Throne Room - Eomer's Back!

[Taethowen]

Second Marshal Taethowen

Taeth arched an eyebrow as Gwai insisted she was blushing about no one at all but didn't press the issue then, as they were in the Throne Room, and the following several minutes were... intense, as a much-neatened Æthelwigend Grimthain and Éomund, both of who she knew mostly by name only so far, had an interlude that brought tears to even her eyes.

"Shall we?" Gwai asked as the page directed them forward, and Taeth nodded, gesturing for the Third Marshal to go ahead of her. She needed a moment longer to figure out exactly what she wanted to say. Taeth listened as Gwai spoke, and her own words began to formulate.

When Gwai finished, Taeth approached the dais, and bowed her head in turn.

"King Éomer. I stood before you once before as Third Marshal, but my service then was regrettably short. I am honored to stand before you again as Second Marshal, and be able to have a second chance to serve the Mark with honor."

Taeth drew her own sword then, if a bit awkwardly for it had been many years since she armed herself with anything but bow and arrows and knives, and extended it hilt-first toward the King. Her voice was resolute as she spoke her carefully chosen words. "I offer you my loyalty and sworn oath as the Second Marshal of the Mark to defend Rohan against all enemies and to defend the King and his line from any danger, to the best of my ability."

[Dimcairien Luiniel]

As Grimthain embraced him, Éomund could tell that it was taking all of his strength to remain in a standing position. Eventually Grimthain had managed to steady himself enough to pull away from the hug. He took a step towards the Throne, but continued to keep a tight grip around Éomund's shoulders. After requesting permission to leave, he turned back towards Éomund. H tried to say something, anything to his uncle, to reassure him once again, but words failed him. Grimthian struggled to speak clearly, but Éomund could just make out that his Fædera desired to be alone. Éomund wanted to protest, to tell his uncle that he shouldn't be alone right now, but before he could open his mouth, his uncle had kissed him on the forehead, and hurried out of the room. Éomund kept his eyes on the older man for as long as he could. He hoped his uncle was alright. And once again he wondered if Grimthain had ever been able to truly grieve the loss of his friend. For as much as Éomund wished to have his father around, he hadn't really known the man, but Grimthain and his father had been close friends for years and such a great loss would be devastating. The events of the past few minutes worried him. He had never seen his uncle so distraught and wished there was something he could do to help. But, he needed to respect Grimthian's request to be alone, at least for a little while.

With a sigh, he bent down and picked up the sword. He held the sword a bit awkwardly, still not quite sure how to handle it. He could hardly believe that Grimthian had kept such an item for all these years and had never even breathed a word about it. For the millionth time that day Éomund wished he could have really known his father. His hand went into his pocket and fingered the letter. Never in his life had he expected to discover such a treasure. Reading his father's words of love and pride had reassured him in ways he didn't think were possible. He knew there would always be a gaping hole in his heart because of his father's absence, but perhaps it was finally getting a chance to be filled.

As his fingers stroked the edge of the parchment, he could feel Grimthian's letter as well and hoped that he would be able to convince the man to read it. From the little bit of knowledge that he had about his father, Éomund knew that such a letter would only contain love and nothing else. Hopefully the letter and the words that Éomund had been able to murmur would help Grimthian with whatever was going on. He knew just how much Grimthain had been there for him, had given him so much, and Éomund wondered if there was any way he could help his uncle? This day had stirred up so much grief in both of them. But where he had relished in the words of his father, despite the pain of his physical absence, the mere thought of them seemed to terrify Grimthian. "Da, what should I do?" he wondered, his hand still touching the pit of paper.

At last, he turned towards the throne. Suddenly he noticed just how crowded the room was, and he was fairly certain he spotted two of the Marshals off to the side. He felt his cheeks heat up at the thought of them seeing the rather personal moment that he and Grimthain had just experienced. What must the king think of him? Or the Marshals? He was standing here, in uniform, (and with an insignia to boot), with tear stains on his face and on his shirt. At last he took a deep breath, bowed towards Éomer, and when the king indicated that he could leave, Éomund turned and swiftly exited the Throne Room. He would give Fædera some time to himself and then would go looking for him. He didn't care how many times he would need to say it, but he would tell Grimthain that he had *not* failed until he was blue in the face, if such actions were necessary.

[Shivased]

Shivased and Eomer

The guards at the doors to Meduseld stared, open-mouthed, as the First Marshal came up the steps, breaking their serious demeanour in their shock. Don’t. Say. A. Word. She warned them, taking her hand off Grimm’s shoulder to point sternly in their direction. You say one word, you’ll find yourself on stable duty for the rest of your Cavalry career. Just open those doors and let me through. Properly chastised the guards pulled the doors open and Grimm continued forward resignedly. You shouldn’t do this. The king isn’t going to be happy. If I get fired because of you, I’m giving you all seven of the kittens, He warned in a quiet voice even as he walked straight to the front of the room, staring straight ahead and ignoring the odd looks of those around them.

I said I’d take as many as you want, as long as we don’t tell Thali. So that’s not a threat. He won’t demote us…or at least won’t demote you. Shivased whispered back, then tuned out the Aethelwigend and scanned the room until she found the king standing at the front, with Gwai and Taeth. Good, she thought with a thread of satisfaction working into her anger. The other two marshals could back her up if the king denied everything.

KING EOMER! She yelled in her loudest command voice, ignoring Grimm who jerked his head to the side and mumbled something about warning a body before screaming in their ear. YOU HAVE SOME EXPLAINING TO DO!

When the king looked her way she glared at him while Grimm finished his trek to the front of the room and stopped in front of him. I have a matter do discuss with you, your majesty, and I want answers!

---

Eomer was about to speak to the two new marshals, who had been brought forward by the page and were presenting their swords to them, when a loud, angry shout of his name echoed around the hall. He looked up and his eyes locked on the figure of the First Marshal, being carried in by a very somber looking Aethelwigend, piggy-back style. His eyes widened comically and he glanced over at Eowyn, then to Marshals Gwai and Taethowen, to see if they were seeing the same thing he was. He had to be losing his mind, there was no other explanation for why his First Marshal was being carried towards him, yelling at him.

He watched as the Aethelwigend came to stand directly in front of the dais, staring straight ahead, while the First Marshal informed him they had something to discuss and she wanted answers. Umm….Marshal Shivased….is there something wrong? He asked finally, clearing his throat. He was at a loss for what to say. He had an idea what this was about, he’d heard the rumours and knew the Quartermaster had been replaced. He just wasn’t sure how it was his fault.

He struggled with the odd vision in front of him as the marshal continued to glare angrily, glancing back at his sister a couple more times and blinking to ensure he was still seeing what he was seeing. Why is that Aethelwigend carrying you, may I ask?

[Aodh Hammerhelm]

NPC: Malachite Copperstick

"A pub, aye!" Mal said to Amethyst, "One that serves food with ale!"

Whether they'd find such convenience after the fires of the night before, Mal did not know. What he did know was that he was parched and famished, as well as stiff and sore from his exertions around the Horse and Rider into the wee hours.

The Dwarf followed the clicking high-heels of his sister towards the doors of the Golden Hall somewhat reluctantly. The matter of that loathsome creature Corpulent still had to be broached; the tidings he bore weighed upon his neck like a millstone.


--
@Elarith (Of course you already know we've found our way to the Riddermarket )

[Gwai]

The moment of solemnity was brought to a sudden halt when the doors to the Throne Room burst open, and a loud “King Éomer” radiated through the room. On one knee, Gwai looked into the face of the King, already knowing what this was about, although wishing it had happened about thirty seconds later, after the King had responded. She offered an apologetic smile as she gracefully stood and returned her sword back to it’s sheath, the moment over, and took a step to the side to make room for Shivased, riding piggyback on faithful Grimm.

The King looked confused, Gwai tried not to wince, thinking of the lecture at best, tirade at worst, Éomer was about to receive. She glanced over at Taeth, wondering if they should have delayed their entry a bit more. Most definitely, she thought, looking at Shivased’s angry face.

[Taethowen]

Second Marshal Taethowen

Truly? She's going to do this? Taethowen thought with no small amount of annoyance as the First Marshal's voice rang through the hall just as she and Gwai had finished presenting themselves and were waiting on the King's response. Only someone observing Taeth closely would see her nostrils flare and shoulders tense as her lips pressed together into a taut line. Then she took a deep breath, stood, and re-sheathed her sword with a smooth, controlled motion that belied her frustration.

She understood Marshal Shivased's ire. Shivased was the one who struggled with the training mission the most. But that didn't meant it was appropriate to barge into the Throne Room and interrupt whatever may be going on.

Taeth turned to face the room and caught Gwai's wince and hesitant glance in her direction. Taeth shrugged, trying to convey at the least that her own pinched face was not targeted at Gwai. Unsure of what to do in that moment, as the King asked why the poor Æthelwigend was carrying the First Marshal, Taeth let her eyes scan the room. If she looked directly at the First Marshal in that moment, she feared she would be insubordinate with just her gaze.

That was when, in the line of petitioners between the dais and the doors, Taeth caught sight of Frost, his presence a welcome surprise. For all she'd known, he was still locked away by Thali at the infirmary. His blue eyes were steady as her gaze met his, cooling against the fire that was starting to simmer in her stomach, and she took another breath as the coil of frustration began to loosen.

He wouldn't care, she knew, if she lost her temper here. But she didn't want to, not in front of the king, not in front of so many Cavalry people. And she didn't want to risk it, since surely Frost was here because she'd told the king about him. He was already publicly attached to her, and her own lack of control could bleed over to his reputation, and that wouldn't do.

So Taeth took another deep breath, forced the tenseness to leave her jaw and shoulders, and let her mouth soften into a smile. It was so good to see him up and standing.

And then she waited for First Marshal Shivased to respond to the King's question.

[Shivased]

Shivased glared at the king when he asked why an Aethelwigend was carrying her, too angry for a response and wondering if he had been drinking. Did he not see the bandage on her foot that a boot still wouldn't fit on and the bulge of more around her thigh? The cane she was carrying? She realized too, while she tried to formulate a response, that Gwai, Taeth and quite a few others were staring at her. Good, she thought with satisfaction. They had been in the same exercise she had been, and knew how badly it had gone right from the beginning.

I'm being carried by an Aethelwigend because this is how I completed half the recent Cavalry exercise! she finally exclaimed. Grimm here carried me halfway across Rohan after he was kidnapped by a haelend. I thought I might as well show you! Clambering off Grimm's back and waving him away, she waited for the Aethelwigend to move off to the side where he stood, arms at his side, still staring straight ahead. She hobbled forward to stand at the bottom of the dais, wincing as all the movement jarred her ankle. But, that was after I rolled down an incline in a cave, then had to walk across the plains while injured, then fell into a pit of mud, THEN was attacked by badgers! her voice rose with each incident listed. And the best part!? It happened while equipped with a spear, a handful of nails and a half-packed healing kit.

Jabbing her cane in the direction of Taeth and Gwai. Marshal Taethowen and a new trainee were given an angry turkey! Marshal Gwai and her partner were lucky enough to get a rowboat and a cowbell! Her eyes narrowed. Tell me, your majesty, in an exercise I'm told you planned, to brush up on the Cavalry's skills, how in Bema's ever-loving name would you think that nails, a turkey, or a cowbell would be useful? Or how about a bucket with a hole in it, a bow with no string, quill and paper, a winter cloak? Not water, food, proper weapons? Her voice had gone deadly calm by the end, but there was a thread of anger still audible that said she could go off again at any minute.

---

Eomer cleared his throat and resisted the urge to tug at the collar of his tunic under the angry gaze of the First Marshal. He could feel the eyes of everyone on them. It felt like forever before she started yelling and he couldn't help it, he took a step back. The Aethelwigend had carried her!? He shot a glance at the Aethelwigend, who stared straight ahead and looked like he was trying not to be noticed. He looked around, trying to decide what to do as the Marshal kept yelling and his eyes lit on the doors off to the side. They were very inviting. He could just slip through them.....

The marshal fell silent and he realized, was waiting for a response. He turned back to her, standing there in angry glory, and swallowed. She was quiet now, but he could tell she was still angry. He cleared his throat again. I'm....sorry? he offered lamely, gesturing at her leg and trying to add the other two marshals in his apology. You did have a spear, so you were armed. As for the other supplies...the turkey was edible.... he trailed off. Here, he truly had no clue what to say. He'd never ordered supplies like that to be sent. As far as he arranged the teams should all have been given food, water and weapons. Or at least the ability to acquire all three. Why don't you speak to my sister about this? I'm sure the two of you can sort out what happened, perhaps in a private chamber where you can relax and put that foot up?

He brightened slightly at the prospect of handing the angry woman over to Eowyn and sent a pleading look to his sister that screamed get me out of this! while his mind worked on a strategy for escaping through the side doors.

[Thalionwen Hunigfolm]

Eowyn
Unimpressed with her brother

Eowyn watched in shocked delight as the First Marshal appeared in the Throne Room with her old comrade in arms, Grimm, serving as noble steed. Bema's horn, it was good to be back in Edoras. Her household in Ithilien was a good deal quieter and more refined, thanks to Faramir's gentle influence, but Eowyn sometimes missed the passion of the Rohir. They did everything fiercely, and nothing by half-measures.

But as Eomer attempted to deflect the Marshal's ire, an almost imperceptible frown formed on Eowyn's face. Oh no. No, no, brother. That won't do at all. This is your kingdom, your Throne Room, your Marshal, your problem.

Stepping forward, Eowyn placed a restraining hand on Eomer's arm.

"I believe what my brother means to say," she said, nodding her head courteously to the furious Marshal, "is that he takes full responsibility for any difficulties the Cavalry underwent on this ill-fated mission. He plans to look into the matter personally, to get to the bottom of what happened, and to ensure it never occurs again. It will receive his undivided attention following this audience, and he'd like to issue a formal apology to the Cavalry members involved, as well as compensation for the difficulties they underwent. An additional fortnight's pay, and a evening at the Eallniwe Inn with all expenses covered by the Throne would be in order, I think. Don't you, brother?"

Eowyn gave him a warning look from the corner of her eye, which he'd surely remember all too well from their childhood. Fall in or else, it said. Fall in, or there will be hell to pay.

Yes. It was good to be back home.

Thalionwen
Arriving at just the right moment

Slipping in through the Throne Room doors with the extremely newly-acquired Bealdorhaelend's insignia pinned to her shoulder, Thali fought back a grin. As soon as Shivased left the Dragon Room in a state, she'd known she had to see what was coming. And there was a matter of her own she wished to present to the king, as well.

For now, she stood back in the shadows, enjoying the spectacle of the king entirely at a loss, Shivased bristling up at him, Lady Eowyn attempting to diffuse the situation, and poor woebegone Grimm, standing at the edge of it all and looking as if he wished the earth itself would open and swallow him up. What a stroke of inspiration it had been on her part, dragging him into all of this. He'd clearly needed some livening up, and had got it in spades.

[Shivased]

The turkey was ALIVE! Shivased stated loudly in response to Eomer's ridiculous statement. Yes, I was armed. Barely. With a spear that broke as soon as I was required to use it! She barely kept from shouting, but her anger was fading, replaced by the start of confusion. The king's reaction hadn't been quite what she had expected, and she wasn't sure what to do now. There is no reason to talk about it! she added, with an apologetic look to the Lady Eowyn. The Cavalry was sent on an exercise into a dangerous area, dropped with inadequate supplies or weapons and, in the case of one rider, in their nightdress! This was your plan, your exercise, and done on your orders! She snapped her mouth shut and glared at the king, desperately trying to hold onto her anger.

Stuck between the irate marshal and his sister, Eomer wasn't sure what to do. His hopes of escaping were quickly dashed by Eowyn's hand on his arm and the overly flowery apology she was giving to the First Marshal, made that clear. Add to it the sideways look she was giving him - one he knew well from their childhood would lead to retribution if he ignored it - and all hopes of escape disappeared.

Yes, my sister is correct, he ground out, internally cringing. He hated diplomacy; a sword was much better at handling difficult situations than words ever were. Unfortunately he couldn't swing a sword at the leader of his Cavalry. Though I assure you, Marshal, that my orders did not include any of what you are reporting happened. True, the word "report" was being used loosely here, but best not anger the already angry woman in front of him. Each member of the Cavalry was to be given a weapon, water skin and idea of which direction the encampment was in. I was quite clear of that to the Quartermaster. I gave no orders whatsoever to provide the equipment you are describing.

Frowning, her anger truly gone now and replaced with confusion and, unfortunately, embarrassment, Shivased was the one to clear her throat nervously this time. She had expected the King to defend himself, say something about the Cavalry needing to learn to use the resources given to him. That was what she had been told the point of the exercise was. It had seemed logical at the time, but now a niggling thought crept into her mind. I'm....well... she stuttered. I....I think we've sorted this out then, your majesty. There seems to have been a grave error on the Quartermaster's part, and I should go question him about it.

Motioning frantically but imperceptibly to Grimm with one hand behind her back where the King couldn't see it, she prayed the Aethelwigend would see it. He did, thankfully, and came over. With what had sadly become practiced movements she scrambled onto his back while he stood still and looked anywhere but at the two royals. Your Majesty. Lady Eowyn. she said, giving a sort of salute by making a fist and placing it against Grimm's chest. I think we can just assume this audience is over, and you can carry on with....whatever you were doing. I believe you were meeting the new marshals?

She whispered in Grimm's ear and he turned and strode quickly out of the hall, throwing an exasperated look at Thali as he went when he noticed her lurking in the shadows.

Watching the First Marshal hop onto the Aethelwigend's back and leave, with what sounded like an order to go back to what he was doing, Eomer looked sideways at his sister then over at Taethowen and Gwai. That did just happen, right? I just got yelled at by the First Marshal who rode in here on an Aethelwigend, then left again? And ordered us back to what we were doing when she interrupted? he had to make sure it had been real. He threw another glance at the doors off to the side, the desperation to leave rearing up again. This was exactly why he hated holding audiences.

[Taethowen]

Second Marshal Taethowen

"You are the king," Taethowen replied bluntly, pulling her gaze away from Frost and turning back to face Éomer. "You could have stopped her at any time. Honestly... the mission was a challenge, but it wasn't impossible. The turkey was quite tasty after the trainee and I butchered it. But the First Marshal did have the most challenges thrown at her, in a way. Her frustration is understandable, and if Hælend Thalionwen hadn't happened upon her, there's no way she would have been able to make it to camp with her injuries.

"Third Marshal Gwai and I, though... for the matter at hand, do you need us to repeat our oaths?"

Taeth felt a weariness wash over her then, as she waited for the King's reply. It had been a solemn moment that the First Marshal interrupted. That, piled on top of the many frustrations and complications that had happened over the last couple of weeks, were leaving her feeling drained, and she didn't know how to recapture the moment anymore.

[Gwai]

What followed was one of the more awkward conversations Gwai had the unfortunate privilege of witnessing. After yelling at the King, Shivased then made a quick exit, once more with the assistance of Grimm. That man needs a vacation, Gwai thought to herself.

Gwai returned Éomer’s gaze with sympathy. “Yes, I believe that really did happen,” she replied, unsure what else to say.

Taethowen asked if the King needed them to repeat their oaths, and Gwai stood there awkwardly, unsure what else to do. The moment really was over, and she was ready to return back to work. The King looked as if he was going to bolt at any moment, the Lady Éowyn the only thing keeping him there, and Gwai understood the feeling. “I’m sure we will not keep you from your other audiences any longer,” she said, anxious to leave. The situation could hardly get any more awkward, and the moment seemed over.

[Shivased]

Listening to the Second Marshal describe the exercise and give an idea of what the First Marshal had dealt with, Eomer felt a bit of guilt creep up on him. It had been such a simple idea; send the Cavalry out to brush up on their skills. Set them in the wild, and they could use their skills to find their way to the main encampment, where they would enjoy a relaxing time by the river. Thanks to someone's error, however, things didn't appear to have gone that way. Still, he decided after a minute, everyone had returned mostly whole, and it didn't seem as if any injuries he'd been told about were permanent. The First Marshal would get over her anger as soon as something came up to take her mind off things.

Well, I'm sure the First Marshal will calm down and forget about this eventually, he commented, voicing the thought he'd just had. Something will come up, as it usually does with the Cavalry, to take everyone's attention.

Returning to the matter that had been going on before their rather interesting interruption he motioned for Gwai and Taethowen to return to their kneeling position in front of him and tried to gather an air of seriousness around him. I heard your oaths before the interruption, there is no need to repeat them, he said.

Pulling out his own sword once the two marshals were kneeling, he touched Taethowen on each shoulder lightly with the blade, then did the same with Gwai in a symbolic ritual that showed his trust in them and showed everyone watching that he accepted them as leaders of the Cavalry.

Sheathing his sword he took a step back from them. Rise, Marshals of the Mark, he said once he was done. I accept the oaths you have given me, and trust you will perform your duties and defend Rohan to the best of your ability.

[Taethowen]

Second Marshal Taethowen

Second Marshal Taethowen knelt before the King, and as the blade of his sword lightly tapped each of her shoulders, a brief moment of solemnity settled over the room. Éomer stepped over to Third Marshal Gwai and repeated the motion, then stepped back and sheathed his sword.

"Rise, Marshals of the Mark. I accept the oaths you have given me, and trust you will perform your duties and defend Rohan to the best of your ability."

Taeth stood and saluted the King, waited as Gwai did the same, and then stepped back from the dais.

"Good luck with your First Marshal," Taeth heard Gwai say to the Éomer, and then the two of them stepped away together.

"You go on back to the Dragon Room first," Taeth spoke, searching for Frost in the crowd again. "I need to speak with someone here."

The Third Marshal took her leave then, and Taethowen smiled as she caught sight of Frost again. He waited at the edge of the crowd, and she noticed that he held a hand to his side a bit protectively. She came to stand beside him, and caught his free hand with her own.

"I'm surprised Thali let you out of the infirmary already," Taeth said, glancing at his chest. "Are you sore?"

---

OOC - Mild godmodding done with permission from @Gwai.

[Shivased]

Eomer frowned slightly, though with a rueful look, at Gwai's comment wishing him good luck with the First Marshal and watched the two leave. Really it was them who would be dealing with the woman on a regular basis, not him, so it should be him wishing them good luck. He shook his head and scanned the crowd. Seeing Taethowen going to stand by a man he wasn't familiar with, he watched for a minute as they spoke before realizing this may be the man she had been talking to earlier.

Motioning for a page he told them to go to where the second marshal and the man were, and ask them to come speak to him. The room he had spoken to Taethowen earlier in would suffice, since he didn't think this conversation would be a good one to have in public. The page nodded and headed to where the two were. Second Marshal Taethowen, Sir @Hoarfrost, the king would like to speak to you if you are so inclined.

While he waited for the page to do as asked he went to where Eowyn was still standing. I'm going to have another private audience in a few minutes, he told her. I trust you can handle things out here? I will be as quick as I can. And then, as an afterthought, he added I promise I won't try to run. At least not yet. There is a matter with the Second Marshal I wish to discuss. A private one, leftover from earlier. He wasn't sure what his sister would do if he did use this excuse to escape. Actually, check that, he did know, or had a good idea, and he wasn't going to risk it. He might be a warrior and a king, but he was also a brother who knew what happened when one crossed their little sister.


NOTE TO ALL: NEW AUDIENCES WITH THE KING WILL BE ENTERTAINED UNTIL SUNDAY. AFTER THAT, MEDUSELD'S DOORS WILL BE CLOSED TO NEW VISITORS, AND EOMER WILL ONLY SPEAK WITH THOSE WHO ARE ALREADY HERE. IF YOU WISH TO HAVE AN AUDIENCE WITH THE KING, PLEASE RP ENTERING BEFORE SUNDAY.

[Thalionwen Hunigfolm]

Eowyn

"I'll take your word that you won't run, brother," Eowyn said mildly. "You rallied well with the First Marshal, and I will admit her entire appearance here was a bit...shocking. Things are quieting down, though, and I think I can manage to oversee a near-empty Throne Room in your absence. Take whatever time you need."

Thalionwen

From her place at the back of the Throne Room, Thalionwen watched the entire exchange between Shivased and Eomer with great amusement. She stayed as she was until the Second and Third Marshals had completed their business with the king, and took a step forward when they'd finished. But the king made for Taethowen and Frost at once, vanishing into a private room. With a sigh, the haelend resumed her place near the wall. Well, what she had to say could wait. She wasn't particularly eager to bring her petition before the king anyhow, but it had to be dealt with sooner or later. The waiting set nervous things to fluttering about in her stomach, though, and she rubbed her damp palms against the skirt of her linen kirtle, wishing to be back at the Infirmary surrounded by her herbs and patients.

[Allacan ob Burzum]

Shadowfox, human, they/them (non-binary), waiting for Walpurga (@Hoarfrost)

They hummed nervously to themselves as they climbed the steps to the Throne Room, instinctively hesitating when they reached the threshold and saw the armed guards standing formally to attention on either side of the great doors. They played nervously with their skirt - they were wearing the same pretty white floral dress that only a few days ago Éowyn's own hand-maid had helped Shadowfox put on before they appeared at the Festival After-Party [full visual description here]. The dress itself was a little tarnished and stained from the fiery events that had taken place at the abrupt conclusion of that celebration (for though they had attempted to clean out all the marks but some still remained) but even if it was no longer the pristine gown that it had one been, it was somehow important to Shadowfox that they wear it to the Throne Room today.

They were there on a personal errand of gratitude. The royal shield-maid had been such a pivotal ally to the non-binary Rohir during the recent festival; lending out both her old white dress and her Dernhelm get-up for them to use during the second round of the Mx Meduseld competition, encouraging them to appear at the party and even going so far as to lend them a rose-quartz flower necklace to compliment the dress. Shadowfox didn't really know how to properly express how grateful they were for the empathy and support from Éowyn that had ultimately given them the courage to publicly 'come out' as non-binary, but they had conspired with their new friend Walpurga to put on a short performance in the hopes it might come even slightly close to expressing the new air of hope and self-acceptance that had suddenly been introduced into their life.

However a quick glance inside the busy Throne Room had brought on unexpected and uncharacteristic stage-fright; they could see a number of people in there, including what appeared to be some senior cavalry officials, and they didn't want to interrupt something that looked so important. More importantly however, they could not see Walpurga. Their resolve was just beginning to waver and significant doubt setting in when a gruff voice right next to them made them jump.

"That's a very pretty dress" they turned to see that one of the door guards was watching them with a sympathetic look on their face. "I'm sure Lady Éowyn would love to see it for herself." He offered a sympathetic look and leaned in to speak quietly so as to avoid being overheard. "You don't need to be afraid; the royals don't bite. Just go in and say hello, and if you get scared and need back-up, just give a little whistle and Matilda and I will come running" He offered with a gesture to his door-guard pair, a strong-looking woman who winked companionably at Shadowfox when they glanced towards her. "I'm Ælfred, and if I remember you rightly from the party you are one wicked fiddle-player. The Throne Room is a stage, just like that table was in the After-Party Tent; the royals will listen carefully to whatever concern or query you are bringing to them. You'll be fine, you're not alone."

The words of encouragement and knowledge that they might have a 'fan' bolstered their courage, but more so was the last line which echoed so quickly the words they had shared with their friend Lailyn only a few days earlier. Oh, how they wished their friend were here to support them today, but all the same, it seemed the two guards on the door would have to be sufficient support if Walpurga was a no show. Still, they held faith that their new friend would not let them down. "My friend Walpurga was supposed to be meeting me here; she's pretty and, er... blue eyes and black hair and... er..."

Matilda chimed in happily; "And she sings like a pro; I think I know who you mean, she performed with you at the party too, yes?" Shadowfox nodded, and Matilda glanced at her door-guarding companion with a hopeful expression. "I hope this means the Throne Room will be blessed with your music, but either way, I'll try and keep the doors open as long as possible or slip her in when no-one is looking if she gets here a touch too late; but don't hesitate now. You would do better to get inside and be waiting in line, just to be sure you will get your chance."

Shadowfox thanked them both and then, taking a deep sigh, stepped nervously through the doors, arms held ram-rod straight at their sides and fingers knotted white-knuckled in the folds of their dress as they walked the long open space between the doors and the dias where the thrones awaited them.

[The Good Hunter]

Frost

Titles were strange things. Frost had been given his fair share over the years, both earned and unearned. “Sir” was always one that made him smile. He hated it but people seemed to think him respectable enough to bestow it on him. Why people considered him respectable was beyond Frost. He never carried himself as a man of wealth and means, but rather a man of power. “Sir” seemed to give an air of both. He shrugged and looked to Taethowen the king called them forward to a private audience. A look from her told him not to laugh at the title the king had given him, at least for the moment. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep a snarky grin from forming over his lips. He beckoned Taethowen to lead the way then followed them into the private audience chamber. He took a deep breath and held it as he looked around once more, the king was likely not going to like everything he had to say, but that cold not stop him from saying it.

“Your Grace,” he said cordially, “you do me great honor giving an audience to one such as myself. I am humbled.” Even if he didn’t feel quite so humbled by it all, it was best he say he was. “As you may have heard, some companions and I caused a by of a stir a few days ago. We were in the midst of cheering on a companion of ours in the Mx Meduseld competition that Taethowen was judging,” he nodded to her and smiled before turning back to the king, here was going to come the part he was not going to like. “We were accosted by one of your Marshals, pardon, I suppose I should say she’s an ex-Marshal now. Without provocation, we were told that we were not welcomed here. I am aware of the aura I give off, Your Grace. I stick out here in the Riddermark like a… a badger in a chicken farm. But rest assure I had no ill intent and I can vouch for my companions that they had no such designs either. Still, we were treated with utter disrespect and prejudice. I have been in the Mark several times in my long life and I have never been so treated as I was. I understand caution, but this moved far, far beyond that. Your Grace, amends need to be made on both sides. If I am to build a rapport within this kingdom during your reign there must be trust. Right now, neither of us have any reason to trust one another. What do you, King Éomer, think we should do to amend that?”

Walpurga

Oh no! She was late! Walpurga groaned as she realized the time. She had been playing with the skunks and reading her book as the afternoon wore on and allowed herself to drift off. She knew the performance she and Shadowfox would be giving before Lady Éowyn was today and she had made sure to keep an eye on the sun so she knew the time. But she had fallen asleep for a moment and time got away from her. She darted into the barracks, scooping up her babies and setting them in the basket where they would be safe. The first successful thing she had taught them was to stay in the basket when she was away. She dressed quickly, changing out of her sweat staining riding clothes for a more formal skirt and blouse and her signature blue scarf. She ran out of the barracks while still tying her hair into a high pony tail.

She dashed up the steps outside of the hall, taking them two and three at a time. Her legs carried her quickly to the top. By the time she made it, she was out of breath but it did not appear like she was too late. Shadowfox was waiting in a magnificent white dress. Walpurga suddenly felt under dressed. She turned a shade of red when she compared her clothes to that of her companion. “I’m so sorry,” she breathed after a moment, catching her breath finally. “I lost track of time but I’m here now. I didn’t mean to worry you. I… I was reading and I fell… fell asleep. But I’m here.” She wiped her forehead and brushed her fingers through her hair. “Are you ready Shadowfox?

[Taethowen]

Second Marshal Taethowen
Private Audience with Éomer & Frost

Taethowen was surprised when the page approached, bit back a laugh when Frost was addressed as 'sir', and shook her head silently as she saw amusement cross his own face. Reluctantly, she released his hand and she directed him toward the audience chamber that she'd been in herself with Éomer barely a week before.

She hadn't been expecting a private audience again, or that she would be included. There was a tense air about Frost, though, as they stepped into the room and she wasn't sure exactly how this audience was going to go. A nervous lump shaped itself in her throat, and she tried to swallow it back as she stepped to the side. Taeth wasn't sure if she was meant to be more than an observer in this conversation or not, and she was acutely aware that she was still in her Marshal garb, and honestly this was a situation where she wished she wasn't.

Frost spoke first, giving her a smile as he mentioned the pageant, but she couldn't help but wince at the mention of the events there. She'd not been privy to that particular incident, but she'd seen the confrontation from a distance, and she knew that the former Marshal had been the one to call in Allacan, now. But those actions had created such a mess, and while there were personal repercussions to it that she was struggling to sort through and deal with, it had also rippled out into all of Edoras.

She knew that Frost would not bring trouble to Rohan for her sake. But he was right--it had been disrespectful and prejudiced. While the King himself had not necessarily been at fault, she knew more than many that wearing the rank of Marshal made you a representative of the King, both in word and action.

And so, in this moment, she kept silent, waiting to see if King Éomer would ask her to speak, and hoping that she could do so without personal bias in this particular situation.

@Shivased @Mama's Murder Muffin

[Shivased]

Eomer gave his sister a grateful look when she agreed to take care of any remaining visitors, though he did immediately regret his promise not to run. Who knew what would happen while he was in the private audience? Still, he thought with an inner grin. Who said promises like that between siblings had to be honoured?

With that thought on his mind he led the way into the same private audience chamber he had used before. He gestured for Taeth and the gentleman to sit but the gentleman went right into the reason for the audience. He listened intently as a situation was described that he had been briefed on already and was waiting for the said ex-marshal to return in order to deal with it. I was informed of the situation, he said with a nod, sensing how tense the gentleman was and how diplomatically things needed to be handled. The former marshal you are speaking of went to Gondor to deal with family business rather suddenly, so nothing has been settled yet. However I do want to assure you that once she returns, the matter will be dealt with.

He paused, choosing his words carefully. We Rohir are known for being suspicious of outsiders, but since the War of the Ring we have learned to be more open and welcoming to those from outside the Mark. I do offer my sincere apologies for the way you were treated by someone who carries my authority. It was not condoned by me nor do I approve.

He thought a minute about how they could start to build trust, but was coming up blank. You're right. Amends do need to be made, especially after the way you were treated at our Festival. Perhaps we could start better if I was told your name? I'm sorry to say I was never given it. Just that you were a smuggler from Umbar. He resisted the urge to ask about the Umbaran ale as it really wasn't the time, and instead looked over to the Second Marshal. As an intermediary of sorts, Marshal Taethowen, perhaps you can interject here and suggest something that would suit both Rohan and your gentleman here?

[Taethowen]

Second Marshal Taethowen

Suspicious of outsiders? Taeth thought to herself as King Éomer spoke. If anything, we should have learned to be more suspicious of those amongst us who we think to be friends. For such were Saruman and the Wormtongue. Wary and wise of outsiders? Yes. Suspicious at a first glance? Never.

"Perhaps we could start better if I was told your name?" King Éomer's voice interrupted her ponderings. 'I'm sorry to say I was never given it. Just that you were a smuggler from Umbar."

Her choice of words that day had been deliberate. She hadn't know what Éomer's response would be to the knowledge that his new Second Marshal was involved with 'an outsider', to use the King's own term. If hiding Frost's name, whether pseudonym or otherwise, could afford him a bit more protection, then she would do so. Fortunately, before she felt the need to begin the introductions, King Éomer turned to her.

"As an intermediary of sorts, Marshal Taethowen, perhaps you can interject here and suggest something that would suit both Rohan and your gentleman here?"

Caught off guard, Taeth stood silent for a moment as she tried to think. There was only one thing she could think of right then, honestly, and she hoped that it would be satisfactory for Frost, and not seem like she was asking too much of the King.

"You said yourself, my lord, that we Rohir tend to be suspicious of outsiders. The incident with the former Second Marshal was just the first of a series of events. And I think, at the least, she herself should offer a personal apology upon her return. But after ordering a personal guest of mine to leave an event I was hosting, she then gave orders for Allacan, the Eastmark pæthfindian, to figure out what was going on with a non-existent plot, and that order is what led to the series of events which caused the fire in the Æthelmund in the first place.

"However, the former Second Marshal not only unfairly targeted him--and I won't deny that he might have caused mischief, but he would not have endangered anyone, especially if doing so could place the blame on me--but she also was so focused on him and his companions that she overlooked individuals there who, to me, seemed far more dangerous.

"Then, at the Campian tournament, he was unfairly targeted as well. Only two participants came to my defense when an uncouth participant targeted me with verbal, sexual harassment, and he was one of them. But some others seemed to think that in his defense, he was attacking me. Through their attacks, he suffered severe bodily injury, and he is still recovering from that. Clearly, Rohan has a little bit more going on here than simply being suspicious of outsiders."

Realizing that she was on the verge of being subordinate and disrespectful--to the King, no less--Taeth cut herself off momentarily, and took a deep breath before continuing.

"I think a letter with the King's seal granting him free passage throughout Rohan--so long as he is not physically endangering anyone--would be a start. I think the expense of his recovery at Thalionwen's infirmary should, at least in part, be paid from the Royal treasury. As for the attitudes of the citizens... I don't know what to do about that. But clearly, there is a problem, if we are beginning to act out against other people simply because of where we think they might be from.

"I love Rohan," Taeth finished. "But I've never been more ashamed to be Eorlingas."

[The Good Hunter]

Frost

Unconsciously, Frost clenched the hand that guarded his ribs into a fist. The “business” with the ex Marshal wasn’t finished? She'd been allowed to escape off to Minas Tirith? Rohirric justice had a funny way of falling on all the wrong people while others seemed to escape entirely. Yes, Frost mused, he much preferred Umbar justice. None of these thoughts did the Númenórean portray on his face, keeping his expression calm and neutral. He released the fist he was holding and tried to relax the tension building between his shoulder blades.

His attention switched from the King to Taethowen as she began to relate the version of events that led them all to this point from her unique perspective. He blinked in shock as he saw her ire rise with each word she spoke. He had not expected anger and frustration to come from her. Rather, he had expected he would be the one to yell at the King. The corner of his lip curled into the ghost of a smile. Though, as she went on, even the ghost of the smile disappeared. The actions of this former Marshal turned runaway ran deeper than he had known. This entire bloody escapade of buffoonery had been her fault. How could a woman so obfuscating been able to rise to Marshal to begin with? At least she wasn’t anymore. Though that was small comfort.

His thoughts shifted at the mention of the letter of safe passage with the King's own seal. He licked his lips but otherwise kept his face calm and serene, though all sorts of ideas began to form in his mind as to what he could accomplish with such a letter. The ghost of a smile returned to his face.

“I am called Frost, Your Grace. Or at least that is the name that I am most recognized by and I am from Umbar, proudly so. I would not call myself a smuggler though.” He bowed and smiled reflexively “I prefer to think of myself as a gentleman and ‘smuggler’ denotes a ruffian. I prefer a less notorious job title, a procurer of hard to acquire relics and items.” Of course he was a smuggler! He suppressed a hard laugh, but nobility, Haradrim or Rohirrim, had a mistrust of the term.

“The letter and seal would make my travels through your land much safer, if I am not in the company of Taethowen,” he continued, “the infirmary costs I can handle. I think I owe it to proprietress after being rather difficult.” He avoided using Thali’s name. It would not be wise to unfairly involve her in any of the mess the ex Marshal had created.

“For my part, I will send a message to my associates and they will deliver a wagonload of ales, beers, and wines one can only get in Umbar, as well as a special kind of smoking herb that had recently made a surge in popularity in the dens. I will only ask one thing in return: please don’t have men arrested because they have the audacity of having darker skin and hair than the kinds of people you are used to.”

[Shivased]

Eomer could tell that Taethowen was angry about all the things that had happened at the festival, and he didn't blame her. The behaviour of the marshal involved had been reprehensible and bordered on xenophobic. It was not the Rohirric way to attack outsiders. True, the Rohirrim were, as he'd just said, a suspicious people, but they did not treat visitors to their lands with such distrust and suspicion without good cause. And from all the reports he had received, the group involved had simply been enjoying the festival, along with halflings from the Shire and elves from Lorien and Rivendell, men and women from Gondor and even some dwarves. Yet none of them had been attacked or treated with such suspicion.

He listened to the Second Marshal as she spoke her mind, agreeing with almost all of what she said. He could tell she was holding back in her anger and was impressed by that, respecting her for tempering what she was saying. He felt the heat rising at his collar at her words, though it wasn't from embarassment. He was extremely angry that the marshal had left for Gondor so suddenly. He had been informed of everything that had happened at the same time he was told she had left for Gondor. It seemed that, having created the problems, she had then left almost immediately claiming other business in Gondor. And now was almost unreachable until she chose to return. The matter of the former marshal will be dealt with as soon as she returns from Gondor. As you are aware she is no longer a marshal, and had she not stepped down she would have been demoted from that rank. He still wasn't sure which it had been, as the order for demotion had come at the same time as he had been told she had sent a letter from Gondor and stepped down. Privately he chose to go with her being demoted, as her behaviour made that a given.

He smiled when given Frost's name and was told the man considered himself a gentleman, not a smuggler. It is good to meet you, he said. You have been given a poor example of the Rohirrim if you think we would consider a smuggler as less than anyone else. The Rohirrim are not so stuck up that we don't appreciate someone able to acquire hard-to-find items for us, and those who do, are simpletons. He didn't mention that he - along with most young men in his youth - had done some form of smuggling in the Cavalry while on patrol at some time or another. Things that were expensive if bought from traders, or, in his case, things his uncle didn't approve of him drinking.

At the mention of a wagon load of ales his grin widened. I have not had Umbaran Ale in far too long. It is almost as good as fine Rohirric ale. It will be received with many thanks. He also nodded at the request not to detain people based on their skin. That has always been true here, and as long as any man's activities are legal, they will not be touched. It should not have happened at the festival, and will not happen again. With new, strong leadership of the Cavalry, no visitor to the Mark will be harassed unless there is sufficient reason.

The letter you will have, as well as compensation. Going to the same desk as the audience he'd had in her earlier he quickly wrote out a note and placed his personal seal at the bottom, along with rolling and sealing it. This letter will give you free passage throughout the mark. If anyone challenges you, show them this. So long as your activities are honourable you will be free to conduct them and anyone who challenges you will face consequences. He handed the parchment roll to frost, along with a small bag that had some weight to it, that he had taken out of the desk. I also hope you accept this, as some compensation for your troubles. It cannot undo the damage that has been done, but is deserved nonetheless. He considered for a minute, then added, You may be able to afford your infirmary stay, but I will have that cost covered as well. I suspect you would not have been so injured if not for the actions of the marshal and the distrust that was sown.

[The Good Hunter]

Frost

Demotion was going to have to do for now, wasn’t it? Frost thought sourly. The Marshal had run off to Minas Tirith and, for now, seems to have escaped justice. His face twisted in a bitter frown. He would have preferred this Marshal be punished timely. Gondor and Rohan were allies, were they not? Would not the weight of one king to another bring the woman to justice? Frost dismissed these thoughts. It was useless to dwell on such things. Besides, he could make a trip to the City of Guard and perhaps deal with the situation in his own, poetic manner. Yes, he was going to have to swallow his pride for now. With a deep breath, the Númenórean replaced the agitated from with a more congenial, neutral expression.

However, he could not help a sardonic smile creeping over his face as the Rohirric King described his tastes in ale. It was true, the Rohirrim did brew a good ale, but it was weak and watery compared to the robust stout that made its way from Umbar. Almost as good? Young king you have no idea what kind of ale you are in for. The ale that Frost himself brewed was aged in Dwarven whisky barrels for three months. He had the malt and the barley roasted to his exacting specifications, make sure the beer was dark enough that no light could shine through a glass of it. The resulting flavors were nutty and pronounced with hints of tobacco and chocolate, a charred profile and a thick creamy head. Not to mention the hops that Frost purchased came from the far in the east, where likely no Rohir would dare to venture. No, no ale in Rohan could come close to the Umbar stuff, Frost would not stand for that. King Éomer of the Mark would soon find that out. “You will see, Your Grace, that the Umbar stuff you have had in the past does not compare with the stuff you are about to receive. It is my own personal make.”

The smirk stumbled a bit when the King seemed to take his sarcastic comment about jailing his companions seriously. He could appreciate the sincerity of the King’s words at face value though, his reaction showed Frost that the man, for being royalty, held very little guile. He chewed the inside of his cheek and said nothing, letting that matter drop before the conversation grew more awkward.

He took the sealed letter gladly, bowing his head as he took it. The gold he was given he was less inclined to take. Still, rather than creating an incident that might result the retraction of the very powerful letter he now possessed, he accepted it. He did note that there was a significant weight to the bag. He pursed his lips. As if on cue, with the King’s mention of the infirmary and the injuries he’d sustained, a jolt of pain flashed through his ribs. He grimaced slightly but, rather than show any sign of weakness or give Taethowen cause for worry, he suppressed the growl that normally accompanied such pain. Once the pain had passed he looked again at the bag, he’d have to give it to Taethowen, he had no idea what he would use it for and where he was going, Rohirric coin would not have much worth, it was better that it stay here in the Riddermark.

“You do my honor, Your Grace,” he said slowly, “I accept the gifts that you have given me, and I shall now make an oath in kind to assuage your worry.”

Before anyone could move, Frost produced a hidden knife from inside his sleeve, one that guards outside had failed to find, a wonderfully ornate and wicked thing with a ruby hilt. He twirled it around expertly in his right hand, slashed his palm and hide the knife away in a single, fluid motion. He squeezed his hand and dark red blood flowed from between his fingers.

“I shall make this oath upon my own blood. I swear here that I am no servant of the Eye nor am I in league with the forces of the Black Land, though I walk those ash ridden fields freely. I will promise here that I shall not lead a host of enemies against you whose intent is the destruction of your way of life and your culture. I will not use my avenues of inquiry in such a way that it will fall negatively upon you, Your Grace, nor your house or kingdom. I swear that as long as there is no enmity between myself and other Rohir within your borders, I will take no action that would bring about bloodshed and harm.”

With that, he bowed his head low.

“And that, I believe, is our business concluded. Your Grace has been most kind to me and I pray that our relationship can deepen as time goes on. Westu Éomer, hal!” Frost bowed again and turned, ready to depart unless Taethowen has words to say as well.

[Taethowen]

Second Marshal Taethowen

"The matter of the former marshal will be dealt with as soon as she returns from Gondor," King Éomer reassured them both. "...had she not stepped down, she would have been demoted from that rank."

As Frost formally introduced himself, Taethowen took advantage of the King's attention turning away from her to bring her ire under control, attempting to remain calm. But she knew, now, after having been briefed on recent happenings upon being promoted to Second Marshal that the former Second Marshal had refused to reinstate Thalionwen as a Cavalry hælend as well--a wrong which had been thoroughly righted now, as Thalionwen had taken the rank of Bealdorhælend, deservedly so--and Taeth couldn't help but wonder what other misdoings would come to light in the following days. Nay, perhaps even months, especially with the Cuthbert issue still to be fully dealt with. Taeth was not looking forward to her first visit to the Hornburg, that was for certain. She wasn't sure if she would be warmly welcomed, or if she would be held in disdain when she had to expose traitors in their midst.

This wasn't helping her anger, Taeth realized, and she pulled herself out of her thoughts just in time to roll her eyes as Frost said something about being a gentleman and not a ruffian.

Her eyes narrowed, though, when Frost mentioned a smoking herb that had become popular in the dens of Umbar. Her time in Umbar may have been brief, but she knew how to listen to talk on the streets, and nothing that came from Umbar's dens could be good for Rohan. The King seemed to think nothing of it, though, and Taeth made note to follow up with that particular... gift later. Personally.

Taeth watched, silently, as the King wrote up a letter, very similar to the one he had written for her the other day, a bit taken back at the overwhelming amount of relief that washed over her as it was handed to Frost. Even if he encountered someone who couldn't read, the King's seal was unmistakable, and they would at least send word to Meduseld to verify the contents of the letter. And while she had no doubt that he would, at some point, use that letter to some nefarious advantage, at this point she deemed the risk worth it for his physical safety. If his life had not been endangered for no reason in the first place, they would not have had to take this chance. Actions did not come without consequences.

She was surprised, though, at the pouch of coins which was handed over as well, but pleased to hear the King would cover the infirmary costs, despite Frost's protestations. She would talk about his infirmary stay with Frost privately, because she highly suspected Thalionwen had put herself on the verge of poverty to fund the infirmary.

Taeth didn't miss the grimace that crossed Frost's face as he retrieved the scroll and pouch from the King, though, especially since he paused briefly until the pain subsided.

"You do me honor, Your Grace," Frost said when he could speak. "I accept the gifts that you have given me, and I shall now make an oath in kind to assuage your worry."

Taeth's eyes widened first at Frost's words--an oath? What Bema-damned nonsense was Frost going on about now?--and then at the knife he pulled from his sleeve, slashing at his left palm before she could move to do anything to interfere.

Anger flared through her again, first, that she would need to talk with Gwai about training the Meduseld guards on proper search procedures, and second, that apparently Frost and his dau--nope, stop that thought right there, Taethowen, you haven't confirmed anything yet.--had no regard for taking care of their hands.

As he spoke--and she couldn't deny that Frost's oath was worded so well that even she couldn't pick apart the loopholes that might be present in it at that moment and she was certain they were there--she pulled out a handkerchief. When Frost finished, stepped over and grabbed his hand, prying his fingers open to wrap the handkerchief around his bleeding palm. "Of all the nonsense," she muttered. "Don't you know how difficult it is for palm wounds to heal? Why in all of Arda would you..."

She tied the handkerchief off with a knot, shooting a glare at Frost before she turned back to King Éomer, smoothing the frustration from her face.

"If I may be so bold, I have a favor to request," Taethowen spoke. "My promotion to marshal was very sudden and unexpected, and while I'm honored by the confidence you and the First Marshal have placed in me, I have some personal matters I need to wrap up at my family estate in the Eastfold. May I request a few weeks of leave to tend to those matters before I report to the Hornburg?"

[Shivased]

Eomer stayed quiet as Frost described the ale, stating he had never tasted Umbar ale to compare what would be coming. He could believe that, and was looking forward to the pleasure of sampling it. He was glad to see that the man took the pouch of gold, though he suspected it was just to be polite. Still, some recompense was due, especially since he couldn't actually bring the marshal involved to immediate justice. It was the best he could do at the moment.

He was a bit shocked when Frost produced a knife which he used to slice his own palm and swore an oath that he did not serve Mordor, would not do anything to harm Rohan, and would remain peaceful so long as the Rohirrim were peaceful towards him. Or that's the interpretation he made, at least. It sounded good and he nodded. I accept your oath, he said, in the same tone as he would when accepting an oath of fealty or similar. It does seem our business has come to an end. Though it is not the end we all wish for, I think this audience has been productive. I look forward to any future interactions and wish you good travels.

He was about to lead the way out of the audience room when Taethowen requested time to return to her estate and tend to matters there. Of course. Take the time you need to see to your affairs. he replied immediately, then gestured to them to preceed him out the door.

Once back in the main hall he looked around and, seeing nothing that seemed overly alarming or embarassing, moved over to where Eowyn was. Did I miss anything? he asked with a grin.

[Allacan ob Burzum]

Shadowfox, human, they/them (non-binary), performing with Walpurga

Their face was a picture of relief when Walpurga finally joined them. "Oh no, don't worry about it! I think we are just in time to be the grand finale of the day, so you couldn't have arrived at a better time. I hope you don't need time to warm up though, because I suspect we will have to go soon." They said as they saw over Walpurga's shoulders the two sentinels Ælfred and Matilda closing the main doors against any further petitioners entering. Then they grinned in eager anticipation. "I'm ready, if you are" they finished at last with a determined nod.

The room was slowly beginning to clear of people going about their business and heading to their homes through the side exits, but there were a few who remained. Éomer was momentarily absent himself, but the King was not the reason why they had attended, and the focus of their gratitude - and indeed the intended audience - was still seated upon the dais seeing to the last of the visitors that day. When at last there was a pause in the proceedings, Shadowfox nodded to Walpurga and stepped before the two large seats. "Lady Éowyn; I visit these halls today to express my personal gratitude to you for your recent support to myself, and others like me, both during the recent Summer Festival and in general. I'd like to share a song that my friend and I..." they glanced over their shoulder, checking that Walpurga was ready to take to the stage "...have been rehearsing. A few of the lyrics really struck a chord with me personally; mayhap they will inspire others in their turn."

They took to the centre of the hall, claiming the open space much in the way that a thespian commands the stage. "This song is dedicated to anyone who has ever felt different and alone; for anyone who was afraid they did not fit in with society, or that they might be forgotten as its fringes. It is my prayer that they, like myself, might one day find themselves among friends. That they, like I, might here in Edoras somewhere they belong, somewhere they are wanted; a home."

Their tears were already threatening as they smiled across at Walpurga, the only person now sharing the open space with them. They turned to stand proudly before the dais, then closed their eyes and took a slow deep breath to compose themselves, and when they opened them again, it was to the soft evening light spilling through the high windows and across these hallowed halls, shadows and evening light. The few remaining onlookers and the secure locked-in feeling created an intimate atmosphere even as their voice filled the room, gentle but confident voice, resonating from pillars and walls and carrying in ethereal echoes to the streets beyond, an expression of their very soul.

(Found/Tonight)

♫ "We may not yet have reached our glory..." they began passionately, meeting the eyes of those gathered there
♪ "But I will gladly join the fight" as they circled the space around the stationary Walpurga.
♫ "And when our children tell their story..." smiling widely
♪ "They'll tell the story of tonight." shifting away from the centre of the hall, putting distance between them and their companion
♪ "They'll tell the story of tonight..." slipping into the shadows, so that Walpurga is momentarily alone in the centre of the vast hall
♫ "Toni-ight..." ♫

Their voice faded, but a new one rose up to fill the silence. From the edge of the space, face masked in shadows, their heart wrenching at Walpurga's emotive voice as she sings the words that were better suited to her than even Shadowfox had realised, tears threatening in at least one pair of eyes. Then, as she reached the sad end of her brief solo refrain, Shadowfox stepped back out from the shadows towards her, singing out soft words of comfort and companionship.

♪ "Well, let that lonely feeling wash away..." their face was a compassionate smile at their dear friend as she harmonised a reply
♫ "Cause maybe there's a reason..." heartfelt and honest "...to believe you'll be okay ♫
♫ 'Cause when you don't feel strong enough to stand" as they stepped beside her and offered a hand companionably
♪ "You can reach" a gesture of friendship, of intimacy and acceptance
♫ "Reach out your hand" ♫

♪ "And oh... " They grinned wide at Walpurga as she took up the lead vocals, admiring the clarity and power of her voice
♫ "Oh..." Meeting eyes with her to make sure the words landed where they were intended
♪ "Someone will come running to take you home..." singing the next line with passion, momentarily in sync with Walpurga
♫ "Tomorrow there'll be more of us..."

As Walpurga continues her part they turn with eyes gleaming, impassioned as they sing loud and proud the lines that mean so much personally to them
♪ "Out of the shadows..." ♪
Proud and unashamed
♪ "The morning is breaking and all is new." ♪
Empassioned
♪ "All is new!" ♫
Turning again to Walpurga and meeting her voice in the last line of her crescendo
♫ "Tiiiiiiime..." ♫

Their voices join together, quiet but sure, confident and hopeful as they sing in harmony
♪ "Even when the dark comes crashing though ♫
♫ When you need a friend to carry you" arms open to Walpurga like the invitation of a hug
♪ "When you're broken on the ground" a promise of loyalty and friendship
A vow.
♫ "You will be found" ♫

Turning to address those watching in the wings "So let the sun come streaming in" ♪
To the King and the shieldmaid, as the two performers harmonise " 'Cause you'll reach up and you'll rise again" ♫
A gesture round to the room, and back to Walpurga "If you only look around" ♪
A message that the young woman is not alone, is among friends.
♫ "You will be found" ♫

As Walpurga takes the lead vocals again, Shadowfox imagines they can finally see it...
♫ "You will be found" ...that perhaps this wonderful, beautiful, inspiring young woman is finally starting to realise she too is worthy
♪ "Whoah" their voices soften, but no less heartfelt as a tear finally tracks down Shadowfox's face at Walpurga's sung words
♫ "Tomorrow there'll be more of us"
Together
♫ "Telling the story of tonight" ♪

A slow, final harmony of voices intertwined, as close as two good friends
♫ "The story of... tonight" ♫

[The Good Hunter]

Walpurga, performing with Shadowfox

“Warm up?” Walpurga asked, taking a deep, steadying breath, she shook her head, “I think I’m good to go as is.” She ran her fingers through her onyx colored hair and set to jaw determinedly. “Let’s do it.” She could not stop the smile from slowly spreading over her face, her ocean blue eyes sparkling and her dimples creasing. A thrill rushed through her heart, an exhilaration that filled the somber Rohir with light. They entered the throne room, Shadowfox taking the lead and Walpurga following behind them.

They stood together in front of the dais where Éowyn sat, festooned in glorious jewelry and fineries from the south, Walpurga assumed they were from Gondor. Even thus, however, the Lady of the Rohirrim did not look tawdry or showy. By any noble standards (not that Walpurga had much more to go on than the occasional story of the ostentatious tastes for silks and velvets noble women had), she seemed positively human. She couldn’t say why, but this put Walpurga at ease. Shadowfox stepped forward and began explaining the reason for their audience. A wave of sudden apprehension mixed with Walpurga’s excitement.

She followed Shadowfox again back to the middle of the hall in a wide-open space. The rest of the hall faded away from Walpurga’s vision, indeed the entire world outside of herself and Shadowfox. Shadowfox stepped forward, offering a quick smile of reassurance before they began the song. Walpurga could see tears already form in their eyes as they began. Their voice was resonant and rich, a velvety tone that covered the air in soft, relaxing sounds. Walpurga felt her nerves and misgivings melt away.

Finally, it was her turn to sing. Her voice was an octave higher than Shadowfox’s but still filled the space with sound.

♫ ”Have you ever felt like nobody as there?”
♪ “Have you ever felt forgotten in the middle of nowhere?”
♫ “Have you ever felt like you could disappear?”
♪ “Like you could fall, and no one would hear?”

Shadowfox emerged from the shadows and their musical words were like a balm to the notes that Walpurga sang, emotions of loneliness and isolation welling up from deep within her. She lowered the volume of her voice, harmonizing while singing different words.

♫ “All we see is light” she held to note and let it fade naturally as Shadowfox’ voice rose again in strength
♪ “For forever” she did the same as before, holding the note and letting it fade as Shadowfox’s grew

As they sang, Shadowfox extended their hand and Walpurga accepted, squeezing hard.

♫ “Raise a glass to freedom” She could feel a lump growing in her throat, but Shadowfox’s backing vocals gave her strength
♪ “Something they can never take away”
♫ “No matter what they tell you” she held the final note as long as she could, her emotional state nearly overcoming here
♪ “Raise a glass to all of us”
♫ “Tomorrow there'll be more of us” Shadowfox’s voice harmonized with hers and the combined sound swelled and reached the thatched roof, the entire hall alive and filled

♪ “Telling the story of tonight” her voice rang out again, alone this time but filled with strength and conviction
♫ “They'll tell the story of tonight”
♪ “All is new”
♫ “It's only a matter of”
♪ “Tiiiiiiime” their voices again melded and crescendoed, Walpurga turned to look into Shadowfox’s eyes, drawing strength and smiling as the air rushed through her

Now came to moment for the duet, the moment that had made Walpurga so nervous but also so giddy with anticipation and hope. Their voices harmonized, even better than when they had practiced.

♫ “Even when the dark comes crashing through”
♪ “When you need a friend to carry you” Shadowfox opened their arms, an invitation for an embrace and Walpurga accepted gladly
♫ “When you're broken on the ground”
♪ “You will be found”

♫ “So let the sun come streaming in” Walpurga turned to the opposite wing and sang
♪ “'Cause you'll reach up and you'll rise again” she turned back to the dais and harmonized again with Shadowfox
♫ “If you only look around” Walpurga smiled and shook her head with a silent chuckle, Shadowfox’s gesture had not been rehearsed
♪ “You will be found”

♫ “And when our children tell their story” Shadowfox entered with their lines, a wonderful, heartfelt counterpoint
♪ “They'll tell the story of tonight”
♫ “No matter what they tell you” their voices mixed and matched, each trading the lead as their voices reached their peak
♪ “Telling the story of tonight”
♫ “The story of… tonight” their voices intertwined, Walpurga turned to look at Shadowfox, smiling as widely as she could manage as their voices faded to silence

[Shivased]

Since his sister didn't answer him, it was up to Eomer to scan the room himself and see what was going on. Luckily it seemed the room had thinned out and not many were still waiting. It was a good thing, because the day was coming to an end and after the eventful time he'd had, and he was ready to signal the guards to empty the room and bar the doors for the night. He was about to signal to the guards to do just that when two people approached (Shadowfox and Walpurga and began to talk to Eowyn

He stood back, off to the side, and grinned shamelessly as they began to sing to his sister. He was proud of her, of how she had found the courage to do what she did in the War of the Ring, and how she now stood as an example for other people who needed to find their courage. And he could appreciate the song these two were singing, about finding their place, finding acceptance, finding their own courage, and finding love. Or, that's the message he was getting from the song. It was important and inspiring, and he hoped his sister enjoyed it as much as he was.

Still, he couldn't help but grin stupidly and find things highly amusing. He thought he'd had an interesting day - granting a divorce, talking to a smuggler, being yelled at by his First Marshal and the rather emotional presentation to the new Cavalry member. Yet nothing topped being sung to, and he delighted in the fact that he'd have something to tease his sibling about later.

When the pair was done he watched Eowyn intently to see her reaction, but she continued to stay where she was, apparently lost in thought. Or, perhaps, lost in the song. When he was sure she wasn't going to reply he stepped forward instead and gave the singers a warm smile. We thank you, friends, for the song. It was beautiful. I'm sure you can see my sister is entranced by it and I think is having trouble coming up with a reply. He glanced at his sister. Nope, still lost in thought. You sing beautifully and with such dedication and emotion. It was truly a wonderful song, and very inspiring, with such meaning. We are glad the both of you have found your place and support for who you are here in Rohan.

[Allacan ob Burzum]

Shadowfox, human, they/them (non-binary), with Walpurga
@Anathema of Light

They were grinning foolishly as the performance came to a finish and King Éomer himself stepped forward to thank them for their performance. A little overwhelmed at being spoken to by a Kingdom ruler, Shadowfox half bowed and half-curtseyed awkwardly as they stuttered out their thanks. It seemed that Lady Éowyn was so moved by the duet that she was not yet in any state to form words, and in many ways, Shadowfox was grateful; they didn't really know how they would respond to receiving any more praise and truly, they preferred their performance to speak for itself. They would feel even more foolish and awkward if they messed it all up by saying or doing something ridiculous, especially now the adrenaline rush was passing and post-performance highs were coupling with exhaustion and relief.

And yet, a burst of emotion welled within them, and they rode the swelling confidence and affection while it lasted, grasping the moment before it passed. With eyes still sparkling with emotion and face flushed, they turned to Walpurga with a wide grin and said in a breathy voice. "Thank you! And then, before their co-performer could react or respond, stepped forwards to kiss Walpurga lightly on the cheek, bowed once again to the royals on the dais, and skipped toward the door.