[Rowena Ellenweorc]

@Thalionwen please move this to the courtyard

[Gwai]

The Outskirts of Edoras

An Hour Later…

Once Goldgar began talking, he did not stop. Gwai learned more than she really cared to about his early life. How his father had been killed in the line of duty while riding with the cavalry. How he barely saw his mother as she was working so much. How he enlisted in the cavalry, and was dishonorably discharged when he stole from the cavalry payroll. Rather than taking responsibility, he turned his energy into his hatred of everything Rohirrim. Over the years his hatred and channeled into an obsession of revenge, and was planning on burning down not only Meduseld, but also the Dragon Hall. He had been skulking around Edoras looking for an opportunity, drawing countless pictures of Meduseld and the Dragon Hall to study and decide how he would gain entrance.

Gwai kept her face impassive, but inside she was shocked. She had never heard of anything like this happening before. Part of her also felt sorry for Goldgar, who seemed to have become completely wrapped up in his obsession. However, be that as it may, the man was a menace not only to society but to himself. She stood up, pushed her chair away, and grabbed his arm. “Get up,” she said with disgust. “I’m taking you to the Marshals.” She scooped up a handful of the drawings off the table to bring with her.

Goldgar looked at her, fear in his eyes. “Can’t you just let me go? I promise I’ll leave and never come back,” he whined. Gwai shook her head. “No, you are under arrest. Your punishment is not mine to decide,” she told him, pulling him to his feet, double checking the makeshift binders were tight, and pushed him toward the door. She paused for a moment to make the dog was following, and escorted Goldgar out the door and to the street.

Alfred and Seamus were still outside with Brightfyr, taking turns reaching up to pet the gelding’s neck. Brightfyr had gotten much more tolerant as he got older. The dog—Gwai refused to call him Grond—looked at Brightfyr with interest, but otherwise did not seem to care about him overly much, for which Gwai was thankful.

“Thank you, boys,” Gwai dug into her pocket for two more pennies and handed them to the urchins. “You did good work today, and helped me catch a criminal!” she told them with a smile. The boys received the pennies excitedly, and although Gwai was uncomfortable around children, she felt obliged to add, “Make sure you don’t end up like this person!”

The boys just looked at her blankly. This was why she didn’t have children. Imparting wisdom was not her strength. So instead she added, “If you boys hear of any other issues down here you think I should know about, please let me know. There will be a penny in it for you again,” she commented. Children could be an unparalleled source of information, and Gwai could use new sources of information if anything like this came up again.

She dug around in her saddlebag and pulled out Brightfyr’s lead rope. She clipped it to the leash she had used to bind the man’s hands, and mounted. Goldgar could walk. She wrapped the other end of the lead rope around her wrist, and nudged Brightfyr to a walk. She turned around and whistled at the dog, who trotted behind.

[Elarith]

Briggastun, Eastemnet

"Ever been here before?" Elarith asked the dryhtgumas as they approached the village. Hereward shook his head, but Wigmær spoke. "Once or twice. Not much here even by Eastemnet standards." He gave her a sly look and she responded with a grin.
"Anything I should know about?"
Wigmær looked thoughtful for a few moments before replying. "The reeve is called Æthelstan, big barrel of a fellow, seemed decent enough. That's as much as I remember."

Wigmær was right, there wasn't much to Briggastun at all. A handful of cottages, an enclosure, and a long hall that they headed towards. Villagers stood in a couple of doorways, eyeing them up. They'd no doubt find out soon enough if they hadn't guessed.

The three dismounted and tied their horses to the rail of the long hall. Elarith brushed herself down, straightened her cloak up, and pulled the parchment she had received from Shivased from a pocket. With Wigmær and Hereward at her heels, she went into the long hall.

Immediately opposite the door was a worn desk, and a large man sat behind it, reading a document helped by the light of a candle. "Reeve Æthelstan?" Elarith asked.
"Yes? Can I help?" he answered, putting the paper to one side.
"I come from Edoras. The Marshals received a report that you are holding a man on the grounds of murder and horse theft and have asked me to escort him back there, that the King's justice may be done upon him," she said.
"Ah, about time," said Æthelstan, rising from his chair and coming round the desk. "I've had to place two guards on him at all times. As much for his protection as ours, some of the more... forceful, shall we say, people wanted to take him and perform some justice of their own devising. I will be glad to tell them the King has dealt with it and the whole sorry tale can be over," he said, running his fingers through thinning hair, eyes looking into the middle distance. He blinked and looked suddenly at Elarith. "What did you say your name was? You bear no insignia," he asked.
Æthelstan was clearly sharp of sight and wits, more than his exterior belied.
She bowed her head in acknowledgement. "My name is Elarith, and I'm acting as a special officer in this case," she said, casting a side glance at Wigmær and Hereward.
"Mmm, even in these parts we hear the Cavalry is short of spears. 'Special officers', is it now? Well, as long as you take him off my hands, you could be a pot-washer in the Æthelmund for all I care," the astute Æthelstan told her, fishing some keys from a ring on his belt. "Come, I'll take you to him now, then you can be on your way."

Æthelstan led them through a door on the right. Two men stood leaning against the wall, but straightened up as the reeve entered. Behind them, a man was slumped on the floor, wrists tied to a metal ring set in the far wall. He raised his head as the newcomers approached, showing a straggly beard and piercing blue eyes. Hereward gasped. "I know this man! He is my uncle Raulf!" he cried. Seeing the puzzlement on the faces of the others, he explained, "The one my aunt Eadgith ran off without when he was already married to her sister, my aunt Eadwyn."
Æthelstan's eyebrows raised. "Then I am sorry to bring these tidings to you, my lad, but it is your aunt Eadgith he is accused of killing. Killed her, stole a horse, and would've got away if my boy Æthelheard here hadn't been alert and caught up with him a few miles down the road." The guard on the right nodded solemnly.
Hereward stifled a cry and the knuckles gripping his spear turned white. "I'm sorry," said Elarith softly to him. She turned to Æthelstan and Wigmær. "Let's take him to Edoras as quick as may be. Can word be sent to Hereward's family of what has passed here?"
Æthelstan tilted his chin. "Aye, the boy here will go. Where are they from?" A silent Elarith looked to Wigmær for the answer - she was sure Hereward had mentioned it but a lot of names had come at her thick and fast the previous night and she'd tuned out a lot of it - but Hereward answered stiffly: "Fearnham." He was staring at the prisoner as if his eyes could burn holes in him.
"Not too far. I'll get my things," said Æthelheard, squeezing past them to leave the long hall.
"Right," said Elarith, spurred to action. "Wigmær, with me. Sir, if you could release him from the wall." The reeve crossed to the prisoner, stooped down, and unlocked the manacles. Raulf let out a sob. "Aye, well, worse than that awaits you," said Æthelstan straightening up. Elarith went to the prisoner, Wigmær hovering by her shoulder with his hand casually fingering the grip of his sword, and bound his wrists together again, with sturdy rope this time. She felt a tinge of sorrow as she noticed the sores on Raulf's arms where the metal had rubbed, and the smell of an unwashed body close to made her wrinkle her nose. She pushed the feeling down.

They led the prisoner outside, where he blinked in the sunlight. More villagers had gathered in the space before the hall as word of the Cavalry's presence spread. A few hissed and spat oaths before Æthelstan held up his hand to quieten them. "Leave off. Don't waste your breath on this one," he commanded, glaring at Raulf. "Béma speed you back to Edoras," he said to Elarith and her companions as they mounted their horses. Raulf was mounted on his own horse, a thin creature, whose bridle was tied by a length of rope to Elarith's saddle.
"Thank you for your help," she replied, smiling. "Perhaps one day I shall pass by here again."
"You will be most welcome, special officer. Though perhaps you will have another rank before too long," Æthelstan said, patting Lígesliht's neck in farewell.
Perhaps, Elarith thought, as she kicked her mare into motion. Assuming she could still hold a spear the right way, and get this man back to Edoras without incident.

[Allacan ob Burzum]

Out and about...

So distracted was she by all the excitement of the various reunions that as she exited the Dragon Hall, she momentarily forgot for a moment where exactly she was supposed to be meeting Amadhrill. Thankfully she had crossed her fingers; a little memory technique she had learned during her recovery from amnesia. She pondered the crossed fingers for a moment and only uncrossed them as her memory finally ceded the desired information "Meet me in the infirmary in two hours then" she mimicked the Haeland's words with a relieved smile. "Two hours should be more than enough time..." she mutters to herself as she glances around, plotting the preparations she would need.

She first headed towards the Cavalry Stables and the road-side position where an innovative farmer's boy has set up a small stall nearby (at the Marshal's permission of course) selling carrots, apples and sugar-lumps to distressed Dryhtgumas and strained Sperewigends to assist them in befriending their often-ill-tempered cavalry-allocated mounts. She tosses him a coin and some thanks as she relieves him of the saddlebag she had left under his watchful eye, then fills his purse with even more coin in exchange for a hefty pouch of horse-treats; she is likely to need these later in the day if she is to assist Amadhrill in selecting of the Westmark's notoriously fiery steeds, or if she herself has to face horses the like of Shivased's Storm and Curon.

Now feeling much better equipped, she hesitates again. Uncrossing the fingers she had instinctively re-crossed, she recalls the meeting location and heads that way, confident she still has at least an hour left before the haeland's anticipated arrival but preferring to be early rather than late.

The infirmary awaiting @Amadhrill (OOC - I agreed with Rowena that we could RP Allacan's physical in here to save confusion in the Cavalry Room, where you are already RPing your 'test' task with Rowena and I will shortly be doing my 'prisoner' one. I hope that is ok with you?)

On entering, she explains her purpose for being there to one of the assistants on duty and is shown to a reasonably spaced side-room where she is able to alleviate herself of her heavy saddlebag once more, cursing again that she had allowed enthusiasm for the Dragon Room to precede her renting a room at a local tavern. Finding herself momentarily alone, she takes a seat and enjoys the calm quiet of the Infirmary, allowing the stillness to fill her and re-balance her after all the earlier excitement. The calmness helps her regain focus, but even still it isn't long before she becomes restless, thinking perhaps she should have busied herself a little longer before she arrived; perhaps renting that room she should have taken on first arrival at Edoras. Curse her eagerness! To fill the time, Allacan takes the opportunity to attempt to stretch out some of her tightened muscles weary from travel in readiness for her physical, groaning and grunting with each extension much more than she would have in her youth. Unfortunately for her, during one perhaps over-ambitious lunge there is a tearing noise from her over-worn riding trews, such that by the time Amadhrill arrives she is greeted by Allacan's hearty laughter and the spectacle of the former-Marshal self-deprecatingly standing in her undergarments, apologetically presenting her torn trousers to one of the healer's assistants in exchange for some over-sized ones from the lost-and-found. She can only offer a shrug and foolishly grin at Ama on arrival "Not quite how I intended to begin my physical, I assure you, but at least it put a smile on someone's face" she finishes, gesturing to one of the sickly looking bed-ridden soldiers who is failing to muffle his giggles.

[Rowena Ellenweorc]

HUUUUHH???????? Why can't I delete this post? Evilness! LEMME FIX MY MISTAKE DARN IT!

[Elarith]

Leaving Briggastun, Eastemnet and on to Edoras

Hereward rode in front on Elarith's instructions, whilst she and Raulf came next and Wigmær at the rear. He had barely spoken since they left Briggastun, but sagged a little in the saddle. When he did look back, he glared at his uncle and Elarith could see the tension in his jaw.

When they stopped to camp for the night, Hereward stomped off to take care of the horses. They tightly trussed Raulf by his wrists, ankles and knees, though it hardly seemed necessary; the man's spirit seemed broken and he simply sat listlessly, head bowed down and snivelling softly. With Hereward busy, Elarith beckoned Wigmær over. "You know Hereward better than I. Can he be trusted to do his duty?" she asked him in a low voice. Wigmær gave Hereward a long, studious look.
"I think so. He is ambitious, but has a temper on him," he replied.
"Better not to test him. One of us with the prisoner at all times," Elarith said. Wigmær nodded.

There was little talk as they ate their dinner, and rather than sit in silence with Raulf a discomforting presence a little way behind them, they chose to turn in early for the night. They rose not long after dawn, and set off again south at first til they were some way beyond the Entwash, thus avoiding the flooded direct road, then turning back west and northward to strike back towards Edoras.

It had all been fairly straight forward, Elarith thought to herself as Wigmær hummed snatches of a song she couldn't quite place. More straight forward than she had hoped. They could see Edoras before them now, perhaps a couple of leagues ahead. Beside her, Raulf seemed to notice it for the first time, and sat up straight in the saddle.

A small stream crossed the road, and Elarith called a halt to give the horses (and themselves) a deserved drink before the final stretch. She and the dryhtgumas dismounted, and she untied the rope from her saddle to let Raulf's sad beast reach the water. She had barely undone the knot when the rope whipped out of her hands, stinging her palms as it leapt from her grasp, making her gasp in shock. Raulf's horse twisted away as he dug his heels into its sides, yanking its head round to spur it back the way they had come from.

Elarith let fly a torrent of oaths as she struggled back on to Lígesliht's back, but her two dryhtgumas were quicker once they realised what was happening. In a matter of heartbeats they were ahorse again, galloping after their escaping prisoner, with Hereward in the lead. Elarith let loose more oaths as she urged Lígesliht on, but her poor mare could not match the others for speed, and she could do nothing but watch.

Ahead of her, Hereward drew level, swung his spear horizontally like a scythe and knocked Raulf from the saddle. He tumbled backwards from his horse, left foot caught in the stirrup so that he was dragged along the rough ground, striking his head and upper body. His horse tottered to a halt and Hereward reined in beside it, jumped down from his own mount and quickly strode to where his uncle lay, eyes closed. Hereward's spear was in his hand, his face set.

Wigmær had closed the distance faster than Elarith, and reached Hereward as he stood over Raulf. His fist clenched and unclenched on his spear.
"Stop! Wait! They'll kick you out of the Cavalry for this!" he shouted hoarsely. "Don't do it, Hereward. Please."
"My aunt is dead!" Hereward cried bitterly, fierce eyes never leaving Raulf. "She shamed her family for him, broke her sister's heart for him, left her home for him, and then he killed her! She is dead because of this filth!" On this last word he aimed a kick at Raulf's ribs.
Elarith reached them at last, and swung down from Lígesliht. "Then you can witness justice for her, speak on your family's behalf, tell the King of your aunt Eadgith" she said, then bent down to Raulf and placed a hand gingerly on his chest. "He still breathes, but it seems shallow to me." She carefully turned him on his side, and noticed a deep gash to the back of his head. "We will need to get him back with all haste, else it will only be justice in the next world for this one."

She and Wigmær slung Raulf over Wigmær's horse, which seemed the strongest and fittest of the four. Hereward spat on the ground where his uncle had lain, then mounted his own horse. They set off once more, Wigmær in the lead now, and before long he was well ahead, taking the unconscious prisoner to the haelends to see if they could save his life.
"You did right, back there," Elarith told Hereward as they rode. The fury seemed to have left him.
"Perhaps," he replied. "He does not deserve to live. But to take his life I would have had to give up my post in the Cavalry, and that would have been too much to bear when I have dreamed of it since childhood."
They rode on to Edoras, the hooves of the horses upon the road and the wind swirling across the plain the only sounds as each brooded upon their own thoughts.

[Taethowen]

Anhyrne Family Lands, Eastfold, Riddermark
near Fenmarch, about half a day's ride north of The Great West Road

I really need to get a horse again, Taethowen thought as she slipped a coin to the farmer she'd managed to hitch a ride with from Edoras. Gondor had a strange practice where one could rent horses at the stables. During the time she'd been not-quite-an-invalid but certainly not up to caring for a horse on her own, she'd used those rented horses, but now that she was back in the Riddermark, it wouldn't do to be without her own mount.

First, though, she needed to interview a potential steward for the Anyhyrne lands. Her roots, for now at least, seemed to be taking hold in Edoras, but the land was too valuable to leave it unattended.

The Anhyrne manor was not terribly far from the Great West Road, at least on horseback. But she was still on foot, and while she had known these lands like the back of her hand and, as a child, could have found her way over them blindfolded, this was only the second time in a decade that she'd made her way here. Even if the strange fever had no ravaged her recall of the nooks and crannies of this land, the passage time would have as well.

At least this time, barely a month after the last, she knew what to expect for the manor itself.

But first, she had to walk to the manor, and at least it wasn't a bad day for a walk. It was barely midday, so she should be able to make it to the manor by nightfall. Before she'd left last time, Taeth had put out a notice at the small town between here and the Aldburg that she was seeking a steward. She'd received word about a week ago of an interested party, and they had arranged for an interview the following morning.

But first, she had to walk to the manor.


Several hours later

Spring was definitely on the verge of turning into summer. Taethowen had to shed her cloak only an hour in. While the morning breeze had still been a little chilled while she rode in the wagon, the afternoon sun had become close to overbearingly hot.

But finally, in the distance, she could see the silhoutte of the Anyrne manor, and the stables beyond it. If she paused for a moment, she could almost pretend that the afternoon light glinting off the windows was the light of a candle or lantern inside, calling her home.

It was empty, though. Vacant, just as it had been when she passed through on her return to the Riddermark. Her father had once bred a renowned line of horses here, and while it was tempting thought to try and rebuild the bloodline, Taethowen knew she didn't have time. Not yet, anyway. But perhaps a steward could help her begin the process.


The Next Day

It was near midday, after Taethowen had sorted through old, moth-eaten clothing of hers that she'd found in a chest of drawers in her old room, and dusted and swept the entire lower level of the manor, that she heard the sound of horses hooves outside.

She dusted off her hands, and hoped that there wasn't too much of it on her smudged across her face, and opened the door. A young man was dismounting from a chestnut horse as she stepped outside.

"Are you Ceadda?" she called out. Best to make certain before he was within arm's reach of her. While it would be unwise for someone to try and tackle her unawares, Taethowen was well aware that she was a somewhat petite woman, and sometimes people tried to take advantage of that.

"Aye, ma'am," the lad answered as he secured his horse to the hitching post out front, then ascended the steps that led to the door. "Are you Mistress Anhyrne?"

"I am," Taethowen replied. "Come on in, and I'll fix you a cup of tea for while we talk."

[Eldrith]

NPC post Taedwyn

A Cottage Somewhere Non Specified

Ready to make a first move. Though it needed to be subtle. Well, he hoped for the results not to be subtle at all. So far he'd spent his time idling about. Making his face known. within the cottage, they'd taken their time with the second task. Preparation had begun long before they reached this place, in raising the animals from young and training them to listen to commands. That was a task that had required patience, and was well suited to his nature. The final piece however would take skill, patience and would need to be executed at just the right moment. They were getting ready. The badgers were young still, but had reached the beginnings of adulthood and were likely to act as they were trained to do.
They were a familiar enough sight in the mark that they did not raise suspicion. And the path to be followed was easy enough to make. Yes.. it should not be a problem, just a matter of timing and practice. And he knew exactly where the first test would take place. Some art did not need any admirers, but he could not wait to see the reactions to the results. Balcetir had thought everything through and while he would not be here to see it himself, Taedwyn would make certain he had success to report.

[Eldrith]

NPC post Taedwyn

A Cottage Somewhere Non Specified

*His visit to the market had helped. And he'd walked around enough to make wise choices. The Dragon Hall was heavily guarded and the cavalry was having a strange influx of people lately. Veterans returning, as if something had drawn them back from house and hearth, farms and travels. It was.. inconvenient indeed. But not something that should be problematic. Slow it would go. There was a lad he'd seen on the market place that had potential. Not too bright it seemed. Perhaps befriending him would help other matters along.
The badgers were close to ready, and he wondered if the candy acquired would help with the last bit. The pottery had been acquired, especially designed for this from a potter somewhere near Bree, far away that no one would lay the connection, and the man himself had not thought anything of it. People liked strange things. How everything would be used or fit together was not something he'd ever learned.

[Amadhrill]

Meduseld Infirmary

She enters the infirmary to the sound of hearty laughter and stiffled giggles, not the sounds most often heard in the infirmaries. The reason, however, is quickly made clear to her as she walks up to Allacan presenting her torn trousers for a «new» one. Amadhrill joins in the laughter, feeling it ease her lump from leaving family and farm behind and return to new adventures in the cavalry for an unknown amount of time.

«Well, it is said that laughter is the best medicine.» She laughs merrily. «Sorry it took me so long, it is the first time that I am away from my kids for more than a few hours, and I wasn't expecting to be sent to the Westmark on such a short notice. I think civilian life has made me... uncavalry-like.»

She looks at the scroll given to her by the Bealdorhælend, stating the requiriments to become a cavalry member. Ama lead Allacan to a side room where they could have some privacy. «I will start with looking at skin, nails, joints, hair, eyes...» She gently took Alla's hand turning it over and looking into her hand, examining the skin and nails. «Any aches, pains, changes in your body?» She continued up towards the head, moving Alla's arms around and head, looking at the ears, scalp, hair.

(OOC Alla – sooo sorry for not seeing your post before, don't know how I managed to miss your post !)

[Rowena Ellenweorc]

"Pride (In the Name of Love)"

HAPPY PRIDE MONTH!!!!! For those who hadn't figured it out, a lot of my characters have LGBTQ+ backgrounds, so this is one of the few times where it will be blatant.


Inn Just outside the Deep
NPCs Rhys Ellenweorc and Audley ap Cyril

'Audley! Good to see you!' His brother-in-law patted his back. 'I was just thinking, what if we really show off your pretty boy side?'
'Say what?'
The black haired man gave him a big grin and said, 'I think you know full well what I mean.'
Audley ran his fingers through his hair. 'If it's what I'm guessing, then might I remind you I am Pretty boy simply because I'm the blonde version of you?'
'That and there's no way you could pass for a bad boy.' Rhys teased as he kissed his brother-in-law's cheek. 'Come on, you know it's secretly been a desire of yours. When we were together, you pretty much said so.'
Audley grumbled. 'You're going to hold that period of our lives over my head until I'm six feet under, aren't you?'
'Or until you cave and let me doll you up.'
'I doubt you'll have anything that will fit me,' Audley said with a shrug.
'You want to bet? There are perks to having a sister AND a wife that can do "feminine" things.'
'Don't you know nothing is truly feminine or masculine?'
'That's why it was in quotes, hun.' Rhys grinned and opened a trunk at the foot of the bed in Audley's room.
'Hey that's my Cav trunk!'
'And your point is?'
'There's nothing that you want in there!'
'Don't challenge me, love.' Rhys grinned as he pulled out various garments.
'Is that… A CORSET?! There's no way in hell you're putting me in that.'
'But wouldn't it be fun to go out and have people ask who is that pretty woman? I didn't know there was a blonde Ellenweorc.'
'If I'm riding with you, people might mistake me for your wife.'
'Nonsense. Everyone knows I have a brown-haired wife.'
Audley rolled his eyes. 'I'm too old to pass for your daughter though.'
Rhys snorted. 'So you'd pass for my sister or cousin.'
'FINE! I'll be your cousin.' Audley sighed and stared at the corset. A smile started to play on his lips. 'I can't believe I'm doing this. My father would kill me if he found out.'
'Oh I doubt that. He's relaxed over the past however many years. I mean look how he treats Kendrick.'
'Kendrick's not a direct descendant though... I still haven't told him about my own tendencies.'
Rhys shook his head, 'He's your dad. He loves you. And parents know, even if you don't tell them. He still lets you run the farm, live in his house, etc. That's a better acceptance than many like us get.' He looked off in the distance, going silent.
'Hey… I thought you said your dad was okay with you.'
'Oh, he was-- sort of. Enough to not disown me. But it was a struggle. As much as Annie struggled not to be forced into marriage, that was the same for me. He had these notions of how our family should be. Annie was to be the princess that married a noble, I was the soldier prince.' Rhys sighed and said, 'Obviously Annie became more the soldier prince, and then there's just me.'
Audley turned to face his brother-in-law and placed a hand on his cheek. 'You are a prince. Never think of yourself as less than that, Rhys. Because to all of us, that's how we see you. Prince Rhys. Especially Jakie. She thinks the world of you. She wouldn't have been at your side since Eadlyn and Kendrick departed from our lives if she didn't.'
Rhys chuckled and kissed Audley's forehead. 'You're a sentimental old fool.'
'Yeah, that's why I fit in with your family. Now, no more kisses or people might get the wrong idea about us.' He pushed Rhys' forehead away with his index finger.
'We're in a private room… How can anyone get a wrong idea when they can't see us?'
'No comment,' Audley smirked.
'Oh… right. Nevermind.' He threw the undergarments at the man and turned away while Audley put them on. 'So, how's the fit?'
'Pretty good so far. The real measure of success will be the corset and the dress though.' Audley started putting on the corset and then said, 'Speaking of which, I'll be needing you to tighten it.'
'You are completely useless aren't you,' Rhys teased.
'Only when SOMEONE puts me in a corset, not to mention one that tightens from behind.'
Rhys snorted and then came over and tightened the laces through the holes in the corset. He then eyed Audley, tilting his head. 'You know you really are easy to doll up.'
'I'm not sure if I should take that as a compliment or not…'
'Take it how you will, but it was intended as a compliment. You definitely earned your nickname.' Rhys then threw the light blue dress at Audley, 'Brings out your silvery blue eyes,' he said.
'I'm not complaining.' Audley pulled on the dress then looked at himself in the mirror. 'A little face paint and some heels should finish the look.'
'Agreed.' Rhys pushed his brother-in-law into the chair and then started doing his facial makeup, which would take the better part of two hours.

A few hours later
A young looking blonde descended the stairs, hand delicately placed on the railing as she walked. Silver blue eyes cast a gaze upon the room, and she smiled. No one here besides family that she knew. That was a relief. If anyone in the Cavalry caught wind of this, it would be the end of Audley.
Rowena, who had been sitting at the bar, didn't recognize the person who descended the steps, but her heart lept out of its place in her chest, and she just stared. 'I think this may be the first time I'm attracted to a female… Who the bloody hell is that?' No one in the inn answered her, not that she expected them to, it was full of people she only knew as her brother's guests after all. Plus she hadn't asked very loudly.
The girl was headed straight for her. Why? She wasn't in uniform, so she doubted it was someone who needed Cavalry help. Then the girl raised her hands to chest level and signed, 'Can I get you a drink?'
Rowena blinked completely and utterly stunned. The girl knew how to speak to her! And well, she might add. No-- wait, those hands. They were familiar. Not the hands of an average Rohir. They were the hands of both a soldier and a farmer. She grabbed the wrist of the woman and pushed the sleeve up, and sure enough, there were the telltale tattoos. 'A-A-Audley?' She whispered.
The girl nodded simply and didn't make a vocal sound. 'You really didn't recognize me?'
'Well, my heart did. It lept out of my chest when I saw you.' She turned and faced the bar, not looking at her hu-wife--whatever this person was in relation to her.
'Do you not like it? You won't look at me.'
'Trust me, its not because I don't like it that I'm not looking at you.'
Audley laughed. 'Oh, I see. Then I should dress like this more?'
'You do and I'll murder you… and find a way to do it legally.'
Audley chuckled, making it sound a little more dainty. 'Says the woman who is a Marshal.'
'Oh for the love of Bema, don't laugh like that.'
'I'll stop if you give me a kiss.'
'Hell no. Not like that I won't. I have an image to maintain, whatever your name is.'
Audley thought for a moment. He had forgotten to come up with a name for his alter-ego. 'Leylann.'
'Fine. Leylann, I'm not kissing you.'
'Awww. Please. A quick kiss from my favorite Marshal?'
Rowena growled. Dammit. Why did Leylann have to go there? She was a sucker for things like that. 'Fine.' She kissed Leylann on the cheek.
'Hey! Not what I meant.'
'All you're getting.'
'Hey-- even Rhys kisses me better than that. And I'm not married to him.'
'WHAAAAAAAAAT?! He's been kissing you?! That--'
'Relax, only on the cheek and forehead. Don't jump to conclusions, Princess.'
'Did you just call me Princess?' Rowena folded her arms, and gave Leylann a sassy, 'You better not have,' look.

[Eldrith]

NPC post Taedwyn

A Cottage Somewhere Non Specified

*Matters were moving along rather well. He was a satisfied man. The last elements would soon be acquired on the market. He wished he could actually test everything, but a trial run was impossible in this case. If it worked however it would not be a one time application. Badgers would be too obvious anywhere outside of Meduseld but there would be dogs that could be trained and probably trained easier. But in other places it would come later. Each one had it's own character and Edoras could be prone to chaos and flaring tempers easier. Besides it would be an accident: unlucky in timing but nothing that had not happened before. No reason for anyone to get anything except upset. He would be too of course. But it would break down one tie. And it would be a dry run for the cavalry. Timing would be everything. His associates here would be well able to each have their assigned tasks squared away. The design was advanced.. and he hoped indeed would work well.

[Rowena Ellenweorc]

"Pride (In the Name of Love)"

Inn Just outside the Deep
Westfold Rohan

'Don't give me that look!'
'You called me princess! I ain't no prissy princess!' Rowena hissed.
'That's not what I meant!'
'Then what did you mean?'
Leylann sighed and gave up. This was going to be a pointless argument she'd lose. 'Fine-- is 'Queen' better?'
'Hell no. You know that's what Banan used to call me!'
Leylann sighed, 'Okay fine. You win.'
'Of course I do. I always win.'
'Unfortunately.' Leylann rested her head on her fist. Rowena was impossible. It was a miracle they got married. Right now she was trying to stay on Rowena's good side, because she wanted that kiss. And she wanted it bad. She knew the only way she was going to get it was if she got Rowena to let her guard down and loosen up. Maybe if she played the part she and Rhys decided was to be her character. 'Okay, well, Leylann, I mean, I am your cousin.'
'Okay, well I definitely don't like this cousin.'
'Only because I'm beautiful. Possibly more beautiful than you.' She tapped Rowena on the tip of her nose.
'Oh definitely not. I'm definitely hotter that you.'
'I said more beautiful. Not hotter.'
Just then a Westmark soldier entered the Inn for a drink. It was still before curfew, thankfully, so the young man wasn't too terribly worried about the Marshal's presence. However, he was curious who was with her. Maybe if he got close enough to hear the conversation--
'Oh, look, it is one of my Dryhtgumas. Leylann, I'd like you to meet Talis, my husband's bunkmate. Talis, this is my cousin Leylann.' Rowena had noticed the dryhtguma almost as soon as he entered, and was grateful for the distraction. Perhaps this would be enough to distract Audley-- err Leylann from trying to kiss her.
'Uh, nice to meet you Miss Leylann.' Talis blushed profusely not realizing it was none other than his own roommate dressed up. She was cute, whoever she was. But he also was not about to let himself be interested in ANYONE related to the Marshal.
'Oi-- I seen that look before. Don't even think about it. My heart's taken.' Leylann hissed, although far more delicately than Rowena would be hissing at anyone. Leylann was loving the excuse to express a side of herself she didn't normally get to. Though she hoped her affected lilt was enough to hide her usual semi-gruff tone of voice that would be all too familiar to Talis.
'You don't look like an Ellenweorc,' Talis said.
Here Rowena piped up, 'Oh, and pray tell, what does an Ellenweorc look like? Last I checked you only met Audley from my family, and that's just because he's your roommateOh and Rhys, because he owns this place.'
'Well, um…' Talis rubbed his neck uncomfortably. 'What I meant was, um-- I guess she don't look much like you or your brother there.' He pointed to Rowena's twin who chose that time to come down the stairs.
Rowena rolled her eyes. 'Yes because cousins have to look alike.'
Leylann interrupted before Rowena could get too dramatic. 'I come from her mother's side. Where all the blondes are.'
'Oh.' Talis said softly.
'Now if you don't mind, the Marshal and I were having a conversation, that does not involve you,' Leylann sassed.
'You-- nevermind.' Talis walked away thinking whatever thoughts to himself he had been thinking without giving any verbal indication of what they were. He knew better than to mess with the Marshal.
'Oh, Talis, don't mind her. You're more than welcome to join us for a drink.'
'No, I think I better get going. I doubt you want me late for curfew.'
Rowena sighed, 'I suppose you're right. If I make an exception for you, I'd have to make an exception for everyone.'
'Uh-- everything okay, Marshal?'
'Oh it is just fine.'
'If that's the case--'
'Don't even think about it Leylann.'
'Already thought about it.' Leylann pulled Rowena toward her and went for the kiss.
Rowena however was faster and flipped the so-called cousin to the ground and planted a boot on her stomach. 'I warned you…'
'What the--?' Talis cried out.
Leylann dropped her voice as she thudded on the ground. 'And that's the woman I'm in love with.'
Talis knew the voice immediately but still was confused.
'Oh for the love of all that is good and holy Talis! I'm Audley underneath all this!'
'Bu-but why?'
'Because crossing boundaries is fun. Now shoo so I can continue my discussion with my wife.'

[Allacan ob Burzum]

Meduseld Infirmary with Amadhrill

Somewhat relieved that Amadhrill had been equally amused by the scenario rather than taking a stern approach (she had certainly known a few healands in her time who would automatically opt for the latter), Allacanl followed the woman through to the side room. As Amadhrill excused her tardiness Allacanl waved her off. "Nonesense, you weren't late, I was just absurdly early. I appreciate that it can be difficult leaving anyone you love for any length of time, but I'm sure they will be find without you. Unless of course they are prone to mischief and will see this as an opportunity?" she added with a gleeful smile that suggested she might be preferable to a little mischief herself.

She submitted herself willingly to the suggested examination, although blushed a little at the mud beneath her cracked and scratched nails. She shrugged and attempted an excuse of her own "I had to borrow a horse for part of the ride in, and walked the rest. The road was muddier than I expected, and these boots don't fit as well as they used to." she commented, while inwardly chastising herself for not washing herself thoroughly before arriving - it would certainly have been a better use of her time than lunging!

At Amadhrill's questions she shrugged. "Aches and pains are becoming more normal than not these days, I'm afraid. My knees and feet certainly protested at the long walk here more than I recall. I haven't lived a sedentary life in the fold, mind you. I think I'm just not as used to long walks as I am long rides any more; I hope that won't distract me when I'm on long watches on duty. Much as every cavalry rider would love to spend every duty on horseback, it does so make the paperwork much more difficult." She said, and mimed trying to sign something at desk height as though her chair was her saddle.

As Amadhrill turned to her ears, scalp and hair Allacan silently blessed the lovely farm-mistress who had offered her board and bath only a day's ride out from Edoras; at least she had washed her hair and ears thoroughly this morning. Her hands, boots and trews might have suffered for the muddy roads but the rest of her had fared much better. Her hair was clean even if her pony-tail was a little knotted from the high winds around Edoras. "Apologies, I'll have to start braiding my hair again. Or perhaps cut it..." she pondered aloud.

OOC @Amadhrill (No worries, and apologies for my late reply. A strange creature called RL bit my ankle and it took me a while to shake it back off again)

[Aodh Hammerhelm]

The Barrow-feld, Edoras: NPC: Fallon Underwood

The caravan of packhorses had dwindled in number as it moved east. Three of the six now remained. They stood in the morning light below Meduseld, on its tall hill, chomping contently in their nose-bags. Their handlers set about unloading the horses' cargo as the sun climbed higher over Edoras. Soon the shop-keeps and merchants would arrive to collect their wares.

From a tall bay, the horse at the rear of the diminished column, a small shape slipped. Hugging the shadows thrown by the Kings' burial mounds it moved stealthily towards the North Gate. A guard stood there. Dull-eyed from a night's vigil, and cursing the tardiness of his relief, he failed to notice the cloaked shape dart past his post.

Only when his woolly feet had carried him into Auld Town, only when the narrow streets provided cover, did Fallon Underwood throw back his hood.

[Amadhrill]

Meduseld eored – infirmary with Allacanl

Amadhrill smiled gently to Allacanl's words. «We are not getting any younger, and so it must be expected that we take a little longer to get the body ready, I am afraid. Some aches and pains are to be expected, but not all are to be tolerated and some can be cured... I am sure you know as well as I that a few long watches will have you back in shape for that too, though it might take a few more then it did ten years ago, it all depends on what we've done in between, does it not?» Her hands bends and unbends various joints, picking up the arms and legs, keeping a keen eye on Allacanl for any sign of pain as she moves.

«There is a distinct difference between a sore muscle and an ache, if three days do not cure it, or you have sharp and sudden pain, you must seek me or any of the hælends out. You are not as young as before...» she hesitated for a moment, then added softly «and it looks as if your body has known labour as much as it has known rest, both in your civilian life and your cavalry days.»

She laughed brightly at the mime. «I have not missed the paperwork! And it will take me forever to finish! I did not tell the marshals that I have not hardly read or written anything since I left the cavalry, so this scroll will take me forever to read through, and writing the report will take even longer...» She shook her head at the scroll. «How has life treated you in these past years?»

Small cottage in Old Town of Edoras

(NPC's Ædelwyn, Glædwine, and Heardwine)

«Glæd! Heard! Where are you?!» Ædelwyn rushes through the gate, her blonde plaits jumping up and down with her quick, dancing steps. The yellow and orange marigolds, globeflowers, and irises sways in the wind made by her quick movements, together with flowers from squash, pumpkins, and cucumbers. She bends her body just a little and the ten-year-old's hand brushes through the herbs and flowers lining the path towards the cottage, stiring up a pleasant and confusing mix of mint, apple, lemon, hyssop, sage, oregano, and many other herbs. She follows the path on her bare feet, seemingly not bothered by the gravel or stones underneath.

«Glæd!» she calls again «Heard!» She takes a quick turn, avoiding the few steps to the open front door and instead follows the path around the house where the sound of merry children playing is heard. There isn't much of the garden that is not filled with herbs, vegetables, bushes, or trees, only a small patch of grass is left for play. She laughs as she approaches what looks to be two girls dressed in ill-fitting dresses of good quality. Coming up to the girls she bows and says in a serious, deepened voice. It is quite clear that this is a game they often play. «Lady Teodwyn and lady Eowyn! I come now from the Eastmark where the orcs are plundering our land!»

The youngest of the two throws a wooden toy sword on the ground. «I want to be lady Eowyn!» Heardwine yells, the play has obviously not gone according to his plan. «I want to be lady Eowyn! Glæd always get to be lady Eowyn! It's not fair! I want to slay the dragon!»

«No, I don't! You're always lady Eowyn! I want to be her! And I want to have Ædelwyn's green dress!» Now it is Glædwine's turn, he hastily takes off Ædelwyn's old grey dress.

«You can be the dragon! I want to be lady Eowyn!» Heardwine yells back as he takes a good hold of the green dress. «You are such babies!» Their sister looks with contempt on the two boys. «Well, I was going to tell you something I heard from the gate keepers, but I'm not telling now that you are acting so childishly.»

The besser-wisser voice of the elder sister makes the two boys turn. «Anyways, if you are done playing with my old dresses, you better put them back or mama will turn them into tunics and breeches and then you can't play with them anymore!» Then she turns again, her plaits swinging around and her movements resembling those of her mother, Amadhrill.

((OOC - Happy Pride month! A very small and somewhat awqward dabble into and tribute to LGBTQ+ characters (or at least a play into letting Amadhrill's kids enjoy fluid gender roles), inspired by @Rowena Ellenweorc. @Allafyrefleorhtlig Glad to see that you have shaken off RL for a bit!

[Aodh Hammerhelm]

The Shambles, Auld Town, Edoras: NPC: Fallon Underwood

The cottage took some finding. The little hobbit's sense of direction, unless following the scent of food, had never been very good. The streets of Auld Town were as higgledy-piggledy as he remembered them, but not as crowded or noisy. Well, it was just after sun-up, he supposed. Most folk would still be in bed.

His woolly feet carried him quietly along crooked, dark lanes until at last he came to a wider space filled with sunlight. The grass that grew there felt good under his toes; a cherry tree had sprinkled pink blossom upon the doorsteps of the cottages that lined the green.

He reached into his wes'kit pocket and withdrew a large key on a silver chain. Which was it? Which door?

There were only four to try. The little fellow moved along the row of cottages, casting a furtive glance over his shoulder as he reached each doorstep. Sweat beaded his brow as he tried the key in the lock of the third door.

Yes! He was over the treshold before the door had swung fully open, had it shut as soon as he was in.

"A cup of something warm and sweet" he said aloud, as he moved towards the kitchen. "Yes, and a bite before changing and resuming my enquiries..."

[Taethowen]

Anhyrne Family Lands, Eastfold, Riddermark
near Fenmarch, about half a day's ride north of The Great West Road
(with Ceadda - NPC)

Ceadda sat at the table in the kitchen while Taeth made the tea. She could almost hear her mother's stern tone, berating her for being alone in the house with a man she didn't know, and Taeth let the corner of her mouth curl into a smile. Oh moðor, if only you knew how simply I could handle it if he threatened me in any way.

As Taeth waited for the tea to finish brewing, she glanced over at the table. Ceadda was waiting patiently, and looking around curiously. The kitchen was the largest room in the Anhyrne manor, and to Taeth it had always felt like the main room in the house.

She poured the tea, and then carried both cups to the table, setting one in front of Ceadda, then sat herself in the chair across from him. Ceadda had dark hair, gray eyes, and freckles across his face. If it hadn't been for his height and the broadness of his shoulders, she would have thought him still a lad. But he had an honest, eager air about him, and while Taethowen could have found an experience steward for the Anhyrne lands, she wanted to give someone young and unknown a chance to build their experience.

What followed was a bit of a dull conversation, by any means. Taeth asked Ceadda about his home (he'd grown up in the Eastfold as well, but further north in the plains between Aldburg and the Entwash), and his family (his moðor was recently widowed, but was still raising his two youngest siblings), and what experience he had raising and training horses, as well as managing crops. He knew how to read and write, at least enough for keeping a ledger and basic correspondence.

Eventually, Taeth turned the conversation directly to the business at hand. "I've recently returned to the Mark after nearly a decade away," she said. "And before that, it was even longer since I lived in this manor. So far as I knew, my mother, her husband--my father has been deceased for many years now--and my two siblings were still living here, and I only discovered the house was vacant and the fields fallow upon my return.

"I will be making my home in Edoras for the time being, but need someone to manage the Anhyrne estate. I will manage the financial aspect of it, but if you're willing and able, I need someone here to rebuild the horse breeding stock, to plant and manage crops, and to maintain the structures. There is a steward's house that you're welcome to use for your family as well as yourself, and obviously you yourself will be required to live on the property. Your salary will include a portion of the crops harvested, and 3 gold pieces per month.

"Are these terms acceptable for you?"

A big grin spread across Ceadda's face. "Yes, Mistress Anhyrne!"

"Excellent!" Taethowen smiled. "Let me show you around the grounds, then."


A Few Hours Later...

She watched as Ceadda rode off toward his modor's home for the night. He would be back in the morning, and between now and then she needed to find all the old ledger books, but especially the ones containing the history of the horses her family had sold. It would be excellent if they could get some broodmares back of the same bloodlines, and possibly even a stallion.

With a sigh, Taethowen walked back into the house, and as the scent of simmering stew hit her nose and caused her stomach to grumble, she was glad that she'd thought to start it cooking that morning, as well as making bread.

Last night, and even that morning, it hadn't bothered her to be alone in the house. But now... after having another person there, it felt

After she handed the ledgers and her signet off to Ceadda, she would need to head back to Edoras for the Summer Festival. And to deal with one more lingering bit of her past...

[Taethowen]

Taethowen's House, Edoras, Riddermark
mid-morning, on an nearly empty side street

Standing on the step that led into the vacant house where she'd last lived with her missing husband, Taethowen faltered thinking of the memories that must be contained within.

Perhaps she shouldn't do this now. There was so much to do at Awesnis, with the Summer Festival nearly upon her, and she had just spent nearly four days away dealing with the Anhyrne estate. While that experience had gone well, it had still been emotional and draining. Despite completely searching the Anhyrne manor, uncovering all the old family ledgers, and even some of her late father's journals, she'd found no hint to where her mother, siblings, and step-father had gone. She didn't even know when they'd departed.

Some of those memories she needed back, if it were even possible. But others... she didn't want to face some of those memories yet.

As she turned away on the stoop, about to return to her room at the inn, the soft jangle of coins in her pouch made her wince.

She wasn't really hurting for funds, but it was unwise to keep spending money at the inn. So, she turned back around, tugged out an old tarnished key, and opened the door.

The door creaked in new, unfamiliar ways at it swung on its hinges. As she stepped inside the darkened house, she expected to feel... grief. Loneliness. Instead, she was surprised when she just felt a little sad.

Looking around the small, but open, ground floor didn't trigger any memories. At least not any new ones. All of her belongings were still strewn about in their places, and there were some empty spaces where someone else's items had once sat. As she stepped through the house, little puffs of dust rose from the floorboards.

It was as if anything that wasn't hers had been removed, and then the house was forgotten and frozen in time.

Taeth traipsed upstairs, and found that the house... simply felt empty. It wasn't home any longer. She wasn't sure it would be her home again, but at the least, it was an asset.

She'd forgotten there were three bedrooms upstairs, as she opened a door that she didn't recall, but she didn't open the door to the room that had been her adopted son's. It had already been emptied long ago, in preparation for the journey that took her out of Rohan ten years before. But next to that... was her own bedroom.

And yet no memories assailed her there, either. Sometimes Taeth found the strange lack of memories where there should certainly be many to be disconcerting, but today it was a relief.

All the beds had been stripped down, though, sheets and blankets apparently folded and put away somewhere. The straw ticks would likely need to be completely replaced. There was a small table by her own bed, though, and on it was a box that she didn't recognize.

Cautiously, she lifted the lid, and inside found a stack of letters... written in her own hand. She picked up the letter on top and unfolded it to check the date.

Nearly eight years prior.

She didn't bother to read it. It was enough to know that her letters from Gondor during her illness and recuperation had arrived, or at least some of them. She was honestly uncertain how many she'd sent.
At some point, though, her husband's letters had stopped arriving. She'd always assumed they'd simply been lost, and that may have been the case. But she wondered if her own letters had gone wayward as well, because she knew she'd written within the last five years.

But the house, which had been hers since before he proposed, had clearly been vacant for a while, and all of his belongings were gone.

He hadn't been her first love, but she suspected she'd been his, and they'd both been young. Perhaps they simply had not been meant to last, and five years ago she would have never contemplated that thought. But now... now, it was a thought that brought her peace.

"I release you from your oath to me," Taeth spoke aloud. Though none would hear her at that time, it was something that needed to be said. "Wherever you are, whether in Rohan or elsewhere, I wish you happiness. From now on, I shall seek my own."

Then she traipsed back down the stairs, hung up her traveling cloak, and searched for the cleaning rags. At the least, she could rent out the other two bedrooms, or perhaps even the entire house, if she really didn't want to stay here herself. But first, the dust had to go.

[Aodh Hammerhelm]

The Streets, outside The Horse & Rider, Edoras: NPC: Fallon Underwood

The closing time bell had chimed at just the right moment, Fallon Underwood thought. The tall woman, @Eléowyn, had responded to his invitation but her manner had not been what he’d expected. He’d anticipated interest, piqued by anxiety, but not the calm manner she brought to the table in the corner.

He had no wish to show himself – not yet at any rate – and his heart told him that a tavern, no matter how well-appointed, was probably not the best place to reveal his mission to her. There were too many folk about and he was not yet sure if Eléo was drink taken. The chance of their meeting spinning out of control was there, he guessed. And if it did, every gossip and fishwife’s tongue in the city would be wagging by sunrise.

Ignoring the map, held tantalisingly close in Eléo’s long-fingered hand, he stood up quickly as she took a seat.

“Not here,” he whispered into her ear. “The streets and a walk under the stars would be a better place to talk.”

Wrenching his eyes from the woman’s face, he scurried around her and out onto the street. Casting a glance over his shoulder to see if she followed, he hurried up the cobbled lane. The street was quiet, but no place for palaver. Too many houses lined it.

Onward he trotted until he came to a square with a fountain and a view out over the plain under a star-filled sky.

Oblivious to the fact that Eléowyn and Aodh Hammerhelm had sat there in a long ago when and held their own deep palaver, he scooted up onto a bench besides the fountain. He took a deep breath, steadied his heart and waited for Eléowyn to join him.

[Eléowyn]

The Streets of Edoras

Eléowyn grimaced at the sound of the closing bell, her grimace becoming a scowl when the mysterious Hobbit jumped up and bid her follow him outside. She had no desire for a moonlight meeting with a stranger, even if that stranger were a Hobbit. Still, there was nothing to be done but to follow him, for she must know what the map meant, and what she was to do with it.

The holbytla trotted ahead of her, surprisingly quick for his stature, and she found she had to quicken her pace to a fast walk to keep up with him. The night was clear, with a bright array of stars twinkling overhead, reminding her of starry evenings in the company of her husband, or of evenings when there were parted but still watched over by those same stars. Bema, how she missed him.

The Hobbit made his way to the fountain in the square, and stopped there. A pang of longing overtook Eléo, and she hesitated for a moment before settling herself on the wall of the fountain, opposite the Hobbit. She knew not how, but she was suddenly certain that the Hobbit's mission somehow involved Aodh. She would not show her eagerness to hear his news, however, nor would she let her guard down. Her heart was now pounding so loud she feared he could hear it in the quiet of the night, but her quickened breathing could easily be attributed to the rapid pace he had set.

"Well, sir, will you now tell your name and reveal your purpose in bringing me here? Shall I begin? I am Eléowyn of the Westfold, though I suspect you know that already. Who has sent you to me?"

@Aodh Hammerhelm

[Taethowen]

Taethowen's House, Edoras, Riddermark
After sunset, the first night of the Summer Festival

Trepidation plagued her footsteps as Taethowen darted through the streets of Edoras towards her... well, not home, really, but... house. Just a house. She wasn't sure if she wanted @Culfinwen Lihtarwe, @Thalionwen, or Aelorco (@Dwarrow Elf) to actually be there yet or if she wanted to be able to fredegaring think for a few moments without noise or chaos around her.

As she rounded the final corner, though, her breath left her in a gasping sob as she saw that the house was dark and quiet, and she sank to the stoop, hugging her knees to her chest.

Thalionwen's voice echoed through her thoughts. You ill-bred, troublesome, loose-moralled MULE. First you're in here making at eyes at Frost (@Bïfrøst), who everyone knows is the biggest flirt in Mordo--in MUNDBERG, and then you touch my person. I swear to you, Taethowen, before this festival is over, you will PAY.

If only she hadn't given Culfy the door key. Then she could go inside and cry.

---

OOC - All-righty folks do what you will, let's just get this out of Miss/ter Meduseld since it's going KABOOM.

[Thalionwen Hunigfolm]

Taethowen's House, Edoras, Riddermark

"You know you shouldn't mind anything I say," Thalionwen offered, keeping herself to the deep shadows opposite Taethowen's doorstep. It was cold after nightfall despite the season, and she wished she'd brought a cloak. Everything about Edoras felt strange to her now--the weather, the streets, the people. Once it had all been so familiar, but things had changed. She'd changed. "I'm a fool, Taethowen Anhyrne. Always have been, always will. I make rash choices, and I cut off the people I love. You should've known better than to let me, of anybody in the Mark, hold enough power over you to hurt you so. But I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what I said, and for being a terrible friend, and for keeping secrets."

With a sigh, Thalionwen set down a bundle she'd been holding. It was everything of value she had left in Rohan--an old Cavalry sword of no renown that she lacked the heart or the disposition to wield, and the necessary papers to collect her faithful pony, Hild, from where she was boarded at Månsken ängar.

"The thing is," Thali went on, "I thought it might make what's coming if you hated me. Because I'm leaving, and I don't plan to come back. I know you're trying to start a new life here, but I can't. Everyone else moved on and went elsewhere while I stayed behind, and now you've all come home and it's time for me to go. I'm just...I'm not meant for this place anymore. Maybe I never was, and it just took me a long while to sort that out. But I see I was wrong now, and that it would be better if we parted on good terms. So I'm sorry again--truly I am. There are a few things here for you, too. It's not much, but it's all I have.

"You know I'm not much for drawn-out goodbyes. So I wanted to tell you, and now you know, and we can get through the rest of the Festival. When it's over, I'll be gone. I know you'll find that hard to credit from me, but it's all I want. Just to go, without too much fuss."

Thalionwen looked across the roadway at her friend, quietly listening in the moonlight. She thought of going over--of doing the honorable thing, and making a proper farewell. But she couldn't bear the thought, and didn't have the courage for it.

So without waiting for a reply, Thalionwen slipped away, letting the darkness hide her passing.

[Aodh Hammerhelm]

Edoras: NPC: Fallon Underwood

The hobbit watched warily as the tall Rohir took up a seat on the wall opposite him. She had no need to name herself - he knew her then, and he knew her now. @Eléowyn was older, of course, silver highlights in her long blonde hair, but her face was much the same, the eyes above her slightly crooked nose still that brilliant shade of cornflower-blue.

Fifteen years was a long time and it had wrought subtle changes on them both, perhaps that was why she didn’t recognise him, that and the hood he wore? Yes, he was slimmer now, portly rather than rotund, and his adventures down south had given his posture a surer bearing.

He noticed the frown lines above her brow and shifted uncomfortably as she questioned him. For the first time he understood how a distant cousin (many times removed) had felt opening parley with the dragon, Smaug. And of course he hadn't the luxury of a magical ring to shield him from his inquisitor’s gaze.

“Have you looked at what I had the serving-maid hand you?” he began with a question of his own. “Does it mean anything to you, Eléowyn? The delivery of the map was my purpose, its meaning is for you to reveal!”

He let his voice hang on the night air for a few seconds, then emboldened by her silence stood and said:

“Who has sent me? Someone you know quite well – but not the one you hoped for, that someone I seek also.

Who am I? Have you not guessed?

I am harrier-chef, I am pun’kin carver – I was chosen for the lucky number.

I am friend-in-need, Mettarë-dancer – I’ve come under wood and over ford to find you…”

Ringbold Took threw of his hood and knelt before his din’s m’lady.

[Taethowen]

Taethowen's House, Edoras, Riddermark

Taethowen stilled, lifting her head back up, as Thalionwen's voice floated through the shadowed street. Her friend's words soothed her heart in some ways, and further broke it in others. And Taeth... Taeth wouldn't call what she'd done 'moving on,' but she hadn't really had a chance to even hear all of Thali's story, or tell her own, and too many assumptions had been made on both sides.

"When it's over, I'll be gone. I know you'll find that hard to credit from me, but it's all I want. Just to go, without too much fuss," Thali said at last.

Taeth took a moment to take a deep breath and wipe the tears from her face with her sleeve. Then she realized that Thali was done. Talking. Altogether.

Taeth jumped up and crossed to where she knew Thali had been hiding--there were only so many options on this tiny street--only to nearly trip on a bundle on the ground. Her friend was nowhere in sight, but Taeth thought she caught the quiet patter of footsteps fading away.

"Oh Thali, don't you understand!" Taeth cried aloud, not caring if anyone overheard, but hoping that Thali was still close enough that she would. "It doesn't matter who you're with, or where you are, I just want you to be happy!"

Taeth kicked at the street in frustration, then finished her thoughts in a whisper. "Just... moving on, finding a newer, better life is never a bad thing. But it's foolish to burn every bridge behind you as you go. I know, all too well."

She then bent over to pick up whatever it was Thali had left for her. She was surprised to find a sword, and packet of papers. It was too dark to see what the papers were, at the moment, though.

Still heavy at heart, but becoming physically weary as well, Taeth looked up and down the street. There was still no sign of Culfinwen... who had her door key.

With a huff, she crossed back over to her door, dropped Thali's bundle on the ground, and settled back on the stoop.

She didn't really want to go back to the inn tonight, though technically her room was still available there. She'd paid for several days in advance. But that would mean facing the common room, with who knew how many other people around. And now she was locked out of her own house. For who knew how long.

She leaned back, scowling. "I am an idiot," she whispered, her head falling against the door with a quiet thud. "A complete and utter idiot."

[Culfinwen Lihtarwe]

Culfinwen, the streets near Taethowen's House

Culfy was still sniffling as she made her way through the dim streets, away from the sound of laughter. @Taethowen's message -- and door key -- were still clasped in her hand. But she'd gotten away from them in the crowd, in all the confusion (much of it emotional), not to mention that it was hard to see through tears, and now she had to admit... she was lost. These streets that she'd once called home were strange to her now, especially in this half-light. She was tired and her head ached. More fool you, Culfinwen Lihtarwe, she scolded herself. Bursting into tears just because of some perceived slight.

She rubbed her eyes and kept on. Flashes of familiarity came back to her, until... voices. Familiar voices! It must be Taeth, and @Thalionwen too. Perfect.

She hurried up, her thin-soled boots quiet on the cobblestones, close enough to hear...

...and to tell that now wasn't the time. A wave of guilt washed over her. This was eavesdropping, she knew, but... Her throat closed up as she heard Thali's parting words to Taeth[/b], and she watched as her friend disappeared down another street.

Culfinwen stepped out of the shadows. Taeth looked miserable, sitting on her own doorstep.

"I'm sorry," she said, approaching to drop the key into Taeth's lap. "I--I got lost." A stupid mistake, a stupid excuse. "Wait here for me, I'll be back."

She hurried off down the street that Thali had taken, hoping she could catch her friend. "Thali!" she shouted, not caring that annoyed faces peered out at her as she ran, bunching her skirts high around her knees. "Wait! I'm sorry!" Her throat closed again on the last word. Don't leave without saying goodbye...

(OOC: Thanks for moving me here, sorryyyy it took me so long! Love the bit about you sitting out on the doorstep, Taeth!)

[The Good Hunter]

Taethowen's House, Edoras, Riddermark

Once the commotion of the day’s events had settled, he had gone in search of Taeth, still needing to understand who and what she was. There was a clear image in his mind’s eyes, but the harder her tried to grasp that image to see it, the further it seemed from him, taunting him just out of reach.

He hadn’t a clue where she lived, and realized that stalking the streets for her would have been seen as less that savory, but his options were limited. Thalionwen had disappeared too, leaving him to fend for himself. He wandered the poorly lit streets for what felt like hours, disorienting and discombobulating himself until he was totally lost. The air smell of horse and hay. It had been a nice novelty when he first arrived, but as his frustration grew, his appreciation for the smell of Edoras waned. The sky was clear at least, he could make out a few constellations. Clear nights like this were a rarity in Mordor. The din of voices ebbed back and forth, never growing much louder than a soft drone, a buzzing of bees too far to be of note. The houses were all built close together and had such a uniform design it was almost impossible for the outlander to distinguish them. He passed into an alleyway when he heard unrecognizable voices and the clip clop of horses and ducked out the other side.

What a nice piece of luck he thought as he watched a woman (Culfinwen) dash off down the street to reveal Taeth sitting on the stoop of a house.

“I don’t think you’re a complete and utter idiot,” Frost detached himself from the shadows and walked closer to the house, satisfied that the street was empty once again. “In fact, I believe it to be the very opposite.” He spoke in a simple timbre, not wishing to enhance it with silky undertones and innuendos. This was clearly not the time for that.

The Númenorean sat down next to the Rohir and let the silence of the night envelope them.

[Eléowyn]

Edoras Square

"Ringbold Took, you scoundrel," Eléowyn exclaimed, nearly squealing with delight. "I could hug you! I will hug you!" She knelt down, bidding the Hobbit rise as she did so, and hugged him tightly, then held him at arm's length while she examined him.

"Yes," she said at last, "I thought so. I thought of you first when the serving-lass pointed you out in the pub, but I doubted when you kept yourself in shadow, and hooded. And, you are changed. Not merely by age; nay, I can see you have experienced much of the world since last we met. It is in your eyes, now that I see you in the moonlight."

How she wished they could sit in the starry moonlight and talk over old times. But she felt at last she was nearer to being reunited with her husband, @Aodh Hammerhelm, and thus reminiscing must wait.

"You were not sent by Aodh?" It was equal parts question and statement. "Rusty then? Or ... was it Ælfred?" She did not wait for a response before pulling out the map again and looking it over long and hard.

"This red mark," she said at last. "The Tafelberg. I believe I am to go there. In fact, I am certain of it." Now that she felt she had an idea where to find Aodh, she was eager to get started. "It is too late to leave this evening, but I will start out at first light. Or at least as soon as I can gather provisions. Are you to come with me? You will, I hope, at the very least, stay in my cottage tonight. Unless you have made other arrangements?"

[Taethowen]

Taethowen's House, Edoras, Riddermark

Just as Taethowen's head thudded against the door--not enough to really hurt, just enough to feel--@Culfinwen Lihtarwe appeared on the street, and she could see from the distress on Culfy's face that she'd overheard the end of her's and Thali's conversation.

Taeth started to push herself up, but Culfy dropped the key in her lap with an apology, and the promise to return, and then darted after Thalionwen.

Before she even had a chance to react, though, yet another person stepped out of the shadows, and this one did catch her off guard. Frost.

"I don't think you're a complete and utter idiot," he said, his voice far gentler than she had ever thought him capable of, to be honest. "In fact, I believe it to be the very opposite."

Her eyebrows nearly jumped off her face as he cross the street and settled on the stoop beside her. So shocked was she that she just sat there and gaped for a full minute, silence and moonlight settling around them.

"How would you know?" Taeth finally asked. "It's not like you actually know me, although apparently Thalionwen has been saying something to you about me, based on her introduction earlier. And well... it's not like our first encounter made me anything less than a fool."

A funny look crossed his face, then, and Taeth gave a quiet, disbelieving laugh. "You... you don't even remember me, do you?"

She must be insane. That was the only thing she could think of at the moment, when that silly little bit of relief finally broke the dam she'd been holding back and she suddenly found that she was crying and laughing, and she wasn't really sure which one was winning.

"Bema's horn, I've got to stop worrying over every little thing," she finally gasped when the... fit ended, wiping her eyes with the cuff of her sleeve. "I'm sorry. Would you like to come in for... well, honestly, I'm not sure what's even in the house besides the furniture. There might be an old bottle of wine somewhere, though."

Suddenly feeling a bit shy after her outburst, Taeth stood, forgetting that the key was sitting in her lap, and it dropped to the cobblestone street with a clatter.

[Aodh Hammerhelm]

Edoras Square: NPC: Ringbold Took

Ringbold allowed himself to be hugged for a long while; Eléo’s embrace could have lasted forever and he would not have complained. It had been a long, long time since someone had held him so.

His time a-roving with Ælfred, Arthur and Aodh Hammerhelm had been wonderful – thrilling you might say – but the little hobbit had found the wide world could often be a cold and dangerous place. Murder, famine, greed, pestilence: he'd seen them all, and the way hard times changed folks' way of thinking.

There were places they’d visited where the merest suggestion of a handshake was treated with alarm and suspicion. There where even towns and villages where, if you could believe such a thing possible, hugging had been outlawed!

Aware that he was now held at arms length, the hobbit listened carefully to his friend’s next set of questions. Her voice was less hurried now, her queries more precise.

“No,” he said. “I’m sorry to say Aodh did not send me. Nor was it Rusty… if by that name you mean a fellow I know as Arthur, a chap who Ælfred calls at times Cuthbert and at others Goldwhæt?

But to answer your first question… Yes, Ælfred sent me – you know him do you? – a fine fellow he is, one-eyed or not. He sought me ought some months ago, in a little fishing village we used to over winter on the mouth of the Brandywine.

He was not himself, extremely agitated is how I’d put it. He kept going on and on about some weird dream his twin, Aldor, had been having. The dream was about Aodh and some Dark Man; not Sauron - he has fallen hasn't he? - someone far more perilous...

Ringo’s voice trailed off, he noticed scudding clouds had blotted out the stars. He shivered despite the warmth offered by his cloak.

”There’s so much to tell you, old friend. So much you need to know before you go haring off without proper thought.

Your offer of a bed I’ll take very kindly. It’s been long and long since I slept on a comfy mattress, and longer still since I sat in a good armchair beside a good fire with a warm drink and a small plate of victuals.

Shall we go now to your cottage? I think that best… I’ll tell you all you need to know when the road weariness has left me…”

[The Good Hunter]

Taethowen's House, Edoras, Riddermark

Frost watched quietly as Taeth’s moods swung from crying to laughing to serene again. He had learned long ago it was a good idea to let people process whatever emotions they needed without help unless they asked for it. Taeth didn't need his comforting, not yet at least.

Her accusation that he did not even remember her stung, but she was not altogether wrong. He did remember her, or at least he recognized her, but Taethowen was not the name she was going by when they’d met.

She stood up suddenly, ready to head into her house when the key dropped from her lap. It clattered to the street before either of them could react. Without a word, Frost leaned over, picked the key up off the ground, and stood up. The key was small and cold to the touch. He rolled it around in his hand, flipping it nonchalantly between his fingers.

“I remember your face,” he said quietly, looking over each her features, “but the name Taethowen isn’t one I remember. You went by another name didn’t you? What was it…” he rubbed the stubble on his chin, “something starting with an “L”. Lomiel?” He grinned triumphantly. “Yes, that was it. You went by Lomiel.”

He handed her the key, his fingers brushing her palm as he did. “If you are inviting me inside, I would welcome a glass of wine. And I think we both have a few stories we could tell each other. I’m very curious how a Rohir of your standing,” he waved his hand back in the direction of the festival and then to the house before them, “ended up in Umbar of all places.”

[Eldrith]

NPC post Taedwyn

A Cottage Somewhere Non Specified

*The lavender had been a potential problem but he had managed to secure the beeswax without it being scented. The process would be meticulous, an ingenious contraption that would allow just enough air in, covered with a dark cloth so the light would not attract attention and the wax separating both chambers. Once the whittled down candle would melt the wax, fire would reach the alcohol soaked fabric underneath and then further in. It would be a matter of timing and testing.
Looking at the animals he'd raised and trained, matters seemed to be coming together.
Now it was waiting for the perfect opportunity. He'd chosen the target carefully so everything would seem inconspicuous. Accidents happened. Especially in places where a lot of people came together. The festival allowed him to work without too much of a distraction. Some of the men would be no doubt liberating others from their purse. Skilled thieves could do a lot with a crowd of this size, and it would keep them from getting too restless.

[Eléowyn]

Eléowyn's cottage

The pair headed off in the direction of Eléowyn's dwelling, she in the lead this time, Ringbold trotting along beside her. The night was rapidly slipping away, and morning would come all too soon (or mayhap not soon enough, as Eléo was eager to be on her way), but the Hobbit was clearly hungry, and there was much they needed to discuss before they could sleep.

Upon entering the humble cottage, Eléo first directed Ringbold to a seat by the hearth, then set about stoking up a blaze. She quickly put water on to boil for tea, then set some rashers of bacon to fry in a pan over the fire. There was little else to offer, as the winter's provisions were nearly gone, and summer's bounty had not yet ripened, but there was a brown loaf, and though it was stale, it would be fine for toast. Thankfully she had some berry jam left.

As she busied herself preparing the late supper, she chattered like a jay, peppering the Hobbit with questions about his journeys, about how his life had been since last she had seen him, keeping the tone light until such time as their meal was over. At last, she poured the boiling water over the leaves, carried two plates to the large oak table that dominated the room, then changed her mind and handed one to Ringbold by the fireside. Once the tea was poured, she carried her own plate to the second chair and settled in, waiting for a cue from the Hobbit that he was ready to turn to more serious talk.

@Aodh Hammerhelm

[Taethowen]

Taethowen's House, Edoras, Riddermark

Frost bent down to retrieve the key before her, and Taeth found herself only a little distracted as he flipped it around his fingers. When she pulled her gaze away from his hand, she was surprised at just how close he was standing to her, and how intensely he was studying her.

After another moment, he admitted that he remembered her face but not her name. "You went by another name didn't you?" he asked, and a mischievous grin flickered across her lips. She wasn't going to tell him, that would be too easy. But it seemed he'd been pondering it for a while already, because his guesses went straight to it.

"Aye," she admitted, unable to resist his grin. "I was Lomiel, for a time."

When Frost placed the key in her hand, the brush of his fingers sent a thrill up her arm that made her swallow hard. It had been... a very long time since anyone distracted her quite like this, and Taeth found she was thoroughly enjoying it. As her face began to burn, just a little, she turned to the door and set the key in the lock.

"Come in, then," she said, as the door swung open on not too frightfully creaky hinges, and she bent down to retrieve the sword and bundle of papers Thalio had left behind, dropping them just inside the door. "And I'll tell you the tale, though it is quite a long one."

It's a good thing I cleaned the place up a bit the other week, she thought as she strode to the small desk to the left of the door to light a lamp. Frost stepped inside, closing the door behind them, as the flame flared to life.

She picked up the lamp, willing her fingers not to tremble, and gestured toward the main room to the right of the door and led the way to a large table in front of a dark fireplace.

"I haven't lived in this house in over ten years," Taeth began to speak as she lit a second lamp on the table, and retrieved a couple of wooden cups from the cupboard. "And the last time I did... I had a husband, and a son--adopted son, anyway, and that's really where the story begins."

Taeth paused in the tale a moment as she took a lamp and rummaged through the larder, trying to sort out how exactly to tell this story when there was so much of it she didn't actually remember. She'd pieced much of it together as time went along, talking with those who'd helped her, perusing her sparse journal. And ah-ha! There was the wine. She thought she'd seen a bottle when she'd cleared some very old perishables out the other day.

She turned back to Frost and held out the bottle, label faded and ragged, with a smile. "Would you mind opening this? But I'll confess I have no recollection of what the vintage is, so it might be terrible. I've always preferred to spend my coin on fine fabrics rather than fine wines."

They took a seat at the table, and as Frost deftly opened and poured the wine, Taeth took the opportunity to pull the pins out of her bun, shaking out her hair with a sigh of relief as the end-of-day tension in her neck began to ease.

Frost handed one of the cups of wine to her, and she took a sip before continuing. The wine wasn't... as terrible as she'd feared it might be, but it was by no means fine wine, that was certain. She'd probably bought it for a stew once upon a time, not for drinking.

"My son was from Gondor," she picked up the story again, "though there is yet another story behind that, which can be saved for later. At the time I adopted him, we'd been unable to track down any kin. But a year or so later, distant kin came forward and claimed him. After I was satisfied with their proof, and made certain that he would be content with them, I relinquished him back to his family."

Taeth paused then, and took another sip of wine before casting her eyes around the house, a teary sheen momentarily appearing before she blinked it away. "The last solid memories I have from that time are here. Preparing my son and his belongings for the journey back to Gondor, bidding my husband farewell for what I thought would be a short journey, taking a temporary leave from the Cavalry even though I'd just been promoted to Third Marshal.

"I don't know, nor have the healers ever figured out, what exactly I fell ill with on my way back to Rohan. But ill I was, nearly to the point of death, with a fever so long and high that the healers in Gondor feared that if I woke, I would be senseless. Fortunately, I was not," Taeth smiled wryly. "But my recovery was long, and while the fever did not damage my ability to think or speak, it did take many of my memories, and even now there are things that simply slip away at times as if my memory were a sieve."

She looked down at the table, her face somber, tracing the grain of it with a finger. "It's a terrifying thing, not even knowing your own name. And it was during that time when I became Lomiel. None of the Gondorian healers tending me could read Rohirric, and when I was finally coherent enough to read through my very sparse journal, I found it wouldn't have helped, for apparently I never wrote my own name in it.

"During my slow recuperation, though, I found that the skill of needle and thread came to me nearly effortlessly, and when I was finally well enough to leave the healer's house, I was able to pay back the substantial debt I owed there through commissions. Somewhere along the way, I did remember my name and the earlier years of my life, but I was still relearning who I was, and so I decided to keep going by Lomiel until I felt like Taethowen again."

Taeth gave a long, quiet sigh. She hadn't really had the chance to tell this story to anyone yet, though old friends here in Rohan had reached out to her. It seemed whenever there was the chance to talk, something always interrupted.

"Once I'd paid the healer's house, I'd gained a rather surprising amount of clientele, many of whom ended up being minor nobles, and I did not lack for work. It was there that I encountered that lovely, lovely Haradrim silk for the first time," she laughed, "and that is what eventually brought me to Umbar, for no one was willing to give up their sources to an unknown Rohir who was stealing all the seamstress work in Gondor."

She took another swallow of wine, and then leaned forward, eyeing Frost curiously. "But what I'm dying to know is what on earth I did to catch your attention in the first place."

[Rowena Ellenweorc]

Audley's Past Returns

Inn Outside the Deep
NPCS Rhys and Audley

A messenger arrived for Jakiewyn just then, and Rhys nodded. 'I'm her husband, I'll get it to her, thanks.' The messenger nodded and Rhys went back to the kitchen, and wrapped his arms around his wife. 'Hey, you have a letter. Looks important.'
Audley sighed as he watched the messenger wander off. It'd been too long without word from Rowena. He wished that messenger had word from her. But unfortunately, she was in Gondor right now. It would take a lot longer to get a message to him. He had wanted to go with her, but it was already suspicious enough that she was tailing their daughter Zara to Gondor to inspect the manor Eamon left behind when he died. She insisted he stay.
What the hell was suspicious about him going with his wife to a family estate in Gondor? He didn't understand. And she wouldn't tell him either. It was frustrating as hell to him. Just then, his best friend came running into the Inn looking panicked. 'AELLEN! What's wrong?'
He waved a letter in his hand and said, 'You-- have a-- letter.'
'What does it say, dammit!!! What does Annie have to say!'
'I don't think its from the Marshal, Audley -- Listen. "My sources tell me your pretty little wife is away, and thus that leaves you completely unguarded. Just like your brother was. I'd watch your back if I were you. Wouldn't want your lovely lass to lose another husband now would we?
~The Hawker" Who is this Hawker person?'
Audley looked as confused as his friend did. 'Give me that. Lemme show Rhys, see if he can make sense of this… He's got a knack for this stuff.'
'O-okay. But is it wise to involve another Ellenweorc?'
'The Ellenweorcs were involved the moment he brought my wife into this-- whatever this is. Now go back and train.'
'Uh… okay?' Aellen didn't bother to remind Audley that he wasn't the one who gave out orders, he understood his friend well enough to know that he just was telling him to leave him alone.
Audley barged into the kitchen and said, 'Sorry to interrupt your little lovefest, but Rhys, I need you.'
Rhys blinked. Audley's voice was-- scared? The last time he heard that tone of voice in Audley was when they thought they were going to lose Rowena. It wasn't that Audley hadn't been scared since then, but he'd over the years had gotten better at concealing his emotions. 'Okay, what is it?'
'Aellen just brought me this.' Audley handed his brother-in-law the letter.
'Wait… I thought your brother died from when a fever plagued the farms and homesteads of the Westfold. You suspected it was grief that really took him though…' Rhys asked looking up at Audley after reading the note.
'That's what I thought too! And who the hell bloody hell even knows about my brother anyway?! Who is this Hawker?'
'What I want to know is how threats like this even make it into the Deep?'
'Easy. You forget the Deep is also a refuge.' Audley grimaced.
'Well, I think we need to go talk to your father and mother.' Rhys looked at Jakie and kissed her. 'I'll be back tomorrow. I promise. Take care of the Inn until then?'
Audley covered his face with his hands. 'What secrets are in my damn past?! I thought my past was an open book. Only to discover I have as many secrets as you idiots do.'
'Hey… hey… Don't let this Hawker get to you. Rowena may be a Marshal. But the Hawker clearly doesn't know much else about us… Or he'd know even without Rowena you've got tons of protection.' Rhys wrapped his arms around his brother, kissed his forehead, then looked worriedly at his own wife. He mouthed to her, 'I'm scared for him.'

[Aodh Hammerhelm]

@Eléowyn’s cottage: NPC: Ringbold Took

The chair, an armchair with a high back, was the comfiest thing Ringbold had sat in, in many a long month. The warmth from the fireplace, and the aroma of sizzling bacon, made him feel cosier still. He was drowsy, eyes drooping and he pinched his side to stop himself nodding off. Eléo was chattering away as she prepared their meal and Ringo knew he had to take careful note of every word she spoke.

He recounted none of his own adventures (there were too many stories and wild yarns to spin) – offering only a grateful thankee-sai, as she placed a plate in his lap. He took a sip of his tea before tackling the food. It was heavenly, so much nicer than the rooibos Ælfred was fond of brewing over the campfire. Next he spread the berry jam over one slice of toast, added the bacon to the other, and brought them together into a chunky popkin.

The hobbit went to work, (the bacon was delicious, its saltiness nicely offset by the sweet piquancy of the jam)and for a short while the only sound that filled the cottage was his contented champing and snuffling. At last he reached for his mug, drained the last of his tea and burped loudly.

Should he ask for another sandwich? No! The road may have worn the soft edges of civility from him, but Ringbold still recognised the difference between chumminess and rudeness. A contented belch was mildly uncouth, to ask for seconds, when food was obviously in short supply, was vulgar in the extreme.

“Thank you,” he said now, to his friend. “That was wonderful. Might I have another mug of tea while I fill my pipe…

Oh, do you allow smoking in your cottage? I’m so used to living under tarp’ or the stars I almost forgot to mind my manners!”

[Allacan ob Burzum]

Meduseld Infirmary with Amadhrill

She didn't know how much of her history was common knowledge, and how much was protected by classification by the Marshal's or kept hush-hush for a number of reasons, so she instead summarised as best she could. "I was unfortunately ill and suffering with traumatic amnesia; when I returned to the Riddermark I recalled very little of my identity. I myself have spent much of the last few years in convalescence in a smallholding in the Eastemnet near The Fold waiting for my memory to return; they kept me physically busy patrolling the borders and working the land there. No children or weddings for me though. I don't suppose I'll ever have kids now, not after..." her voice trailed off with a moment of melancholy, and she shrugged self-deprecatingly to shake it off. "I can assure you I am back to my usual self, and have come to terms with much of what happened to me. I assure you, I would not have returned to Meduseld if I, and my caretakers, were not one hundred percent certain I was mentally fit for duty" she concluded.

The hælend's warmth and empathy was a boon to the soul, and Allacan found some of her hidden anxieties fading away. She might be certain of her mental fortitude, but she was reluctant to confess any particular physical weakness to the hælend that might mean a failure of her medical. Yet at the same time she wanted to set a good example to others and knew the importance of being honest about your health before allowing others to put their lives in your hands. Also, if there -was- any relief from the aches and pains she would prefer to discover it now rather than let pride stand in the way.

"Actually, Ama, I have to be honest and say the knee pain is probably a bit more than just the usual aches and pains, especially recently since I started walking more." As Amadhrill bent and straightened her legs there was a very slight but audible crunching noise in the knee and a hand pressed over the kneecap would feel a slight grating. "They ache late at night if I've been exercising a lot through the day, and sometimes I get sharp pains in my foot after I've been standing for a while. And sometimes there's swelling. I've been using balms to ease the pain and reduce the swelling, but I'm reluctant to rest it if I don't have to. I don't suppose you have any other ideas for what it could be?"

She laughed at Amadhrill's reluctance regarding the paperwork, likely made much worse given she know likely had more to write now. "How about I help you with the report on my health as a way of saying thanks? I kept a diary of my experiences while I was in recovery, so my penmanship isn't completely awful."

OOC @Amadhrill ( This time it is my turn to beg forgiveness for failing to reply and getting caught up in all the festival madness. I decided to give Allacan my RL over-pronated feet, otherwise known as flat-feet, which in turn messes with leg posture and causes pain in the foot, ankles and mild arthritis in the knees. Its a nice simple thing that can be recognised by watching someone walk and is easily rectified by the right boots or insoles (yay an excuse to go shopping in the Riddermarket) but thought I'd clearly describe it OOC so you don't fret over making a diagnosis.)

[The Good Hunter]

Taethowen's House, Edoras, Riddermark

The wine, despite the Rohir’s protestations and warnings, was not that bad. It was a bit thin and a bit too dry for his taste, but Frost was enjoying the company too much to care about the wine. Her story was a fascinating one, if rather tragic. The thought of losing one’s memories and being unable to rediscover who you were for so long must have been terrifying. But Lomiel, no Taethowen, seemed to have bounced back from her tragedy and rebuilt her life. It was an incredible achievement, one that Frost was not sure he could have emulated, if their positions were reversed. He watched her intently as she told her tale, hearing every word she said. He watched her eyes, her lips, her hands, every part of her as they assisted in the telling of her story. He could not put his finger on why, but she fascinated him.

Then she came to the part where their stories originally intersected. Umbar. The greatest port city of the Black Lands, a seething mass of violence, magic, salt, and piracy. It had been his home for the better part of his life. He knew it well. He took a sip of the wine, inhaling the bouquet as he did so. The day he had first seen her.

“I remember that day. It was rainy if I recall, but then again it’s always rainy down south. It wasn’t a bad rain, just a drizzle. I remember the way the clouds swirled overhead, all the shades of grey mixing and spinning together. It was quite a tapestry. I heard his voice first. That sniveling little weasel you had hired as your interpreter. His voice was the most grating thing I’ve ever heard. I could hear him coming three blocks away. I’m surprised you aren’t deaf from listen to him talk.

“I thought it unusual that he would be escorting you around. We don’t get many Rohir in Umbar. I remember that,” he pointed to the medallion on her neck and smiled. “I don’t think many people knew what that meant, but I’ve been to Rohan before and I know the motifs you like display. You did a good job hiding it, if I hadn’t looked down from my just at the right time, I would never have seen it. I could tell you were a noble though, or at least you weren’t a commoner. Anyway, I could tell something was wrong. He was using a dialect of Adûnaic that’s only used by slavers and traffickers and you didn’t look like you were the type to buy slaves. I followed you.

“It was good I did too. The man he had you meeting, a slave trader named Carroc Dhevish, was getting ready to purchase you! I had choices then,” he took another sip of wine and stared at the pattern of the wood in the wall opposite him. “I could have let him sell you. It wouldn’t be the first time I had witnessed an unwitting slave auction. But you were different. You were a noble. I’ll admit, now, I thought to use that to my advantage. That’s why I saved you. I’m not a noble man, Taethowen. I’m sure you’ve gathered that by now. I don’t like opportunities going to waste. I saved you because I thought I could use your connections, I thought you’d be so grateful to me that you’d grant whatever reward I asked.” He took another sip and smiled ruefully. “But I had no idea who you were, and what kind of fire you had. I threatened to flay the interpreter right there in the street and feed him the strips if they didn’t let you go with me. I have that much pull at least, though I did pay for that down the line. You however,” he stopped and chuckled, “didn’t think I was rescuing you so much as trying to kidnap you. Do you remember the slap you gave me?”