Cavalry Courtyard I

[Shivased]

As the sun creeps over the horizon the Cavalry Courtyard begins to buzz with activity. Riders of all ranks roll out of their bunks as the smells of breakfast waft from the mess; swords and armour are strapped on and quiet words are spoken as the guards on the walls are changed. In the stables horses nicker and huff as the stable hands begin doling out the morning measure of hay and grain. Riders begin to move here and there, going about the start of their day. There is an air of pride and duty about the courtyard as well as friendly rivalry between riders as training begins and friendly competitions break out. As the day wears on riders will come and go and go about their duties and training, and the daily life as soldiers in service to their King.

This is the Cavalry Courtyard where Cavalry members can RP daily life as an elite member of the Cavalry of Rohan. Here Cavalry members can RP training, healing, tracking, maintaining armour and weapons, and any tasks or daily activities related to their service in the Cavalry. From time to time Marshals will update the Courtyard with orders for specific riders and other things that happen, so watch for those posts and be sure to react as necessary.

Each Eored has it's own Courtyard, located in different areas of Middle Earth. These courtyards are:

Edoras
The Meduseld Éored arguably has the best position, with the Courtyard's location just outside the walls of Edoras offering them anything they might need. On the other hand, they are also the closest to the King and more visible than the other eoreds, meaning they must always be on their best behaviour. .


Westmark
Protected by the mountains, the Westmark Eored makes their home at the citadel of Helm's Deep. Here they deal with the ever-present threat of roaming orcs, wolves and bandits as they protect the Westemnet. There are not only wolves raiding the farmsteads, but also the occasional Uruk-hai party coming from the mountains beyond Rohan's borders. Patrols take up much of the Cavalry's time here. Free time inside the Deep is rare, but all the more treasured for it.

Eastmark
Removed from the sad happenings of the court, yet being a lively town itself, Aldburg is the home of the Eastmark, and seems a far more pleasant place to spent time in. The threat of Orcs and wolves is just as high here as at Helm's Deep, with roving bands threatening the farms and people of the Eastemnet. This leaves little idle time, and whatever can be found is usually used up for training or rest.

Areas of the Courtyards:

The Barracks: Where people sleep. A low, long building consisting of an open room lined with bunks for Dryhtgumas, Sperewigends and Aethelwigends. Feldmarshals sleep two to a room at either end of the barracks, and Marshals are afforded their own rooms in an adjoining wing of the building. While some riders live here, others sleep here only when they require, preferring their homes outside the Courtyard.

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

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

The Stables: Located against the wall of the Courtyard, the stables house the Cavalry's horses. Stable hands bustle about caring for animals and riders go in and out on various tasks. The Tack room is a smaller building attached to the stable where equipment and tack for the horses is stored.

The Infirmary: Realm of the Haelends and overseen by the Bealdorhaelend, this is where the healers can be found. Those who are not healers tend to avoid the Infirmary, unless forced to enter.

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

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

Training Fields: Outside the walls of the Courtyard are the training fields. An archery range, sword ring, practice field and riding arena are clustered together. This is where new Sperewigends receive their training and fully-fledged Cavalry Members hone their skills. Strict Marshals and Feldmarshals oversee the practice and training with experienced eyes, correcting and managing those there.

Rules:

• Please put your location at the top of your post so we know which courtyard and where you are.(ex. Edoras - Armoury)

• Please post in your Eored colour - BLUE forEastmark, GREEN for Meduseld, and RED for Westmark. New trainees, post in Black.

• No Godmoding.

• Updates and announcements will be posted in PURPLE

• Cavalry Members and trainees only please.

This OP is a work in progress, It's nowhere near the original. If you remember something that was on here, or have any suggestions, let me know! Once I find it, I will post a link to a map of the Courtyard.

[Aethelu]

Training Fields

Dicun had found himself just outside Edoras as the sun had crested over the horizon. He hadn't intended to set out so early, but he had found it difficult to sleep. When the Marshal had told him to arrive in the morning for training, he had been both excited and nervous. Part of him had been so concerned that he would oversleep and be late that he had considered not sleeping just in case. He had started well, spending part of the night speaking to his sister about his plans and her adventures. Eventually she had admitted defeat and gone to bed, while Dicun tried to get a few hours. He had awakened as the night began to fade towards dawn and decided to set off, grabbing some bread from the kitchen before he left. He watched the sunrise as he sat on a hill overlooking the cavalry buildings and grounds. It didn't take long for him to see movement and watched as the place began to come to life. He hurried down the hill and made his way towards the training fields. As he approached, he could see the Marshal Shivased was there already. He stepped up to her, bowing his head. "Good morning, I am here to report for training."

[Rowena Ellenweorc]

Helm's Deep

Barracks

'Get up, get up!!!!' A young dryht said shaking the honey blonde awake. 'We gotta make a run for it?'
'Why?' Audley grumbled as he sat up. 'We're soldiers. We don't run, Talis.'
'They are issuing orders for us to get our physicals?'
'Oh? Is that all? You know full well that it's not so bad.' Audley stood and started getting dressed, intending to be first in line.
'You don't understand. The Marshal isn't doing them. She's still in Edoras.'
'Wait… Come again? Who is doing them? We don't have any other haelends. Unless we're talking Esme. But I thought she was with the Marshal in Edoras.'
Talis, brown hair falling in his eyes, replied, 'We do now apparently. Well sort of. I guess the woman used to be a haelend, but she is now retraining. Her task is to give us all physicals.'
'Wait… You mean to tell me we have an inexperienced healer doing our physicals? Uh uh. No way. I'd rather die first than get one.'
'Exactly! We have to run!'
Audley started packing a bag, intending to head back to the farm. His kids would enjoy seeing his face anyway.
Just then, his buddy Aellen entered the room. 'Ey, you hear the news?'
'That we're expected to get physicals?'
'Yup. Fortunately, I'm exempt. I managed to get mine when the Marshal was doing them.'
'WHAT?!!!!!!'
'Pays to actually not avoid haelends, old friend.'
'Clearly…' Audley grimaced.
'Its okay, I remember the person doing them. She did a good job when last she was a haelend. You'll like her.'
'I don't like any haelends, Aellen.'
'Not even your wife?'
'I *HAVE* to like her.'
Aellen shrugged, and said, 'Go now, get it over with, then I'll meet you on the training grounds and we can spar.'
'Nope. I'm going home.'
'Oh no you are not.' Aellen grabbed Audley by the collar of his nightshift, as well as Audley's new roommate, and brought them both to the Infirmary

Infirmary
'Hello? Dryhtguma Amadhrill? Are you here? I brought your first patients.' Aellen called as he tossed them one at a time on the beds and cuffed them to each so they wouldn't dare escape.
Audley hissed and growled. 'AELLEN. I WILL MURDER YOU FOR THIS!!!!!'
'Ah ah ah… it's not wise to threaten a dryhtguma, mate.'
'Oh shut up!' Audley writhed, trying to break through the straps that kept him bound to the bed. Nope. There was no way in hell he was going to break free from these. Rowena had enhanced their design that it was impossible for them to break out. 'ROWENA ANNIS ELLENWEORC!!!!!!!!!'
'She's in Edoras remember?' Aellen smirked. He was clearly enjoying the torment of his best friend. 'Now, I have to run off. Have fun, love.'
'Yeah right. You trapped me here to get poked and prodded.'
'Oh it's not as bad as all that. Plus think how happy you'll make your wife.'
Audley grumbled. 'Downsides to being married to the Marshal-- I *HAVE* to obey.'


Dungeons
Aellen took his post up in the dungeons, guarding the dungeon keys, relieving the previous guard. 'There's going to be a Dryhtguma visiting today to question our most notorious criminal.'
'What? What for?'
'Dunno. Marshal's orders. The notice is on the desk. Some chick named Alla.'
'ALLA?! As in Allacan Beorhtlig?'
'I guess so? Why?'
Aellen facepalmed. 'Go read a history book why don't you.' Aellen shoved the man out of the office.

NPC Cuthbert
Dungeon lowest level

A man with dark brown hair who looked like he hadn't seen the sun in years sat in his cell, isolated from the rest of the world. No one dared visit him, as he was completely and utterly insane. Beyond that, he had threatened the life of the now Westmark Marshal and those near and dear to her. He'd been at the center of multiple murders, he had been the one to cause her near fatal accident, the one that made her mute for quite some time, and then when she regained speech, made it difficult to speak above a whisper.
He drew symbols on the ground with his finger, threats in the written Rohirric language to the Marshal, swearing that even if he never got free, she'd never truly be free from his grip. He'd been completely enamored with her since she was supposed to be betrothed to him, and if he couldn't have her, he insisted no one could.
Most of the guards who watched over the dungeons didn't read well, or at least they acted like they didn't, so Cuthbert felt no need to hide his threats. Green eyes scanned the room momentarily when he heard footsteps, but they didn't walk toward him. So he returned to the task. He was writing a list now, of ingredients, perhaps some sort of spell, what the superstitious Rohirrim might call witchcraft.

[Thalionwen Hunigfolm]

Eastmark

Aldburg, The Stockade

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 stockade 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 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.”

(OOC: Sorry, @Rowena Ellenweorc, my brain seized up and I assumed because this was outside Edoras it should go in LitM. Should have asked first! )

[Shivased]

Eastmark

Barracks

Stumbling out of her room in the barracks, Shivased shoved a tea biscuit in her mouth with one hand and tried unsuccessfully to buckle her sword belt with the other, while her right foot dragged half-in her boot with each step she took. A pair of dryhts coming out of the main dormitory stopped dead to stare at her as she finished shoving the biscuit into her mouth so she could properly buckle her belt. Don't. Just....don't. she barked at them, spraying biscuit crumbs everywhere. The dryhts shook their heads and hurried off while she paused to shove her foot properly into her boot.

She knew she looked a mess and very un-dignified for a marshal, but she had overslept. All the time she had recently spent in Gondor had softened her, and her body had decided that it rather liked staying up late into the night and sleeping late into the morning. Now, she was late. Well, not really that late, but late for her. She had trainees to meet in the training field, and she didn't have time for breakfast or hearing any reports from her Feldmarshal before heading there. Hence the biscuit. It was stale, but even stale her grandmother made the best raisin and currant tea biscuits she had ever had. She had been saving them for bread pudding later but they worked well when shoved in whole as a quick breakfast.

Pausing at the Mess Hall to gulp down a luke-warm cup of tea she stared down a couple more dryhts who were giving her odd looks before she realized her boots were on the wrong feet. Well, that explained the odd feeling, she thought as she quickly switched them before heading to the stable to grab Storm and then to the training field.

Training Fields

Tying Storm up to the hitching rail at the edge of the field, she held his bridle and glared at him. No funny business. I mean it. You stay there. No untying yourself, no wandering off, no untying anyone else to go wandering. Stay. The grey gelding snorted and stared at her innocently, but she knew better. He was the best Cavalry horse she had ever seen, but too smart for his own good and with a penchant for trouble. There was a reason the stablemaster kept two locks on his stall door and the area within his reach clear of everything. Giving him one last glare that she softened with a pat on the neck, she turned to the training grounds. Nobody was there yet. Even though she considered herself late, she was still earlier than most. A Feldmarshal oversaw some Cavalry members practicing their spear skills, but that was it.

She watched the riders practicing spears and kept an eye on her own horse while she waited, and was just wondering where her trainees were when she heard one arrive. It was Dicun, who bowed and reported for training. Westu Dicun hal she greeted the young man. Welcome to the Cavalry Courtyard. I'm not one for wasting time, so we will get right into it. The sooner you are trained, the sooner you can begin serving.

She looked the boy up and down, noting his lack of a horse and, possibly, armour and weapons. Your first task is to get weapons and armour. Head to the armoury and inform the weapons master I have sent you. I want you to have at least a sword, curaiss, greaves and vambraces. Please bring them back and describe each piece to me as you put them on, so that I am aware you know what they are for and where they go, and are capable of putting them on unaided.

OOC: @Aethelu (Bit of a change to the Courtyard to fix the part I forgot about - We are in Aldburg, the Eastmark courtyard. Each eored has their own courtyard. Post your Courtyard at the top of your post and then where you are in the courtyard in future posts, like I have above (so Eastmark is our location, and Training Fields are where we are)

[Thalionwen Hunigfolm]

Eastmark

Aldburg, The Stockade

The following day, Thalionwen returned to the stockade at precisely the same time. But the warden shook his head at her as soon as she stepped through the door.

“Not a good day for him,” he said. “Doubt you’ll get anything that makes much sense.”

From the far end of the stockade came a loud clamor of voices and the sound of ax blows.

“What’s going on down there?” Thali asked, tilting her head to one side and peering along the length of the central corridor.

“Doing some restoration work out back. Been going on since first thing this morning. Horrible racket, but what can you do?”

“Hm.” Thalionwen held out an expectant hand. “Could I trouble you for the key to Alwin’s cell again?”

The warden frowned. “That’s not a good idea, Miss. Not the way he is today. Better keep bars between the two of you.”

Thalionwen sighed. “I strongly prefer—”

The warden’s frown deepened into a scowl. “And I strongly prefer not to have the Marshal come down here, inquiring as to why one of her people was beaten black and blue on my watch. No key.”

Reluctantly, Thalionwen started down the corridor, shifting a bulky package and a thick notebook from one arm to the next. Nodding to the guard who already waited outside Alwin’s cell, she turned to the cell itself and drew in a sharp breath.

Alwin of Sailes sat hunched in a corner, head between his knees, hands laced together at the back of his neck. Though his grip was white-knuckled tremors still ran through his hands from time to time, and he rocked a little, back and forth.

“How long as he been like this?” Thalionwen asked the guard softly.

“Since I came in this morning,” the guard answered at full volume. “Night guard says he hardly slept. He’s been raging on and off, too. Threw his breakfast tray against the wall this morning, on account of the porridge was too thick.”

“Hm,” Thalionwen said thoughtfully. She settled down cross-legged on the floor before the cell, and swung open the small metal hatch in the door, through which food and supplies could be passed. Pushing the parcel she’d brought through the hatch, Thalionwen shut it again.

“Good morning, Alwin,” she said, still keeping her voice pitched low, though the sound of the works out back nearly drowned it out.

Alwin said nothing, but kept rocking, back and forth, back and forth.

“I’ve brought you something,” Thali tried again. “Some clothes. I thought you might want something fresh to wear.”

No response. Getting to her feet in frustration, Thalionwen strode back to the entrance, where the warden looked pleased with himself.

“Told you you’d get nothing out of him today. Try again tomorrow.”

“I want the key,” Thalionwen said, with steel behind the words. “How am I supposed to help someone who’s obviously in distress when there’s a barred door between us? You’re impeding my ability to do the job the Marshal sent me here for, and I’ll be recounting that to her unless you cooperate. If anything happens while I’m in that cell, though, I’ll take full responsibility. You have my word.”

Though the warden’s face was a study in disapproval, he reached into his desk drawer and fished out the key once more, handing it to Thali.

“Don’t blame me when you come out of there covered in bruises or with something broken,” he grumbled. “You wanted this.”

Thalionwen did not bother answering. She returned to the cell and slipped through the door, which the guard locked behind her once again.
Gathering up her package, Thali crossed the little room quietly and stood before Alwin.

“Alwin,” she said. “I’m right here. I’m going to take a seat beside you.”

Still nothing from him. With great care, Thalionwen took her place on the floor, quite near the prisoner, but not close enough that they might brush each other unintentionally. She slid the parcel over so that it rested in front of him.

“I looked up the Feldmarshal you served under during the war,” Thali said. “She told me you were an asset to the Cavalry. That you had no trouble with violent outbursts then, or with discipline. None of that came until later. And I looked up your medical records, as well. You were dismissed from the Cavalry with honor after sustaining a severe head injury. Apparently you were in a coma for days.”

“I know all that,” Alwin said hoarsely, speaking for the first time that day. He looked up, wincing as he did, and reaching for the package that Thalionwen had brought began working at the twine that bound it.

The noise from outside redoubled, loud voices and axes and hammers ringing through the air, and Alwin’s hands trembled as he worked. Thalionwen watched as his face flushed, his jaw tensed, and he began to mutter under his breath. Before long he was cursing evenly, still fumbling at the twine with hands that shook.

“Best come out, Miss,” the guard warned anxiously. “He’ll be raging in a moment, it always starts like this.”

But Thali stayed where she was.

“If what you’re doing is frustrating you, let me help,” she said to Alwin. He glanced at her, wildly, and Thalionwen drew a small folding knife from her pocket, at which the guard took a step forward.

“Miss, you can’t—”

She’d already held the knife out to Alwin, though.

“Here,” Thali said. “Just cut the binding. And then talk to me. Tell me about the noise outside. Does it bother you?”

Alwin hesitated before taking the knife. But then he did, and cut easily through the twine, and handed it back at once. The guard in the corridor let out an audible sigh of relief.

“It’s too loud out there,” Alwin said. “Goes right through my head.”

He was breathing heavily, as if he’d come back from the brink of a precipice, and Thalionwen reached out, touching a gentle finger to his forehead.

“Did you know that who you are is in here?” she asked. “Your troubles aren’t the result of some lack or failing. They’re still your injury from the war, Alwin. I’ve seen others like this—made angry, after a hurt like the one you suffered. It’s like a scar, that anger, and maybe it will never go away entirely, but I think you can learn to live with this scar, and to manage it.”

“I’ve tried,” Alwin said. “And I can’t. It gets the better of me, every time.”

“But you’ve been trying to manage alone,” Thalionwen pointed out. “You’ve been all on your own for so long, and now you need people to help you with this. I want to help, and I want to find others who can help you, too. If I work out a plan for that, can I come back and explain it to you tomorrow? And if you agree to it, can I petition the Marshal on your behalf for a conditional release?”

“I don’t—I don’t know,” Alwin said, faltering. “I’ve hurt people. At least locked up I can’t do that.”

“Will you hear me out, though?” Thali pressed.

Alwin looked down at the floor. “I suppose.”

“Good.” Thalionwen smiled. “Tomorrow then.”

She was halfway through the cell door when Alwin spoke again. “Miss. Whatever happens, thank you for trying, and thank you for the clothes.”

[Amadhrill]

Westmark – Helm's Deep – infirmary

«Hello? Dryhtguma Amadhrill?» She heard the call from one of the backrooms, being called dryhtguma half amused her, for most of her cavalry days she had been a hælend, and even after she had more often then not been called hælend Amadhrill or just Amadhrill. There was sounds as if someone was fighting, then a loud yell for the 2nd marshal and more grumbling and something sounding like swearing, though she couldn't hear the exact words. She squared her shoulders, held her head high and walked into the main room.

She had to hide an amused smile. She was well aware of the fact that most cavalry members avoided hælends as long as possible and the physical examinations were dreaded, but this was the first time she had found anyone cuffed to the beds.

«All right... so excited to have this done that you had to be cuffed to the bed, now are we?» She looked at the two men, and brought forward the keys that she had been given by the Bealdorhælend, she had assumed they were to the cabinets and chests filled with the most valuable , dangerous, and rare herbs and remedies, but assumed they must also hold the keys to the cuffs. «Audley, is it? I am Amadhrill. Well, I assume you know what will happen if you do not undergo and pass the physical, but just to have it clear for both of you, it might mean the end of your cavalry career. So it is as much in your interest as mine to have this over with as quickly and pain free as possible.» Her voice was calm and controlled, not unfriendly, but also not up to any nonsense. She looked him carefully over where he lay. «I will do a check of your body, I assume you have had a physical or more throughout your carreer...»

«Do not doubt that I will not have you back here in a moment should you try to run...» She warned in a gentle voice and opened the cuff with a key, setting Audley free, but her strong hands held him down as she started her excamination. She held his wrist firmly and started looking closely at his hands, nails, wrists. The hands had the expected callouses, a few scraps, showing that she had to deal with hands used to work. Nothing unusual. Nails seemed to be healthy as well. His wrists were slightly red from the cuffs, but showed no other signs of discolouring or skindiscolorations. «Now, tell me, any aches? Pains? Any changes you have noticed in your body?»

Ama didn't much expect to have him admit to anything, it was not usually something that the proud cavalry members wanted to admit. «I may report to the Bealdorhælend, but I am under no obligation to tell her everything about what you may say.» She checked his pulse, a little high, but that could very well be from trying to escape, she made a mental note to recheck the pulse later, if he relaxed more. «Sit up, please»

((OOC - Rowena: Hope this is what you are looking for, I googled physical tests in the military in Norway and it was either a medical examination or a test of physical strengths, so let me know if I misunderstood something. Also, don't want to godmod Audley too much :smiley10:

[Éolath]

Training Fields
He kept telling himself it was pointless to be nervous, even a waste of energy. But as he stood in the morning sun on the Training Fields, he was nervous. Had he waited too many days? Did he bring, or not bring, the right things? Éolath sighed, ran his fingers through his curly hair, and told himself once more it would all work out. It always did. For some reason, that cheered him up enough to go searching for Marshal Shivased.

He’d taken the few days between speaking to her at the Dragon Room and today to ride out again to his former home. He’d also gone to talk to his cousin about what he might need in this new endeavor and had been sent back to Edoras with a bundle of gear and leading a new horse. His, he was told, was a fine riding animal for all that he’d been bought in Gondor, but he was not a cavalry steed. When Éolath had haltingly explained that he couldn’t afford a new horse, his cousin had simply shoved him into the paddock. She was strong for an old woman, he thought again, and grinned. When he’d walked back to the gate after an hour, a bright bay had followed him as docilely as a puppy. ‘And how can you refuse that bond, or I’ his cousin had said, then tacked up the bay and sent both of them to their training.

Distracted by the memory, he stumbled against the sword hung at his hip and grimaced. He’d never been a clumsy youth, but he wasn’t yet used to the weight on his belt. Again, his cousin had simply shoved it into his hand, and after a few muttered curses, told him it was his. He’d been treated with rough affection as she sorted out basic armor and kit, and she brooked no protest. He liked her, this cousin of his mother. He shifted the belt again, caught sight of a figure he hoped was the marshal, and made his way over.

Éolath smiled cautiously in greeting, hoping he didn’t betray the nerves that dampened his palms. “Good morning, marshal. I hope I’m not too late?”

[Aethelu]

Eastmark

Training Fields

Dicun listened carefully to Shivased's words, nodding as she spoke. She wasn't joking when she said they were getting started right away. When he had set out from home he had known he had nothing to offer the Cavalry but himself, his parents couldn't remember the last family member to serve. He was no fool though, he intended to learn and learn quickly. "Right away Marshal," he said once she finished speaking, and took off with a sprint in the direction of the armoury.

The Armoury

It didn't take long to find the armoury, just aim for the sound of metal and the smell of smoke. When he arrived he noted the gruff looking Armoursmith and gulped, he could only hope he wouldn't be too harsh on him for his lack of equipment. "Westu hal," he called out as he entered. "I was sent by Marshall Shivased for some equipment." The Armoursmith stared down at him and Dicun found himself lost for words. "Come on lad!" he bellowed, "Spit it out. I'm no mindreader." Be brave he reminded himself, you are to join the cavalry, you can't be scared. "Sorry sir," he managed to reply. "I need a sword, cuirass, greaves, and vambraces at least." With a nod the Armoursmith beckoned him over, leading him towards what seemed to be piles of armour. He looked Dicun up and down with a critical eye before starting to pull out items. He held them up, comparing them to what he saw, sometimes shaking his head and choosing another, sometimes putting them down on another table. Once he had selected the items he quickly put them on Dicun to check their fit. For a moment he thought he'd found a trick, perhaps he could keep them on and would only have to explain them to the Marshall. It was a wish too far as the Armoursmith pulled them all off again once he was done. "There you go lad, best hurry back to the Marshall."

Training Fields

Dicun reached the field quickly, skidding to a halt before Marshall Shivased with a clang of the armour in his hands. He gently laid each piece down on the ground before taking a deep breath. He picked up his first piece of armour, "Greaves are worn on the legs." He bent over, placing the greave flat against his shin and strapping it on. "They protect your legs, which is important on horseback." Once both greaves were attached he reached for the next piece. "Vambraces are for the arms," he slid his arm into one, metal facing out, straps facing in. "They protect your forearms from sword blows." Next was the largest piece of armour, it was also the heaviest and took a moment to lift over his head. "The cuirass protects the chest and back," he grunted as he pulled it on. Lastly he picked up the sword, strapping the scabbard to his waist. "Erm," he hesitated not sure if he needed to explain this one too. "The sword is my weapon." He looked at Marshall Shivased again hoping he'd done it right.

OOC: @Shivased (I hope I've done this right, I don't think I ever role played a cavalry member before so let me know if I'm on the right track. Thanks for letting me know about the location too, should I change my post to reflect the journey or shall we just pretend Dicun has a teleporter )

[Thalionwen Hunigfolm]

Eastmark

Aldburg, The Stockade

When Thalionwen returned on the third day, she was not alone. She brought an older woman with her, still straightbacked and strong, but with iron-grey streaking her brown hair. Together, they passed the warden, who wordlessly handed Thali the key—though he did so with little grace.

“Good morning, Alwin,” Thali said, gratified to see that the prisoner looked better than she’d yet seen him. He sat quietly on the bench in his cell, wearing the clothes she’d brought and looking calm. “I’d like to introduce you to someone. This is Elswyth—she’s a healer, like myself. And she was a haelend in the Cavalry until last year, when she stepped down.”

“Westu Alwin hal,” Elswyth said, as soft and gentle as Thali herself had been with Alwin since the beginning. “I’m happy to meet you.”

Alwin looked down, seeming uncomfortable with the sudden attention.

“Elswyth lives alone,” Thali explained, “at the outskirts of Aldburg. She has a smallholding at the city’s far edge. But her husband and three sons were all killed in the war, so she tends the land herself now. She’s in need of help.”

“I’d like your help, Alwin,” Elswyth said, and there was a world of compassion in the older woman’s voice.

“Not a good idea,” Alwin said with a shake of his head. “Not at all.”

“But you wouldn’t just be helping her,” Thalionwen pointed out. “I chose Elswyth in particular because she could also help you. This anger you’re struggling with, Alwin—you’re still in possession of your senses, and I think if you learn to recognize when its coming, and to identify what causes it, you can master it in time. Maybe not entirely, but enough to become safe again. To be able to go out among people, without fear of your own temperament.

“For instance,” she went on, “I think noise is a difficulty for you. You’re sensitive to it, so you ought to stay somewhere quiet at first—Elswyth’s farm. And over time, as you learn to recognize when you’re growing frustrated, and to find ways to cope with it, you can try venturing to places a little busier and little louder, bit by bit. But you should have someone to help you and guide you, and to encourage you as you strive for mastery of this particular enemy.”

Alwin looked out at the two women, and for the first time, Thali saw something like hope shining in his eyes.

“It would be a kindness to me,” Elswyth said. “I’ve been very lonely, in the years since the war. I’d like to have family about again, and if that means finding and forging those ties myself, I don’t mind. We could be family for each other, Alwin. We could lean on each other.”

“And it wouldn’t just be the two of you,” Thalionwen added. “As your injury was sustained while serving with the Cavalry, I’ll ask Second Marshal Rowena if our haelends can provide support to you both, and assist in whatever way is needed. But I believe you can do this, Alwin. It will be work yes, and a struggle sometimes, but I believe you can find a way to heal.”

For a moment, Alwin said nothing. At last he took in a ragged breath and nodded.

“Do I have your permission then?” Thalionwen asked. “To speak to the Marshals on your behalf?”

“Yes,” Alwin answered. His voice was firm and decided, and he looked not at Thalionwen but at Elswyth as he spoke. “I think I’m ready.”

[Elarith]

Meduseld - Edoras - The Courtyard

Hooves clattered over the cobbles of the courtyard as Elarith and her dryhtguma companion Hereward rode in and halted. Another horse was already standing in the yard, but its rider was nowhere in sight. Elarith didn't know if that bode well or not - she had sent the third of their group, Wigmær, on ahead with their injured prisoner. She wasn't sure if they would be able to do anything for him.

She hopped from her horse and threw the reins to Hereward. "I'll check the infirmary," she told him, then turned on her heel and heading for the haelends without waiting for Hereward to reply.

The Infirmary

Elarith stepped into the infirmary, the smell of wholesome herbs masking something less pleasant. It was warm inside, a fire burning at one end and plenty of torches to help the haelends with their work. A figure lay in one of the beds about half way along, with someone sat beside them. She hurried towards them, squinting to make their details out. With a small rush of relief she realised it was Wigmær in the chair and Raulf in the bed, a thick bandage around his head. She clapped the dryhtguma on the shoulder then pulled a chair around to sit by him. Sitting down might've been a mistake - weariness flowed over her now she'd stopped moving.

"What do the haelends say of our prisoner?" she asked, peering at Raulf's face. He looked pale but peaceful.
"Many things - many questions," Wigmær said tiredly. "I answered as best I could. They've cleaned him and dressed his head wound, gave him some sort of concoction that smelt vile. Now it is a waiting game, they say. If he is still breathing tomorrow he should live."
Elarith nodded. "All right. We have done all we can. I'll find another dryhtguma to come and relieve you as soon as I can. Thank you, for your assistance over the last few days," she said to Wigmær, hauling herself up out of the chair. "Oh, and if the haelends offer you a drink in the meantime - don't take it." Wigmær gave her a look as if he didn't need telling twice as she walked off to find a Marshal and give her report.

(OOC: @Shivased Hope this is ok - there are 3 posts in LitM but I'm not clever enough to know how to link to them here! Do you need me to post back in the DR too?)

[Taethowen]

Edoras - The Infirmary

Holding Marshal Rowena's sword close, Taethowen looked around the courtyard until she spotted the infirmary. She crossed the open expanse, then entered the building. It was well-lit with torches lining the walls, and a fire at the end opposite the door. Underneath the smell of herbs, she caught the sharp scent of alcohol, likely from making tinctures and disinfectants.

It was quite a bit busier inside than she'd anticipated, and she stepped to the side of the doorway and looked around for someone who could direct her.

After a few moments, Taeth noticed a hæland folding some freshly cleaned bandages to put away, and she approached them. "Excuse me," she spoke up, smiling slightly as the hæland paused in their task to attend her, and nervously clutching at the sheathed sword. "I'm looking for Esme. Marshal Rowena advised that I seek out her counsel. Could you tell me where I might find her?"

[Shivased]

@Aethelu, @Thalionwen and @Éolath (I will post tomorrow, sorry for the wait! Between dog getting sprayed by a skunk, my lawnmower blowing up (not an exaggeration - fire, smoke, pieces falling everywhere, the whole shebang), and the power going out, it's been a busy weekend with no time to post. I promise I will post tomorrow before Murphy and his law can throw something else at me! )

[Allacan ob Burzum]

Stables, Helm's Deep

After the long ride from Edoras, Allacan wanted nothing more than to have a shower and put her feet up for a bit; certainly she would need the former before meeting the prisoner, among other things. However one thing had changed little about the rider throughout her years of service, and that was her deep-set philosophy that duty came above her own comfort. So it was that after properly settling her borrowed horse in the stables and ensuring they were being well tended with water and brush, she headed straight for the stockade despite the mud spatters up her back and her hair dampened and darkened by sweat.

Stockade, Helm's Deep; Watch-Master's Office

It was only as she entered the area around the Stockade and became aware of at least one head turning as she passed that she realised perhaps she should have made herself more presentable after all; she'd forgotten that of course here in Helm's Deep where she had rarely visited in either her cavalry career or personal life, she was still thought of only as the ex-First Marshal. She realised her reputation might have placed her on a pedestal with some younger Sperewigends, and she did not relish the idea of smashing through their glorified expectations of her. Still, she would prefer to be judged by her actions rather than her reputation.

She first made her way to the Watch-Commander's office to report her arrival, then begged leave to use his room that she might take the time to read all materials and notes collated previously on the prisoner known as Cuthbert in Rohan, and Rhainyn Volorwyn in Gondor. She wanted to be fully aware of both his reputation and actions before meeting the man himself; knowledge is power when dealing with an enemy such as he. Her eyes narrowed and lips pursed as she noted his campaign of threatening behaviour towards the Westmark marshal, and her determination to bring to fruition her half-formed plan solidified.

Finished with her reading and pondering, she glanced across at the watch rota, noting that someone called Aellen was due to take their watch shortly. Addressing the Watch-Commander, she explained her plan "Sir, I intend to take a somewhat unorthadox approach to this prisoner, with your leave. If he is truly as mad as these papers suggest, and has been a prisoner here this long without volunteering the information the Second Marshal seeks, then he is unlikely to reveal anything to us without at least some incentive to tempt him. Add to that the fact he is protected by law, and we face a tricky situation."

Checking that they were alone and un-observed, she reaches then into her pocket and withdraws a folded armband which she carefully places on the table before the Watch-master, unfolding it momentarily to reveal the symbol of the Eye of Sauron emblazoned across it before hiding it once again. "The remnant forces of The Enemy once attempted to recruit me to their cause, and I am familiar with their style. With your permission, I would like to approach the prisoner disguised as one-such recruiter, and let him believe that I am offering him freedom and an opportunity to pursue his malicious cause if he is able to convince me he is worthy of my time and effort. I suspect he will be more than keen to let spill all of his darkest deeds if he thinks he is speaking to a recruiter of The Enemy and not a loyal soldier of the Mark. I will, however, need the co-operation of your soldier Aellen and some time to prepare myself. Will you allow me to attempt it, sir?" she finishes, hoping that he will permit her to put some of her exceedingly specialist skills to the task and knowing that if he refuses, she would have to think of a different way to convince the man to talk.

OOC @Rowena Ellenweorc (One thing Allacan is sure to consider before facing this individual is that others have likely attempted this task themselves and failed, so she isn't going to be rushing into things, and ideally would have spoken with Aellen before he took his post but ah well. If there is anything more she is able to garner from the notes provided to her by the watch-master about the best way to approach this individual then let me know)

[Éolath]

OOC @Shivased - no worries. Between work and volunteering for first aid stations/ street medic teams during the riots, I'm going to be slow to read and reply to posts anyway. Give your poor puppy an extra pat ;)

[Shivased]

Eastmark/Aldburg

Training Field
As she waited for Dicun to complete his first task, Shivased went back to studying the riders practicing spear work. She only had a few minutes to watch them before Éolath arrived. He looked as awkward and unsure as he had in the Dragon Room, if not more so with a horse in tow and walking awkwardly as if he wasn't used to the heavy weight and movement of a sword on his hip. Westu Éolath hal she greeted him with a nod. Welcome to training. To ensure you are ready, we will go through a series of questions and tasks that will help you learn what it is to be in the service of Rohan. I'm not one for wasting time on the training field, so we will get started right away.

Thinking a moment, she studied him. He had arrived on foot, leading his horse, and given how awkward he was, she had her reservations about his riding ability. Best to start there. I'd like you to mount up and put your horse through it's paces. Walk, trot, canter. Weave through the bending poles over there she gestured at the line of white poles about 50 feet away. And go over the jumps set up, she added pointing at the line of 3 jumps parallel to the bending poles.

AsÉolath went off to complete the task, Dicun returned laden down with armour and a sword. She nodded in approval and watched as he strapped on each piece before buckling on the sword. Very good. she told him. Each piece of armour is important, especially for a rider on a horse. Wearing them, properly, is very important for you. You will wear those any time you are on duty with the Cavalry.

Pointing towards the stables, she gave him his next task. It looks like you have not arrived with a horse, or at least I don't see one. I want you to head to the stables and speak with the stable master. Again, tell him I sent you. He has several horses you can choose from until you procure your own. Choose a horse and bring it back here. I want you to think about what makes a good Cavalry horse while you are choosing, and explain to me why you pick the horse you do.

[Rowena Ellenweorc]

NPC Audley
Infirmary

'OI! PAWS OFF LADY!!!! SEE THE RING? Only person allowed to touch my hands is my wife.' Audley knew he was being unreasonable. But when he had been woken up with the news that he had to have a physical and it wasn't being done by the Bealdorhaelend, he was quite frankly, in quite a state. 'I don't give a damn who you think you are, I'd rather be cuffed to this bed and wait until the Marshal returns. I am NOT getting a physical from some wench who barely knows what they are doing!'
The words about if his body was doing anything unusual stung though. It was almost as if Rowena was right here, and she had wallopped him with a beer paddle. Oh wait it was Pa that used the beer paddle. Rowena had her own methods that were even scarier. She was a pro at hand to hand combat, something that despite being married to her for Bema knew how many years now, he still had yet to master. 'I might be old, lady, but my body works the same as it did 30 years ago. Hell, my body is still active enough my wife often accuses me of wandering eyes. There, happy? That what you wanted to know? And I don't give a damn either what you tell the Bealdorhaelend, as we have no secrets. I certainly trust her more than I trust you.'
His nightshift was sleeveless, so his arms were completely exposed showing off his muscles earned both from many years in the Cavalry and as a farmer, but also the tattoos he'd gotten when he was younger to match his brother-in-law. Forearms had rohirric style knotwork which turned into a wolf on one arm and a raven on the other arm. His ears were pierced multiple times, no signs of infections, he kept them pristine. Despite his blonde hair, he fit in well with the Ellenweorc clan, he looked like he could be the blonde male version of Rowena (ie the blonde version of her twin brother Rhys), he was tall, muscular. He definitely looked like he still had a number of years left in him.
It then occurred to him that Aellen mentioned this would make the Marshal happy. Dammit, that meant if he wasn't cooperative, it was going in the report. And the Bealdorhaelend/Marshal held him to higher standards since he was married to her. 'DAMMIT,' he hissed. 'Okay fine, what do you want me to do? Don't physicals require like strength tests or something? I don't remember. I'm married to the Marshal, so pretty much all my medical history is recorded as it happens.' He shrugged his shoulder helplessly. 'Oh, don't you do that uh-- giant hammer on the knee thing?' Despite being married to a healer, even Audley had weird notions about him. He was picturing a hammer with the mallet head about the size of his head. 'Will it hurt? And you're not going to give me any weird drinks are you? I only drink beer or whiskey. No weird herb drinks. Oh I can do pullups, do you need me to do those? And I'm good at running… Except apparently not from marriage or Aellen.' He laughed at his own stupid joke. 'Do I need to be stabbed with needles?'

@Amadhrill feel free to RP Talis as well I literally just made him up as a way to get Audley to the infirmary
@Allacan Beorhtlig feel free to RP approval from the Watchmaster and RP Aellen taking you to the cell and doing whatever you need him to do. He's kinda just my 'oh cav's empty I need someone to something with for this' guy. Most of the time its 'the guy who reads Audley's mail' And I'll work on the Cuthbert post lol

[Allacan ob Burzum]

Stockade, Helm's Deep; Watch-Master's Office

The Watch-master hesitated, and pondered the request, and although Allacan found disappointment and frustration welling up within her, she could not help but approve of the fellow; clearly this individual was not about to let someone's lapsed rank allow them the privilege to act without due scrutiny. She was just pondering what other attempt she could make to extract information from the prisoner when he spoke.

"I'm willing to consider your plan, but not without further information. Don't mistake me, I'm all for finally getting to the bottom of this mystery so we can be rid of the fellow once and for all. But I cannot in good conscience provide you with a blanket approval of your plan without at least hearing the specifics of how you intend to go about achieving this. I mean no offence to you, of course, or mean to question your trustworthiness..." he began in an attempt to take the bite out of his wary attitude, but Allacan waved him off with a smile.

"Please, good sir, don't apologise for doing your proper duty. You are of course right, and prove yourself a credit to the Westmark, and Marshal Rowena, by scrutinising me so thoroughly. I am to presume you will be reporting to the Second Marshal on my progress today; don't answer that, it wasn't really question, I'm just thinking out loud. Whatever the case, I am re-assured that you will provide her with as honest and frank an assessment of me as you have given to my proposals. I shall explain myself and my plan presently, but first, what do you know of my reputation? And please, speak freely, there is no need for secrets here." she finishes, patting the folded armband on the desk between them in emphasis.

The Watch-master appraised her with a neutral expression, before grunting in a gruff manner; he had bushy brows and frown-lines across his forehead; Allacan might once have thought him old, but these days her own wrinkles were vying to compete with his. She could not get a clear reading on the man but as he nodded slowly before reaching for some paper notes in a pile on his desk; she hoped she had somehow gained a modicum of his approval. Again, she approved of Rowena's choice of soldier to assess her behaviour in the Marshal's stead, and in fact found herself grateful she had come to face someone who checked her eager enthusiasm to succeed with a reminder of the proper cavalry protocol. It was a relief to have someone questioning her actions again; she had clearly become too used to her liberty outside the cavalry, but she realised now that she had also missed the re-assurance of having someone sincere to deliberate with and confide in.

"Your reputation is one of an esteemed veteran, serving in various roles commendably." he states, browsing through his notes "Trained by Feldmarshal Isenfolme, you served in the Eastmark, holding the rank of Ǣrest Paethfindian for a time after Taethowen, Bealdorhealand after Feawen, Larmaegister also. You were promoted to Third Marshal then directly to First Marshal, and led the cavalry through times of war and peace. Indeed, your official record is only tarnished by a single disciplinary on the Southern Storm and Northern Wind campaign - your first campaign - for your inability to remain upon your horse in the midst of combat and delaying in following your Corðor commander's orders to remount while you attempted to save a comrade's life. However the records also suggest you willingly accepted your disciplinary and learned well under Marshal Malorn's direct supervision after he ordered you to remain by his side for the subsequent combat." Allacan blushed and smiled a little at the recollection of a time oh so long ago, her reckless days of youth with her first cavalry comrades; Celinawyn, Branomir under the command of Nalion in the Sceaduwigend Corðor. "Your record is otherwise honourable, right up until you fell in combat against the amassed remnant Mordor army to buy time for the hard-pressed cavalry to retreat and regroup."

She nodded appreciatively. "You clearly do your research, sir. But we both know there is more to my story. Do go on." she encouraged him with a small smile.

"Your official cavalry records end there, but I have heard via more than one channel that your life did not, as evidenced by your presence here today. I would not let it be known among the Sperewigends that I place any great weight in hearsay and gossip, but the word whispered among the upper ranks is that you were in fact taken alive by the enemy."He hesitated but a moment, before pressing on, words now spilling from him as he saw she took no offence but rather encouraged his theorising. "Some months after your defeat in battle, an individual who called themselves 'Dulug ob Burzum' was captured alive in Edoras after a campaign of attacks, including the poisoning of a sweet-shop's products, abduction of one cavalry commander and attacks on a number of others. Rumour suggests this individual had a worryingly detailed knowledge of the inner workings of the cavalry, including some of its most secure secrets known only to its highest commanders. Although the Marshals did their best to protect the identity of this individual against deeper scrutiny, careful consideration would suggest that the timing of their capture and the subsequent announcement that Marshal Allacan had somehow survived falling on the field of battle - and had thereafter retired to the distant Eastemnet border with the Fold - was too close in proximity to dismiss any notion that they might be related."

His tone had become almost lecturing, like a teacher of histories might, having now been given permission to speak his thoughts aloud he continued on. "There is some merit to this theory over others. While some argued that the wounded Marshal's body must have been brought back to the mark and her survival was kept secret to protect her from further attempts on her life during her recovery, anecdotal evidence from those on the field clearly and consistently states that the enemy claimed the Marshal's body; one would expect at least some deviation of fact were these tales being fabricated under orders. Furthermore, the cavalry was significantly demoralised at the loss of their commander and saw a number of early retirements as a result. I was but a Dryhtguma at the time, fresh out of training, but I remember clearly the disheartened attitude of so many of the cavalry; I could not believe then or now that the fallen First Marshal - someone who was clearly respected and loved by many - would place her own self-security above the principles of honour and honesty and the morale of the cavalry she served and led. No great honours were bestowed on any Paethfindians, as would be expected if her return was resultant from a rescue mission. More so, the small memorial in lieu of a burial was further suggestion her body was not retrieved, but rather it was returned by alternative means; if you intended the world to believe someone is dead when they are not, why not fabricate a body to assist in the deception. But perhaps the most telling of all; I saw the grief and hopelessness writ on the faces of my commanders, as much as they tried to hide it, as evidence that they believed her dead, which begs the question how did she return from that fate?"

Despite her attempt to remain cool in the face of his objective deconstruction, his coldness is recounting the mood of the cavalry after her fall caught awkwardly at old guilt and she shifted uncomfortably for a moment in her chair, a small movement, but noted by the insightful Watch-master all the same "Apologies if I have been inconsiderate, I forgot who I was talking to for a moment." he said, looking for a moment like he would stop, but Allacan waved his concern away with a wry smile. "No need to apologise, you have clearly given this a great deal of thought. Please, go on." she insisted.

He looked doubtful for a moment, but concluded at her persistance "There isn't much more to say; the Marshals have never volunteered any further evidence to confirm or deny any theories; those closest to the Marshal or who witnessed the attacker have been tight-lipped regarding any comparison between the two, and the prisoner 'Dulug ob Burzum' was said to have been dispatched of quietly, rumour being that the Marshals did not wish their execution to becoming a rallying cry for other enemies of the Mark. With her retirement to Northern Eastemnet enabling her to avoid scrutiny, it appeared that the mystery surrounding the fate of the Marshal would remain just that; a mystery. At least, until now." he concluded, with a pointed look at the folded armband still resting on his desk bearing the mark of Mordor.

Allacan opened her mouth to explain, but he raised a hand to halt her words. "I am not here to pass judgment, and in all honesty I would prefer not to. If Marshal Rowena had felt it necessary for me to have access to the secrets surrounding your return to the Mark when she notified me of your impending arrival, then I trust that she would have informed me thus when she provided me with your records at my request. The fact that she has not either means that she trusts you, or that she trusts my assessment of you, or both. One reason I have held this position as long as I have is because I am not inclined to pass my own judgments upon someone if I know myself to be inadequately informed, and I prefer to make my own reading of a person based on how they react to the situation they find themselves in. You may not be within one of my cells, but you are all the same a stranger facing a challenge, and how you chose to overcome it will give me an insight to who you are as person. Now, today, not the person you might have once been."

He allowed an encouraging smile to spread across his face, and despite how taken aback she was not only by his detailed knowledge of her person, but also by his frank and honest appraisal, she found a grin tracking its way across her face also. She offered him a hand to shake, and with a nod in deference to his insightful gaze, introduced herself anew. "I am Allacan Beorhtlig of the Eastemnet, aspirant Dryhtguma, fallen Marshal and once brain-washed assassin of Mordor. I was the one who carried the name 'Dulug ob Burzam' and undertook the attacks in Edoras, but I was thankfully apprehended by my comrades and recalled to my senses enough to hand myself in for my crimes. I was offered a conditional pardon, and I have spent the last few years in the most remote outskirts of society attempting to meet that condition; my recovery from the control of the enemy. It has taken many years of treatment to overcome my trauma and conditioning, but now I return to the Mark and to the cavalry to prove to others - and to myself - that I remain loyal to Rohan."

The Watch-master pauses only a moment to digest her declaration before taking her hand firmly in hers and shaking it respectfully. "Ǣthelwigend Grimthain of the Westmark, Watch-master of the Helm's Deep Stockade. Now we have properly introduced ourselves, and you have answered my question, I believe it is my turn to make an enquiry. Pray tell, what exactly do you have planned for the prisoner Cuthbert, and my poor Sperewigend Aellen?"

OOC @Rowena Ellenweorc (I got carried away because I'm enjoying myself. Moreso, I thought you might have been curious what the history books said about Allacan, as well as the rumours about her fate that might have made their way around the cavalry ranks over the years. I'll post again/edit shortly to actually explain Allacan's plan and have Aellen lead her to the cells)

[Amadhrill]

Helm's Deep – Infirmary

«OI!» Audley's reaction was loud and clear, and Amadhrill's reaction equally calm and collected, a smile glittering in her eyes. «well, then, should've had your physical done by the Bealdorhælend then and not left it 'till she sent a... wench, was it? Well, I'd rather be called a wench then an old crone.»

He was quite agitated, which only served to calm her nerves down, finding the old training returning as she moved about. It was always interesting when grown, experienced cavalry members showed this sort of fear over a simple physical examination. However, as he continued rambling she got quite a lot of information from him. «Good, good.»

Then his temper tantrum seemed to come to an end as he remembered his place, husband of the marshal. Her hands moved with the confidence of someone used to their work, as she checked his hair, scalp, and face. She was extra careful around the pierced ears and the tatooes, checking them carefully for signs of infections.«Looks like you take good care of these, if you treat any wounds with the same care they should heal nicely.»

«Yes. There are a few things I'd like you to do. Now, you see the drawing on the wall, tell me what you see as the second to last picture, bottom row?»

She had hung the pictures there upon her arrival, so she could be certain that none would be able to cheat on it. She stepped behind him, and her hands ran down Audley's spine and back, finding nothing to check further. Now that he was calm, she could do a few of the other excaminations. «Lay down, please. I will not do much poking and it should not hurt. I need to check your abdominals for irregularities, and I will listen to your chest for heartbeats and breathing. I promise no needles, and I will be surprised if I have to feed you any drinks or beat you with a hammer...»

Ama smiled at the last comment, thinking of the little wooden thing that barely touched skin at the correct place to produce a reaction. Her hands moved gently, but firmly, working their way around the abdominals, checking for irregularities in the intestines. She put her ear to his chest, the breathing was calm now, deep and regularly as expected, without any additional sounds, no weezing nor sounds of fluide, she was pleased to find his pulse lower now that he was calmer too.

«Very good. As you said yourself, you seem healthy. You will do the physical tests later today, the marshal wants to know both the medical and physical situation of her eored. And there is no point in doing a physical test if you can't pass the medical. Feet, please.» She examined his feet, toes, and ancles carefully, checking for fungus, warts, or other conditions that would make a long walk or ride painful. She took up her scroll, made some short notes, and carefully checked the scroll. She would use the evening to write everything carefully down, she was a slow writer having only learned to read and write as an adult, but her memory was good.

«You are dismissed, Audley. You are perfectly healthy and ready for the physical tests.»

Having dismissed Audley she turned to Talis, the much younger dryht still locked to the bed. «Now, Talis, you have seen what I have done so I expect your full cooperation»

She unlocked the lad and started the medical check up, he was young, and from her papers she had gathered that it would be his first medical examination in the cavalry. For him, the result could mean the end of his cavalry career. «First time, so I will be more thorough with you...» Ama started to check his hands, nails, wrists, and arms.

«Now, this here is a bit infected» She touched gently on a scar on his arm, showing the redness of a small infection. «I will clean it before you go, and I expect you back tonight and tomorrow morning so that I can check on it.»

Her hands went along his back, straight and strong, as it should be. She check his hair and scalp, healthy skin, eyes looked clear. «Last drawing on the lower line, please» «Ehm... it is... a house, ma'am» He sounded nervous and unsure, could be from the situation, but also from his eyes failing him. «It is, now do th first one too.» She watched him focus on the drawings. «horse, ma'am»

She smiled, nerves then. «Lay down, please» The abdominals felt and sounded as they should. Lastly, she checked his feet, they seemed to have taken quite a beating lately, but not worse then that the correct treatment would have him remain in the cavalry.

«You need to take better care of your body, it is what will keep you in the cavalry, even when you are no longer young. So, if you wish to serve in the cavalry, you look after your body too!» Her voice was stern, but not unfriendly as she found what she looked for. The infirmaries were stocked in the exact same way so that any hælend from the cavalry could enter and quickly find what was need. «Ah, yes, here it is, plantain and chamomille will do the trick.» She mixed the dried leaves with water and gently applied the mixture on Talis' inflamed scar on his arm. «You need to wash your feet properly and dry them off carefully every evening. And since you have not done so in the past, you must do a foot bath every evening for a week. Chamomille is abundant now, so a few handfulls of fresh leaves and flowers together with a spoonful of honey will have your feet ready for a campaign. Every evening. You can do it in here if you don't want to be the laughing stock of the cavalry... Off you go, now!».

(OOC – I'll continue as soon as I have the time with the more strenght/workout related tests)

[Aethelu]

Eastmark

Training Field

Dicun

Dicun was pleased to hear he had completed his first task correctly, he was starting to feel his nerves slowly reduce. The solid weight of the armour felt strangely comfortable, though he was sure his feelings on that when he had been wearing it for hours on horseback might change. He rested a hand on his sword as he listened to Marshal Shivased's next instruction. He hadn't doubted that he would need a horse, it was a cavalry after all, and he was glad that he would be able to use one from the stables for now. There had been a couple of horses on the farm, but his parents couldn't part with them. One was a working horse for the fields and the other was the horse his parents used if they needed to journey further out. He had managed to reach Edoras with a merchant heading for the city. His parents and sister had agreed that if his training was going well, they would help him get his own horse. For now, he would have to see what the stables held for him.

Stables

It wasn't much of a run to the stables, more like a quick walk, the armour was taking a moment to get used to. When he reached the stable, he looked around for the stable master and spotted him carefully watching as one of his hands tended to a horse. "Westu hal," he called out as he approached. "I have been sent by Marshal Shivased. I am in training and need a horse." The stable master sighed, a cavalry trainee without a horse, not ideal, but a trainee was a trainee. He looked across the stables, looked at Dicun, then looked at the stables again. With a nod he clapped his hands together and smiled at Dicun. "I've got 3 horses I think would suit you boy," he began, walking towards the first stall. "This is Mara, she's a gentle mare but she's got great stamina." Dicun looked over the door at her, a chesnut mare, not too tall, who seemed calm so far. When he looked back, the stable master had already gone to another stall. "This," he began as Dicun hurried over, "is Aric. Might be a little tall for you, but he's strong." The black horse put his head over the door to sniff at Dicun, which he responded to with a stroke. "Finally, there's Hulda." The last stall contained a grey dappled mare, her head raised up and pawing at the ground as Dicun looked at her. "She's spirited, but she is fast. Let me know which you think best and I'll fetch the tack for you." Dicun nodded and began a brief inspection of each horse. There were certainly benefits to each, but downsides as well. Speed was important, but no good if she didn't listen to her rider. Stamina was good, but perhaps gentle would become scared in the heat of battle. He had done all his growing so he was unlikely to gain a few inches, he wouldn't like to struggle to hold him. At last, he headed back to the stable master. "I would like to take Aric if I may?" he asked, which earned him a nod of approval. It was a quick process to fetch the tack, which Dicun helped to strap on so that he could take more time to get to know his new partner. Aric seemed quite happy with it all, he stood quite calmly as while they got him ready. Taking hold of the reins, Dicun thanked the stable master and set off back to the training field.

Training Field

As he approached Marshal Shivased once more, Dicun gave Aric a pat on the side as he stopped before her. "This is Aric," he said with a smile. "The stable master said he was a strong horse, which I'll need for riding out in armour and with any kit I might have. When I first went to his stall, he seemed quite happy to greet me, so at least he isn't shy or nervous around new people. He was calm when putting on his tack as well, which means he's used to people and being handled. I think he will be a fine choice until I can get my own horse."

[Rowena Ellenweorc]

NPC Esme

Edoras
Infirmary

'Thank you for folding the bandages for me Miss Martany,' an older woman with silky white hair and soft blue eyes said in a genteel voice. Just then a woman entered, and Esme's eyes wandered over to her. 'That's me. Marshal Ellenweorc sent you?' And then her eyes fell on the sword the woman held close. That was Rowena's familial sword. It rarely if ever left her side. Who was this character to be holding such a treasure?
Esme didn't trust the woman initially, that much was very obvious. It also became very obvious that she was protective of Rowena as she harshly demanded, 'Give me that sword or I will have you arrested. I know for a fact that is not your sword. Nor do I believe that the Marshal actually sent you here.' She motioned for one of the on duty dryhtgumas to come and stand at her side just in case there was some sort of action. 'I do not know how you managed to come by that sword, as she guards that thing as much as she guards those she loves. But if you hand it over now, I will return it, no questions asked.'
She did not want that woman to go anywhere near the person she cared for and loved as if she were her own daughter. Or some such relation. Otherwise she'd have the woman arrested and brought before the Marshals. As far as she was concerned, this woman could be a hired hand of Cuthbert's. The dryhtguma leaned in and whispered something to Esme, to which Esme responded, 'I'M BEING HARSH?! You do realize that I've essentially been Rowena's caretaker for the past--- what 15 or so years?'
'Yes ma'am. But I'm also not blinded by my protective nature-- She's not showing any markers of lying.'
'What are you, a walking lie detector?'
'A good soldier knows how to read for lies, ma'am.'
Esme took a deep breath and then shook her head. 'I know, I know. My apologies. I still don't trust her though.'
'I can stay with you both. If she tries anything, then hell, I'll stop her.'
Just then, Rowena entered and signed rapidly, 'Who tries what, Esme dearest?' She kissed the woman's cheek. 'Is my medicine ready?'
'Yes ma'am.' She then pursed her lips as she signed back.
'Uh oh… what did I do this time. I know that look.'
'Nothing. This woman says you sent her to me. And she has your family sword.'
'Both are true. She is looking to be reinstated so I gave her an assignment to prove her worth to the Cavalry. Do be nice, Esme. Let me be the harsh one for once.' She chuckled and kissed Esme's other cheek and then winked at Taeth (out of Esme's line of sight of course). Clearly she had come for more than just medicine. 'I'll be in the office if you need me, but please for heaven's sake don't need me. I'm bloody tired.'
'Yes ma'am.' Esme did a formal bow to her Marshal and then looked at Taeth, still somewhat skeptical. She heaved a deep sigh, then sat on the edge of an empty cot. 'What is your task?' She patted the cot next to her. And then she waved the the Dryhtguma off.
'Yes ma'am,' the dryht said resuming his post at the entrance.


@Taethowen If it's whited out its in Rowena's sign language. So no Godmoding. ;) Also otherwise don't mind her presence. I just wanted to bring her in so I can RP in the Courtyard lol.

[Éolath]

Eastmark
Training Field

The no-nonsense tone had him settling a little, as did the sudden bump of his horse’s nose against his back. Éolath bowed slightly at the instruction from the marshal, relief relaxing his shoulders. The weight and drag of the sword at his belt was uncomfortable and off-balancing, but once on his horse he was much more comfortable with himself. “Yes, ma’am…sir?” stumbling over the right honorific, he turned to the bay.

He led the horse a step or two away, resting his palm lightly on the warm shoulder. “Don’t jump out from under me again,” he muttered under his breath. He had, like any other child, been placed on a horse as soon as he could sit up reliably. He’d learned to ride under the watchful eye of his father, learned to sit neatly in a saddle and spent many hours lying on his pony’s back watching the clouds drift by. But a warhorse was different from the farm horses, fine as they were. And very different from the hunter he’d bought in Gondor. The deep chest and muscular haunches were powerful, and the horse was trained to the slightest movement of his rider. He hadn’t known there were signals to make a horse stand on his hind legs and lash out with his forefeet. Hadn’t know that a horse could launch forward from that position, or suddenly whirl and send his hapless rider to the dirt. But he’d learned…the hard way. And his cousin had laughed until he’d wanted to yell. It would be funny, he thought grimly, in fifty years. Maybe.

The bay only cocked a lazy ear and he swung himself neatly into the saddle, remembering at the last moment to clear the high cantle. Éolath settled himself, taking the extra moment to ensure his sword wasn’t going to bash either of them and his feet were well set in the stirrups. They’d come to an agreement, the bay and him. He’d wear no spurs, and used only a jointed snaffle. Otherwise, he ended up in the dirt. The horse was particular.

“Walk,” he murmured gently and the gelding stepped out eagerly, tossing his head once. He was a fine paced horse with a long stride. Éolath held the reins loosely in his left hand, directing the horse once around the training yard with his legs. On the second pass he tightened his legs slightly, and the bay threw up his head and lifted into a canter. Éolath scowled and sat firmly back into the seat, lifting the reins. “Trot,” he said firmly, despite his own eagerness for a rousing gallop. The gelding snorted and slowed with an arched look back at his rider. “I said trot,” Éolath repeated, pulling back slightly but firmly and the horse settled into a trot reluctantly.

Éolath loosened his hips, sitting the trot for the first half turn. The bay was remarkably smooth, his springy steps promising endurance and it was more comfortable to move with him. But since it wasn’t to be a long march, Éolath shifted into a posting trot and the gelding sped up happily. Éolath never enjoyed posting, and less so with a sword bouncing at his side. He shifted the reins to his right hand and clamped his left over the hilt of the blade to hold it still. The bay flicked an ear at the shifting but kept pace.

So far, so good, Éolath thought. He probably should have taken the gelding out for a run before training, but he hadn’t wanted to be late. He nudged the horse into a gentle canter on the third turn, sinking back into the saddle with relief. This was by far his favorite gait, and the bay gave the impression that he could go for hours. Éolath knew better, but the feeling of power bunching under him was heady. He circled twice, focusing on the horse below him. It was calming, like nothing he’d ever known, and the breeze on his face was refreshing.

At last, he turned towards the poles and low jumps. He’d not yet asked for this horse to make the swift turns necessary to weave between the standing poles, so he signaled the bay to a slow canter, barely faster than a fast walk. The horse, it seemed, knew what to do and moved forward confidently. “Easy, fréond,” he muttered. He didn’t want to rely on the horse’s training to do it correctly. He needed to do it himself.

The bay shook his head, but shifted leads and started the weave at a painfully slow canter. The weaving was wide, but Éolath was getting the hang of shifting in the saddle to signal the correct lead and turn. The second pass was tighter, and he bumped two of the poles. Relieved that they didn’t fall, he turned for a third pass and tapped the gelding into a medium canter. Smoother, but wider again. Sweat was starting to dampen the bright shoulder, but the horse seemed eager still and he turned for a final run. He was growing more confident with the leg signals, and the horse’s gait smoothed. He was able to brush the poles but none wavered. He pulled the bay to a stop for a moment, patting him triumphantly on the shoulder.

“Good boy! Well done, you!” He grinned happily, then twitched the rein forgetting that this horse was trained to spin on a plough rein. The raised pommel kept him in the saddle, and the bay laid his ears back at the sudden unbalanced load on his back.

“I’m sorry!” Éolath muttered, straightening in the saddle. “I forgot, alright? You’re more horse than I’m used to.” Situated, he legged the horse towards the jumps. The ears went forward again, and Éolath forced himself to focus. This was why he was in training, after all. To learn. And he would get up earlier tomorrow to spend some time riding. He was a good rider, just not a good cavalry rider…yet.

He swung the gelding wide to line up with the jumps and nudged him into an easy canter again. Jumping he knew, at least the jumping of ditches and low stone fences. Slack on the reins, just enough to feel his mouth but giving him the freedom to move, and sitting deep into the saddle. On his pony as a boy, he’d have risen up to balance neatly in his stirrups and angle at the hips but today he wanted that third point of contact with the gelding. It was a low jump, but since the relationship was so new between them he wanted the security of a full seat. The gelding cleared the jumps easily, and Éolath turned him back again then pulled him to a stop. He glanced down at the sweat building up under the breast strap and turned to walk him in another lap instead. He wasn’t winded much, but he didn’t want to push too much until he knew the horse better. A walk to cool down a bit, he thought, then turned back towards the marshal. A few paces away he stopped the bay, dismounted with a grunt and stooped to check the gelding’s legs for heat or swelling. He hadn’t noticed any changes in stride or eagerness, but he was already too fond of the horse to risk injury due to his neglect.

Satisfied that the horse was just properly warm and happy, he led him up to the marshal again. “I need more practice, ma- uhm, marshal, but I’ll get up early to exercise him. And practice.”

[Taethowen]

Edoras - The Infirmary

Taeth's heart started racing just a bit as a white-haired woman stepped up beside the hælend. "That's me. Marshal Ellenweorc sent you?"

But before she could even open her mouth to reply, she saw Esme's eyes fall on the sword. When Esme demanded that Taethowen hand over the sword, and summoned the dryhtguma to her side, a flash of anger sparked through her, and she clutched the sword tighter and took a step back.

The Second Marshal had entrusted the sword to her, and Taeth would only hand it back to the Marshal, no matter if it meant her arrest, or worse.

She bit back annoyance when the drhytguma tried to speak up for her, though, once more without giving her a chance to speak for herself. But Taeth reminded herself that these two knew nothing of her. They didn't know her. That she'd fought--killed--for Rohan. That she would do it again.

Taeth's eyes narrowed just slightly when the drhytguma said he'd stop her if she tried anything. She wasn't going to try anything, but she doubted he could stop her if he wanted to. She may have been ill a while back, but she since then she had not been idle.

Rowena entered the infirmary then, stepping up to Esme's side. Taethowen saw both of them move their fingers in a flurry of signals. She'd been an Ærest Pæthfindian, and while she thought she recognized some of the signs, but it had been over a decade since she'd used Rohan's pæfindian signals. It was clear that even if some of the signs may have begun as pæthfindian signals, they had been expanded and adapted far beyond that.

When the Marshal kissed Esme's cheek and winked at Taeth, she felt a little of the gathering tension loosen from her shoulders. Esme bowed formally to the Marshal as she departed for her office, and Taeth inclined her head.

When Esme sat and patted the spot on the cot next to her, Taeth let her grip on Rowena's sword relax a tad. "What is your task?"

Taethowen sat down next to Esme--she knew better than to refuse the invitation of elder, even if their encounter had started off a bit rocky--and settled the Ellenweorc sword across her knees.

"I am to find out how the Ellenweorc family motto applies to me," Taethowen answered. "A little over ten years ago, I was the Third Marshal of the Riddermark. Shortly before I was promoted to Marshal, we'd given aid to Gondor, and while I was there I ended up adopting a child. Some point after that, we discovered distant kin of his in Gondor, whereas previously we'd thought his whole family deceased. They wanted to raise him, and so I returned him to his homecountry.

"On the journey home to Rohan, though... to the best of my recollection, I fell ill. The disease baffled the healers in Gondor, but fortunately I pulled through it. They said I ran a very high fever for long enough that they were concerned I would awaken senseless, if I woke at all. In the coming weeks and months, nay, even years, that it took for my physical strength to fully recover, it became apparent that my mind had been damaged, though fortunately not quite as much as they feared."

Thinking of what it done to her, though, was frightening enough. But she'd learned to cope well enough, as long as she didn't dwell on what she'd lost.

"I remember being the Third Marshal, and some of my duties with it, but I do not remember the circumstances of my promotion, other than that it seems like it was sudden and unexpected. I have a vague recollection of sending a letter of resignation, and Marshal Shivased assured me that I did not depart dishonorably.

"But due to the lapse in my memories and the extended time I needed to recovery physically, I have been away from Rohan for a decade," Taeth's voice trailed off into a whisper. "I do not know how the years passed so quickly, and it frightens me to think of just how much might be missing from my memories."

Taeth's left hand began to stroke slowly up and down the sword sheath on her knees.

"I read the motto engraved on the sword before I came here," she said. "In war we know willpower, in peace we know love. I can think of a few ways to interpret it... but I am not sure how it applies to me. Especially in peace we know love. I mastered surviving a long time ago, but I don't know that I've ever mastered peace."

Taeth fell into silence then, her face grim. She wasn't sure that she'd wanted to blurt out as much as she had. Serving as Marshal had been her dream once, a long time ago, but the dream had lasted far too briefly. She knew if she could not deal with these lingering thoughts of dishonor in her mind, then she would never be fit to serve in the Cavalry again.


OOC @Rowena Ellenweorc - Oops I wrote a novel *hides*. But I wanted to give Esme plenty to work with. Part of the reason for Taeth's lost memories is that she was married IC and I have no clue if the IC husband will return to 'NuPlaza' and I'm not comfortable godmoding his death or his abandoning Taeth, etc. So for now she's mostly forgotten him (though she knows she was married at one point), and he's going to stay forgotten, lol.

[Amadhrill]

Helm's Deep - infirmary

Ama spent much of the morning and midday in the infirmary, doing the medical check ups. She wrote out her notes carefully, focusing on those who had not met her standards. It was Talis, though she expected him to be well on his way to recovery by the time she would be able to leave the Westmark and return to Edoras. And then it was Edgar, he had a nasty cough, for which she had given him a mixture of nettles, foal's foot leaves, and honey to take a few times per day. She wanted to check on him again before she left. Also it was Ælfræd, Gar, and Hallig who had simply grown a little too fat, and age was starting to make it's mark on their bodies, she needed to see how they did in the physical tests and discuss them with the Bealdorhælend. The others, not many she noted, even when she counted in the names of those the Bealdorhælend had already cleared, came out as healthy.

Helm's Deep – Training Fields

A disgruntled group of dryhts waited for her as she came, guarded by three of their grinning comrades. The «guards» laughed and teased their comrades, obviously happy they had already gone through the ordeal already. She drew her breath and squared her shoulder as she approached the group chatting loudly, playfully hitting each other in the arms or stomach, thought one of the older men seemed about to get into a fight.

«BREAK IT UP!» Her voice bore well though one would not expect it when meeting her in the infirmaries or most other places. Surprised the group turned to her, a few of the younger members started to salute her, but the more experienced ones just looked at her. «You're not the marshal!» one of them yelled in defience.

«No, I am not, but I am here to make sure you are all fit for cavalry service, by the marshal's order. So either you do as told or I will fail you!» Her voice was no longer raised, she didn't need to as she had their full attention. She started them off with a warm up; jumping jacks, high knees, but kicks, and ending with burpees. A few of the dryhts looked exhausted already, she noticed. Then she took them through a short stretching.

«Now, it is time for running.» She announced. «You will run together on my command. Follow the track as quickly as you can, give me your all, as you must finish your run before time is up. I will score your run, as well as the other excercises.»

She started the run, watching the group make progress, keeping an eye on the time as she waited for the runners to return. The runners came in, one by one, huffing and puffing, which made her pleased, that meant they had done their best. Ælfræd did it much better then she had expected, coming in well ahead of some of the younger lads. Talis also made it within the time limit, however Gar and Edgar did not.

Next came pushups, pullups, throwing a heavy ball, situps, and lastly, the sprint and drag were they had to sprint from one end of the archery range to the other, then drag a heavy object back to start, carry two large buckets of water across without spilling too much water and finally sprint back, all before the hour glass had run out.

Most of the dryhts managed to perform the minimum set amount of each excercise, some did much better and a few excelled. A few failed in one or two the tasks, but then passed in others.

Eventually she dismissed everyone and returned to the infirmary to start working on her report.

[Shivased]

Eastmark/Aldburg

Training Field

Dicun was the first to return from his task, bringing with him the required horse. Shivased studied the black horse, walking around it to look at legs, chest, and head, picking up it's hooves and then standing back again. The horse seemed to follow her movements intently, and she nodded approvingly after listening to Dicun's explanation of why he picked that particular horse. Very good. He will be a good mount for you, and you list good reasons for choosing him. Cavalry horses must be strong and sturdy to carry us with our armour and provisions, as you said. Calmness, intelligence and interest in what is going on are also important; you don't want a horse who spooks or shies at danger. He looks sturdy and healthy as well. You chose well.

She had already come up with another task, and quickly set Dicun to completing it. Now that you have armour, a horse and a sword, we will move on. Before we get to riding and swordplay, let's talk about some history. Part of being in the Cavalry is knowing the history of Rohan, especially as it relates to our service. In that vein, I would like you to explain to me what the Oath of Eorl is, why it wsa made, and how it relates to us today.

~~ ~* ~*~ *~ ~~

Giving him a few minutes to think about his answer, Shivased turned her attention to Éolath who had just mounted up and begun his assigned task. Their walk around went well, but she caught the tossing of the horse's head as it broke in to a canter instead of a trot, and how Éolathhad to correct it. So they were definitely new to each other, and would need to work on their bond. The trot looked like it felt awkward, the young man switching to gripping reins in one hand and sword in the other, and she let a small grin slip out. It took time to get used to a rising trot while wearing a sword; learning to move without his sword being a disturbance would come with experience.

As he went towards the bending poles Shivased continued to watch, noting that Éolath slowed down as much as possible before going through them, then did them again faster, gaining confidence as he went. She frowned though when he stopped and a second later the horse spun around, almost unseating it's rider. Either he gave the animal a wrong command or was showing off, she wasn't sure. She was sure, however, that he was not used to riding a war horse.

After the jumps Eolath came back to where she stood and Shivased nodded to him. You are a good rider, but I can see you aren't used to riding a war horse. It is something you will have to get used to, and work on. When your training here is done, I will have you work with a Feldmarshal on your horsemanship. You gained confidence in the bending poles with each pass, and that is good; continue working on that, as you may have need of weaving around obstacles or enemies. By working on your riding you will also build your relationship with your horse, which I am guessing is new between you.

Pointing at the archery targets at the end of the arena, she continued I would like to continue on mounted work, but first let's see how much you know about weaponry and give your horse a break. I would like you to name three weapons we commonly use in the Cavalry. One shield, one sword and one bow. Name, describe and give a use for each weapon, then tell me which you would prefer.

[Fairy Nuff]

Eastmark - Aldburg

Training Field

Aelflaed had made steady progress to the fortress of Aldburg. It was not a journey she had made often, being as it was almost as far as possible away from her home, and though she knew she had training arranged with Shivased and could not take the time to stop and explore, she had stopped to forage to supplement her dinner and for lunch the next day, which gave her a chance to familiarise herself with the area a little. Nevertheless, it was quite daunting, the next morning, to finally arrive, and look up at the great walls of the fortress. She asked the first person she saw the directions to the Training Field, and rode around the outskirts, passing straw butts, hanging rings, various straw dummies and other targets used for weapons training. She wasn't sure whether she would need her horse, a palomino named White Cloud, for the training or not, so dismounted but kept Cloud with her as she looked around for Shivased.

[Aethelu]

Eastmark

Training Field

Dicun watched carefully as Marshal Shivased inspected Aric and it seemed like he was inspecting her too. At last she came back to look at Dicun, commending him on his choice of horse. He gave Aric a pat on the neck while Aric gave him a little butt of the head in response. He was pleased with how well the horse responded him, though it wouldn't surprise me if he was one in a long line of trainees who'd had Aric as their companion in training. He couldn't wait to take him for a ride, to see how he performed, especially since he'd noticed another trainee (Éolath) was mounting up for his own task. When the Marshal instead asked a question about history he balked. The only good thing was that she went to watch the other trainee at work to give him time to think.

The Oath of Eorl. The Oath of Eorl? Discussions of history hadn't always been a great part of his childhood. No time for learning when there was farm work to be done. But something, something deep in his mind told him he'd heard it before. An old man telling him tales of his life, that was it! When he'd been younger there'd been a old man in the village who liked to entertain the young ones with tales of his past in the cavalry. He had seen battles, victories, and his fair share of death too. When Dicun had told him he wanted to join the cavalry the old man had taken it upon himself to teach him more about Rohan. The lessons hadn't lasted long as the poor gentleman had passed on within a few weeks, but he was sure he had taught him about the Oath of Eorl.

When the Marhsal returned he took a deep breath. "The Oath of Eorl was the founding of Rohan and the start of the friendship between Rohan and Gondor. It was made a long, long time ago between Eorl and...and...the steward of Gondor? If they are ever in danger or at war, we will go to fight with the. If we need aid, they will come to us. The cavalry are here to protect Rohan, but we will help our friends too when we must." He was sure it was a childish sounding answer, but that was as much as he'd learned or at least as much as he could remember.

[Shivased]

Eastmark/Aldburg

Training Field

As she waited for her trainees, another arrived. Noticing Aelflaed looking around she waved the young woman over when she spotted her, took note of the horse. Westu Aelflaed hal, she greeted. Welcome to Aldburg. This is where you will complete your training. It will consist of ten questions or tasks, which I will decide as we go along based on what I think you would benefit from working on. We will start immediately so as not to waste time.

She pointed at the hitching post. Tie your horse up and then I would like to make sure you are properly equipped. Please equip yourself with vambraces, greaves, and a curaisse of boiled leather as well as a sword. As you equip them please describe them - what they are and where they go. If you do not have these items head to the Armoury; tell the armoursmith that I sent you and he will ensure you have everything you need.

Dicun had come up with an answer to the question she had put to him, so she turned to him next. He seemed hesitant, but was able to give her the correct answer. Good job she told him. The Oath of Eorl was sworn between Gondor and Rohan at the tomb of Elendil. Calenardhon was given to the Éothéod and ensures we will come to each other's aid if needed. This is why we watch for the beacons of Gondor to be lit; similarly we would send a red arrow if we need aid.

Despite his hesitance, or perhaps because of it to give him a break, Shivased decided to move on from history, at least for the moment. Let's start some horsemanship. she stated. I would like you to take your horse through it's paces. Ride around the arena at the walk, trot and canter. Then, go through the bending poles and over the jumps. As she spoke she pointed to the line of bending poles and just near them, a line of 3 jumps.

[Fairy Nuff]

Eastmark - Aldburg

Training Field

Her heart quickened a pace when she saw Shivased waving her over. She nodded when she was told that the training would start immediately; she had expected that would be the case. Securing Cloud to the hitching post Shivased had indicated, Aelflaed concentrated on her instructions. "Yes Marshal, I have all of those, though they are a little worn from use." she said as she stuck an arm into the packs that Cloud carried.

First she pulled out her leather vambraces. They were a stained dark brown leather tube, which she had personally stamped with the emblem of a horse's head. "Here are my vambraces. These are to protect my forearms and wrists, and in this case mine extend over the back of the hand a small way to allow me to hold the reins of my horse without fear of injury. I have them ready to put on, so the laces that secure them are loosened, which means I can simply slip my arm into each one, then tighten the laces which are cris-crossed along the underside of the arm. To ensure the laces are fully tightened and will not come loose at an unfortunate time I tie it with a double bowline knot, which is also easy to undo when I am ready." and she demonstrated this as she talked.

Next she pulled out matching leather greaves. "These greaves are to protect the front of my legs from my ankle up to my knee. Mine are quite simple, just a long, shaped leather panel which has three buckles attached. The leather is slightly curved to match the curve of my leg, and has a small curve at the bottom to allow my foot to move unrestricted. To put them on, I place the greave on my shin and wrap the buckles around my ankle and calf." she bent over to demonstrate and hoped that Shivased could still hear her alright. "The buckles secure just above my ankle, around the fullest part of my calf, and just below the knee joint, to ensure no movement during use." And she wiggled her leg to show the greaves were secure.

Turning back to her pack she pulled out a larger piece of leather in the shape of a vest, in two pieces, back and front, secured by a mixture of buckles and wide leather ties. "I also keep this ready to put on at a moments notice, so the buckles at the shoulder here, and here" she indicated a buckle on each side that held the two pieces of leather together at the top. "are already secured to fit me. If I lend this to someone, or if I wear my winter clothes underneath, I would adjust these first to fit. But, as it is I can just pop this over my head. The front panel is a little more er..forgiving around the chest area, so I don't get too squashed, so it is important for my comfort that I put it on the right way. Once it is over my head I can reach around each side and pull the two pieces together in two places - once under each arm, and once around my waist. I originally had buckles here too, but I found them too fiddly when reaching round, and the ties are secure enough. I have to pull the two sides together well or a blade could sneak between and gut me." she grimaced, she had seen that happen before and was in favour of learning from the mistakes of others.

*Finally, my sword." she said, and unsheathed the blade that hung in its scabbard from the pommel of Cloud's saddle, where Aelflaed had stored it on entering the fortress, knowing she would not encounter an enemy here. She showed the blade to Shivased, then returned it to the scabbard and pulled that and the baldric from the pommel, securing the baldric like a belt at her hip, with a longer loop crossing her body to go over her opposite shoulder. "I am right-handed, so I wear my sword on my left hip for easy access. The baldric is secured by two buckles, so even if one fails I will not lose my blade. The baldric runs through the leather at the back of the scabbard so no additional weak points there. I know the sword is nothing grand, and has probably been sharpened one too many times but though it has been used, it has also been cared for."

She resealed the pack she had taken the armour from, and turned back to Shivased. "Would you like me to explain anything in more detail, or show you anything else, marshal?" she asked.

[Éolath]

Aldburg
Training Grounds
Éolath nodded at the marshal’s comment of the new bond between himself and the horse, then slid to the ground to think about her next question. His brow furrowed as he led the horse back and forth, he thought best while pacing and the horse needed to walk. Éolath didn’t think he’d worked the horse hard enough for it to stiffen up, but better safer than sorry.

“Well, sir,” he started finally, “the Rohirrim traditionally use a round shield, straight sword, and horse bow. In Gondor, I saw shields shaped like triangles that were strapped to the arm and great, curved square shields but those seem really unwieldy and heavy. Our round shields don’t protect our legs much, but they’re easier to carry and use on horse or on foot. The triangle shields seemed …” he trailed off, trying to think of a polite term “well, good for standing in a line and waiting for some idiot to crash into you. But, I suppose that’s how they fight.”

He paced again, thinking about swords. He did not know much about swords. He’d had a few lessons as a boy, but that seemed a long time ago and it didn’t focus on sword types. Just how to stand and not get stabbed or bashed. He ran his fingers through his hair again and leaned against the bay’s shoulder. “Our swords are light, double-edged and straight blades. I don’t often see a great hilt on them. They’re good for close, fast work. Gondorians have longer swords with crossguards and these weird channels in the blade. They can be used with one hand or two, and they are sure lovely! But not for horses, I think. I’d be afraid of hitting my horse.

“When I was down near where the Anduin meets the sea, I saw some curved swords that the sailors used. They said that it worked better on the ships, but they seem unbalanced to me. I like the sword I have, the one my cousin gave me. It fits my hand well enough, and it’s not too heavy or too light.”

He rested his hand briefly on the hilt. He hadn’t used it, of course, but he’d swung it a few times at the straw man his cousin had in her yard. It felt right, even though he wasn’t entirely sure what right was.

“As for bows…I really don’t know much about them. Horse bows are smaller, with a different shape. I guess so it doesn’t get in the way, like the forest bows or the longbows they use in Minas Tirith? I’ve only seen a couple in the Mark, my father never used one. If we were hunting fowl, we used a sling and stone. They look like they’d be hard to use on a horse…” he trailed off again, trying to picture using a bow and holding onto reins and a shield. It seemed like a very bad idea to him, but he knew it was possible. Just not how…yet.

[Aethelu]

Eastmark

Training Field

Dicun breathed a sigh of relief when Marshal Shivased said his answer was good. It seemed like the old man had taught him well, though he listened carefully to the deeper, more accurate story than he had heard before. It was good to know the history of the cavalry, if he was going to be part of it he needed to know where it had come from. When the Marshal said it was time to show his horsemanship he was both relieved and nervous. He had seen one of the other trainees go before, and that was with his own horse. While Aric seemed to be a fine companion, there was no telling until he actually mounted up and started riding. Taking hold of the reins, he began to walk over towards the start of the course.

As he walked, he heard another trainee (Aelflaed) arrive and start her own task. He took a glance back as she put on her own armour. Her own armour. Dicun looked down at the armour he'd been given. It was good and sturdy, but it was basic. She looked to have armour custom made for her. Second hand armour and a second hand horse, it wasn't much. But it was start, wasn't it? He would prove himself. He hadn't even realised that he had stopped in his tracks until Aric butted his head against his shoulder. "Sorry," he responded, giving him a pat on the neck. "Let's go for a ride."

Dicun put a foot into the stirrup and swung himself up into the saddle. The stablemaster was right, he was a little tall, but it wasn't too much. Once he was settled into a comfortable position, which took some time to set the armour, sword, and reins into the right place, he pressed against Aric's side. "Walk on." He was pleased that Aric reacted well to his commands and they set off on a walk around the arena. It gave him time to get used to Aric, to get a sense of his stride and how to ride with the extra gear on. After a first time around, he gave another squeeze and raised himself up in the saddle. Aric set into a trot without another word. Dicun stayed raised up until he had the rhythm down, he didn't fancy bouncing himself around too much. He took a couple of turns around the arena, enjoying his time with Aric and he was sure Aric was enjoying a ride out as well. Finally he pulled the reins shorter, gave a harder squeeze, and called out "Canter." Once again, he knew what was needed of him and set off. This time it was harder to get the rhythm and ride smoothly. The sword was bouncing at his hip and the feeling of the armour was throwing him off too. Taking a deep breath he focused all his energy into the rise and fall, feeling it through his whole body until he was able to match Aric. At last they were cantering around the arena quite happily, but there were still two tasks left.

Pulling up facing the poles, Dicun decided to take a first run at a walk so that he could figure out the distance. With a click they set off, slowly weaving in and out of the poles. They were far enough apart to take at a trot he was sure, as long as he kept the turns tight. Turning, they set off again and sped up to a trot. Aric was a dream, turning so easily with just a press of the leg and a slight pull of the rein. He had certainly taken this course before. Now Dicun was feeling brave and decided to try it at a canter, weaving in and out with ease, though he was sure he heard his sword smack at least one of the poles. Now there were just the jumps, but he was getting a little cocky now. He barely slowed down from the end of the poles and set off towards the jumps. At the moment he pulled on the reins and pressed to make Aric jump, he realised he'd left it far too late for the speed they were going. Aric thankfully didn't even try to jump, instead skidding to a halt in front of the first jump. Dicun had to press his thighs tight to avoid being thrown off, instead only slumping forward and holding onto his neck. If horses could speak, the angry snort was certainly a word that couldn't be repeated. "Sorry boy," he conceded, sitting upright again and settling back into the saddle. The pair took a turn around the arena at a trot to get back into sync before trying the jumps again. This time they managed to clear the jumps no problem. Dicun jumped down and couldn't resist giving Aric a quick hug around the neck "Good lad," he grinned, promising he would have to find a treat for him later. They walked back towards the Marshal, his legs feeling a bit wobbly now he was back on the ground. He was certainly going to need more time in the saddle.

[Rowena Ellenweorc]

Edoras

NPC Esme
Infirmary
Esme looked at the woman. 'Its not so much about you finding peach and love, but more about what we find in times of war and peace.' She stood and walked to a window, looking out as if recollecting a memory. 'Perhaps its best if I tell you more about the sword. Marshal Rowena Ellenweorc comes from a long line of military's finest men and women. Her ancestor was the Third captain of Eorl, to whom this sword originally belonged, a man named Rhys, whom incidentally her twin brother was named after. Rowena was named after his wife, Annys, but that is a tale for another time.' Esme sighed, then looked at Taethowen. 'The sheath that encases the sword has the emblem of a wolf entertwined around a raven, what the Ellenweorc clan call the Ravenwolf. There is much symbolism to a wolf protecting a raven, though I'm not certain Rowena would want me to explain it. Perhaps that may be something to look up for your task. But surely you know the stories of Eorl, from which Eorlingas is derived?'
Esme then turned back to the window. 'Miss Rowena was poisoned many years ago by a man who thought he loved her, and I am sure still thinks he does. I haven't been to the dungeons to see him in many a year. Nonetheless, at that time, Rowena had been weak, susceptible because her husband had left her years before and was still grieving. While I cared for her in the infirmary, she recieved a parcel from her ex-husband, which included that sword. Her father had given it to him in the hopes that it would help make an honest man out of him. Whether it did or not, we'll never know, as Banan died defending the people he had grown up with.'
She again sighed. 'Rowena told me that it was actually her grandfather who etched the motto of the family into that sword, believing if her ancestor could write Rohirric as we know it now, he'd have done so. The phrase has been with the family for a very long time. That sword you are holding has seen generations of bloodshed, but also generations of peace.' Esme smirked, 'Sorry, I'm an old soul rambling. But perhaps the sword's story will tell you more about what you're supposed to find. If not that, look to the Ellenweorc family emblem of the Ravenwolf. You can find meaning in either I suppose.'
She then said, 'I know for me, that sword represents the strength of the people of Rohan. But for you, that may mean something different. For Rowena it probably means something different.

Helms Deep

Stockade, lowest level
NPC Cuthbert.
No… if he wrote everything out in Rohirric, it was certain to be obvious his malintent. So he dusted away the drawings and writings he had done on the floor of his cell with his finger. He then coughed, something that had been plaguing him a few weeks now, some thought he might finally die in here. But Cuthbert would not allow that to happen, not until he knew justice would be served. His Rowena had to suffer as he had all these years. It didn't occur to him that because of him, she probably suffered more than any human normally did.
He sighed and stared at the wall. None of this would have happened if Rowena had married him. They'd be living a happy life in Gondor, he wouldn't have had to try and work his way into Rohan as a teacher, only to find out that it made Rowena hate him more. It wasn't like he had been doing anything that she had been doing! So why was it so different when he did it than when she did it? Maybe that was something their son could figure out. (He was disillusioned into thinking a child he'd had with a woman who married him then left him was actually Rowena's. That's how obsessed he was with the woman.)
No… What he really needed was to get out of here. Maybe if he could get more of that potion, he could actually convince Rowena he was her husband. No wait, that hadn't worked too well the last time he tried. That's how he ended up here. Rowena tricked him into bringing her back to Rohan where she could formally arrest him… And well, here he had stayed. And for far too many years. Maybe one of the dumb guards would let him out. No. He barely was able to get information about the Marshal period because she was so strict with her Eored. They wouldn't dare mess with her.
Anyway what would he do if he did get free? That brat of a brother and her so-called husband guarded her like wolves. Not to mention, didn't she still have that pet wolf? Devon-- Derrick--- No. Drefan. That was it! He needed to convince that brat that was her husband's best friend to give Audley another tattoo. And the tattoo would have the signature poison. A smirk played on his lips as he thought about this. Once Audley was out of the way, Rhys would be easy. All it would take is a matter of telling Rhys' wife all about his infidelit-- wait a minute. An even bigger smirk played on his face. He knew all about the time that Rowena was recovering-- and the dalliances that occurred while she had no idea who anyone was. This could play out in his favor. (Once again, it didn't occur to him that Rowena might already know this information, and it would not bother her in the slightest.)
Now the trick was figuring out how to get this information to his love. If she knew her brother and husband betrayed her, she'd come running into his arms. He was certain of this.

[Shivased]

Aldburg/Eastmark

Training Fields

Shivased was somewhat thankful that Aelflaed had her own armour. She was pretty sure the armoursmith would be irritated by the interruptions to his work and she would be hearing it if she sent him too many more trainees to deal with. He was definitely of the opinion that his equipment was for show and for emergencies, not for actual use. It was something they clearly disagreed on.

She watched as Aelflaed pulled out equipment that was worn but still serviceable and expertly put it on while explaining what each piece was for. Clearly the young woman had experience with wearing armour, which would work in her favour. Very good, you clearly know your way around armour, she said when Aelflaed was done. Your sword may not be fancy, but it does not have to be to protect you properly. And being worn shows it has been put to it's intended purpose. That is good.

It seemed this trainee may be a little more ahead of her other two, which was good. They would be able to move on to basic horsemanship. She glanced over to the bending poles and jumps, seeing they were clear for use. Soon she would be done with them and have a good idea of the basic riding skills of all her trainees, which meant they could move on to more intensive training. We will move on and test your riding and horsemanship, so I know where you sit in that regard. I would like you to take your horse through it's paces. Ride around the arena at the walk, trot and canter. Then, go through the bending poles and over the jumps.

She then turned to Éolath, who was ready with the answer to his question. She listened, nodding her approval at his descriptions, but frowned when he began talking about more than one shield and sword and began comparing Rohirric and Gondorian. She had asked for one, not multiple. It seemed he was somewhat confused, for she hadn't asked for that.

Your answer is correct. she told him when he was done, for he had done what she had asked, albeit in a roundabout way. But in future please pay attention to the question. While you did answer the question I put to you, you did it in a very....confusing...manner. I did not ask you to compare Gondorian and Rohirric weaponry, only to pick one of each - a sword, shield and bow - and describe them for me. In battle it is important you follow orders as they are given; not doing so could cost the lives of your comrades or, unfortunately, innocents caught in the battle. Her chastisement was gentle but firm. She was not just ensuring her trainees knew weaponry, riding and whatnot. She was ensuring they knew how to follow orders and carry out their duties.

Now, we will move on, this time to some more practical weaponry. She gestured at the quintains at the other end of the training field. Using the quintains and practice spears, please describe and RP the three spear positions (couched, underhand and overhand).

It was Dicun's turn next. Once she was sure her other trainees were completing their assigned tasks, she turned her attention to the young man. She watched him put his new horse through it's paces, nodding at the easy way he walked and trotted, though she noted the canter seemed awkward, likely due to the unfamiliar weight of armour and sword, much like Éolath earlier. Similar to the other trainee earlier too, Dicun took the bending poles slowly at first, going through them several times as his confidence improved.

She cringed when the horse refused the first jump, but was glad it didn't slow them down much. Clearly Dicun had learned from the first attempt to take the jump too fast and signal the horse too late. When the pair returned She nodded at him. Well done. You have skill with a horse, and it seems the two of you are a good match, you move well together. She reached out to pat the horse. You did the ground poles well, and after that first jump they were done well too. I assume you learned from the first jump not to be too confident in your abilities.

There wasn't much more to say, so she briefly thought about the next task. We will give the horse a break before moving on to more mounted work, and talk about preparedness for battle. The Cavalry has been mustered and every indication suggests you will be away for at least a week. You can only take as much as your horse can carry, so list the items you would pack in your saddlebags and/or on your saddle and why you would choose each item.

[Taethowen]

Edoras - The Infirmary

Esme spoke of the sword's sheath, and Taethowen looked down at it where it lay across her knees, tracing the raven-wolf design with a finger. When Esme mentioned that surely she knew of Eorl, Taeth nodded. She knew the story well well, but wasn't quite connecting how a wolf protecting a raven tied in with that.

As she listened to the briefly-shared, yet still heart-wrenching, story of the Second Marshal, there were aspects of it she could sympathize with, of soul-deep wounds left by people who thought caring for someone meant imposing their own will upon the other. Whatever this sword and the Ellenweorc family motto had originally meant, it was clear that it was something that also shifted with time, and with the bearer of the sword.

"I know for me, that sword represents the strength of the people of Rohan," Esme finished. "But for you, that may mean something different. For Rowena it probably means something different."

Silence fell over the two women--well, as much silence as there could be in an infirmary with patients--for a few moments. There was a thought starting to whisper in the back of Taeth's mind, something that she knew would lead her to the answer she was seeking, if she had a quiet space and the time to chase that thought uninterrupted.

Abruptly, she clutched the sheathed sword in her hands once more and stood to her feet. Turning to face Esme, Taeth bowed her head. "Thank you for your time, Hælend Esme. I will not take up any more of it today. Hopefully we will see each other again."

Taeth spun on her heel, and made her way out of the infirmary, trying not to lose her thoughts along the way.
When she wandered back into the courtyard, Taeth faltered for a moment, blinking into the bright sunlight. The courtyard was not as busy as she'd known it to be in the past, but there were still people and soldiers bustling about, and so she let her feet lead her down a little path between two buildings, and found herself a quiet, shaded corner.

Crouching down, Taeth carefully set the Second Marshal's sword beside her, but did not let go of it. She leaned back against the wall, and began to think.

OOC @Rowena Ellenweorc - Hopefully my next post will be the completion of the task in the Dragon Room, unless there is anything further you want to see from IC Taeth here, in which case, just let me know! I'm aiming to have it ready by Tuesday.

[Fairy Nuff]

Eastmark - Aldburg

Training Field

Aelflaed was pleased and relieved that she had passed the first lesson, but immediately began to feel nervous when Marshal Shivased mentioned bending poles and jumps. "Of course, we'll demonstrate what we can do, but I have never done any formal work with Cloud, we have just picked up bits and pieces as we go from different trainers, but never with access to proper training equipment. I'm not sure how well Cloud will do encountering these for the first time." Taking a deep breath she went over to where Cloud was stood patiently. She knew it was good, but wanted to show Shivased that she knew what she was doing, so did a quick check of all the tack to ensure it was secure and that the stirrups were the right length, then brought the reins back over Cloud's head to rest over the pommel. She gave Cloud a reassuring pat of encouragement, and mounted.

First Aelflaed took a moment for Cloud to settle, adjusting her own position to sit upright with shoulders back, and weight balanced, then collected on the reins, prompting Cloud to drop her head and raise her shoulders - they were ready to move off! With Aelflaed applying a firm but light pressure with her calves at Cloud's sides, and maintaining a balanced seat, the pair moved off at a slow walk around the arena. She applied a touch more pressure to increase the pace slightly, holding the reins relaxed in one hand so as not to pull on Cloud's mouth with the bit, and moving with the horse on each step.

Once the pair had done a comfortable loop of the arena at a walk, Aelflaed adjusted her seat, allowed a little slack into the rein, and Cloud slid effortlessly into a trot. Having ridden Cloud since the horse was broken in, nearly 8 years now, they had a good rapport and Cloud was used to taking unspoken instruction from her rider, while in turn Aelflaed had trained certain actions to movements that they both understood - for a walk to trot transition, rider simply had to relax her hips and scoop her pelvis forward, allowing the horse a greater range of movement into the trot, and again Aelflaed moved with the horse at each pace in a 1-2-1-2 rhythm - ceasing to move with Cloud's movement would signal to Cloud to stop, or slow to a walk.

The second loop completed at a trot, Aelflaed moved Cloud into a canter, moving her outside leg back, shifting her pelvis forward which was in effect an exaggeration of the scooping action she made to move into trot and signalling Cloud into the next pace. Aelflaed adjusted her seat to match the canter rhythm and relaxed the reins and Cloud took to canter with obvious pleasure - this horse liked to run! Rolling through each pace with Cloud, she kept her eyes forward in the direction of travel, and her back straight and shoulders back.

Finishing the third circuit and approaching the bending poles, Aelflaed made her seat heavier and switched to trot rhythm and Cloud followed into trot, rider encouraging horse to approach the bending poles at this pace to familiarise her with them. But it was too much too soon for Cloud, who had never seen so many tall sticks stood in a row like that before, and she balked, coming to a full stop, and sending Aelflaed forward into the saddle, saved by the pommel and good balance. Aelflaed tried nudging Cloud forward again but the horse just snorted and pawed the ground - she had no intention of running towards those sticks. Aelflaed dismounted, and looping the reins over Cloud's head and keeping them in hand so Cloud didn't think she could wander off, she came over to stand before the horse. Stroking and rubbing her nose encouragingly, she spoke in a reassuring tone "there is nothing to be afraid of, I promise you my friend. They are just like lots of trees all in a row, and we are going to walk through them, alright?" she said, and started to lead Cloud forward towards the poles. Hesitantly the horse followed, pulling back as they reached the first pole, then seeing her rider walk confidently past one pole and around the next she allowed herself to be lead through the poles. At the end, Aelflaed turned them around and walked back through the poles leading Cloud, who this time did not balk and walked through with more confidence. "Ok, now let's try it with me riding, shall we" she said, whilst offering the horse plenty of reassurance and affection.

Mounting again, Aelflaed walked a short distance in the opposite direction then turned Cloud to face the poles. She urged the horse into a gentle trot and they approached the poles, Aelflaed keeping Cloud facing forward. For a moment she was sure Cloud would balk again, but despite a moment of tension in the mare's body, she continued towards the poles, missing her mark at the first one and knocking it over, but then Aelflaed herself relaxed and using pressure from her legs guided her horse through the remaining poles - without grace but also without incident!

Finally - jumps. Aelflaed was less concerned about these as they had jumped plenty of hillocks, ditches and fences in their time, and she hoped Cloud would understand that these were just the same - the process would be the same after all. She checked her position - head up, shoulders back, ensuring that her weight was central over Cloud's so she didn't throw the balance off. She signaled Cloud into canter and they set off towards the jumps from a distance, so she could adjust the stride to match the jump in plenty of time. The first one they tackled was low and Cloud easily cleared it. The second was taller and double the width, and again Cloud had no trouble with it. The third jump was a triple bar jump and Aelflaed feared Cloud would hesitate as it was the biggest jump they had done for a long time, but she should have had more faith in her trusty mare for she didn't even clip her hooves on the final bar. Not letting her concentration drop for a moment, focussing on her position and balance, horse and rider completed the jumps, only barely clipping the top of the last one as Cloud began to tire with all this exercise after a morning walk.

Aelflaed returned to where she had left Shivased watching at a trot, stopped Cloud next to the hitching post and gave the mare a good deal of rubs and pats to thank her for an excellent job and for being so brave at the bending poles, before returning to the Marshal. "I'm sorry about the bending poles - we can work on that, and any of the other exercises she hasn't seen before, she's quick to learn once she understands that something is safe. I hope the rest of the drill gave you an idea of what level we are at with horsemanship?" she asked

[Rowena Ellenweorc]

Edoras

Infirmary

Esme's ears perked at the entrance of a couple of Westmarkers who clearly had gotten drunk off their a-- err hindquarters. Idiot soldiers and their need to overdo it. She let another Haelend greet them as she continued to talk with Taethowen. She didn't need to say much more to the woman as it seemed like she was figuring it out on her own. She watched the woman depart, and at the last second remembered, 'Be careful with that blade. Anything happens to it and it won't be pretty for either of us.'
The two Westmarkers who entered were being annoyingly loud. 'Oi, oi…' Esme said, approaching them. 'This is an infirmary not the pub you so clearly just came from. Zip it, unless you want me to retrieve your Marshal from the back office. And I'm CERTAIN this is not the state you want her to see you.'
Both men instantly shut their mouths. 'No ma'am…' The first said. The second however asked, 'Are the rumors about her true?'
Esme rolled her eyes. 'Chances are, unless they have anything to do with her stern nature that is likely to kick you to the curb if you so much breathe wrong, likely not.'
The first soldier glared at the second. 'You idiot. The notion of the gossip being true is about as feasible as cows jumping over the moon,' he said referring to the old nursery rhyme.'
'Now that's settled, get out of the infirmary… Same rules apply in this infirmary as the ones back home.'
'Ma'am… if we were just drunk we wouldn't have come.' The first said. 'We're dumb not masochistic.'
'Well at least you admit you're dumb…' Esme said tersely. 'Well, then lets have it, what trouble did you get into this time.' When neither answered, but instead had a look of sheer terror plastered on their faces, Esme rolled her eyes. 'She's standing right behind me, isn't she?'
Rowena smirked. 'Of course I am. I hear the loud annoying voices of drunken idiots from my Eored, I can't resist coming to dole out a good tongue lashing.'
'Then I'll leave you to them. But just so you know, evidently there's some juicy rumors going around about you.'
Rowena only smirked. 'Oh really now... ' She looked at her soldiers and folded her arms across her chest as Esme walked away to tend to other patients. She surprisingly wasn't too upset about being gossiped about. In fact, the usual Westmark antics were a welcome relief after the defiance in the Dragon Room that had encouraged her impromptu visit. 'I'm all ears to hear the latest gossip about me. Spill-- before I start force feeding you some foul concoction worse than bilewitdox.'
Both looked torn between telling Rowena and not spilling the beans. But finally the second spoke up. 'That inn your brother owns?'
'Yeah, what about it? Its obviously not the reason you're in my infirmary.'
'Well, apparently someone saw you flip some chick for coming onto you.'
Rowena rolled her eyes. 'THAT'S the rumor? Sheesh, you're Westmarkers, I'd figure you all would have picked up on all the juiciest parts to that story. But nevermind it, what are your injuries that dragged you to my infirmary.'
'Wait-- what? There's more?'
Rowena glared. 'I give no details until you humor me and show me your injuries.' The first removed his tunic revealing a shallow blade wound, and the other said, 'I think I'm allergic to something I ate…' He had rashes all over. Since the stab wound was shallow, she directed her questions at rash-boy. 'Any other reactions besides the rashes and hives?'
'No ma'am… at least not yet. Ma says sometimes the reaction doesn't come till later sometimes.'
'This has happened before?'
'Not in my memory. But Ma says I am allergic to anise and Isen trout.'
'I think you would know if you ate either of thse. they both are strong flavors.' She waved a trainee over and whispered something to her, then returned her attention to Mr. Rash. 'All right, so, what I am going to do is get some cream for the rashes. You need to try to remember what exactly it was you ate at the pub. After some rest. I'll allow your buddy to stay with you this once, since obviously you could use a friend. But you both realize you also have to get the vinegar treatment since you're drunken idiots, right?'
'Yes ma'am…' they groaned.
'IF you behave, I'll tell you the real story of what happened.' This earned her some eager looks. 'But Mr. Rash, I'm going to need you to change into a robe so I can have better access to all ove your rashes and make sure you're not having any other symptoms.'
'ALL my rashes?'
'Yes… unless you want to spend the next few weeks itching like crazy and risking infection from you opening your wounds.'
'No ma'am. The less attention from you, the better.'
'If I didn't know what you meant, and if I didn't reciprocate the feelings, I'd be offended,' Rowena said with a compassionate smirk.'
'Reci-what?'
'Reciprocate-- means return.'
'Oh. Okay.' He accepted a robe from the Marshal Bealdorhaelend, who then promptly focused her attention on the other man, so he could have some sort of privacy.
'Now as for you-- I'm definitely going to need to hear about how you obtained this wound. Will I need to write you up? Give you some time with my Beadwof?'
'No ma'am! Anything but that! I'd rather leave the Cavalry than deal with that monster.'
'Then start yapping, kid.'
'Well, ma'am, actually, it wasn't my fault… Well not exactly. I just saw a man at the pub railing on his woman, ma'am. I stepped in to calm it down. It didn't go well. But he was arrested and put in the Meduseld sto-- err dungeons.'
'I believe you are looking for the word stockades. Doesn't explain the would though.'
'He used a butter knife to try and stop me from intervening.' He shrugged his shoulders.
'Well, one thing is certain, Rohan's criminals definitely get points for originality… I imagine Mundberg mostly gets stuffy crimes like skimming money off business transactions, or some dumb crap like that.' She smirked as the trainee arrived with an odd assortment of creams, pastes and teas. Not to mention bowls, rags, a kettle of hot water, and other various wares.
The dryht laughed a bit. He knew his Marshal hated Gondor with a passion (and for good reason in his opinion) so the insult didn't come as much of a shock to him. He winced as Rowena cleaned the wound with vinegar, then followed it with hot water. Damn, even though the wound was shallow, it was not pleasant getting it cleaned. But when she started putting on the paste made of comfrey and garlic, he released a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. That felt a little better. She then wrapped his bandages around his torso to protect the wound. 1
'So what was the story, Marshal?'
Rowena smirked as she looked behind her to see if her other patient was ready. He was. As she started to give him a full sponge bath, causing the man's face to go as red as the rashes that spanned his body, she said, 'Well, Leylann, first of all, packs some serious muscle, if you catch my drift.'
'Uh… no?' Mr. Rash said.
'Are you saying Leylann is really a he?' Stabby asked
Rowena smirked, and continued, 'Leylann wanted to kiss her wife, who happens to be yours truly.'
'Wait what? I thought you were married to a dryht in our Eored.'
'I am.'
'But you're also married to a chick?' Mr. Stabby asked.
'How am I supposed to tell the story if you two keep interrupting?'
'Sorry,' said in unison.
'Better. Well I was not in the mood to be kissed by Leylann. I do have a reputation after all. But then Talis came in, and caught us in the act. I hoped Talis' presence would deter Leylann from her obsession, but it didn't. Suffice it to say, there is a good reason she ended up on the floor.'
'Scale of one to ten, how would ou rate this Leylann.'
'8, but mostly because I'm not overly keen on women. Too catty. Too confusing.'
The rash man laughed. 'I hear that. You're probably the only woman I meant who has a head on her shoulders and is not very catty.'
'Don't let Audley hear you say that.' Rowena started to rub a creamy paste on the man's arms as she continued to speak. 'He might murder you if he knew you hit on me.'
'What?! No! That's not what I meant!' He blushed.
'Yeah right,' his friend said. 'You talk about the Marshal NONSTOP.'
'Only about how scary she is,' he hissed, daring him to continue.
'Oi, oi, you fight in my infirmary, I force bilewitdox down your throats, then a liter of vinegar, followed by a cup of straight lemon juice. Then because I'm not entirely heartless, I'll let you have some nice salty venison jerky.'
The boys shut up instantly, knowing she was dead serious, and also knowing that the salty venison jerky wasn't her being nice, it was her torturing them. They knew she'd make them suffer from thirst after eating the jerky. Not give them anything else until it was next mealtime.
'Much better.'
Mr. Rash winced as Rowena paused to put a warm washcloth on his neck. She let the cream airdry while she moved to rubbing more on the man's chest. 'So about this Leylann person.'
'Oh right. Well anyway, stabby her is right. Under the dress is more than meets the eye. Leylann is my husband's alter ego.' She chuckled.
'NO WAY!' Mr. Rash sat up.
'Oi. I did not give you permission to rise. Lay your hindquarters back down.'
'I can't believe it though. I didn't think anyone in the Cavalry had much of a feminine side.'
Rowena snorted. 'Just because we like our sharp objects doesn't mean we can't enjoy a dress or two now and then. In fact, you boys would look pretty awesome in dresses if I do say so myself. Mr. Rash in his robe here is proving it.'
'Why, because it has pink flowers on it?' Rash boy said.
'Something like that.' Rowena laughed and shook her head. It was nice to have a moment of just joking around. She didn't get it too often.

[Aethelu]

Eastmark

Training Field

Dicun was relieved when Marshal Shivased was happy that they had done well together. Once he was done, he was going to make sure that Aric got a good brush and wash, and as many treats as he wanted. He wasn't sure if the stablemaster would be happy if he got Aric a bit chubby with treats, but it would be fine in the end he was sure. Now it was time for his next task and he was almost sad to find it didn't involve more time with Aric. He deserved a break though.

Now, what would he need if he had to leave for a week with the cavalry? Limited space, limited weight, he had to think about this carefully. There were some things that seemed obvious to him, but he was sure there would be other items a rider would need that were much less obvious. All he could do was hope he had most of the right equipment.

"Well, first thing I would think I would need are some extra clothes, in case they were damaged or got extremely dirty. I would make sure to pack some gloves and perhaps a scarf for the cold, I would wear a cloak unless it got too hot. Rations are going to be important, something that won't go off easily and can be eaten quickly for extra energy. A sealed vessel for water as well." He paused, trying to think of some of the extra items he might need. "While I would have a sword, I would also want to make sure I had a knife to hand. A knife can be helpful in so many situations. I would hope I wouldn't get injured, but bandages might be needed just in case." Now he was starting to struggle , what else could he need in case of an emergency. "Erm...maybe...flint and tinder? A fire for warmth, for cooking, for boiling water, to send a signal, might be needed so I'd need to be able to start one."

Dicun had lost his train of thought now and his mind was blank. Was that too much? Too little? A horse like Aric was strong, but how strong would horse of his own be? Once you added on the armour and weapons, as well as his own body weight, it would all start to get heavier and heavier. "I hope that would be enough, but if I have made a mistake or forgotten something, I'm ready to learn." There was no point pretending he knew all the answers, he could only be honest with the Marshal and show that he was ready to learn and improve.

[Shivased]

Aldburg/Eastmark

Shivased nodded her understanding when Aelflad said they had no formal experience with things like jumps and bending poles, but didn't comment. Chances are, the pair would do fine. Most people underestimated how much experience they could get moving around trees or jumping streams and hedges while out riding. She had confidence her trainee would be fine.

Aelflad rode off and she watched with interest. Their transitions to walk, trot, and canter were well done, the pair moving fluidly with each other and showing they had been together a long time. Approaching the bending poles, though, was a different story. The horse did not like them, and balked, coming to a stop. Shivased frowned when Aelflad dismounted to reassure her horse; that wasn't something that would be possible in battle; they had to trust each other enough that the horse would charge towards anything if told. They did manage to complete the bending poles, albeit slowly, and the jumps went as well as she had suspected they would.

When Aelflad returned she gave a dip of her head in acknowledgement of the apology. You will have to practice. It is important that your horse trust you enough to ride towards anything, as you won't be able to get off and show her an orc or a raider in the middle of battle, she explained. You will definitely need to work on exposing her to things she has not seen before. The jumps, however, were done well and I'm impressed by your abilities. Good job.

She thought a moment and nodded to herself. We will give the horse a brief break, and discuss some geography.Which river defines Rohan’s eastern border, and what defines the border with Gondor?

Giving the woman a few minutes to think about her answer Shivased switched her attention to Dicun, who appeard to have an answer for his question. You have the essentials listed, so that is good, she replied when he was done. Extra clothes, a flask of water, food that will last, cloak, knife and bandages, flint. She ticked each off on her fingers. A scarf is not a necessity and would depend on the season, but a cloak is always a good idea. So is a bedroll. Food you would want would be dried meat, maybe a few apples. These things are lightweight and last a while, and anything else you can hunt or forage for. You will also want a hoof pick and a brush for your horse, so it can be kept clean, as well as a cloth to clean your weapon if needed.

Other than a thing or two, Dicun had done well so she decided to move on. Let's get back to some riding. Using the quintains at the end of the training grounds, please describe and RP the three spear positions (couched, underhand and overhand). (500 – 12,00 words). If you are unsure, there are some riders currently practicing, so you may observe them before demonstrating yourself.

[Éolath]

Aldburg
Training Grounds
Éolath frowned slightly and ducked his head in acknowledgment of the chastisement. He shifted his feet slightly, then turned when she pointed at the distant quintains. Nerves flashed briefly in his blue eyes, but he nodded. “Yes, sir,” was his only reply as he turned to his bay gelding.

He led the horse to the rack of spears but did not mount immediately. Instead, he hefted a spear. The shaft was smooth and warm from the morning sun, heavy but balanced in his hand. He had little experience with spears, having been much too young to train before he’d left his father’s home. He knew as much as any youngster knew, but had never used a real one.

He had, of course, played with the other village lads. They’d scrapped and tumbled, thrown ‘spears’, and beaten on each other with wooden swords, so he had some idea of how to use one. And he’d listened to tales, of men discussing training and past wars when working in Gondor.

“Three grips,” he muttered to himself as he tested each spear before picking one that felt balanced in his grip. “Overhand…best for low targets and hunting. Have to be careful not to trip your horse or stick the point in the ground and break it.”

He went to his bay, rested his head against the warm shoulder for courage and mounted. Continuing his stream of words, reminding himself of what little he knew, he turned towards the hard-packed lane leading to the quintain. “Couched- that’s…against other horsemen, or some foot soldiers. Tucked against my body to use your weight and speed. Targeting is hard, and a strike will throw me if I’m not prepared. I suppose I should try that last.”

The bay pawed restlessly, and he couldn’t stop the smile. It seemed as if the horse was just telling him to do it, to stop worrying so. “Right. Underhand. We’ll start there, aiming at the higher target. It could be thrown, I suppose, but I’m not going to try that first.”

Éolath settled his grip on the spear, nudged the bay into a steady, smooth canter. The tip of his spear waved up and down, and he was only just getting the hang of aiming it when they were abreast of his target. He missed. The bay turned with a snort, and Éolath could feel the blood running to his face but he said nothing as he turned to start afresh. This time was easier, he struck the edge of the shield but the jarring thump nearly knocked the spear from his hand. He made two more passes, marking the shield both times, but knowing he would need many hours of practice to learn this as well as he needed to. He set up for one more pass, but this time cast the spear once he thought he was within distance. It fell woefully short and to the side, but it was in the right direction.

It had landed point in the ground, and he picked it up without dismounting. The bay turned automatically to start the run again, shaking his head eagerly. This time Éolath held the spear along his arm, hand over the shaft. This felt more familiar to him, much like the game he and other lads had played. The object had been to pick up a rag from the ground and carry it across the low fence between his farm and his uncle’s. Éolath chose his target, and the bay lifted cheerfully into a canter.

The target came much faster than it had as a youth playing, but he was able to adjust more quickly and struck a solid blow to the bottom of his target, sweeping the spear behind him and up again. A grin came quickly this time, he hadn’t hit the horse! He made the turn, set up again, and made three more passes. A mid-height strike was more difficult to retain his grip on the spear, but easier to target. Trying to hit the very bottom edge of the shield was hardest, and he finally lost his grip on the spear when the point dug into the ground. He grimaced but turned back to pick it up.

The last grip made him the most uneasy. He knew, even before today, that he was not an experienced rider, and did not relish the idea of falling off. Especially when there were so many others watching, but …he sighed. He’d not get better without practice. Éolath shifted the spear until it was balanced against him, tucking it neatly under his arm with the point level and pointed ahead. The bay started his run and Éolath looked at his target, trying to brace himself in the saddle as well as aim.

They clipped the edge of the shield. It was enough to jar his shoulder and rock him back in the saddle. He scowled as the bay automatically returned to the start of the run. They started again, and he shifted forward, bracing his feet against the stirrups and leaned over the high cantle. He missed entirely and wanted to curse, but instead turned back.

The third run awarded him a fair strike, and despite jarring his shoulder again, it did not make him feel as though he would fall from the saddle. An improvement, he decided and turned for a final run. The bay pawed once, then lifted into a canter. Through luck and sheer determination, he struck the shield squarely and felt more than heard the practice spear crack. His hand numb, he turned the bay back towards the marshal.

[Rowena Ellenweorc]

Edoras

Infirmary
Just as she was starting to bandage Mr. Rash so he wouldn't irritate his wounds, a wigend entered with a message for her. 'What?! Already?!' Rowena sighed and said, 'All right, give me just a few more minutes to give orders.' She beckoned the trainee over and gave her instructions, and then wrote them down, just to make sure she had them right. She then said, 'And grab Esme, she knows the drunken idiot treatment.'
The men she had been treating had almost forgotten they needed that treatment because they had been having fun talking with their Marshal. She smiled and said, 'I'll make sure to tell Esme to make it mild.' She kissed each one's forehead. 'I expect reports from each of you by morning though. If you need someone to write them for you, have Esme do it.'
'Can you come back and tell the rest of the story Marshal?'
'Hmm? Oh sure. After I get off at the Dragon Room. Now hurry up and get your asses better so I can see you back at work, understood? And Rash-boy, make sure your report details every last thing you ate today, even if its something you eat on a regular basis. Got it? I can't help you if I don't have all the information.'
She then looked at the trainee. 'I want to know IMMEDIATELY if there's a change in his symptoms. Understood?'
'Yes ma'am.'

[Aethelu]

Eastmark
Training Field

Dicun was a little worried as Marshal Shivased listed off the items he would need, he had forgotten some items as well as adding some items he wouldn't necessarily need. Of course he would need tools to keep this horse clean and happy. The bedroll was another foolish thing to forget, was he planning to sleep on the ground with just his cloak for comfort? It was a relief to hear that he had figured out enough items, even more of a relief to hear they would be going back to riding.

When he heard what the Marshal wished him to do next, he did feel a slight pang of fear. He was a farm boy, he wasn't sure if he had ever picked up a spear. He may have played some games with sticks pretending they were spears, but this was going to be something different. At least he would have the chance to observe someone else first. Nodding his head, he took hold of Aric's reins and led him across to where the quintains were set up. Another rider (Eólath) was also preparing for practice with the spears and quintains. Carefully, Dicun watched each preparation and movement. Every time the rider moved his hand, he tried to follow it. Every time he rode at the quintains, he took note of what he was aiming for. It was going to be difficult but he was going to have to try his best.

When the rider finished and rode towards the Marshal, Dicun smiled and bowed his head towards him. "I hope you didn't mind an audience," he called out as he rode past. "You have helped me prepare, I am most grateful." Now he walked towards the rack of spears, letting his fingers trail across the smooth wood. The wood was warm from the sun, pleasant to the touch, but he knew he was putting off the inevitable. At last, he picked up one of the spears, feeling the weight of it, trying to figure out exactly where to hold it for balance. Once he had a sense of it, he looked to Aric as if for reassurance. The horse stared back at him waiting to see what this young man was going to do next. "We'll figure it out together, I'm sure," he said to Aric who continued to just stare back at him.

Mounting up, he adjusted himself in the saddle until he was comfortable to ride while also holding the spear. He tried to figure out which grip to start with, all of them felt so strange he wasn't sure any of them would be the most comfortable for the first time. He finally settled on overarm, taking a few laps around the quintains until he felt like he could take a charge. The spear was going to be low, ideal to take on an someone on foot while he rode above. Taking a deep breath, he urged Aric on and rode towards the quintain. As he got close he realised the spear was pointed far too low, but he was unable to correct in time and flew past the target. With a grumble, he turned back and prepared for another run. He moved his hand on the spear and repositioned himself to hit the target. This time he managed to clip the bottom of the quintain. The shock of it took him by surprise, jarring his hand, and the spear slipped from his hand. It was his first hit, it was to be expected. It didn't take long to jump down, grab the spear, and mount up again.

His grip needed to be tighter, he needed to be prepared for the hit, he also needed to relax. He was too tense and he was sure it wasn't helping him. Spear pointed down again, he took another run up at the quintain. This time he managed to keep a hold of the spear, though the sensation through his arm was quite something. Perhaps going straight to couched was going to be a bad idea, he thought the shock might break his arm. Underhand next then.

Swapping the spear over to his other hand, he tried to shake out his arm to prepare. Then he took a few laps to shake off his nerves. This was all so new and he had to succeed, he had to succeed. At last, he set himself up to try his first throw with a spear. The quintain didn't seem so far away, but when he raised his arm ready to throw, it felt like it was leagues away. Under his armour, Dicun was sweating hard, though whether it was from nerves or exertion he wasn't sure. The first throw fell short, landing point first just before the quintain. It stood there, quivering in the ground, like it was mocking him. The next throw went too far, soaring past and just skimming the edge. Closer was better than nothing. When the next throw connected, Dicun started to breathe a sigh of relief, but it didn't stick and once again the spear clattered to the ground. He leaned forward and let out a growl of frustration, resting his head on Aric. The horse let out a snort and bucked his head, he didn't have time for his rider's self pity. "I know," he muttered as he pulled himself back upright. "We're going to get it right."

Picking up the spear, Dicun got himself into position for another attempt. His arm was starting to shake as he lifted the spear up again. A deep breath helped to steady himself and he released the spear. Thankfully this time it hit its target and stuck. That only left the couched position, which he had to admit, he was the most worried about. Pulling out the spear, he began to prepare his ride. He held the spear close to his side, arm and elbow pressed in on the shaft. This was a test of nerve just as much as strength. Taking the reins in his other hand, he began his run up towards the quintain. When the spear hit, there was a brief second of elation, but he had been taking the run too fast for someone who wasn't used to it. He hadn't gripped the saddle tight enough, as soon as the spear connected, he was sent flying backwards. The air was forced out as he hit the ground, though he was thankful the armour was protecting him from more severe damage. He lay on the ground waiting for his breath to come back to him. The bright blue sky above him was suddenly darkened as Aric wandered over, sniffing him over. He had seemed like quite a nice rider, it would be a shame to lose him so quickly.

Dicun reached up and patted Aric's nose, who in return tried to gently nibble his fingers. "I'm alright," he groaned. At last, he began to sit up, and carefully pull himself back to his feet. He was going to be badly bruised for days, and he would never hear the end of it if he told his family, but at least now he knew what he needed to do. Picking up the spear, he gingerly got back onto Aric, who in turn took a very gentle turn around until they were used to each other again. Dicun tried to take a deep breath to prepare himself, but that hurt, so it was more a few shallow breaths. The spear was again set against his side, his knees and thighs tightly gripping, the reins wrapped around his other hand. As they charged towards it, he felt all his pent up frustration bubble up, and let out a yell as he hit the target with his spear. The shock slammed into him, but this time stayed upright. He could only let out a sigh of relief, patting Aric's neck, as he turned back towards the Marshal. He was worried if he tried to take another run at it he was going to do even more damage to himself. Hopefully it would be enough, and hopefully he wouldn't need to spear someone for a long time to come.

[Shivased]

Eastmark/Aldburg

Training Grounds

Shivased gave a quick look around to see where each of her trainees were and, satisfied with what they were working on, focused on the one who was ready to begin his task, Éolath. She watched as he picked up the first spear, testing it's weight it seemed, before starting his runs at the quintain. He had been nervous, that much she saw and expected. She had noted he seemed to have minimal experience with anything Cavalry related, and, despite being an average horseman, lacked confidence when it came to riding in anything that related to Cavalry skills. Still, he was putting in the effort and making attempts that were turning out fairly well, which was what training was for. He was learning. She watched as he took the quintains several times in each position, nodding in approval. He was almost unseated at one point, but recovered.

When he returned to her, she nodded. Good job. Keep practicing, and utilize the Feldmarshals you can usually find out here. They are always happy to work on skills with you, but you have the basics of spear use down and did a good job. Practice will only perfect your technique. Now, let's move on. What advantages do stirrups give in both daily riding and in battle? What disadvantages are there?

Giving him time to form an answer, she turned to Dicun, who she had noted was watching Éolath earlier, mimicking and learning from the other trainee. It was good to see the trainee being creative and learning from another. It showed Dicun was adaptable and could learn quickly and adapt to situations. All good traits to have.

The young man was taking his turn now, however. Much like the trainee before him, Dicun took several rides at the quintain at each position of the spear, learning the weight and balance and how to aim it, fixing and perfecting on each pass. She cringed when he was knocked off his horse and took a minute before getting gingerly back to his feet. Every rider knew the pain of falling off a horse, and doing so in armour was even less fun.

When Dicun returned to her she looked him up and down, satisfying herself that he wasn't hurt. Excellent job, she told him. Practice will perfect your technique, so make use of the training grounds and feldmarshals here, to work on your spear positions. The more practice, the better off you will be in battle. She thought for a moment, then decided it was time to move on as Dicun was doing well. Let's move on to some battle scenarios. You are thrown from your horse during close combat. Please describe your immediate actions (200 – 700 words) (OOC: Write this like an RP post.)

[Allacan ob Burzum]

Helm's Deep Stockade, Lowest Level, Cuthbert's cell
with Flash-backs to Helm's Deep Stockade, Watch-Master's Office

The young Sperewigend Aellen had been on a brief toilet break; not unusual in any particular manner given even guards have bladders, and there wasn't much Cuthbert could do to take advantage of this short period while so incarcerated within his familiar cell. Cuthbert's ears acknowledged the return of the guard with the sound of pacing in the corridor outside his cell. The footsteps echoed, enabling Cuthbert to track his movement right up to the door, when the narrow slit became shadowed Aellen peeped inside to check the status of the prisoner, before turning to continue his patrol. Only a couple more steps sounded, before a new flash of shadow crossed the grate and a second later Cuthbert heard the sudden indraw of breath, and the whoomp of a crossbow-bolt being discharged directly into something.

"We're going to need the co-operation of your sperewigend Aellen, a lot of our success will be reliant on his co-operation and ability to play along. Do you reckon he's up for it?" Allacan queried.

"As well as any, by my reckoning; we can talk to him about it when next he visits the earth closet" the Watch-master responded. "Plus he is one of those soldiers who is more enamoured of debating the mystery of the Marshal and the assassin, and well familiar with your reputation as cavalry hero. I suspect he will be extremely keen to be working alongside a living legend."

Allacan shook her head "That's not good enough. Can he be subtle, and maintain a ruse? Can he play dead?" she said, and the Watch-master raised an eyebrow questioningly. "I need to Cuthbert to believe - really believe - that I have killed his guard, so he thinks we have time to talk without being disturbed. Do you trust Aellen to be capable of aiding in that deception?" she asked, with an intensity to her look that verified her need for honesty.

The Watch-master considered it carefully, which reassured Allacan that he was weighing up both his soldier and the implications of failure carefully. "He can do it, as long as it isn't too complicate. Just don't expect him to be able to pull off a convincing 'death' scream or anything, or lie still for any great length of time."

Allacan smiled a mischievous smile. "When Dulug-ob-Burzam takes out a target, they don't have time to scream."

Just beyond clear sight of the cell, Allacan wrapped an arm around Aellen and pressed a hand over his mouth; not too tight, but enough to muffle his breathing. The sperewigend blinked and then forced his eyes closed as Allacan slowly lowered him to the floor as though ensuring his body wouldn't tumble, careful that anyone within the cell would witness her lowering the body but not that body's details and making sure his head came to rest comfortably on the same thick cushion she had just discharged a crossbow into at point blank range. A few seconds later, there was the sound of a dagger being drawn, something being slashed, and moments later thick red blood began to slowly ooze underneath the solid, cell door.

"I'll also need a crossbow and thick pillow, well stuffed, to mimic the sound of taking out Aellen initially. We can rehearse the motion a few times on his break so he's well prepared to do it for real. Everything else I need I have brought with me." she says, lifting her backpack onto the desk and pulling a laden water-skin out onto the desk. "Its full of pig's-blood. If the crossbow ambush isn't convincing enough for Cuthbert to believe his guard is dead, then the blood should be."

There was a scraping noise, as the limp form of Aellen was dragged away from the door of the cell, and a goodly distance away further in to the cells Cuthbert could only just hear the faintest sounds of keys opening another cell door and the body being shifted within. A door closed, and then a pause, and only if Cuthbert had pressed his face up against the tiny barred window on the thick, solid door would he hear the quiet approach of footsteps. There was the metallic sound of a thick key being placed in the lock and bars being drawn back, and then the door slowly started to open, key still jutting out from the key-hole, to reveal what lay beyond.

"Tell me, do the Helm's Deep cells follow the same layout as the Meduseld stockade? With a horse-shoe-eque layout so you can have soldiers converge on a cell from two directions?" Allacan queried, and received a nod from the Watch-master in return. "Good, then I will drag Aelen's 'body' far enough away that he is by the rear entry door, and when I open the cell and 'drag' him in, he can exit quietly via the rear door and take the pillow and bloody water-skin with him. He'll have to close the exit-door behind him to muffle any we make, but if I leave the cell door open hopefully Cuthbert will mistake one door for the other and nothing will seem amiss. Now, last thing, I need a little time to get myself ready to present as an assassin of Mordor; do you have a wash-room I could commandeer for, say, half an hour? Oh, and a bucket and some rags as well, please. Ones you don't mind having to throw away?" She adds as she lifts a large vial of inky, black liquid from her backpack.

She stood in a pool of blood, the streaks of red disappearing out of sight to the left testament to the fate of the guard. From thick, black leather boots his gaze shifted up to slim black trews, a dark purple vest and a black, soft-leather jerkin that protects the torso and chest, her mostly bare pale arms and well defined thighs and calves display the muscles of an athlete. Matching black, leather bracers, belt and thigh-holster hold an array of sharp blades and a short-sword hangs at her left hip, a single dagger in her right hand still dripping with blood and a loaded crossbow in the left pointed directly at Cuthbert. Her piercing blue eyes are frames with black, smoky shading and mascara, and her long hair dyed pitch black and braided into a long queue hangs over one shoulder. She moves into the cell with the assured arrogance of a murderous assassin of Mordor, exhibiting an aura of lethal confidence that was almost enticing. At the sight of Cuthbert, one side of her mouth curves upwards in a smile and her eyes narrow. "Rhainnyn Volorwin, I believe, or perhaps its Master Cuthbert these days." she identified him with a knowing smile; it was clearly not intended to be a question. "Its time we had a talk."

OOC @Rowena Ellenweorc (There, that should have successfully brought us to the point of Allacan actually arriving within the cell with Cuthbert, and also explains her change of hair-colour in the Mx Meduseld thread, which I am taking as happening after Allacan has returned to Edoras after this investigation. Currently, however, she hasn't revealed her tattoo, as that happens in Mx Meduseld thread.)

[Rowena Ellenweorc]

Helms Deep

NPC Cuthbert
Stockades - complete with memories of most if not all his crimes.

Blood. Great. What a mess. And it would take them forever to clean that damned mess up once it was noticed. Couldn't people choose neater ways to take out their victims? This was why he preferred poisons. Especially his favorite Isen-clove leaf poison. It was a poison that took time to reach its peak effect, and when it did, if your victim managed to survive, it changed their way of life entirely. Take Rowena for example.
He smirked as he thought of his wife. (He thought of her as his wife even though she was never his to begin with, because he was simply that corrupt and obsessed). He had conned her first husband into leaving her for the safety of their two children. And then he twisted the facts about the man just taking up Cuthbert's dirty belongings (a woman and child) and becoming a caretaker for them. He made it seem like Banan moved on and had a new happy life, and this of course led Rowena into a state of grieving for the life she once had. She had courted here and there, nothing serious, until one Mettare when she and her brother laid eyes on a handsome Dryhtguma. He also had had Banan attempt to kidnap her (which resulted in his unwitting demise. Good. The idiot clearly was useless if he couldn't even succeed in kidnapping a weak frail woman who used to be his wife!) but Banan had successfully managed to poison his own son at his behest. A smirk played on his face. Raedan had been a complete idiot, falling for the oldest trick in the book, the pseudo love of a father. It had been too easy.
Cuthbert couldn't risk her falling in love with that man. Not in the slightest. So he researched all the known poisons of the world, and then by sheer happenstance came across the Isen clove-leaf. It took some time perfecting the exact methodology of using the poison, (and a few lost horses and other livestock, especially pigs. Some herbalist told him they were most like humans in anatomy.) but eventually, he was able to sneak some into her canteen in her saddlebags while she was in a pub. And from there, things only went downhill for her.
Word reached him that she had been disgraced in the cavalry and had to fully retrain, and then after that she was assigned stable duty for a month. It was while she was doing stable duty that the psychosis took effect. She ended up comatose, for who knew how long, and when she woke up lost most of her memories, including that of her close friends and family, and all language and most of her knowledge. She had weak muscle tone, and took quite some time for her to regain her life back.
Cuthbert hadn't counted on her determination though, or the strength of her friends and family. They were big influences in her life, and the reason she kept living and kept going. And no matter what he did, it only seemed to further her resolve against him. He had even tried to rope Rowena's sister into his charms, which earned him the W scar on his face (for womanizer). But neither Rowena nor Rheda were susceptible prey. So instead, he took a different tactic. Turning various members of Rowena's childhood gang against her. It worked once with her husband. Why not others?
Next to turn into his palm was Gareth, their cousin, and the son of the village jeweler. The jeweler was brother to Rowena's father, and the person who they trusted to keep all their secrets, they called him Master. Cuthbert had figured if he could turn Gareth, then the now 'lawkeepers' of the village would crumble. Even today, Gareth was his most diligent resource. The man had not only murdered Rheda and her husband for him, to hopefully weaken Rowena's resolve, but also Eamon, so that Rowena would be forced to do something Cuthbert knew she would hate. Acknowledge her ties to Gondor. Once she did that, it was an easy in. Or so he had thought.
However, that proved to be a wrong assumption because when he finally managed to kidnap Rowena, her brother, and her husband, and live the family life he always wanted, she had managed to con him back to Rohan, where she promptly arrested him for his part in kidnapping her and two other Rohirrim. He had not only kidnapped a dryhtguma, but an officer, and not just any officer, a MARSHAL at that. So here he was, rotting in a stinking cell, now with blood everywhere, all because of that damned wench!
Of course there was the turning of the healer for the group against them, only for him to be killed by his own brother for his betrayal. Though the law deemed that act self defense, and had the hapless victim survived, he'd have walked free. If they only knew the kind of people Pleoh and Ator were. They'd be PROUD to have them dead and off the streets. But noooo, he was the criminal.
He had tried to turn Kendrick against Rowena, but when he had refused, not only did Cuthbert beguile his sister, but he also poisoned Kendrick. The idiot went crazy, or so he heard, in a Cavalry pub, and attacked Rowena. So in the end, Kendrick had done the very act he had so been adamant against doing because of his poisoning. Getting close to Kendrick had been significantly more difficult, but in the end he had succeeded, (using the deaths of two fellow companions in the Cavalry of Kend's as a way in.)
Cuthbert moved to the damned uncomfortable cot. Oh how he wished for a nice goose down pillow. But it wasn't meant to be. Scratchy blankets, thin pillows that felt like they were made from sticks, was this how you treat nobility of Gondor? (Of course, this was negated by the fact he was in a prison cell in Rohan) He wondered how his namesake was doing lately. Perhaps he was faring better than when he was on the outside. Who knew anymore.
A person entered his cell, presumably the one that caused the mess. Green eyes scanned the person warily. The person greeting him clearly looked like they had seen better days, in fact Cuthbert dared to say he looked better, and he was the one rotting in prison. (This was of course his own perceptions of course. He himself looked like his hair hadn't met a comb in weeks, his breath probably was fouler than the lowest orc's. His clothes were haphazard at best. Probably the cleanest looking thing about him were in fact the W and M scars on his cheeks. Evidence of his past crimes in Rowena's villages.)
'We need to talk do we?' He seemed rather unphased by the appearance of the creature before him. 'I may be an idiot as all the people here frequently tell me, but I generally don't make a habit of talking with people who know more about me than I know about them. And since I haven't been outside this cell in ages, I haven't done my research to know who you are.' He smirked and said, 'And generally the only people who know much about me are Ellenweorcs and Cavalry. And since I know all the Ellenweorcs and nearly every intimate detail about them, quite often before they know it themselves, I can only venture to guess you are Cavalry in disguise.' He smirked and then said, 'I could be wrong, but I rarely am. So instead of asking you if I am, I'm going to ask, who I am supposed to believe you are. At which point, I will then tell you the same thing I tell everyone who dares come visit me.'


@Allafyrefleorhtlig SOOO sorry! I had it all written and then forgot to post it! So sorry! Aaaaaand I even mentioned the two dryhts we're talking about Cuthbert taking credit for!)

[Allacan ob Burzum]

Helm's Deep Stockade, Lowest Level, Cuthbert's cell

Allacan cocked her head to one side and gave him an entertained smile. “Oh, I apologise for the misunderstanding, but I’m not here to answer your questions. I’m here for you to answer mine.” She says in a bright, almost friendly voice as she steps into the room, closes and locks the door behind her while never taking her eyes off him, and slips the key into her cleavage.

“Also, I regret to inform you that I am not from the cavalry, as you seem to believe. Otherwise, would I do this?” And without a moment’s hesitation she unleashed a crossbow bolt straight at him. Allacan is a good aim, and the short-range crossbow was chosen for its accuracy. It was a wound that wouldn’t cause him great harm, a ‘flesh wound’ some would say, but it would shake him up a bit, and it would hurt.

She reloads the crossbow as though locking herself in prison cells and shooting the occupants was the most normal thing in the world. “It’s important you start new relationships on the right footing” she says, as the bolt clicks into place and she readies to fire again if necessary, this time aiming right between his eyes.

“I hate to be so abrupt with you, but I honestly don’t have time to waste here and, well to be frank, if you aren’t able to provide me with a good reason to keep you alive in the next five minutes I will have no option but to neutralise you so you can’t go telling tales of my presence here. I’m not supposed to be in Rohan you see, or anywhere for that matter. But the recruiters who sent me here like questions even less than I do, and they don’t want any of their agents being the sort of people who would rather argue for the sake of arguing than follow their designs. If I’m absolutely honest, I’m somewhat biased towards finding you to be ill-suited to their purposes, because I really cannot be bothered with the whole tedious rescue aspect that this mission that would entail if you were recruitable; getting you safely out of the dratted straw-head’s custody without being spotted is too much effort for a Thursday; I do so hate Thursdays. It would be so much easier for me to say you weren’t worth their time and be done with you here. So that’s all you really need to know about me presently. If you want to take my advice, and I’ll offer it freely, if I were you I would get talking quickly about why you could be an asset to my employers rather than rotting in a jail-cell for the rest of your life. And do please keep it brief; I can’t abide unnecessary waffle.”

She glanced for only a moment out the window in the door as though checking no-one was coming, before turning back to him curiously. “Unless, of course, I am mistaken and you are not Cuthbert, in which case I have the wrong cell and you serve no further use to me. Do please tell me that’s the case.” She said with a pleasing smile as she curled a finger threateningly around the trigger.

[Rowena Ellenweorc]

Helm's Deep

CW: Cuthbert is a sexist elitist womanizing pig who loves to put women down with any means necessary including derogatory terms and emotional/verbal abusive tendencies, please do not read if this is a trigger for you.
NPC Cuthbert
A nice homely cell in the Stockades, lowest level

Not many people could master the art of being both completely and utterly stupid yet also insanely intelligent at the same time, but if one person was capable of it, it was Cuthbert. The smart part of him had figured out that the person in his cell was either a) Cavalry trying to not be Cavalry, or b) an army recruiter, or c) some sort of dark servant of the dark lands. The not so intelligent part of him hadn't thought of a fourth possibility, that the person was in fact all three. The not so smart part of him also thought it was a good idea to challenge Allacan. 'Assuming that for one brief moment, I believe you when you say that you aren't Cavalry, given you are here, that means someone thinks highly enough of my work to send you. Meaning you are nothing more than a pawn.' This was where the stupidity came into play. 'As a pawn, I'm no more interested in you than really you are in me.' He smirked, seemingly unphased by the damned thing in his shoulder. He yanked it out carelessly, more than likely making the wound worse than it really needed to be. (Okay so maybe he was also a bit of a masochist. But to be fair being shot at was less painful than having your jaw carved into, at least in his mind) 'And actually, yes someone in the Cavalry might dare to shoot me. Because, sweetheart,' he emphasized the word sweetheart, 'It was Cavalry who gave me these lovely markings on my cheek. Or perhaps that WASN'T part of the stories you were told about me?'
'But, despite your protests, you gave me enough information to satisfy my need to know who you are. So as I promised, I'll tell you what I've told everyone else.' He smirked and said, 'And it's a good thing it is not Thursday then. It's Saturday. Or did you think that because I've been rotting in a prison cell, I wouldn't know what day of the week it was?' He laughed a dry laugh before continuing, 'There's an old adage, or saying, just in case your puny little brain doesn't know what an adage is, that goes "Never lie steal or cheat. If you must lie, lie in the arms of the one you love. If you must steal, steal away from bad company, if you must cheat, cheat Death." I lie steal and cheat all the time. One might say I landed here because I don't follow that adage. But I say I landed here because I in fact cheated Death.'
If Cuthbert was a wise man, he'd stop talking in circles. Smart yes. Wise no. As much as he thought he was. 'You want to know what makes me worth your time? I don't know. What I can tell you, is that according to the woman who put me here, my crimes fall into two broad categories as is represented on my cheeks. W -- womanizing, and M - murdering. Who do I lust after? Not important. Who have I killed, anyone I deem worthy of my time. The Marshal's friends and family, Cavalry soldiers, and a good number of both of those might I add, and anyone who might dare betray me, or has betrayed me. I even had my own damn parents murdered, from this jail cell, I sent the orders in fact.' He didn't actually know if his parents were dead or alive yet. Not that it actually mattered in this instance. 'I killed Kendrick Halwende, former Dryhtguma, one of the best friends of the Marshal of this land you're standing on. Killed her son Raedan, attempted and sadly failed to kill her. Killed two of Kendrick's guard buddies too… and in turn basically am behind Kendrick's attempts on Marshal Rowena and another Dryhtguma's life in a pub. Which not very sadly in my book led to him slipping on a pool of blood, hitting his head, and dying. Amusing way to go out if you ask me.'
He sat up and leaned his head against the wall, closing his eyes. It probably wasn't his smartest move, closing his eyes in front of whoever it was pointing a crossbow at him, but it did present the air of him not really caring, at least of him not caring about what information people had. But really it was a facade more than anything. He was using to hide the fact he did fear being shot again. If he was shot, he couldn't live to see Rowena fall from glory. And one day, she would. He had no doubt of that. 'I think I'm most proud of all my Cavalry murders. Get in my way, and I can guarantee you'll drop dead. Like Kendrick's friends.' He actually didn't have much of an idea how they were murdered, so he presumed. 'A gut to the stomach for one, a nice slice of the perfect spot on the neck, and both bled out before they could even be found. All for trying to stop me from getting to Kendrick.' Truth was they'd been stabbed in their sleep. The reason they had been linked to Cuthbert was because it was later found out that these two had fathers who at one point served as body guards for Rowena's grandparents. When he learned he was being suspected for these murders, he accepted it, and even added on to the story, claiming that he'd attacked them for trying to continue the legacy of their fathers. He ran his fingers through his hair nonchalantly. 'I don't like people in my way.'
He gave Allacan a sickeningly sweet smile, and said, 'Now I've said all I care to say…' But as he toyed with the thing that had caused him his current pain, the look in his green eyes actually became more cold and calculating. The creature before him, he didn't know if she could be called a woman with the way she acted, what if she actually could prove to be useful. If she wasn't Cavalry, and she could get him out of here -- it presented opportunity. He may be obsessed with Rowena, but he did have a woman on the outside still, biding her time, waiting for something to do for him. 'I do have a little secret though,' he smirked. He stood up and walked toward Allacan, removing his shirt. He made it look like he was about to seduce her, but instead he just dropped the shirt on the floor where her blood tracked in was. Then he returned to his bed. The less he had to look at the better. 'I am more obsessed with her fall from glory, than anything now. She might think I actually still care about her, but I don't really give a damn. It's about breaking her now. The thrill of the hunt even. I will keep murdering, making people submit to my will until that woman is gone from this world, or too broken to keep up the will to live. I suppose I could keep going from this charming little palace I have here, but outside would be far more beneficial. Get me outta here, and I'll make sure you never work for anyone but yourself. I have that power. No recruiters to work for, no Cavalry getting in your way, or people from wherever it is you're from. All the power and money you could dream of.'
Of course, Cuthbert was lying through his teeth, but perhaps, enticing her would ensure he got out of here.

[Allacan ob Burzum]

CONTENT WARNING; Role-playing sexism, gas-lighting and emotional manipulation/blackmail

Helm's Deep Stockade, Lowest Level, Cuthbert's cell

Allacan's smile faded as she heard his insulting words. The more he spoke, the more she despised this individual and everything he represents with a fervour that she had not felt in many years. She was old enough and wise enough to understand what he was doing; he was trying to belittle her, make her feel insignificant and weak, like nothing more than an inconsequential woman who's entire role was to serve his purposes. He was trying to make her unsure of simple facts so he could fill her uncertainty with his lies. When he made the comment about it not being a Thursday she almost cut him off; Allacan was not wrong about the date. She had no reason to say the wrong date, or lie about it. He was trying to make her feel like an idiot and put her on the defensive and she wasn't going to bite. Either that or his egotistical nature meant he believed he was now in control of the time and date as well.

Well she refused to engage. More than that, she refused to tolerate it. She would not be a party to his foulness, and in failing to do anything about it inadvertently allow such toxic perceptions to persevere. He was like a scourge, a cancer, and in that moment he came to represent everything Allacan hated about gaslighting and sexism and manipulation and putting people down and she had vowed long ago to fight that kind of prejudice and be a paragon of hope and acceptance. She was disgusted at the idea that this man, who was clearly so remorseless about his completely selfish manipulation of people, was being allowed to continue to draw breath with such minimal repercussions; obviously he didn't feel his cell was any real punishment. She was almost overwhelmed with the need to erase him from the scenery as though doing so would also erase such vile prejudices from these fair lands she called home.

Allacan tried to find a moment of calm so she could make an assessment of the man before her, reflecting on the notes she had read in his records, and her perception of the man continued to be that no matter what she attempted, he was never going to be remorseful and therefore no punishment would ever be sufficient, regardless of his crimes. If anything, he seemed a pretty straight-forward egotist, a one dimensional character with a superiority complex who would approach every problem the same way no matter what anyone else did; with disdain and selfish intent, using everyone around him like tools designed purely for his delights and doing anything he could to manipulate people into thinking they were too weak to resist him.

When he called her sweet-heart, a snarl crept out from between her lips. When he gave his sickly sweet smile she just about resisted the temptation to cut it right off his smug face. And when he stepped towards her and took off his shirt, she visibly gagged, forcibly swallowing down the bile that filled her mouth.

And then a familiar sort of calm overcame her. A cold, calculating calmness that came with the certainty of having made a decision. She wasn't quite sure how she would do what she was now resolutely determined to do and not also fail her cavalry test. Perhaps she would attempt to defend herself on the basis that he would never be of any worth and it was too great a risk to keep him alive. That if he was telling the truth about being able to plot deaths even from here when he should only be visited with a cavalry chaperone, then they could not even trust their own soldiers with him. That it made more sense to get rid of him and tell Rowena and all those others he had hurt to move on with their lives. Maybe she could suggest covering it up with a story that one of his old allies - and it seemed that there were countless numbers of those - broke into the stockade and took him out for revenge over some historic slight, except that would insult the Watchmaster Grimthain and his soldiers and leave a poor mark against their records that they did not deserve. Maybe the Marshals would be willing to add it to the record of her other persona Dulug on Burzam, a person that official sources would suggest could not be traced, thus ensuring the officials of Gondor could not blame the Rohir and hopefully side-stepping any political angst between the two nations. Maybe not, maybe they would throw her under the horse's hooves, hand her over to Gondor and they would put her in prison or worse, to death. Maybe, maybe, maybe... At this point, she didn't care. She was willing to face the consequences; it was a small price to pay to ensure his sort of vile presence would not continue to darken the fair lands she had come to love.

She looked at him with a cold, calculated look, all her feigned upbeat warmth from earlier quenched. “Actually, you are right, I did lie, but you are mistaken about the nature of that lie. I’m the real recruiter here, and I work for no-one but myself. But its all moot, it turns out I have made my decision, and you aren't, in fact, worthy of my time or my attention. I don't even care if you believe me, because the penultimate fact is that you forgot something, and in doing so made one fundamental mistake." she stepped a little further into the cell so that she had a better sight of him, and so he couldn't wriggle or dodge away at the last minute. Her next words were a quiet hiss. "Even pawns can take a king when the king makes the wrong move”.

Then before he could react, she loosed the crossbow with the bolt aimed right at his head, between the eyes, with a sureness of hand and purpose that could surely not miss. Without bothering to check he was dead, she turned from the cell without another backward glance, locked the room behind her, and headed for the exit.

OOC @Rowena Ellenweorc (I appreciate it’s roleplay and all meant in creativity and good jest, and we all love playing a nasty character showing it’s dark side, but could I kindly request that you copy and paste my above content warning and edit it into the top of your post to help people who might be uncomfortable by such topics. Thank you)

[Aethelu]

Eastmark
Training Field

Dicun had managed to walk over to Marshal Shivased without much difficulty, though being able to hold onto Aric's reins was certainly helping to keep his balance. He was sure his fall hadn't done him any serious damage, but it had certainly winded him. He was relieved when the Marshal was happy to let him continue. She was right though, he would need more practise with a spear. Once he was fully fledged member of the cavalry he would make spear positions a priority for his practise time. Now it was time to consider battle scenarios, how would he react in such a scenario? He closed his eyes and began to think.

Dicun was in the thick of the combat, swords and shields clashing all around him. The noise of it all was almost deafening, but this was no time to get distracted. He fought on not letting his guard down for a second. Suddenly, something spooked the horse he was sitting atop. It reared up with no warning, Dicun had no time to adjust himself and now he was falling backwards. He tried his best to relax his body, to tense up would cause more injuries. He also tried to keep his sword away from his body, no sense accidentally stabbing himself on the way down. Despite his best efforts, he still hit the ground hard. There was no time to relax and get his breath back though, at least not while lying on the ground. As quickly as he could, he pulled himself up to his feet and took stock of the situation. There was still fighting all around him, though so far they were all so distracted they hadn't noticed the unhorsed rider. It was a terrible position to be in, without his horse he was vulnerable to being hacked down by those who now sat above him. Even worse if another horse spooked, he ran the risk of being kicked or crushed. The chances of being killed increased massively while he was on foot, the fear was like a stone sitting in his stomach. Time was of the essence, he had to be fast. Where was his horse? Looking around he laid eyes on his horse, who was wildly turning this way and that. With no rider to guide him, the battle around him was deeply unsettling. Keeping his body crouched in the hopes of avoiding detection, he hurried towards his horse.

His heart was hammering in his chest as he dodged past swinging blades and stamping hooves. He reached the horse, managing to grab the reins and pull his head around. Thankfully, at the sight of his rider the horse calmed a little. Another quick look around saw Dicun's greatest fear realised. One of his enemies had realised he was unhorsed and was charging towards him. Holding tight to the reins, he put one foot in the stirrup and quickly leaped up back onto horseback. Normally he would take his time to calm the horse, get himself settled into position once again, and assess the situation. No time for hesitation though. Making sure he had a good grip with his thighs, he turned the horse towards his assailant. Raising his sword, he charged towards him with a yell.


OOC: Hope that's okay, I wasn't quite sure how else to write it.

[Fairy Nuff]

Eastmark - Aldburg

Training Field

Aelflaed bowed her head in embarrassment when Marshal Shivased told her she would need to practice and work on building Cloud's trust in her judgement, but kept quiet, it was not a discussion. Her head shot up again when the mention of geography came up for her next task, and she bit her lip. Would it matter that she had never paid any attention in lessons, and while she knew every hill and river by sight, didn't know all their names? But she relaxed again when she heard the question. "I know the river on our Eastern border, The Great River. I think it has another more formal name but I cannot get my tongue around it...Aguin, Andin? And the White Mountains form our border with Gondor, of that I am certain." she said, hoping that the common names for those landmarks would be enough. If not, she would force herself to read all the maps available until she knew all the names by heart.

[Shivased]

Eastmark, Aldburg

Training Grounds

Shivased nodded in approval of Dicun's completed task. There wasn't much she could say about it, since everyone reacted differently in battle depending on what the situation and their own emotions and abilities. Very good she said, then smiled. I think that will conclude your training. While you will need to practice and work on your skills, that is true of all Cavalry members. I am happy to say you have passed your training. She came to attention and gave him a formal Cavalry salute. Congratulations, Dryhtguma Dicun. your only remaining task is to take the Oath of the Cavalry and report to the Dragon Room to be assigned to an eored.

Turning then to Aelflaed who seemed to be ready to answer her question, she nodded. The river is known as the Anduin, though here in Rohan we mostly call it the Great River. And yes, the border with Gondor are the mountains. Good job. She considered Aelflad, , thinking back over the work the young woman had done already. I am also going to pass you in training. I think you could benefit from some more work, but there is a Cavalry exercise coming up that I think will suffice for that. She gave another salute. Congratulations, Dryhtguma Aelflaed. Take the Oath of the Cavalry, and report to the Dragon Room to be assigned an eored.