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Eveligh
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Post Winters Deep (scripted, see ooc)
on: April 25, 2006 06:02
((ooc - This thread is slightly scripted but if you're interested in joining check out the ooc here. For those of you with me feel free to post. :love: ))

It was the hours before dawn, the moon was falling and the stars were cloaked behind clouds of grey and those that weren’t peered out between. The winds were cold and whistled loudly as it went across the plains, the shadows of scouts moved over the fields, halting to search when unfamiliar noises sounded. The breath of the horses rose like steam in the cold, they were restless and shifted often. The wind was growing and the first flakes of snow begin to fall, catching the light of the moon as it fell from the shadow of the clouds. The scouts gathered their cloaks tighter about them and one turned his steed toward the gates of Edoras, dawn was approaching and his time as scout was now ending.

As Ealdor passed through the gates he was greeted by another rider, the one who was now to scout in his place. In the days past patrols were doubled in numbers, watchful since the attack on the eastern borders. Within Meduseld there could be no doubt that Helm debated greatly over what was to be done, what actions he might take. But Rohan had been lost to all the ties of its allies, it seemed the Rohirrim were weak and small in number compared to the force of the Dunlendings. Ealdor went quickly to the stables and there he was hasty to care for his mount and was soon on his way up the stairs of Meduseld, the snow was fast falling covering the stairs and careful were his steps as he went. Within the Golden Hall there was little life save for the hounds laid before the fire but there was sat Helm, his gaze was upon the flames and beside him stood Haleth.

Ealdor stood a moment and saw that Haleth spoke to his father-king in a whispered voice, yet Helm said nothing. Haleth moved from his side when he saw who it was that had entered, chuckling as he neared the men soon braced arms in welcome.
“How fare the plains?” Haleth asked,
"At present they fare well." And briefly here did Ealdor hold his tongue before he dare go on, "But it shall not be long, lord before we see Wulf crossing them." He then added in his bitterness. Haleth nodded and made his reply:
"This I know and fear, but Helm King still sits in thought and will not heed the counsellor’s. He grows weary of hearing their words and I blame him not."

Haleth had called Ealdor and his siblings to live in Meduseld for the coming winter. He wished to have the company of his most trusted people whilst his father sat in endless talks with counsellors. Moving away from the fire and making most certain that they were clear from the hearing range of the King, Haleth brought Ealdor to the shadows.
"What truths do you hide from your scouting?" questioned Haleth in a whisper and Ealdor shook his head,
"I hide none, Haleth save that it is to still for my like or the likes of any Rohir." replied Ealdor as he moved from the shadows and made toward the halls beyond this one. Haleth followed him and Ealdor saw as he went that the sun was rising for pale sunlight fell in shafts on the floor.

"Do you know when your brother is to return?" quired Haleth moving from such topics as Rohan's state.
"No word has reached me yet." Ealdor replied reaching his appointed rooms and throwing open the doors he entered.
"We expect the Lord Beadumod's return within a day. With what reports, we can only dread." Haleth answered in turn and Ealdor made no reply for his mind lay with his brother, Gloedwine. Young was his brother and new in his service to Helm and Ealdor worried. Turning his gaze to the window Ealdor found that snow had come to line the window and still fell heavily without.

With his gaze held by the outside, Ealdor made to remove his gear when a scout appeared beside Haleth,
"My lord, Helm King wishes to speak with you." He said and Haleth thanked the scout before looking to his friend questioningly and was gone. It was known well among all Rohirrim that Helm was not a man one should make to wait. Ealdor was after him this time, and when they had reached the King's hall, Helm was on his feet. A scout was knelt before him, his words were spoken quickly and Helm's brow was furrowed greatly.
"It appears that Beadumod's company returns with all haste." Helm spoke and when he did so, his voice was demanding. "They approach now and there is one among their ranks that shall need a Healers hand. Go and find one now." He ordered and Haleth without question went with a bow. Ealdor's own brow expressed then his confusion for would it have not been better if he had been sent in Haleth's stead? But Helm then ordered that Ealdor wait upon the plaza for the injured.

Without a word Ealdor went as his King commanded and stepping outside he was met with the harshest of winds, the snow was falling more lightly now. And so did not obsecure the sight of the Riders entering the gates of Rohan nor the sight of the injured being brought toward the Hall on a stretch made from his own cloak. Upon the cloak lay Aeldred the son of Beadumod and his wife Dire. Snow fell and was stained on his belly as they climbed, a few women had come forth to try and help his hurts but to avail. Ealdor watched then as Aeldred was brought forth, up the stairs and entering Meduseld. As he had passed Ealdor had seen the cause of his wounds, an arrow lay in his shoulder and another in his belly.

But it was to the bottom stairs that Ealdor's eyes were now brought. There stood the women who had come to help in his healing and there among them stood Indryhten, his sister. He met the sharpness of her gaze and saw that her hands were wrought with the blood of Aeldred.


[Edited on 25/4/2006 by Eveligh]

[Edited on 11/8/2006 by Eveligh]
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Annûniel
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Post RE: Winters Deep (scripted, see ooc)
on: April 26, 2006 02:55
[[OOC: Ugh, awful, absolutely awful! >.<;; But I'm afraid its all I can possibly think of right now. And I'm not sure when I'll get to post next. I want to get Wulf's and Frédel's part done soon too, hopefully by the end of the weekend.]]

Béomund dismounted his horse along with the other riders who returned from scouting under Beadumod’s command. He turned to watch many women attempt to heal Aeldred, son of Beadumod, of his wounds. Though Béomund said nothing and hoped for the best, he feared in his heart that their attempts would be in vain. Aeldred’s wounds were too great for even Elven healers.

Béomund’s eye was drawn to one of the women healers. Her long, fair hair was tied back, but still whipping in the cold wind. Her eyes were cold and her face stern. As he looked upon her, he felt his heart and soul grow cold and weary. He knew not what troubled her so, but it was clear that her grim expression was not from the bitter cold. Yet so focused she was on attempting to heal the warrior, that he was sure she saw him not.

“Béomund!” a small voice called out above the crowd. “Béomund!”

Béomund smiled warmly and turned to the voice. “Hawyn.” The two embraced each other with a warm hug.

“I am glad you are not hurt,” Hawyn said, smiling. “When I heard the commotion at the gate and Aledred was injured, I feared you had been injured as well.”

“Worry not, my sister,” Béomund said. “Who would protect you if not me?” He looked down at his sister and smiled.

Hawyn looked up at her brother, her brow furrowed in concern and deep thought. “What is it you hide from me? Has something happened?”

Béomund’s eyes grew tired and he shook his head. “Ask me not these questions for the answers are dark and without any joy in the telling.”

Hawyn seemed to only grow more worried with these words. She took her brother’s arm and opened her mouth to ask him to tell her again. But Béomund shook his head again and said, “Smile for me, Hawyn, for your smile brings warmth to my heart.”

Hawyn relinquished to her brother and smiled warmly. “Come, it is a cold night tonight and Father and Mother await us at home. Your horse also needs care tonight.”

Béomund nodded and the two walked the horse back to the stables and quickly saw him taken care of before heading back to their home to see their parents.
Annûniel
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Post RE: Winters Deep (scripted, see ooc)
on: May 28, 2006 03:17
[[OOC: Over a month and no posts? Wow... Well here's my second part... a month late. ]]

Cold, harsh winds blew through the camp, carrying the snow further downwind. The snow had steadily fallen for the past hour and the ground was lightly covered with a white blanket. The harsh winds blew the cold, dry snows about on the ground, making the true amount of snow fall difficult to determine. The gray sky was still covered with dark clouds blocking out the view of the moon and the stars. Except for a few torches set throughout the camp, the entire area was cast in a dark shadow.

Frédel stood on the edge of the camp, facing Edoras to the southeast. Her long, strawberry blonde hair was whipping wildly in the wind around her face. Her blue eyes were cold and harsh as she stared off into the darkness. Her face was pale except for pink cheeks. She wrapped her thick coat tighter around her nightgown and a shiver went down her spine, but it was not from the cold.

The sound of thundering hooves came from the southeast. They were invincible in the shadows of the night until they were nearly into the camp. Frédel watched about twenty Dunlendings approach on horseback and were met by the guards almost ten yards further south. Frédel’s eyes glazed over slightly as she watched one of the Dunlendings leave his horse with the guards and disappeared within the camp. She let out a deep breath and watched it mist in front of her face. She turned around and headed back into the camp.

She walked up the largest tent which was centrally located and was stopped by two guards by the door.

“Lord Wulf has requested no visitors until his guest departs,” one of the guards said, stopping Frédel from entering the tent.

Frédel said nothing but stepped over to the side. Her arms were crossed in front of her chest and her face grew slightly redder. She turned her back to the tent and stared directly into the sky. The snow had finally stopped falling and the clouds looked like they were ready to disappear. A few faint stars dotted the sky, but the moon was still no where to be seen.

Within a few minutes, the Dunlending came out of the tent and walked away without so much as a word. The guard presented Frédel and Wulf ordered him to allow her entrance. Frédel took a deep breath and walked into the tent.

Wulf was sitting at his desk in the back of the tent, looking over paperwork with a large, twisted smile on his face. When he heard someone enter, he looked up and his smile changed to a warm, loving one as his eyes fell on his beloved cousin. He got up and embraced Frédel with a warm hug. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Frédel pulled away from Wulf and gave him a cold, hard stare, “What news did the scout bring?”

Wulf hesitated for a second, looking long into his cousin’s eyes. His smile twisted again and he moved back to his desk. “Rohan is weak and ready to fall,” Wulf said, looking over the papers. “I shall take my revenge.”

“My Lord,” Frédel protested, “you need not do this. Let us end this.” Her eyes melted and looked at her beloved cousin with hope and trust.

Wulf turned and faced Frédel. He looked long into her warm eyes and smiled. “My Frédel,” he said, pulling her into a warm embrace, “do not concern yourself with such troubles. Go now and rest.”

Frédel pulled away from her cousin, her eyes growing cold once again. She said nothing to Wulf, but she bowed respectfully and left the tent. Though the cold winds bit at her nose and cheeks, she didn’t feel it. Her eyes welled up with tears as she walked back to her tent right to the left. She sighed heavily as she stared at her untouched bed on the right of the tent. She looked away and sat down at her desk in the corner. She lit a candle and watched it burn.
Eveligh
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Post RE: Winters Deep (scripted, see ooc)
on: May 31, 2006 04:43
((Great post Annuniel! And I know, I got very busy there for a while ... but here's my next post. Its not great, but enough to keep us moving along. ))

Watching Ealdor kept his gaze upon his sister as Healers and scouts came and went. In her gaze echoed the same worry that he felt as he turned to search those returned for the face he hoped to see the most. The stretch was now carried beyond the doors of Meduseld, the snow falling heavier and Riders were scattering as they departed with their kin. Ealdor felt the warmth of one beside him and looking he found Indryhten, her face grave and when she spoke her tone was as hard as his own.

“I did not sight Gloedwine return.” She told him and Ealdor nodded and then placed a hand to her shoulder.
“I shall seek him. But go now and do what you can for Aeldred.” With a nod Indryhten left him then and Ealdor found that few of Beadumod’s men remained. Their talk was uneasy, concern was clear on their features and it was here that they would remain to hear of Aeldred. Gloedwine was not among them.

Upon entering the Golden Hall once more, Ealdor saw that Beadumod stood before Helm and though the Marshall’s voice was steady his hands shook at his sides. But his wife was not present and Ealdor hoped that she was by Aeldred’s side. Leaving the hall, Ealdor intended then to search for Gloedwine but as he came to the hallway he heard the sound of weeping and following he at length came to hall where broken groups of the men who carried Aeldred up the stairs of Meduseld. They stood murmuring and looking to an open door, it was from this room the weeping sounded and on entering what he saw then brought pain to his heart.

Aeldred was laid on his bed; the Healers were now at their work. Stained cloths were taken as shards of an arrow were drawn from his stomach wound; a maiden cleared away the beads at his brow. This he recognized to be Indryhten yet it was to the woman who sat knelt at Aeldred’s side that drew his attention. She wept and Ealdor knew that it had been she he had heard in the halls, wife to Beadumod and Aeldred’s mother, Dire. As he watched Dire took Indryhten’s hand and saw the crease of her brow as the woman begged her.

“I cannot say.” Indryhten shook her head and then climbing to her, Indryhten turned and made to leave the room yet halted briefly on seeing her brother. “Have you not seen him?” she questioned. To that, Ealdor shook his head,
“Nay, but would you join me in the search?” He asked a smile hinted on his face but Indryhten answered it only with a bow of her head.

As they came to Helm’s Hall, Ealdor and Indryhten caught some of Beadumod’s talk with Helm and they halted in the shadow of the door way, listening.
“The Dunlendings know we are weak,” Beadumod stated, his tone bitter, “they test the border more boldly my lord.” On his seat Helm sat bent, his brow creased in thought before he spoke. His gaze was held by the fire and would not be moved even as he questioned his Marshall.
“How long do we have now before they come?” Helm questioned and slowly lifted his gaze. Beadumod did not meet his lord’s gaze, “Speak plainly.” Helm cautioned Beadumod.
“Within a day our scouts and towers shall sight Wulf and his men.”
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gwendeth
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Post RE: Winters Deep (scripted, see ooc)
on: June 13, 2006 01:38
Gloedwine, youngest sibling of Ealdor and Indryhten, was in the stable - attending to his horse. Morgen, faithful friend that he was, was limping badly from an arrow-wound to his shoulder.

Indeed, the young Rider had walked most of the way home, unwilling to put extra stress on the injured stallion's leg. - And, despite the young man was eager to see his only family in the world, for the moment, his mount came first.

A stablehand came to aid him, but was waved away. At the 'best' of times, Morgen was 'skittish'... but today, the horse hadn't the patience for hands other than his master's to tend the wound as Gloedwine had been dying to do.

When he was satisfied, the young man ensured the stallion had plenty of feed and water, and heedless of his own disheveled appearance, spoke quietly to his mount and then went in search of Ealdor, and Indryhten.

They'd raised him by themselves... he being quite young when their parents died. Close-knit the three were, and now anxious, Gloedwine's steps were quick.. seeking them first at Helm's Hall.

All was solemn there... and as he walked the silence-heavy hallways Gloedwine knew well there was little to be done for Aeldred.

And, almost he missed seeing them... they were in the shadows of a doorway, listening intently to whoever was speaking inside.

Quietly, he came up behind them, and laid a hand on his brother's arm, and then smiled sadly at his sister. "'Tis good to see you, sister," he said softly, not wanting to interrupt what was going on...

(( sorry it's taken so long... hope this is ok for the first post. *hides* ))
"Tolo si, a tiro i cherth Eru" "Come now, and see the works of God"
Eveligh
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Post RE: Winters Deep (scripted, see ooc)
on: July 05, 2006 04:50
((This post is a collaboration between gwendeth and myself. Thanks so much for the part of Gloedwine!! :love: ))

In the shadows of the doorway Ealdor listened to the Marshall Beadumod's talk. Beside the throne of Helm stood Haleth, his own face was written with the fear that Ealdor felt. But then there was movement beside them and Ealdor turned to see Gloedwine approach. At his words Indryhten turned and sadly did she smile to her brother,
"And it does me well to see you safe, brother." She replied and then, "What kept you, were you injured?" She asked for all that she could see of her brothers were their silhouettes. The talk within the hall continued but Ealdor had heard all that he wished and he lead his kin into the light of the hall.
"Glad are we of your return." Here he braced arms with Gloedwine and Indryhten placed a hand upon his shoulder.

"Naught but small wounds and bruises," Gloedwine answered his sister's query. "No... 'twas my mount I was caring for that delayed me."
Glancing cautiously into the room, "How fares it within?" he asked softly, neither wanting to be overheard, nor to disturb the talk inside.

Ealdor glanced towards the Hall, the talk within now quiet. But to Gloedwine's question, it was Indryhten who answered.
"Lord Beadumod speaks with Helm King of his concerns." Indryhten said quietly, "He tells that Wulf will soon come."
As Indryhten spoke Ealdor heard that talk within the Hall had grown tense once more.
"I think it best if we were to move from here." announced Ealdor as Haleth caught sight of where they lingered. "Gloedwine, to the stables?" He asked.

"That's fine with me," Gloedwine whispered. "We can talk in my horse's stall if you want," he added, and the three siblings cautiously moved away from the open door.
Once they were outside, he sighed. "I really am sorry you were worried about me..."

As the siblings left the hall they were welcomed by the cold wind and the light snowfall. Ealdor shook his head at Gloedwine's words as they approached the stable.
"Nay." He said, "There is no need for sorry, it is enough to see you well and to have you with us again." They were silent for a moment and as they entered the stables and swept the snow from their shoulders Indryhten turned to Gloedwine.
"What hurts came to your steed?" she questioned quietly for here all that could be heard was the soft movement of the horses about them.

With a pained look, Gloedwine took his sister's arm in his own as they threaded their way down the stables to his horse's stall.
"A bad slice on his left shoulder," the young man sighed, "and several arrow-wounds. He'll recover - with care, and time." Yet, as the three entered, the horse's head was low, until the stallion saw his master - and the animal 'cheered up' immediately. "So then," Gloedwine turned to Ealdor and Indryhten, "What is to be done next? - Can we fight Wulf if he comes?"

Indryhten stroked the stallions head as Ealdor gave answer Gloedwine's questions. Uneasily did Ealdor and Indryhten look to each other before Ealdor as hesitated and replied.
"Such things we have not heard spoken of often." He began, "Most talk has been of Aeldred's condition." He paused here and reached to stroke the stallions side also. His manner became graver as he thought on what he and Indryhten had heard in the shadows.

Looking up to Gloedwine he went on, "When we were stood in the doorway the Marshall Beadumod reported to Helm King that our enemies shall come within a day." The last was spoken quietly and Indryhten slowly looked up,
"Wulf knows Rohan is weak, brother." She spoke in hushed tones, "When he comes they suspect that Edoras shall fall to him."

Though he was young, Gloedwine turned burning eyes on his older siblings... they who'd raised him these past eleven years. "Not without a fight!" he growled, and then sighed.
"There is 'weak' and 'weak' - is there not?" the young man inquired. "We may be weak of arm - but not of 'will'. Does that count for nothing? Does 'resolve' to stand firm carry no weight at all with the King or his Marshall?"

Ealdor felt pride at his brother’s words and was nodding in his agreement when Indryhten spoke.
"Weak of arms though we be, Gloedwine," Indryhten started, "Rohan's will is strong. But Wulf will not look to strength of will, he shall look to force." At her words Ealdor found that he saw just how without hope his sister had become. Indryhten then moved from the stallions side and bowed formally to her kin.

"Brothers I shall speak with you again soon but now I must return to the Hall to look on Aeldred for it is there I am needed." And with that she placed her hand on Gloedwine's shoulder as before and was gone returning to Meduseld in the light fall of snow. As Indryhten left Ealdor watched her go with a troubled look.
"I fear our sister is without hope.” he said to Gloedwine moving about to look over the wounds of his brother’s steed. "Your mount is truly a lucky creature." He commented in an attempt to convert their talk.

Gloedwine looked sadly after Indryhten, and then answered his brother's comment with a small shrug of his shoulders.
"Would that such luck would come to our people," the young man replied. "I would keep hope strong - if our sister does not. 'Tis the King who must example for us all - and if he will not, then it may be hope *is* truly 'lost'."

Yet, taking Ealdor's 'hint', "I could use a bite to eat... you, brother?" Gloedwine asked, knowing his mount would heal, and be better for even this small bit of visiting. "'Tis long since I've slept in a bed, too," he added, a touch of wry humour in his voice.

At Gloedwine's comment Ealdor chuckled and nodded,
"Indeed it would seem so, the Marshalls now keep kin away from Edoras far too long!" In saying so Ealdor led his brother from the stables and into the snow fall. The ground under foot crunched lightly at their passing as Ealdor brought them to Meduseld.

"Since we are guests of Helm King I say that we eat as none less." On entering the Hall Ealdor had thought to find its King and heir present but it was not so. The hall was quite empty save for those few who lingered by the fireside. The brother continued on to Ealdor's chamber and there food and ale was brought for them.
"Drink up, Gloedwine." Ealdor said though there was little cheer to his voice. "I am sorry for my manner," he said setting down his own cup, "I am tired and worry for the fate of Aeldred."

"As do I," Gloedwine took a sip from his tankard, and reached for a piece of bread. "There is little hope in that, I fear," he added morosely, and sank into a chair by the fireplace.
"And, 'twill only add to our sister's low spirits," the young man went on. "Perhaps Haleth or Beadumod will come and tell us if anything has been decided," Gloedwine commented, trying to hold on to what 'hope' he could...

At Gloedwine's words Ealdor nodded and took some of the bread also. As his youngest sibling sat in the chair beside the fire Ealdor went to the window. It seemed now that Rohan grew restless at Wulf’s coming, Riders that scouted in the snowfall seemed only to do so to keep their minds from more worrisome thoughts.
"I doubt now that anything can be done for Indryhten's spirit's." Ealdor replied and smiled gravely to his brother. "She has watched the hope of many men fail and has sewn the wounds of those same men." Ealdor moved from the window and set his cup down before taking another seat before the fire. "And it troubles me greatly to see her so."

"At least she did not have to sew mine," Gloedwine grimaced over his own bad 'joke'. And then, "You think it does not bother *me*, also?" he demanded to know, but the three siblings were closer than many, growing so from need - as well as just it being that way.
"Someone must come up with a plan," Gloedwine sighed, "One that will give hope - at least to those who must bear the burden of it. Even a small victory in *some* fashion would help!"

Gladdened at his brother's hope Ealdor smiled and again felt a pride at his youngest kin. With a nod of his head Ealdor replied:
"That it would." And pausing a moment to drink, Ealdor then went on. "I meant not to accuse you of being uncaring, Gloedwine. I know that it is of a great trouble to us both. If it were so I would have her bear the same hope that you hold for Rohan."

"I know," Gloedwine smiled faintly, and reached to grip his older brother's arm reassuringly. He'd 'grown up' too fast, the youngest of they three... and was now much too serious for his age. "One can not control another's hope, though, Ealdor," the young man added wisely.

With another sigh, Gloedwine rubbed his temples with his hands. "I need to sleep, brother," he said, and with a small grin, "and to get myself out of your hair. Just point me to a bed, and I will meet you and our sister for dinner..."

Rising to his feet Ealdor chuckled and shook his head at his brothers comments.
"A bed I shall show you to." said Ealdor, "Helm King has given us the shelter of Meduseld for the winter." Ealdor lead Gloedwine from his own chamber and down the hall to where Gloedwine was to sleep.
"Here be your chamber and there be Indryhten's." Ealdor informed him with a nod towards the door at the very end of this hall. With that the eldest braced his siblings arm and pointed him within. "Try to sleep well and easy." Ealdor bid him though he knew that in such times it would be difficult to find. But he left his kin to rest.

'Well and easy'? Gloedwine shook his head to himself, as he tried to compose himself for sleep. If only he could, the young man thought, as he tried not to muse on the dark future that awaited them all.

But, such was his weariness, that soon Gloedwine was in a deep slumber that brought no dreams at all...
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Eveligh
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Post RE: Winters Deep (scripted, see ooc)
on: July 12, 2006 06:12
(( This is just a post to keep us underway, its not wonderful but hopefully it serves its purpose! ))

As Ealdor returned to his own chamber his thoughts turned to worry on his siblings. For Gloedwine was hopeful and had a great faith in Rohan. This gave Ealdor great pride to know and he knew that would speak also for their sires. And yet, his thoughts turned Indryhten. Alas, his sister no longer held hope as Gloedwine did, for this Ealdor laid the blame upon himself. Walking along the quiet halls Ealdor heard the sound of quiet weeping, he knew it to be Beadumod’s wife as she sat beside her son and he thought of it no more. Within his chamber again Ealdor took a long drink of ale but the remainder of his meal was left untouched. The warmth of the fire served as a small form of company as it crackled beside him. There was a knock and Haleth entered.
“If you were a spy my friend, I would not think you a very wise one.” He said and closed the door, turning to face Ealdor as he did so.
“And what makes you say so, Haleth?” Questioned Ealdor as he nodded for Haleth to take the chair Gloedwine had sat in, but his friend remained standing.
“You stand to foolishly in the open for all to see that you are there and do so loudly.” To this Ealdor chuckled dryly and when he saw that Haleth smiled grimly, he knew that his friend had not come to speak with him in a social manner.
“Let us not play at games,” Ealdor said setting down his cup and rising to his feet, “ what news do you come bearing?” The Rohan heir cast his gaze downwards; his expression was a pained one and Ealdor knew. Knew this would be yet another blow to Rohan, dimming its spirit and further weakening it for Wulf’s purposes.

“’Tis Aeldred, is it not?” Asked Ealdor. Haleth nodded,
“’Tis… Ealdor, he has passed. Naught more then an hour ago, when Indryhten returned from the stables.” Ealdor released a sigh and whispering his sister’s name he shook his head. Haleth went on, “The news would have been brought sooner but the Marshall Beadumod and his wife wished to have some time.”
“Of course.” Ealdor replied quietly with a slow nod of his head. He hoped the Gloedwine had spoken wrong before, that Aeldred’s death would not diminish what low spirits Indryhten held.
“Indryhten is with them now if you wish to see her and Gloedwine has been informed, as have all in Beadumod’s erod.” Again Ealdor nodded absentmindedly and it was some time before he spoke,
“I go to see Indryhten.” No sooner had he spoken then Ealdor excused himself from his Lord’s company and was walking down the halls once more. To Ealdor it seemed the torches that were lit burned low and the shadows were many, it was quiet save for the echo of his footfalls and the wind coming down from the mountains. All warmth from Meduseld had fled.

On coming to the hall that held Aeldred’s room, Ealdor saw that already those of his family had come to mourn and none of the healers remained. Beadumod, Marshall of Rohan exited the room as he went it could be seen that he had wept beside his wife. As the Marshall passed Ealdor bowed and waited before leaving to go to his sister’s chamber. It was almost at a run that he went and soon he was knocking at her door. There came no reply but within could be heard the fire and its light shining on the ground beneath the door.
“Indryhten?” Slowly he opened the door and entered to see that his sister was stood before the window, the grey daylight making her appear as nothing more then a silhouette. “Indryhten?” He called her name but she did not turn,
“Was word brought to you brother, that Aeldred passed?” She asked as Ealdor crossed the floor and come to stand beside her.
“Yes. Indryhten I am-“ Ealdor began but Indryhten halted his words.
“Say it not Ealdor.” She said turning to look at him, “Though I was there at his passing, it is not I that needs your concern.” Ealdor took her hand and held it between his own. He knew that Indryhten would never speak of any matters that brought sorrow, nay; prideful was his sister, too prideful. But that was how their father had been, all gentleness had gone from Indryhten or so it had seemed. For a brief moment Indryhten grimly smiled at Ealdor’s notion yet as soon as it had come, it to was gone.

~*~

Beadumod had not left his wife for a small reason; he had gone to seek audience with Helm King. In his chamber he was bent before the fire in thought, as he seemed always in these days. The Marshall was brought to Helm both men were silent and grave as they greeted one another.
“Sorry I am for the loss you and your wife are faced with, Beadumod.” Helm said. Beadumod nodded. Quickly did the Marshall speak of what pressed his mind.
“My Lord, I come to ask that service be given to Aeldred. I know that in doing so – “ Beadumod needed to say no more, Helm knew that though the time for proper service was not now, some small thought must be given none the less. And so Helm granted Beadumod all that he needed to give what Honor and rest he could to Aeldred.

((If it makes no sense blame my slightly unfocused mind... ))

[Edited on 19/7/2006 by Eveligh]
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Annûniel
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Post RE: Winters Deep (scripted, see ooc)
on: August 09, 2006 02:52
[[OOC: Thanks Eveligh for Indryhten! She might be cold but she's wonderful! ]]

The cold winter wind was bitterly and fought against the banners of Rohan. The snowfall had not eased. Meduseld lay silent and the torches before its doors fought to remain alight. Beadumod, marshal of the Mark walked beside his wife, Dire, down the stairs of the hall after the procession that carried the body of their son. Passing through the gates the body Aledred was taken to where he would rest. Here the people of Rohan were gathered. Ealdor stood with Gloedwine and Indryhten among the erod of Beadumod and watched as the procession approached. Glancing to his sister, Ealdor saw that her face was set indifferently and her long hair, no longer bound by its braid, was teased by the wind. Indryhten’s gaze was on Aledred.

Helm and Haleth stood near by, their own cloaks caught in the wind as Aledred’s last journey was ending. Many of those gathered wept but when Ealdor looked upon Dire he saw that she no longer did. Proudly did she stand and look on her son as he was passed to his final rest. Small words were given to honour Aledred and fighting the cold and the snow, the gathered made their return to the Golden Hall. Ealdor led his siblings, though as he turned he saw that Indryhten remained.
“Come.” He said to Gloedwine, “Leave her for a moment.” Ealdor placed his hand on his brother’s shoulder and continued to lead him away, leaving Indryhten to stand beside the grave of Aledred.

Béomund stared long into the grave of Aledred. His mind dwelled long on his former comrade. He had served with Aledred for many years and held great respect for him. His heart was heavy with his passing and the inevitable doom that lay before his people. He said a silent prayer and turned to enter the Great Hall. His eyes fell upon Indryhten, the healer he had seen earlier trying to care for Aledred. As he looked over the fair maiden for a moment, his gaze softened with pity.

“It is too cold a night to stand idly in the wind,” Béomund said, approaching Indryhten. He moved to stand beside her and quietly said, “Place no blame upon yourself.”

As Ealdor and Gloedwine left Indryhten she remained unmoved beside the grave side. It was the voice of a Rider that drew her attention and her gaze from Aeldred's grave.
"The blame falls to none in Rohan." Replied Indryhten as the rider stood beside her now, she knew not his name. With a last look Indryhten moved from the site and as she did so questioned the stranger, "You know why I linger, but why do you? Are you of Beadumod's company?"

“I am,” Béomund said, bowing his head respectfully. “Long have I served with Aeldred. His death was a great loss.”

The wind picked up and blew strongly through Edoras. The snow had begun to fall again, more strongly than before. The fires on the torches danced in the strong winds and one blew out. As the wind died down, the remaining fire flickered faintly, shedding little light across the area.

Despite the dark, Béomund could see that the icy look in Indryhten’s eye had only increased since he’d last seen her earlier that night. He tried to hide the look of pity in his eye with a soft, warm smile. “Shall I escort you inside?” He offered his arm to her slightly.

The snow was growing heavier and Indryhten saw clearly the pity and the smile the Rider gave as he asked to escort her. Indryhten looked to his arm and it was firmly that she nodded her head,
"You may." But as Indryhten made to take the Riders escort there was a commotion heard at the gate and Indryhten turned at the sound of hooves approaching.

"Wulf comes! Wulf comes!" Cried the scout as he approached and the sound of the tower watch was heard as the scout rode by. Indryhten looked to the Rider beside her frowning.
"Surely Wulf does not approach now?" She said as the alarm was raised.

Béomund’s face fell at the sound of the scout’s cry. He turned to the young maiden and said, “Surely he does.”

The scout dismounted his horse in front of Meduseld and entered the great hall, no doubt to warn the King of Wulf’s coming. It wasn’t entirely necessary, however, as the distant sounds of swords clashing and battle cries were already being carried over the city by the strong winds. The heavy snows and darkness made it virtually impossible to see the battle occurring not far from Edoras’ outer gates.

Béomund looked long at the maiden. Her strawberry hair was fluttering in the wind, catching large snowflakes. Despite her pale stern face, he was captivated by her beauty. He smiled warmly at her and said, “Take care until our paths cross again, milady.” He bowed low to the maiden and walked away towards the gates and the battle. Before disappearing into the darkness, he drew his sword and prepared himself for battle.
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Post RE: Winters Deep (scripted, see ooc)
on: August 14, 2006 06:57
((Joint post between Eveligh and me!! :hug: ))

Gloedwine had been 'called' to attend Aeldred's funeral... and he had said all that could be of his own sadness to the Fallen's parents... and stood with his brother and sister throughout. - It seemed to the youngest of the siblings, that the weather itself 'reflected' everyone's mood.
Helm and Haleth stood near by, their own cloaks caught in the wind as Aledred’s last journey was ending. Many of those gathered wept but when Ealdor looked upon Dire he saw that she no longer did. Proudly did she stand and look on her son as he was passed to his final rest. Small words were given to honour Aeldred and fighting the cold and the snow, the gathered made their return to the Golden Hall. Ealdor led his siblings, though as he turned he saw that Indryhten remained.
“Come.” He said to Gloedwine, “Leave her for a moment.” Ealdor placed his hand on his brother’s shoulder and continued to lead him away, leaving Indryhten to stand beside the grave of Aeldred.

With a heavy sigh, Gloedwine followed his brother... and as there wasn't 'much' he felt like doing, headed for the stable to check on his horse.

He was still there when the Tower's signal came... and racing outside, the young man heard the cry of, "Wulf!"

Their enemy would choose 'today'! Gloedwine thought, and hurried to his room to fetch his weapons and armor... all the while searching for Ealdor and Indryhten his sister...Re: Winter's Deep (joint)

Ealdor had watched as Gloedwine had turned and entered the stables. With a sigh of his shoulders Ealdor returned to the Hall and to his room where he stood before the warmth of the fire. His thoughts turned this way and that when suddenly he heard one name being called out. A name he had hoped he would not hear again this day.

Wulf.

So, he had come and just when it appeared that his enemies could not be lower in spirits. Quickly did Ealdor arm himself and opening his door and entering the hall he found that many in Meduseld were readying themselves to face Wulf and his forces. Ealdor searched for Gloedwine and Indryhten amoung them but he could see neither of them. He went first to his sisters room and upon finding it empty made for Gloedwine's. It was there as Gloedwine was entering his room that Ealdor was met with him.

"Gloedwine!" He called out. Glad was he too see that his kin was within Meduseld. When the youngest was turned to face him, "I must seek Helm and Haleth!" He told him with a brace of arms, outside the Hall the battle cries could be heard nearing, the clash of swords and with horse calls rung also. The army of Wulf as nearing and though he wished he might, Ealdor could no longer keep his kin for this moment.

"Brother!" Gloedwine's voice held relief, and he clasped Ealdor's arms briefly before entering his room with his oldest sibling following.

"What of our sister?" the younger man inquired, as he swiftly strapped on his sword. "Have you seen Indryhten?" and listening to the half-panicked shouts outside his window, Gloedwine went to peer through the glass.

"I should join my company," he sighed, turning back to Ealdor, "But all seems woefully disorganized. I shall stay at your side, brother... and Indryhten's - if we can find her amidst this chaos!"

As Gloedwine readied himself, Ealdor kept his gaze on the hall should Indryhten pass by. And then at his question Ealdor replied turning to see that his brother was looking into the dark beyond the window.
"I know not where Indryhten is for last I saw her, she was beside Aledred's grave." Ealdor stood watch as Gloedwine continued to ready himself.

"Glad I would be to have you at my side." He said with a wan smile and nod, "Come.." Once Gloedwine was prepared Ealdor lead the way, People were rushing now and Ealdor made certain to that neither he nor Gloedwine strayed too far from the other. As they went Ealdor checked the face of every maid they passed, searching for their sister.

At a length and through the chaos about, Ealdor and Gloedwine reached the hall. The fire was burning brightly and its light shone on the face of Helm as he stood with drawn sword. His sons, Haleth and Hama were stood beside him as they made ready to depart and face the force of Wulf. Silently did Helm leave and stern was his face, Hama followed yet Haleth lingered.
"Haleth?" Ealdor approached his friend, never had he seen his face set as it was now. Grave and set with a determination.

"I stay to guard the doors of Edoras should Wulf dare to enter Meduseld." He said after a long moment, "Go my friend and may you find safe passage to the Hornburg should the worst come." And Ealdor knew that nothing more could be said or done to sway Haleth from his charge. Meduseld was now empty save for the three of them and although outside the battle raged it was silent for a moment between them. The friends exchanged nods before Ealdor turned and led Gloedwine into the cold outside.

The battle cries were fierce and in the dark the shadows of people fleeing through the gate could be seen. Exchanging a glance with his brother, Ealdor drew his sword and with a cry of his own made towards the Dunlanders that approached.

Only casting his eyes 'round one last time as he sought for *any* sign of their sister in a half-breath's span of time was Gloedwine behind Ealdor in unsheathing his weapon... and an echoing cry of challenge issued from the younger man's lips as he surged forward.

Lunging, ducking, his blade clashing, and clanging, Gloedwine fought... hissing when a Dunlander's sword raked down his arm, and gritting his teeth, took a firmer hold on his sword and struck back.

For a time, his attention was wholly on the fight... giving as well as receiving wounds... and having felled several of the enemy invaders. - Yet, breathing heavily and trying to regain some semblance of 'order' within himself, Gloedwine abruptly realized he and his brother had become separated.

"Ealdor!" he yelled, swinging his blade in a circle around himself, and trying to 'clear' a path in the midst of the struggle. "Ealdor!?" Gloedwine cried again... but search as he might, there was no sign... no answering call... nothing.

And, *still* Gloedwine had no idea where Indryhten was, either...

Within a moment Ealdor was surrounded and blocking blows from the enemy and dealing them in return. As he fought Ealdor went further from the Hall and down into the streets. Parrying the coming blow Ealdor found his sword was locked with this Dunlander's. Each struggled to force the other back and in the end Ealdor took a chance and freeing his hand he stuck his enemy.

The Dunlander fell and did not move again. Ealdor found that the street he was in was dark and as he fought his way back to the main streets, he found that Gloedwine was no longer with him. In the heat of battle the brothers had been parted.

"Gloedwine?" He called and narrowly did he dodge a blow, "Gloedwine!" If the younger sibling had made a call in return Ealdor could not hear it among the din of battle. And it was then as he came to the path leading to Meduseld that Ealdor's eyes were drawn to the doors. Haleth stood as the last, as promised.
"Tolo si, a tiro i cherth Eru" "Come now, and see the works of God"
Eveligh
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Post RE: Winters Deep (scripted, see ooc)
on: August 21, 2006 02:50
(Just a little something for Helm and Indryhten... )

Indryhten had watched the Rider vanish in the darkness; it was with a troubled gaze that she did so. For so intrigued had she been by the him that she now stood with her gaze focused on the space where he had disappeared. And then suddenly as though waking she turned and looked to the Hall and then to the streets as they filled with soldiers.
“Gloedwine. Ealdor.” She said knowing her brothers had left to give her peace beside Aledred’s grave but she could not make any sight of them now. Moving quickly Indryhten made for the Hall. Within the walls of Meduseld could be heard the sound of people hurrying, warriors arming themselves and others fleeing. Indryhten fought her way through and sought out Ealdor firstly. Coming to his room she found his door open, his fire blazing and his sword gone.

With haste she went then to Gloedwine’s. Though she knew him able to defend and hold his own, Indryhten felt it her duty as ever to watch Gloedwine and fight beside him as she had been taught. Yet as she came to his room it was clearly untouched, his sword and armour still awaited him. Checking each face she passed, Indryhten went to her own chamber. Indryhten was to arm herself and join with her brothers when she returned to Gloedwine’s door. In her own chamber Indryhten went to the chest that sat beneath the window and opening it saw that her father’s sword laid waiting. Taking it, Indryhten returned to the halls seeking a way to Gloedwine’s room as she went. But in the confusion of those about her, Indryhten was taken from her path just as she thought she had heard Ealdor’s voice calling their youngest.
“Ealdor! Gloedwine!” She called but no reply came. The panic around her drowning her call and so with her path blocked and no sight of her brothers Indryhten was forced to find another way.

As Helm came outside of Meduseld the snow was hard and cold on his face but this only served to harden his grim stance. Down the stairs he went with Hama closely behind. Fiercely did Helm blade bite at his enemies and as one came rushing up the stairs towards him Helm cut him down and continued on without a second glance. Helm fought his way toward the gate as Hama cried out beside him; he had been wounded but not enough to stop him from returning the favour. Seeing that his sons injury wasn’t fatal and that he still fought on Helm pressed on with every Dunlander that was struck down it seemed more came to avenge the fallen. Helm swung his sword about him knocking those around him down and in the brief moment of quiet after he saw his people. Saw the many faces of the fallen and saw how out numbered those who remained were.

The sting of a blade biting his back Helm returned him to his sense and he turned with a roar and engaged the one responsible. Between those around them Hama and his father locked gazes and saw how hopeless it appeared to be for the Rohirrim. But still he battled out the gate and came across the fields, the cries of the injured were overwhelming and gritting his teeth Helm called out.
“Retreat Rohirrim! Retreat to the Deep!” his voice was the one that rang out over the chaos. He was now fighting the snow and the cold to keep sight of his son and Hama also tried to remain at his side. Those few Rohirrim who had had the time to ready their horses did not hesitate in riding from the fields.

The Rohirrim loss was far to great to ignore and Helm saw too many faces of his own men as he ran. His sword catching the snow and the moonlight as he went, Hama appeared the cut across his face stained it with blood but beneath that his face was a grim mask as they fled. Helm shouted out again,
“Retreat Rohirrim!” Within the city the retreat call was heard and some hesitated in doing so. Indryhten had found her way out from Meduseld but still could not find her kin and she knew they would only be met again at the Hornburg. She had seen Haleth standing before the door but her vision of him was obscured by the soldiers that retreated and so she too went.

[Edited on 21/8/2006 by Eveligh]
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Annûniel
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Post RE: Winters Deep (scripted, see ooc)
on: August 21, 2006 09:31
[[OOC: Poor Béomund ]]

Béomund let out a cry of agonizing pain as a well aimed arrow punctured the skin of his thick, lower left arm, sliding cleanly between the two bones and the head emerging out the other side. He fell back a few steps and his great broadsword fell upon the stone, clattering loudly. He sank to one knee as his enemy advanced on him. A large grin was painted on the Rohirr disloyalist as he unsheathed his sword and readied himself to finish off the wounded soldier. The disloyalist raised his sword high above his head, his grin growing wider. With a quick cry and a swift movement, Béomund pulled the arrow from his arm and stabbed his enemy in the eye. The blinded Rohirr shrieked in agony and dropped his weapon, giving Béomund the time he needed to pick up his own sword and bring down his enemy.

Groaning again from the pain, Béomund looked down upon his arm and watched his blood ooze from his gaping wound. Despite the obvious impairment, he hardened his face and resolve. Ignoring his handicap, he grasped his sword tightly in his good arm and raised the heavy blade up. He prepared himself a Dunlending who had begun to charge towards him when a battle cry rang out through the darkness. Before Béomund could blink twice, the Dunlending lay dead with another standing over him.

“Béomund!” a familiar voice cried out. “Quick! Fall back to the Deep.”

Béomund nodded curtly to his friend, Fengel, who he had served with since he had joined the Riders several years ago. The two had become fast friends and spent a great deal of time together even when they were not on duty. Though Béomund knew him not before he joined, he felt as though he had known him his whole life. The two acted almost like brothers and many mistook them for having the bonds of kinship.

The two trudged through the heavy snow that had begun to cover the city. With the wind biting and his arm aching, Béomund could barely pay any attention to his surroundings. It wasn’t until he heard a sharp twang behind him that his attention was snapped back. He spun around and watched Fengel drop to his knees, falling face first into the snow with two arrows protruding out of his back.

Pure rage took grip of his sword and looked up to his attacker: another Dunlending already fitting another arrow to his bow. Béomund cried out in frenzied anger and prepared himself to charge towards the Dunlending archer, despite the fact that it would surely lead to his death.

“Béomund!”

Béomund felt someone push him to the side, seconds before the Dunlending let loose his arrow. The force wasn’t much, but it caused him to stumble awkwardly away and loose his balance slightly. As quick as he could, he spun around to see who had pushed him aside. His eyes beheld that which he feared most. His beloved sister was lying in the snow, stained with her blood. Shock took hold of him and he stood motionless staring as the surrounding snow grew darker with her blood.

The Dunlending, having run out of arrows, charged towards the stunned Béomund with a drawn sword. Rage once again took hold of Béomund’s face, replacing the look of horrified disbelief. He picked up Fengel’s spear and thrust it at the Dunlending with all his strength, instantly killing the attacker.

“Hawyn!” Béomund cried, dropping to his knees beside his fallen sister and pulling her close to him. Though the arrow pierced her chest and she had already lost a great deal of blood, she looked up at her older brother with tears in her eyes.

“I wanted... to protect... you...” she said, lifting her hand to his pale face. “Go... before...” But she never finished her sentence, her arm fell limply at her side and the look of pain left her face.

“Hawyn! Hawyn!” Béomund cried. When he received no response but cold silence, he let out an agonizing howl. Tears of pain filled his eyes as a hollow, hopeless feeling overwhelmed him. As the sounds of clashing swords stung his ears, he felt the desire to thrust himself head first into the battle and whisk away his sorrow with his death. The thought stayed with him for only a short moment before his sister’s words echoed through his mind. He found himself unable to throw away the life she had given hers to save.

The feeling of inadequacy and failure became even clearer when, in an attempt to carry his sister away from the hands of their enemies, he was unable to lift her from the snowy stone. His anger grew and he cursed himself for allowing an arrow to wound his arm badly enough that he could not even carry his sister. Thus, there on the dark, snowy night, he was forced to leave his beloved sister behind; a choice that haunted him for the rest of his days, despite the fact that it saved his life.

He trudged out of Meduseld without further incident, thinking only of his sister and friend. He had lost both in less than a minute, both at the hands of the same Dunlending who had driven him from his home. The anger caused his blood to boil until his face turned bright red. Despite the fact that the guilty Dunlending was already dead, thoughts of revenge against Wulf and his followers plagued Béomund’s weighted mind.

“I will have my revenge,” Béomund thought. His mind grew stern and his features cold. The aching and bloody wounded arm fell limp from his side, although he seemed not to notice it as it left a clear blood trail behind him.

[Edited on 22/8/2006 by Annûniel]
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Post RE: Winters Deep (scripted, see ooc)
on: August 23, 2006 04:55
gritting his teeth Helm called out.
“Retreat Rohirrim! Retreat to the Deep!” his voice was the one that rang out over the chaos.

Gloedwine, as exhausted as the other fighters, could not 'obey' right at once... the sneering face of his Dunlander opponent as he lunged forward again, held the young man's full attention. - Yet, with an effort, he ducked the blow, and struck back - watching in satisfaction as his enemy sank into the snow and did not move again.

Wearily, Gloedwine cleaned his sword, and resheathed it. Bloodied, battered, and bruised, what wounds he had (as he turned and raced for the Stables) now began to 'sting'. - But, paying no heed to them, his eyes searched the scrambling figures and remaining fighters for any sign of his brother - or - his sister... yet, there was none.

With no 'time' to head back to his room, the young Rohirrim squeezed through the stable door through the crowd filing quickly inside, or pulling horses through it as they gathered to head northwest to Helm's Deep. - And, from the missing mounts, Gloedwine could not 'tell' if their Riders were truly 'all right', or whether people were (in their panic) just grabbing the nearest horses to use.

To his relief, however, Morgen was still in his stall... and though agitated and anxious on many levels, it was soothingly Gloedwine spoke to his stallion - frightened by the yells and whinnies that filled the stable.

"'Tis well, my friend," the young man (with a 'calm' that was 'forced') gently stroked his horse's neck, and then threw the saddle on Morgen's back, and slipped the bridle on. "We've a trek, Morgen," Gloedwine kept talking to his mount, and disregarding his own needs, filled his saddle-bags with extra oats, and some hay, so the horse would have at least *that* much to eat during any rest-breaks they'd take. - Though, he did grab a water-skin which (once outside again) he scooped snow into - knowing it would melt, and warm enough to drink by the time he needed it.

But, and hating that his friend was still limping from the earlier injury, Gloedwine led him out of the stall, and back out into the chilly air and sharp winter wind... joining the throng of Edorans beginning to stream out of the city and toward Helm's Deep.

Spying a small child shrieking in fear and with tears running down his cheeks - and whether 'abandoned' by accident, or left parentless by the attack, Gloedwine neither knew, nor cared. - But quickly, he first hugged him reassuringly, and then lifted the boy into his arms, and set him onto Morgen's back. "'T'will be fine, lad!" he said encouragingly. "Just hold on!" and leading his mount, Gloedwine continued searching through the retreating crowd for *any* sight of Ealdor or Indryhten as they plodded through the snow.

By nightfall, the young man was even wearier than he'd thought possible... and though he'd tried to talk to the boy he had rescued, there wasn't much that Gloedwine could think of (or have the 'energy') to say.

When a halt was called for the night, though... and the refugees began organizing themselves to set up small campfires, many were again calling for friends, for family, and searching for lost loved ones... and at hearing one Voice, the child in his charge cried, "Mama!!" and tried to scramble off Morgen's back. "Whoa, lad!" Gloedwine dropped his horse's reins, and helped the boy down.

- Sadly, since he'd not found *either* of his siblings yet - if they were even here, Gloedwine shrugged, and 'dismissed' the woman's profusely-given thanks for his care of her son. "'T'was naught, lady," he replied, and (anxiously) asked if she'd seen his own brother or sister... and sighed heavily when the answer was, "No."

Nodding, Gloedwine began settling his stallion for the night... giving the horse a few oats, and warming some melted snow in his hands for Morgan to drink. And, then casting his eyes up into the darkened sky, "Where are you?" he asked of it... and wished it could 'tell' him if his siblings were all right...

((hope this is okay!!))
"Tolo si, a tiro i cherth Eru" "Come now, and see the works of God"
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Post RE: Winters Deep (scripted, see ooc)
on: October 16, 2006 05:07
[[OOC: Thanks so much for Indryhten, Eveligh! She's wonderful! :hug: ]]

As Indryhten retreated from Meduseld she was met with a Dunlending. She had not seen him through the wind and snow and it had not been until he struck her face that she was aware of him. Quickly she recovered from the blow, but she felt the sting and warmth of blood as the cut opened across her cheek. Holding fast to her sword Indryhten steadied herself as the Dunlander laughed and lunged at her.

Indryhten jumped from his path as well as she could and was ready when he turned to her again. He took his own sword and rushed towards her with it raised over his head. The maid's blade met with his belly and he stumbled back. Indryhten did not linger to learn his fate and now made quickly out through the gates of Meduseld following what path she could in the snow. She struggled through the depths of the snow, hearing the cries of others about her as she went and then slowly she noticed how quiet it now. Her mind had been wandering, never had she slain anyone before. She healed those wounded and never had she inflicted more then small wounds to the Dunlendings until she had met that one.

As she walked Indryhten found that her path was stained, and without having seen it before she had followed a trail of blood. Dark was it against the snow and Indryhten continued following the trail until she saw the figure ahead. She knew not whether it was a Rider of the Mark or one of the Dunlendings for it was possible that either had become as misguided in the snow as she. Tightening the hold on her sword hilt Indryhten continued following, the crunch of her footsteps in the snow sounding her arrival.

Béomund heard the sound of crunching snow behind him. His instincts told him he was being followed and that he must react accordingly. If it wasn’t for his weakened and weary state, he would have noticed that the figure following him had not tried to hide itself and that the figure was too small to be a Dunlending. But he was severely weakened and the wound to his left arm was only growing worse. His pathetic attempts to dress the wound had done little to ease the pain or stop the bleeding.

He stopped dead in his bloody tracks. His heavy breathing produced a cloud of warm mist about his face as he attempted to ready himself for his attack. He slowly moved his hand to the hilt of his sword, still breathing heavily. He heard the crunching snow behind him begin to slow down hesitantly. Béomund’s instincts told him that if he were to make a surprise attack on the figure, it would have to be now.

Without a second thought, he spun around and unsheathed his sword in the same quick moment. In a matter of seconds, he was upon the figure that had followed him, but to his surprise, he saw a small, surprised and slightly frightened face of a maiden surrounded by strawberry blonde hair and streamed with blood. Somehow he managed to stop himself mid-swing, but the effort of the attack had taken all the strength he had left. His eyes rolled back into his skull and his sword fell from his good hand, thudding softly against the snow. He fell forward onto the small girl, his breathing growing slow but steady.

The figure Indryhten had followed in the snow was soon made to clear. It was no Dunlending but a Rider. He turned so suddenly, drawing his sword that it startled Indryhten. For a moment they stood looking to the other and then, the Rider's sword dropped from his grasp and he fell forward.

Indryhten caught him as he did, her own sword thudding into the snow. And as she struggled to steady the Rider, Indryhten saw then just how badly injured he was. His breath was now steady as Indryhten settled him to sit in the snow. Despite the cold of it, Indryhten searched his wounded arm. The snow was cold blowing on their faces as Indryhten did this.
"How did you come to these wounds?" She wondered aloud and studied the face of this man. She wondered what had befallen him since they had met and spoken.

Béomund lay quiet in the cold snow, his breathing calm and regular as the maiden tended to his wounded arm. His weariness left him in his deep slumber. A warm blanket wrapped around his mind, keeping his fears and rage away in the cold. In this peaceful sleep, he worried not of his battle and loss; he worried not of vengeance and sorrow. His psyche gave in to the warmth the maiden was giving him and it wished it could forever remain in the peaceful bliss. But it could never be so.

After searching the wound on the Rider’s arm, Indryhten wonder just how it was that she was to tend his hurts. She had with her no herbs or water, yet Indryhten took a small fistful of snow and using that she cleaned the dried blood from his arm and from his face. The wind blew at her hair as she did what she could for the warrior; she had torn shreds from her cloak and had wrapped his arm. There was nothing more Indryhten was able to do and the Rider would complete his healing in the Deep.

As the Rider slept on Indryhten had climbed to her feet, the blizzard had begun to calm when the maid’s mind wandered with thoughts of her brothers. Had they managed to escape the tide of Dunlendings or were they now trapped in Edoras with Wulf and his forces. Thinking of the battle Indryhten turned her gaze to the Rider. She recalled clearly how they had spoken after the service of Aeldred. As she looked on his face she remembered his words and again wished to know just what he had endured to escape Edoras.

Béomund’s dream was suddenly shattered when he awoke with a start. He sat up with a jolt and looked about him. Before he could meet eyes with the maiden who tended him, he felt a surge of pain from his arm from the sudden movement. Cradling his arm slightly, he wondered how he had gotten such a wound for a moment. It wasn’t long before the memories of the battle caught up with him. The whites in his eyes grew suddenly and his body tensed. He let out a long cry of despair and wept. He covered his eyes with his good hand as the tears poured from his eyes and rolled freely down his cheeks.
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Post RE: Winters Deep (scripted, see ooc)
on: January 29, 2007 10:10
[[OOC: I hope this post is alright with everyone! It took me forever with this slow computer... Gah...]]

The retreat was sounded. Helm King and his people were pulling out and falling back to the Hornburg within the mountain. Only a few stragglers were left behind as the Dunlenders pushed forward and further into the city. Though attempts were made to ambush the retreating soldiers, the dark, cloudy veil that covered the sky made their detection virtually impossible. Eventually, the Dunlending army gave up their current pursuit of the evacuating people and attempted to fortify the city.

Wulf smiled as he realized his dream was coming true. Edoras had fallen; Helm had failed to protect Edoras and now it was his. So distracted was he that when one of his generals came to him of urgent news, he barely gave him his attention.

The general limped ever so slightly from a bad left knee. Despite the frigid cold, he did little to wrap himself in cloaks. His face was rough and covered with many scars and wrinkles. One of the most notable scars extended from his hairline down across his right eye and ceasing just after his large cheekbone. His face reflected a grotesque and battle-hardened soldier, but his good eye showed a beautiful and wise spirit.

“Lord Wulf,” the general said, bowing low. “Helm King flees the city. He falls back to the Deep within the mountains.”

When Wulf simply waved a nonchalant hand at the general, the general stiffened slightly. The general clenched his fists, but tried to remain his composure before his king. “Shall I call the pursuit?”

Wulf looked up at his general, surprised by the continued presence of the general he had just dismissed. He took a deep breath, pushing his chest out slightly and holding his head high to look down upon the general. When the general made no further motion of his defiance against his king, Wulf replied, “Nay, let Helm flee with his tail between his legs. Ever shall he remember the night his kingdom was stolen from him!”

The general bowed low yet again and left. The large man’s shoulders slumped ever so slightly. With his eye cast downward, he let out a soft sigh. When his eye rose, he noticed a small, greasy man approaching him. His lip curled and his brow furrowed, causing his skin to fold and casting menacing shadows to emerge on his scarred face. The greasy man kept a weary eye on the large general, bowing his head slightly out of fear. “General Ugarht,” the small man said, his voice wavering slightly.

Ugarht said nothing but glared down at the greasy man with his eye as he strode past, his boots thudding loudly against the snowy cobblestones.

When the general had almost disappeared into the darkness of the night, the small man looked over his shoulder with a look of pure hatred and contempt. So consumed with his encounter with the large general that he nearly had forgotten his purpose. When he had remembered it once again, he quickly scurried to Wulf and bowed low.

Wulf beckoned him closer. “Grewita, come.”

“Lord Wulf,” Grewita said, kneeling and bowing his head. “It pains me to bear to you such news.”

Wulf looked down upon his advisor with surprise, but said nothing. With Grewita’s head bowed, he could not see the look in his eye. “With Helm King fleeing,” he thought, “what ill news could there be?”

Keeping his eye fixed on the ground, Grewita said, “The Golden Hall cannot be secured. Lord Haleth stands before the gate and bars our entrance.”

“Lord Haleth?” Wulf said in greater surprise. “Eldest son of Helm King?”

Before waiting for his advisor’s conformation, Wulf began to make his way towards Meduseld. He drew his sword and watched it gleam in the reflection of the many torches in the area. A crooked smile appeared on his lips as the thought of felling his enemy’s son overtook his mind.

Grewita looked up at his lord in shock. He quickly made to his feet and closely followed behind Wulf. “My Lord!” Grewita said, panic gripping his voice. “He has already felled two of my best assassins!”

Wulf simply waved his hand and ignored his advisor, listening only to his pride and his revenge. The thought of dealing a fatal blow to Helm’s eldest son, taking away a precious life to Helm as he had done to him, overtook his better judgment. Nothing would stop him from the battle that lay before him. A wry smile formed on Wulf’s lips as his advisor grew silent, simply scurrying behind him in his shadow.

Grewita wrung his hands nervously and looked over his left shoulder to the shadows. With a quick flick of his wrist, he motioned to his hidden assassin to head to the gate of Meduseld. He knew the assassin would not act unless the need was dire and Wulf had not managed to fell the great warrior. Despite the fact that he knew he would face extreme retribution if the assassin killed Haleth even if the king’s son had bested Wulf in battle, the risk was simply too great. “I shall deal with those consequences should they come.”

Haleth held the gate of Meduseld strongly. Bodies of the dead and dying surrounded his feet of those who had challenged him and failed. He held a large wooden shield that was covered with the shafts of arrows shot at the warrior from a distance. Shouts from the crowd cheered the warriors that charged Haleth and curses directed at the lone warrior attempted to distract his attention for even a second. However, despite the parched mouths and sore throats of the surrounding crowd, the shouts held little power over the formidable warrior.

As Wulf made his approach with Grewita in tow, the crowd parted and bowed their heads respectfully. When they raised their heads again and saw Wulf’s sword glimmering from the light of the torches, they let out a shout of triumph. Reforming the circle once Wulf and Grewita had passed into the center, they continued to shout as though they were given renewed hope. Their sore throats bothered them not as they banged their spears and swords against their shields and continued to shout louder.

Wulf raised his hand and waited for the crowd to quiet. “Stay your arrows,” Wulf shouted, when the shouts subsided. “The fight is mine.”

Cheers broke out once again and those with bows and arrows lowered them proudly. Haleth’s eye never once left Wulf since he approached the gate. He tossed his wooden shield to the side and stood ready for the impending battle. His face remained stern as he watched Wulf’s smile melt from his face, being replaced by cold hatred.

Wulf lunged forward towards Haleth and forced him to parry and leap to the side. The two exchanged heavy blows from their large swords, neither truly gaining a clear advantage over the other. Though it was not truly clear to anyone except Haleth, Wulf could easily have taken the advantage many times but his hatred and thirst for revenge clouded his judgment and gave Haleth the chance to parry his blows.

Haleth soon grew winded and sore. Though he had not taken any serious blows, Haleth still had suffered some large bruises and minor cuts. Due to the length of his fighting, his stamina was beginning to wear thin. It wasn’t long before he couldn’t muster the strength to land any blows, let alone make them, against his formidable opponent. Before long it became clear that Haleth was wearing down and Wulf held a clear advantage.

However, instead of taking his advantage and using it to fell his enemy, he taunted Haleth. His cold, hard revenge was pleased with the embarrassment Haleth was facing. Unable to defend his home, Haleth was forced to watch as the sworn enemy of his father toyed with his life and was able to take it away at any moment. However, this also angered Haleth. Gritting his teeth, Haleth swung the fight suddenly in his favor with a sudden burst of energy. As Wulf’s sword thudded against the snow several feet away, the crowd grew suddenly silent.

Haleth stood quiet for a second, his sword pointing towards the defenseless warrior. As he was catching his breath, time seemed to slow down. Wulf sank to his knees, appearing to admit defeat. The wind howled through the city, disturbing the top snow and pushing it through the city.

Unable to believe their eyes, the crowd seemed unsure of how to react to the sudden change in events. Grewita, however, was seconds away from signaling his assassin to finish Haleth before he could fell Wulf.

“Too cowardly to even die standing,” Haleth whispered only loud enough for Wulf to hear. He raised his sword and prepared to execute the fallen Lord when suddenly he felt the cold sting of a dagger. It slipped between his ribs and buried deep into his heart. With the look of surprise forever implanted on his face, he fell backward and hit the ground with a soft thud, buffered from the hard stone by the thick layer of snow.

Too weary was Haleth to even see Wulf’s hand moving towards his boot, pulling out a hidden dagger, and rushing forward to drive it deep into his chest. As Wulf stood over his victim with a look of pride and accomplishment, the crowd yet again broke out into cheers. Wulf pulled his dagger from Haleth and cleaned the blade. He watched in satisfaction as the snow became stained with the blood of his enemy.

He turned to the crowd, holding his father’s dagger in his hands. “Victory! Victory at last!” he shouted, causing the crowd to break out into louder cheers of victory. When they settled again, Wulf continued, “We will lay siege to Helm King and force him from his stronghold! Before the fifth sun rises shall we march to the Deep and return Helm’s eldest son!” The crowd roared in malicious laughter. “But for now, we celebrate, citizens of Edoras!”

Cheers emanated from the crowd and they moved in to remove the fallen son of Helm and the bodies of their fallen soldiers. As the crowd began to disperse, spreading the news of the victory to the others around the city, Grewita approached Wulf and praised him for his victory.

Wulf held his dagger proudly and began polishing it. With a smile on his face, he said, “Send word to Lady Frédel that Wulf King requests her presence in Meduseld.”
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Post RE: Winters Deep (scripted, see ooc)
on: January 31, 2007 09:06
((ooc: A little something for Ealdor! Its not much but I was in the 'zone' when writing it so I hope it makes sense. ))

Ealdor stood with his gaze fixed firmly upon his friend. Haleth, son of Helm stood denying any Dunlander who challenged him the chance to enter Meduseld. The bodies of those that had already failed to gain entrance lay about Haleth, his shield was braced before him. And slowly Ealdor realized that a circle had been formed about Haleth. Wulf approached and the cheering of his men grew as they parted for him and then they were silent to hear his words.

With the order given that no arrows were to be loosed the crowd of Dunlanders encouraged their lord as he and Haleth engaged in combat. Ealdor felt fear clutch at his heart forgetting for a moment his own peril when from behind him one of the injured he had previously fought climbed to his feet and dived at him. Ealdor and the solider fell to into the snow the sounds of their struggled drowned by the roars of Wulf’s men. Ealdor found himself in the smaller streets again away from Haleth and Wulf. The Dunlander was sneering at him, a small dagger was in his hands as he lunged for the Rohirrim again. Ealdor deflected his attempts and soon they were fighting with their fists.

Pushing the wild man into the snow Ealdor turned and waded his way back towards Haleth’s battle when something struck the back of his head. The wild man had thrown a rock as he regained his feet and Ealdor could feel the small trickle of blood that seeped between his fingers as he felt the injury. The Dunlander was laughing and encouraging Ealdor to make his attack. And Ealdor did just that. He drew his sword and made a run at the tormentor, Ealdor was desperate to get to Haleth’s side, to help him make his stand. And it was as Ealdor was thinking this that he cut the Wild man down.

Breathing heavily as the blood stained the snow, Ealdor wiped his sword clean and made his way back towards the doors of Meduseld, to Haleth. But too late it seemed for as the doors came into sight and it seemed Haleth was triumphant, Ealdor’s race was halted by the sight of the dagger and Wulf claiming Haleth’s life. Helm’s eldest son fell upon the stairs and there Haleth’s blood would mark them.

Ealdor fell into despair, his throat was dry and his eyes stung with tears that would never fall for Ealdor now looked towards Wulf. His hatred boiled as the man spoke words of victory, his men crying their approval as he did so. Quietly Ealdor withdrew into the shadows and returned to the body of the man he whose blood he had just spilt. For a moment he stood looking down at the Dunlander. At his clothes and weaponry. And then seized by a sudden thought Ealdor grasped the body by the arms and made his way to the nearest dwelling, dragging the body with him.

Once inside the house Ealdor quietly shut the door behind him and turned to look at the house he had entered. Evidence of a hasty departure was clear, chairs had been knocked from their feet, bowls with stew long cold were laid out on the table and in the fireplace the embers were dying. Ealdor sat at the table for a moment looking at the body of the wild man he had brought with him. Slowly Ealdor got to his feet and knelt beside the body. He hesitated for a moment and the he traded his proud rohirrim clothing for that of the wild mans. Ealdor wept openly as he did this. The image of Haleth’s defeat would not leave Ealdor as he took on the identity of the Dunlander.

It took a short while for Ealdor to recover from his emotions but soon he was washing his face and hands free from tears and blood. He knew before he left this house he must hide the body of the Dunlander and so he carried the body to a room at the back of the dwelling and wrapped it in sheets before leaving. Outside the wind had gathered its force and the snow was falling lightly again covering any trace of footprints. Making his way back towards the main street, Ealdor began to think on what he had done trading his rohirrim life for that of a dunlander loyal to Wulf. To the man who had lain siege on Edoras, to the man who had forced the separation of Ealdor and his siblings and the one responsible for Haleths death.

For a moment Ealdor doubted his choice and he halted in his tracks. The sounds of the victory cheers were carried to him on the wind and Ealdors determination was set. He would take up this role if only to get close enough to Wulf to return the kindness that he had bestowed on Haleth and countless others. With that thought firmly in mind Ealdor continued on his march back to the doors of Meduseld, to Wulf.
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Post RE: Winters Deep (scripted, see ooc)
on: February 06, 2007 01:01
(( OOC: This is a joint post between Eveligh and me! :hug: ))

Rýd and Gimm were fighting side by side within the walls of Edoras defending each other. Often as children they had played with wooden swords and axes in these very streets. But this was no longer a game and the siblings knew that well. Rynan their father had allowed them to stand in the shadows between two buildings during the service of Aeldred. But then had called them to the Inn when the scout's warning echoed throughout Edoras. There he had told them to arm themselves and gave them packs filled with supplied should the worse happen.

And so they had followed Rynan out into the street, Gimm of just sixteen years, taking his sword and holding it fast was an image Rynan would not soon forget. But then so too was the vision of his only daughter taking up arms. Though she was dressed and her hair fashioned as any sons would be it still brought a pain to Rynan's heart to have to see Rýd clutching the handles of her axes so. The Inn Keeper had lead his youngest children through the lower streets avoiding battle as long as it were possible. But then suddenly a spear had caught Rynan and he fell to the ground, gasping. The family was overwhelmed, circled. Gimm and Rýd each stood protectively on either side of their father. The spear had caught his shoulder.

Gimm tightened his grip on the blade and Rýd tested the weight of her axes. The snow blew about them. The Dunlanders attacked. Gimm gave a cry as his sword cut his first enemy within range and Rýd did the same using her axe shafts block and the blades to deal damaging blows. Presently a Dunlanders rushed at Gimm and knocked to the ground, knocking his sword from his hand.

"Rýd! Go!" he ordered kicking his enemy off and struggling through the snow to reach his sword.

"No!" She shouted back knocking her opponent back and cutting him across the arm. "I will not leave without you."

"You will! I will see you again at the Deep." Gimm called as at last he found his sword. His hands cold and numb from searching in the snow. And then Helm's call was heard and the siblings halted briefly, looking to each other. Gimm took the opportunity and pushed his sister through the circle of fighters.

"Go!" He cried one last time as the circle closed tighter about them until she could no longer see them. She was swept away then in the group of Rohirrim that were rushing through the gate and she could not fight against it.

Stumbling along with the group that she had found herself with Rýd searched endlessly for her brothers face. It could be possible that Gimm was here, in this group. She would not let herself think otherwise. It was when the halt was called for the night and those with the will and strength to do so searched for their kin. Rýd was one of them. She called her fathers name and her brothers. And then she caught sight of someone who was of his height and in the shadows his hair looked to be the same. With relief she marched to his side,
"Gimm!" But when the rider turned to her, Rýd's shoulders fell, "You are not Gimm." She said with a sigh and a shake of her head and was to go on her way.

From the calls, and cries around him, Gloedwine knew he wasn't the only person searching for lost relatives. He was trying to keep from panicking when no answer from either Ealdor or Indryhten came to his own.

Depressed, and fearing the worst, the young Rider was about to leave Morgen to 'mark' his own small resting-spot, when a (quite pretty, he noticed) young woman appeared at his side. - But...
"Gimm!" But when the rider turned to her, Rýd's shoulders fell, "You are not Gimm." She said with a sigh and a shake of her head and was to go on her way

"Wait!" Gloedwine didn't know her... but that didn't mean *she* might not know his brother, or - more particularly - his sister.

"Please," he went on, "I'm trying to find my brother and sister. Ealdor, and Indryhten are their names. Do you know them, lady?" the young man asked, anxiousness coloring his voice. "Have you seen them? - Who is Gimm? - Perhaps, if you describe him, I've seen him..."

At the strangers call to wait Rýd had turned and frowned but listened to his questions. When he called her a lady, Rýd's frown had deepened in confusion, but then she gave what answers she could.

"No. I do not know any by those names. And I've not seen anyone who could be of kin to you." She replied distracted by the calls around them. In the light now she could see that this man's hair was not as dark at all and she knew the shadows had only made it appear to be.

"Gimm is my brother." She said looking at those that passed by as soldiers shared what spare food and water they could. When she gave a description of her brother, Rýd used her hands to express it. "He stands as you do and his hair is darker then mine. Have you seen him or two others like him? There are four of us. And our father." Rýd informed him. Though Rýd still looked all around as she spoke her description. About them small fires were lighting.

Gloedwine's heart sank at the young woman's reply, but listened carefully to her descriptions.

And, sadly, he shook his head. "No," he answered, "I have not noticed anyone such as you describe. - But, if I do," the young Rider added, "what name can I inquire of them to find you? - Mine is Gloedwine. - If you hear anyone calling for me, would you tell them you've seen me?" and told her what Ealdor and Indryhten looked like.

A blast of winter-cold air then swept past the two... sending the already swirling snow 'stingingly' into their faces. - And, knowing it wasn't 'much', and that he, himself would be near-freezing without it, Gloedwine reached for the one blanket he'd managed to grab, and held it out to the pretty young woman. "It's not much, but you'll be warmer with this," he offered...

Rýd’s disappointment showed freely on his face as the stranger, known now as Gloedwine, gave his reply. There was a pain in her heart.
"I am Rýd." she said in reply to his question, and then, "If I hear any calling your name, Gloedwine, I shall be sure to tell the caller you search for them."

Shivering at the biting wind Rýd was taken back as the warrior reached for his blanket and offered it to her. Looking from the blanket to the warrior Rýd’s jaw was firmly set and her brow furrowed.

"I need it not." Rýd answered firmly declining his offer with a step back. Living with brothers such as hers had made Rýd hard, though not resistant to wind, but certainly proud. She was used to the charity of no man, no matter how small.

"Be safe, Gloedwine, I hope your search goes well." Rýd turned to leave him once again, determined to get on with her search.

Blinking in surprise, as the lady turned away, "I - I meant no 'offense', lady," Gloedwine stated quietly.

And, further, "Perhaps, if we search together we'd have better luck," the young Rohirrim suggested... for suddenly, Gloedwine found himself wanting to stay in Rýd’s company...

Again Rýd was stopped by Gloedwine's words. She looked at him a moment before nodding.

"Yes, a search would be quickened if we did so together." Rýd agreed. "Let us start now or are you in need of rest, Gloedwine?" Rýd stood ready before the Rohirrim, she would wait if needed, but her face expressed her eagerness to be on with the search.

Shaking his head, "Now, lady," Gloedwine professed himself ready. Giving his stallion a pat, "I will be back," he murmured.

As he fell in step beside Rýd, "Tell me... when last did you see your father and brothers? - Were you fighting together?"

As Rýd and Gloedwine walked side by side the young maiden avoided the others gaze as she gave her answer.

"When last I saw my father he was struck by a spear and my brother was surrounded by Dunlanders as he defended him." Even as she spoke the words she knew how hopeless her search now sounded. But she would not surrender her hope.

Rýd glanced to Gloedwine before quickly casting her gaze over the faces of a few young Riders that were gathered near by. None of them were Gimm.

"And when did you last see your kin?" Rýd asked masking her disappointment and feeling the shaft of her axe.

Sighing heavily, Gloedwine paused his keen observance of everyone they passed to glance at the young woman. "My brother during the fight, but my sister..." and trailing off, he shook his head. "As for my sister, not since well before we were attacked. I don't even know if she made it out of Edoras!"

At this information Rýd halted her search of those about them and looked to Gloedwine before placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Have hope, Gloedwine." Rýd said, "We shall find them and if not here then we may meet them at the Deep!"

As she spoke Rýd found that it gave her some comfort to think that she too might find her family at the Deep. But for now she was searching here among the gathered as the night grew darker about them.

A small smile crossed Gloedwine's lips, and nodded. "I hope so," he said honestly... but after a long time of searching, neither had found any of the people they wanted to find.

The hour was late, and he knew rest would be needed before leaving in the morning to continue their journey to the Deep. "You're welcome to share my fire, Rýd," the young Rider offered. "We can fetch your horse if you want it close..."

"I didn't have the time to find my horse." Rýd informed Gloedwine. And so she had taken Gloedwine's offer and slept beside his fire that night. Sleep was not hard to come by and when the morning came Rýd woke early and watched as Gloedwine slept on.

Looking at the face of every solider that patrolled or youth that passed Rýd was still hopeful of finding Gimm but within she began to doubt that she would see her father again.

"Good morn." said Rýd when she saw Gloedwine stir and she rose quickly to her feet as though they were itching to be on the move.

Despite his expectation 'otherwise', Gloedwine found sleep was swiftly upon him, but upon waking, discovered that Rýd was already so. Thinking the morning would be 'good' only if he found even *one* of his older siblings, he replied politely nonetheless.

As they grabbed a quick breakfast, "Since you've no mount," the young Rider suggested, "You're welcome to ride with me. - Morgen can well handle two," and a gentle smile (if 'brief') came to Gloedwine's face as he fondly patted his stallion's neck. "Can't you, sir?" he went on, though first checked to ensure his horse's wounds had taken no further hurt.

"Well?" he glanced at Rýd for her answer...

At Gloedwine's question Rýd was a little taken back and this was clear on her expression. Rýd felt that she was capable of taking herself to Edoras by her own means, on her own feet. But then Rýd also knew that time was important and she wanted to reach the Deep quickly.

Taking a step towards Morgen, Rýd ran her hand over his shoulders and neck. "He is a worthy steed." Rýd commented and turned to Gloedwine, "I will take your offer again and ride behind you."

Nodding his reply, they were soon mounted - Gloedwine first, and then Rýd swinging up behind him. Glancing back at her as he urged Morgen forward, "If the pace remains 'steady'," he commented of the whole group heading there, "We should reach the Deep by nightfall."

Yet, as he rode, the young Rohirrim's eyes searched always for both his own, and the young woman's relatives - hoping that only last night's darkness was why the missing had been... well... 'missed'...

Riding behind Gloedwine Rýd had the chance to continue her search from a height. The Riders watched keenly over the families in the guard as they group made their long march to the Deep with Helm King at the front of the procession.

As they day went on Rýd saw no sign of her own kin nor any of those Gloedwine had described to her the previous day. Rýd drew her gaze from the people with them and looked at Gloedwine. No kinder Rohirrim could she had hoped to find in a time such as this and she was most grateful for his aid. The noon hour came and went and after a hasty meal the large group was called to walk on. Helm showed no sign of slowing as he led the march to the Deep.

Evening as approaching and suddenly Rýd straighten behind Gloedwine. All around people were whispering as they saw the first sign of the Deep...

As the company of fleeing Rohanians continued on towards the Deep, Gloedwine tried hard to keep Rýd’s encouraging comment in his heart. - But, as he continued to find no ‘signs’ of either his brother or sister, it was difficult to keep his hopes up.

Yet… when the Deep finally came into view, so too did the young Rohirrim Rider feel an inward ‘stab’ of disappointment - along with relief at getting there. - For, truly, he’d enjoyed having Rýd riding before him.

Still, “Maybe they reached it before us?” Gloedwine commented to his companion… and found himself eager to continue the search for their missing family members…
"Tolo si, a tiro i cherth Eru" "Come now, and see the works of God"
Eveligh
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Post RE: Winters Deep (scripted, see ooc)
on: February 09, 2007 08:19
((ooc: The long awaited second joint post between Annuniel and I! Thanks to Annuniel for Beomund! :love: ))

When the rider woke Indryhten's thoughts had still been with her brothers. The snow was no longer falling but the wind was strong, cold and cruel, all was quiet about the rider and the maid for a moment. And then he shouted in his despair and Indryhten turned to look at him and found his tears were free flowing. Indryhten stood over him as he wept,
"Why do you weep?" she asked. Her uncertainty in questioning him so made her voice sound insensitive. Waiting for him to answer, Indryhten remained standing over the Rider as a sudden gust of wind came to chill them even more so.

The wind continued to blow strongly across the open field as the maiden's question remained unanswered. Even the chill in the air couldn't compare to the unnerving silence that hung stagnate between the two. The snow no longer fell from the sky, but the strong winds churned the top snow off of the ground and swirled it through the air between and around the maiden and Rider.

The winds died down suddenly as Béomund lurched to his feet. His expression was blank and his eye was cold. He gave no signs that he had even acknowledged the young maiden's presence or the meticulous care she had given his wounds. He muttered something incoherent to himself and he began to slowly trudge through the deep snow. With his feet dragging behind him, he made his way back towards Edoras.

Indryhten remained standing before the Rider even as her question went unanswered and stepped back when he got to his feet. Unable to catch his muttered words Indryhten watched alarmed as he turned and made his way back toward Edoras. In an instant the maiden was at his side.

"What are you doing?" Indryhten demanded trying to match the Riders pace. "Why turn towards Edoras? Helm King has retreated to the Deep, we should follow." With her last words the maiden came to stand before the Rider in hopes of forcing him to halt. The strong winds forced her long hair to blow about Indryhten's face as her sharp gaze was locked on the stranger's.

The Rider stopped dead in his tracks, returning the maiden's gaze with a cold stare. His breath misted in front of his face, hazing the look in his eye. The words the maiden had spoken had fallen upon deaf ears. His cold stare suddenly changed to a look of pure confusion as he examined the girl more closely. "When did she get here?" he muttered softly to himself, as a harsh wind blew and carried his words from the maiden's ears. He looked past the maiden and tried to peer through the storm to see Edoras. When he saw nothing but the darkness of the void, he sighed heavily and turned his gaze back to the maiden.

"Abandoning her here in the wilderness with orcs and Dunlendings would mean her death," he thought to himself, looking deep into her eyes. He was unable to mask the sorrow he felt abandoning his sister in Edoras yet again, but he said nothing to the maiden. He turned his back to the maiden and continued towards the Deep. He made no motions for her to follow, but he kept his ears open for the sounds of her footsteps.

For a moment Indryhten watched the Rider as he turned his back to her and made his way towards the Deep. There was no given signal for her to follow but Indryhten would not leave this Rider. With her sword no in hand Indryhten followed him again wondering just what he had endured during the battle. He was wounded physically but there was something more.

Indryhten did not question him and so they walked on silently, Indryhten keeping her distance and yet close enough to help should The Rider need it. For a time they went on this way and there was no sign from the Rider that he would soon halt. Indryhten quickened her pace, fighting against the snow to do so, and came to walk beside the soldier.
"We should stop." Indryhten said breathlessly, "You need to rest, you were badly injured." It was dark and cold, the wind was gathering fallen snow and sending it about in swirls. As Indryhten walked on beside the warrior she once again found herself wondering at the whereabouts of her brothers...

With the wind whirling about the two travelers, Béomund stopped to consider Indryhten’s words. He looked about the area but saw nothing but a black void with specks of swirling snow. He suddenly felt unsure of which direction he was heading in and which direction the Deep lay in. As the realization of his dilemma set in, he considered the maiden’s words with more weight.

“I am fine,” he said, though he stopped and sat in the snow anyway. He wrapped his cloak around him and rubbed his numbing legs. Though the process of rubbing his legs pained his fingers and lower arm, he attempted to ignore the pain as best he could. The cold night would prove to be a challenge.

Indryhten continued to watch the solider closely as he sat and tried to keep the cold at bay. Looking about in the darkness, Indryhten wondered how far from the Deep they were before she too sat down. With her sword at her side Indryhten rubbed the cold from her arms. The silence between the two grew again as the winds gathered speed.

It was not long before it began to snow again, the wind carrying it in swirls as it fell. At this new arrival Indryhten was soon on her feet wanting to be on the trail to the Deep once more.
"I think we should move onwards." Indryhten said as she took a few steps into the fresh deep snow. Turning to look at the Rider she frowned,
"Do you plan to spend the night here sitting in the cold?" Indryhten asked, the snow fall increasing even as she stood there once again looking over him. "What happened to you in Edoras?" she inquired her sharp eyes looking over the Riders injuries.

Béomund looked up at the young maiden’s sharp eyes. He slowly lurched to his feet, understanding Indryhten’s logic but still wondering how long it would take if the maiden wished to take rests so often. Though the snowfall continued to increase, the sky had started to grow lighter, hinting at the onset of dawn. Béomund’s eye scanned the horizon, trying to get his bearings straight. Though the western sky was still very dark, Béomund came to the conclusion that they were heading too far north. Adjusting his path to accommodate, he trudged through the snow with his legs tingling from the cold and sensation of movement.

Avoiding her gaze, Béomund wrapped himself in his cloak and pulled up his hood. He rested a hand casually on the hilt of his sword. He sighed softly to himself, realizing he had evaded the maiden’s questions about the battle in Edoras. Though he didn’t know the maiden well, he could see the stubbornness in her eye; she would not easily give up on her question. He knew not how to answer her, however. Speaking the words of his sister’s death would only make it that much more real and his heart was unable to deal with that reality right now.

On the move again, Indryhten followed the silent Rider and said nothing more herself. There were hints of the appraoching dawn as they went on and by the time morning had arrived the snow had ceased and the wind had slowed. The sun offered no warmth as the Rider and maiden continued on. Indryhten's watchful eye on the back of the stranger.

At noon as Indryhten grew tired she called for a halt and sat down in the snow, her head in her hands. Exhausted from walking so long in the cold and without sleep, Indryhten caught a few precious moments of rest before the pair were on their way once more.

Evening came again as too did the wind and snow. The two of them walked on adjusting their path when needed until at last in the dark Indryhten thought she saw the faint glow of torches. Halting breifly Indryhten continued to look ahead wondering if indeed she saw what they had marched so long to seek.
"The Deep." Indryhten said.

Béomund looked up when Indryhten spoke. He also saw the faint glow of torches and he knew they were finally closing in on the Deep. He let out a small sigh of relief. Though he had not breathed a word since they left, the pain in his numbing arm had been increasing steadily as the journey progressed. Even with the numbness dulling the nerves in his arm, his wounded arm pained him greatly. Though the pain in his arm was nothing compared to that in his heart.

His step increased subconsciously as the thoughts of approaching the Deep settled into his mind. He knew the exhaustion he felt probably tolled harder on the young maiden, but he wished to get them both back to the Deep quickly.

[Edited on 10/2/2007 by Eveligh]
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Eveligh
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Post RE: Winters Deep (scripted, see ooc)
on: February 17, 2007 10:04
Rýd’s hope was renewed with every step that brought the Rohirrim closer to the Deep. Helm King leading the tired refugees onwards as at last they came to the gate. Never before had Rýd set her eyes on anything so mighty as the wonder of the Deep. Its high walls towering and shadowing them as the entered. The young maiden hoped also that her family had reached the Deep before she, that somehow her father had made the journey despite the way in which they had been separated. Rýd was certain that Gimm had survived. In her eyes there was no greater warriors then her brothers.

Passing beneath the gates Rýd was glancing at each new face she saw within the walls. From every mother and child huddle in blankets the guards that patrolled or helped the elderly or injured.
“I would be glad to continue my search with you Gloedwine.” Rýd informed him as she swung from her place before him and stroked the stallion gratefully. Her eyes ever searching as she did so. But here there was no sign, no chance of catching a glimpse for here in the Deep a fresh wave of searching was on many peoples minds. Despite their situation the young maiden couldn’t help but be in awe of the Deep and of Helm King when he passed in talk with his Marshals.

Word had come that no help could be sent from Gondor for they themselves were under siege. This battle would be the Rohirrim’s alone and still the snow showed no sign of slowing and only hindered the watch on the walls. Torches were lit and Helm disappeared in the crowd with his men following. Slowly Rýd, along with her new companion made their way from the gates towards the areas where the injured were cared for. The majority were soldiers who had been shot or cut by Dunlending weapons. Rýd held tightly to the twin axes at her belt, her temper rising at the sorrow Wulf and his followers had brought on the Rohirrim.

Yet in the rows of wounded and the healers walking along them there was no sighting of Rýd’s family but her hope did not wane. There were still plenty of places Gimm or the others could be found.
“Do you know the likely places your siblings are to be found?” questioned Rýd as she turned to Gloedwine. All about the Hornburg they went in search of their kin, every face was examined closely as they did. Midday came and went and despite her tiredness and hunger Rýd did not slow in her search. As the day grew old the calling of names dimmed and women watched as their children slept on. Evening was drawing in when Rýd was beginning to stumble as she walked but she refused to quit. Finally, exhausted and hungry, Rýd dropped her pack to the ground and sat down.
“Just a moments rest.” she said suppressing a yawn. “Just a moment.” Without meaning to, Rýd started drifting to sleep. Night was now over the Hornburg and within it shone with the light of torches from the walls calling those still travelling onwards.

Guards were patrolling where Rýd had chosen to set herself down, Gloedwine with her. They were close to where the healing tents were erected and from one near by there came the sound of weeping.
“Rýd?” a guard was standing over Rýd. A spear was in one hand and he looking down at her, his face shadowed by his helm. The riders helm was removed and his spear set down and he knelt before her. “Rýd!” The sudden joy in the man’s voice was clear and slowly Rýd lifted her eyes to look at him.
“Gimm?” She looked at the guard, her heart filled with joy as she through her arms about her brother. “It is you!” But suddenly Rýd was bumped and she woke to find her vision of Gimm was nothing more then a dream. Looking about Rýd saw that she had only been sleeping for a moment and that the weeping from the tents near by was renewed.
“Let us go and search the caves for a place to rest.” Rýd said to Gloedwine as she jumped to her feet, pack in hand. “We are of no use to our kin if we are sleeping on our feet.”

With her heart growing just a little heavy Rýd moved from the healing camps and followed Gloedwine. The Inn Keepers daughter would be happy with much needed rest and a full belly but most of all she longed to find not only her kin, but that of her companion's.
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Post RE: Winters Deep (scripted, see ooc)
on: February 22, 2007 06:37
[OOC: I'd hoped to get this up sooner, sorry for the delay!]

The late afternoon sun pierced through the passing clouds over the snowy plain, but did little to warm the small group of riders below. Their horses trudged slowly through the deep snow, making little progress. Their pace was slowed further by the blinding reflection of the sun off the white, untouched snow.

Several armed riders rode through the snow, attempting to keep an eye out for movement on the empty plains. They kept their eyes keen even with though the plains were void of any sign of life. Aside from the harsh winds picking up and carrying off the top snow from last night’s storm, the plains were quiet and still.

The armed riders surrounded a cloaked figure, riding sidesaddle on a large bay horse. Its powerful legs glided through the thick snow, keeping a smooth ride for its crouched rider. The rider’s head was bent against the strong winds, attempting to keep the cowl of its cloak over its head. A strong wind suddenly blew back the hood of the rider’s cloak, revealing a fair face, blotched from the cold, and long, strawberry blonde hair. Her breath misting in front of her face, she squinted her eyes and attempted to look into the distance. The sun forced one eye closed and the other squinting painfully as she focused on the horizon. Through her squinted eye, she was able to make out blurry buildings atop a small hill.

Frédel was accompanied by another figure, cloaked but not hidden. Dark locks of hair surrounded her round face. Her dark, piercing eyes were locked onto Frédel who rode slightly in front of her. She stood in stark contrast to the rider before her in virtually every way.

Shortly before the sun began its slow descent, Frédel and her guards rode through the gates to the city. She took little notice of the guards who ushered her into the city and took her tired horse from her after she dismounted. From there, she was escorted through the city towards the Golden Hall. Her eyes wandered, catching the few signs left of the battle the night before.

The snow was packed down from the onslaught of the footfalls on the fresh snow. Red-stained snow was scattered throughout the city, often times surrounded by stray, broken arrows, swords, or spears. The sight of the dried blood sent shivers down Frédel’s spine. It mattered not to her if it were Rohirr or Dunlending blood; she silently mourned the death of the courageous soldier. As she progressed through the city, she wondered how many saw their deaths the previous night.

Frédel was lost in the thoughts of the horrendous battle and did not notice that they had passed through the doors to Meduseld. She did not hear the words uttered by the watchmen that Wulf King was busy within and could not receive his cousin at the moment. She did not see that she was being led through the hall to what would become her room.

“Frédel!”

Startled and suddenly forced from her thoughts, Frédel jumped at the sound of her name being shouted. She spun on her heel and saw her lady-in-waiting impatiently standing a few feet from her. Before Frédel could react in any sort of way, the dark haired maiden continued.

“Be sure to wash before the feast tonight,” she said, turning to the closet and looking through the dresses the previous tenant left behind. As the lady-in-waiting picked out her dress for the occasion, Frédel left to find a washroom. The celebration of their victory would begin soon and, despite not feeling very victorious, Frédel was expected to attend.
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Post RE: Winters Deep (scripted, see ooc)
on: March 16, 2007 05:19
(Just a little something more for Rýd! )

As Gloedwine and Rýd moved their search towards the caves the pair continued their search. Every face was examined as Rýd passed Riders and Healers. At some moment the two of them fell in line with others who were heading in the same direction, many went to seek shelter away from the healing camp.

With every step Rýd knew that she needed rest and a hot meal. But she would settle for one if it came to that. And then, suddenly, Rýd was struck by the strange beauty of the caves. In awe she looked about at the families that had gathered here in the Glittering Caves. Children huddled and slept whilst their parents watched over them, many still cautious despite the safety of their surroundings.

"There are so many!" Rýd whispered to Gloedwine, as the maiden grew uncertain of whether she should rest or continue her search. Gimm and Gloedwine's kin could be anywhere within the depths of the Caves...
"Where do you think we are likely to find your kin?" asked Rýd as her eagerness to find her own brothers lifted again.
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Post RE: Winters Deep (scripted, see ooc)
on: March 17, 2007 04:56
The sight of the Deep’s gates - though ‘blurry’ in the falling snow - was a ‘welcome’ one to Gloedwine. - And, like his companion, the young Rohirrim’s tired eyes were searching every face they passed by as he and Rýd entered and slid wearily from his stallion’s back.
“I would be glad to continue my search with you Gloedwine.” Rýd informed him as she swung from her place before him and stroked the stallion gratefully. Her eyes ever searching as she did so.

“Two sets of eyes are better than one,” Gloedwine agreed… but before they could continue searching, care for his mount - *always* uppermost in a Rider’s thoughts - came first. With a pat to Morgen’s nose, he led the horse and Rýd to the Deep’s stables. After settling his friend, the two went back out to continue their search.
But here there was no sign, no chance of catching a glimpse for here in the Deep a fresh wave of searching was on many peoples minds.

Word had come that no help could be sent from Gondor for they themselves were under siege. This battle would be the Rohirrim’s alone and still the snow showed no sign of slowing and only hindered the watch on the walls. Torches were lit and Helm disappeared in the crowd with his men following. Slowly Rýd, along with her new companion made their way from the gates towards the areas where the injured were cared for.

Yet in the rows of wounded and the healers walking along them there was no sighting of Rýd’s family but her hope did not wane. There were still plenty of places Gimm or the others could be found.
“Do you know the likely places your siblings are to be found?” questioned Rýd as she turned to Gloedwine.

“Well… I think first we should search the outer court,” he said thoughtfully, since they’d already checked the Postern Path and the stables, and where the injured were being kept.
All about the Hornburg they went in search of their kin, every face was examined closely as they did. Midday came and went and despite her tiredness and hunger Rýd did not slow in her search. As the day grew old the calling of names dimmed and women watched as their children slept on. Evening was drawing in when Rýd was beginning to stumble as she walked but she refused to quit. Finally, exhausted and hungry, Rýd dropped her pack to the ground and sat down.
“Just a moments rest.” she said suppressing a yawn. “Just a moment.” Without meaning to, Rýd started drifting to sleep. Night was now over the Hornburg and within it shone with the light of torches from the walls calling those still traveling onwards.

Settling down next to Rýd, Gloedwine, too, closed his eyes. - But, he did not sleep.

Had Ealdor been slain in the attack? - Or, too injured to travel? - Had he been captured?, he couldn’t help but wonder.

And… what of his sister? Indryhten had been more a ‘mother’ to him… and she, and Ealdor, and he the closest of siblings… and Gloedwine knew not how to ‘go on’ if they both be dead… and renewed determination to find both his own and his companion’s families took hold. - But, with a sigh, the young man knew both he and she were near exhaustion, and he didn’t want to move until Rýd had wakened from her rest.

But then, guards began moving the weary groups resting by the walls to go farther in. “We need to keep it clear if an attack comes,” one paused by the young Rider, glancing at him and the young woman beside him. “Wake up your wife and head for the Narrows,” he ordered.

His what?? Flushing deeply, “She’s not…” Gloedwine began, but the guard had moved on.

*Very* glad that Rýd was too soundly asleep to have heard the man’s (truly!) embarrassing words, Gloedwine diffidently nudged her shoulder. “We need to get moving,” he told her, upon seeing her eyes open.
Looking about Rýd saw that she had only been sleeping for a moment and that the weeping from the tents near by was renewed.
“Let us go and search the caves for a place to rest.” Rýd said to Gloedwine as she jumped to her feet, pack in hand. “We are of no use to our kin if we are sleeping on our feet.”

“One of the guards said to head for the Narrows,” he agreed, and stifling a groan, got to his feet and began to lead the way there. - Though, like Rýd, the young Rohirrim did not cease examining everyone around them - hoping to see one of the faces they so wanted to find…
With every step Rýd knew that she needed rest and a hot meal. But she would settle for one if it came to that. And then, suddenly, Rýd was struck by the strange beauty of the caves. In awe she looked about at the families that had gathered here in the Glittering Caves. Children huddled and slept whilst their parents watched over them, many still cautious despite the safety of their surroundings.

"There are so many!" Rýd whispered to Gloedwine, as the maiden grew uncertain of whether she should rest or continue her search. Gimm and Gloedwine's kin could be anywhere within the depths of the Caves...
"Where do you think we are likely to find your kin?" asked Rýd as her eagerness to find her own brothers lifted again.

Shaking his head, “There’s no telling,” he answered, now too tired to think… too exhausted to really ‘take in’ the beauty of the Glittering Caves - which he’d never before been inside. There were, as Rýd h ad whispered, many, many of their people tucked away here… and there… but what was beyond the young man’s ‘comprehension’ (at the moment), were how many ‘places’ to take refuge in.

Miles of caverns there were… twists and turns, with any number of smaller caves, and who knew how far ‘back’ the fleeing Rohanians had reached.

But, the smell of food being cooked then brought Gloedwine’s head around. “Let’s get something to eat,” he suggested with a deep sigh, and they joined the line of refugees waiting to be fed.

After securing the proffered bowls of a hearty stew, they were directed along a torch lit tunnel leading off to the right of the largest cavern in the Glittering Caves, and coming to a smaller one, Gloedwine only looked over the faces of the others within, before sitting to lean with his back against the jewel-encrusted wall to eat, and to rest. Taking his first bite (and thinking it more delicious than anything he’d ever had before), “How about this,” he suggested. “Whichever one of us wakes up first, wakes the other, and we can keep looking. What do you think?” and Gloedwine gave Rýd a small, and (he hoped!) encouraging smile…
"Tolo si, a tiro i cherth Eru" "Come now, and see the works of God"
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Post RE: Winters Deep (scripted, see ooc)
on: April 13, 2007 10:41
Béomund awoke from a fretful sleep and sat up with a start. His arm was wrapped neatly and settled into a cloth sling. The pain was little more than a dull sting and he quickly determined that he still had use of his hand by wiggling his fingers. Unable to entirely believe his good fortune, he stared at his functional hand with a surprised look planted on his face. When his mind finally accepted it, he looked up and wondered where he was. With the bawling of children, crying of women, shouting of healers, it didn’t take him long to determine he was in a house of healing. The unfamiliar damp smell that stung his nose drew a frown to his face until he examined his surroundings further.

“The Glittering Caves,” he muttered under his breath. He barely remembered coming into the Deep. Vague images of endless snow and wind came to his mind, but he could not recall any concrete memories after the battle at Edoras. The sight of his dead sister flashed in his mind and he gripped his face with his good hand, keeping the tears barely at bay. Suddenly, the image of another woman flashed before his eyes: a cold, but beautiful women with long strawberry-blonde locks.

His hand dropped into his lap as he looked wide-eyed at the many faces around him. He saw not the face of the young healer who had saved his life. He started to recall bits and pieces of their journey to the Deep together, but remembered only his selfish solitude. Hanging his head in shame, he felt he owed the women an apology. Finding her would prove to be more than just difficult, as he knew not her name and she not his.

He swung his legs from the bed, determining himself well enough to walk. If nothing else, he was rather famished from the long journey with a lack of food. However, he ignored the pangs of hunger and decided instead on looking for the maiden, even if it was a lost cause. Knowing nothing else except the lady was a healer, he wandered about the caves where the wounded were being kept.
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Post RE: Winters Deep (scripted, see ooc)
on: April 14, 2007 05:26
Rýd followed Gloedwine as they headed to find food and then as they were led by torchlight through the Caves. After a time they were brought to a smaller cave and Rýd looked at each person that was huddled within. A mother sat holding her child as they slept in the safety of her arms. Rýd let her bundle fall to the ground as Gloedwine sat with his back to the cave wall. Rýd sat opposite him and idly stirred her stew.


“How about this,” he suggested. “Whichever one of us wakes up first, wakes the other, and we can keep looking. What do you think?” and Gloedwine gave Rýd a small, and (he hoped!) encouraging smile…


Looking at Gloedwine, Rýd returned his smile and nodded in agreement. “Then I will be certain to wake you first.” She said, “For I doubt I will find much sleep. Despite how exhausted I am.” She finished and then took a large mouth full of the stew and found it was the finest meal she had tasted and it was most welcome in her empty belly. Soon her sleeping gear was laid out and as Rýd lay down, her gaze fixed on the jewelled wall before her, the maid wondered if she would sleep. Despite the safety of the caves, Rýd questioned whether any of the rohirrim would find true rest far from their homes.

Her sleep was a dreamless one and Rýd was woken by the wailing of a child. Slowly, tiredly, she rose and looked to where the mother and child sat. The child had been venturing around the cave and had fallen, his mother tried to ease his crying over a bruised knee. After a moment of clearing the sleep from her eyes, Rýd looked to where Gloedwine slept. Almost reluctantly Rýd bent over him,
“Gloedwine!” She whispered, rousing him from a deep slumber, “Gloedwine!”
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Post RE: Winters Deep (scripted, see ooc)
on: April 15, 2007 01:24
Looking at Gloedwine, Rýd returned his smile and nodded in agreement. “Then I will be certain to wake you first.” She said, “For I doubt I will find much sleep. Despite how exhausted I am.”

Raising his eyebrow, Gloedwine chuckled. "Perhaps," he replied, "and perhaps not. - We will see, won't we?" he added, and proceeded - as his companion, to finish his meal.
Soon her sleeping gear was laid out and as Rýd lay down, her gaze fixed on the jewelled wall before her

Soon after Rýd, Gloedwine was asleep, too... but his dreams were 'troubled', and full of himself still 'searching' for his older siblings. - And, because of that, his slumber was 'fitful', and it was long before 'true' sleep came to the young Rohirrim... so it turned out that it was the young woman who woke before he could.
“Gloedwine!” She whispered, rousing him from a deep slumber, “Gloedwine!”

"Hmmm?"

Sleepily, Gloedwine blinked his eyes open, and then remembering, he sighed. Stretching, he sat up. "How long have you been awake?" he asked.

As he again headed out to continue their search through the jeweled Caverns, "I wonder how many have still been coming in to the Deep," Gloedwine commented aloud. "Maybe our families haven't yet arrived."

Yet, still finding no 'sign' of them, when he spotted a fellow Rider in the main cavern when he and Rýd went to get something more to eat, the young blond-haired Rohirrim hailed the other man. A friend who he'd gone through training with, "Please!" Gloedwine begged of him, "Have you seen anything of Ealdor or my sister?"
"Tolo si, a tiro i cherth Eru" "Come now, and see the works of God"
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Post RE: Winters Deep (scripted, see ooc)
on: May 03, 2007 11:21
( A joint between Annuniel and I! Thank you Annuniel for Fredel! She's just awesome! )

Smoothing out a few wrinkles in the dress and brushing off some lint, Réowyn, Frédel’s lady-in-waiting, fussed endlessly over her new outfit. Several minutes later, she stepped back to admire Frédel. She gasped slightly and nodded her approval, “It looks wonderful on you.”

Frédel looked down at the sky blue dress. She couldn’t disagree with its simple, but elegant beauty, but she couldn’t help but think of the previous owner of the dress. What would she think to see Frédel casually wearing her beloved gown? Did she even still live? Plagued by these thoughts, Frédel’s face paled slightly and she nearly lost herself within her own mind yet again.

“Come, quickly!” came the shout that pulled Frédel back into reality. “Wulf King expects your attendance!”

Frédel turned and walked out the door with Réowyn following in tow. She followed the smell and the sounds of the celebration to the main hall. The sounds of clanking mugs and cheering men filled the Golden Hall. Stories of encounters during the battle were retold lavished with unfeasible feats and fearsome foes. The smell of burnt meat, beer, and smoke filled the room and permeated outside and into the cooling night. Though the air was chill outside, the over packed hall was full of searing heat. Low ranking soldiers sat amongst commanding generals, sharing stories and drinks. Only one face was truly isolated from the mix.

Wulf King sat alone upon the throne, looking thoroughly pleased with himself, but beside him sat his advisor, Grewita. Whispering into his ear, Grewita kept Wulf’s attention away from the feast in his honor. A slightly drunk lieutenant approached Wulf, but Grewita sneered slightly and turned him away before he could speak with Wulf and praise his victory. Slightly dejected, but quickly forgetting the incident with another chug of his ale, the lieutenant turned and rejoined his group. General Ugarht looked up and attempted to catch eyes with his new King and glowered at Grewita when he was unable to grasp Wulf’s attention.

In the chaotic scene, virtually no one noticed Frédel enter the hall. However, Wulf’s eye fell upon her almost the moment she entered. He beckoned her closer to him with a wave of his arm. She obeyed with her gaze cast down. She curtseyed and held for a second, giving her great respect for her new King. Wulf dismissed the action with a wave of his hand. “Treat me not so, Lady Frédel,” he said, smiling widely. “I am still your beloved cousin.”

Frédel gave a small smile and nodded but noted the weary look in Grewita’s eye. When Wulf opened his mouth to speak again, Grewita spoke for him. “Wulf King, there is yet business which needs tending and it is far too grim for Lady Frédel’s ears.”

Wulf turned to give him a harsh glare, making Grewita wonder if he’d overstepped his bounds. The look was quickly erased and Grewita sighed softly with relief. Wulf turned back to Frédel. “I fear he is correct, my cousin. A king’s work is never finished. I will call for you when I have a spare moment.”

Respectfully, Frédel nodded, curtseyed once more, and backed away. She felt Grewita’s weary eyes boring holes into her again as she moved away. She sighed audibly, but none could hear her over the loud celebration, not even Réowyn who was still tailing her. Frédel wandered awkwardly throughout the hall, nodding stiffly but politely whenever someone recognized her. It wasn’t long before she grew weary of loud soldiers and the stench that filled the air. The heat was making her slightly woozy and she desperately needed some fresh air.

Dismissing her lady-in-waiting, she made her way through the crowd and out the front doors to the Golden Hall. Though the cold wind bit harshly at her nose and ears, she took a deep breath of the freezing air and felt the extra heat begin to leave her body. Wanting desperately to leave the eyes of the surprised guards behind, she moved from the front gates to the side, until she found herself relatively alone. She stared helplessly up into the dark starlit sky and sighed heavily.


Ealdor was standing in Meduseld watching as Wulf held his victory celebration. Never did the Rohir’s eyes stray far from the face of the enemy king as he sat on Helm’s throne. Through out the day Ealdor had kept a close watch on Wulf whenever the chance permitted. But this was no easy task and so here amid the celebration din Ealdor kept his watch. All about him the men spoke of their tales in battle. Some were clearly exaggerated but Ealdor paid little heed. Setting down his tankard and rising to his feet the Rohir made his way slowly toward Wulf.

All through the day as he had kept his eye on Wulf, Ealdor had plotted revenge not only for Haleth but for Rohan. Each plan was as foolish as the next. Ealdor knew this, knew he was more then likely to have been killed in the process and yet still it was a chance he was willing to take. His siblings cast from his thought as he drew closer, Ealdor’s hidden dagger sliding into place in his palm. And as he neared Ealdor prepared himself to drive the dagger into Wulf when someone caught his eye. Wulf turned and waved the maiden forward. And watching as she came forward, Ealdor recognised her. There was no mistaking the dress that she was clad in and her hair. Indryhten!

Frozen in place Ealdor wondered if his sister was prisoner to Wulf. But no, Indryhten wouldn’t allow it, she would die before bending to an enemy’s will. As the maiden bowed to Wulf, Ealdor saw that it was not his sister but another clad in Indryhten’s wear. Ealdor thought her beautiful and yet sad. Knowing he had missed his chance Ealdor altered his path and went to stand in the shadows. He had been so certain that it had been Indryhten, Ealdor had not seen her since before the battle and he wondered at her fate as well as Gloedwine’s. With a sigh the disguised Rohir knew then that if he acted foolishly in seeking revenge he would never learn if his kin lived, if they had reached the Deep along with Helm. If he was to get revenge Ealdor must be smart, he must get Wulf alone.

Moving from the shadows Ealdor, went out into the night, the cold wind greeting him as he did so. Silently he walked down the stairs of the hall and sat on the last one. For a time he sat there wondering just how it was that the maiden Wulf had greeted came into possession of Indryhten’s clothing. But his thoughts were interrupted when the doors of the Golden Hall were opened again and Ealdor turned to see the woman who had just been in his thoughts. She moved from the sight of the guards and Ealdor climbed to his feet wondering if he should speak with her. After a moment of wrestling with this thought Ealdor sighed and climbing the stairs he went to her. The maiden’s gaze was cast skywards and Ealdor remained a few paces behind her as he spoke.
“Why do you not celebrate with Wulf King, my lady?” He asked.

Frédel spun about at the sudden voice behind her. Her breath was stolen from her for a moment as clutched at her chest with one of her cold hands. She quickly regained her composure and nodded slightly in respect for the warrior. In the moment of a fraction of a second, she contemplated her answer. She knew she could not reveal her true feelings to this loyal soldier of Wulf’s army, for it would mean death for treason. But instead must come up with a believable excuse for her actions.

“The smoke burned my eyes and the heat charred my skin,” Frédel admitted, though it was half true, she wasn’t sure how convincing it was. “I desired a breath of fresh, cold air.” As if to prove her point, she suddenly shivered from a strong wind from the east.

Her thoughts suddenly turned to the warrior before her; he, too, had not joined in on the festivities of his fellow soldiers. She had not expected any sort of company when she ventured outside the Golden Hall and yet here was one of Wulf’s soldiers, away from the celebration. As her eye penetrated the suspicious soldier further, she saw a blood thirst that had yet to be quenched. Before a look of disgust could be seen upon her face, she turned away from the soldier and looked back into the sky, but said, with a hint of bitterness she could not hide with what she considered to be praising words, “Why is one of Wulf King’s finest not enjoying the glorious celebration of our praised victory?”

It was obvious to Ealdor that he had startled the young maid, but she recovered quickly and gave her reason for being away from the celebrations. Her bitterness was clear in her question and Ealdor cast his gaze down as the maiden’s returned to the sky. “Why indeed.” Ealdor said almost to himself and he shifted as a strong, cold wind came to chill them again. Ealdor’s thoughts were wandering as he thought about his siblings and if they would be travelling in this cold.

“I find my thoughts to far away to be enjoying the festivities.” Ealdor said after a quiet moment. “And the smoke was starting to cloud my eyes.” He added with a wan smile. The rohirrim would use any reason to leave the company of those strange men and their battle talk. But now his attention was drawn to this maiden and he was curious to know the relationship that held her to Wulf. Was she kin? Yet as much as Ealdor wanted to know the question wouldn’t come and died on his lips before he gave up.
“I am Ealdor, lady.” the rohirrim offered his name and at last looked to the stars, their cold and distant beauty seemed strange to Ealdor tonight and quickly he looked away.

Frédel gave Ealdor a respectful nod as she regained her composure. The surprise appearance of this lone soldier had completely dissipated. She, too, turned back to look at the stars and noticed from the corner of her eye that he turned his gaze from their shining light. This soldier further puzzled her as her mind cleared from the confusion he had originally posed upon her. She couldn’t help but notice the more casual tone of his voice and actions. Never before had a common soldier dared approach her, as Wulf could be rather protective of his beloved cousin. She could only guess that he was a common soldier, as she’d never before seen him. To her knowledge, she had seen all of Wulf’s top advisors and generals, anyone who could possibly speak to her on less than formal terms. Whereas she might have normally been offended by such an act by a lowly soldier, she couldn’t help but feel the exact opposite. It was as if she could sense something familiar about this soldier and she almost could sense a bond forming between them.

As they stood silently Ealdor too felt that the silence wasn't uneasy. In fact in this maiden's presence Ealdor was calmed and he felt the first hint at friendship. His rage forgotten for the moment. From where they stood the sounds of drunken laughter could be heard as ales were raised and toasts were repeatedly made for a fellow soliders who told of their time in the battle.

A cold wind ran across the plains and tugged at the banners and it sent a chill through Elador. He looked at the maiden beside him.
"Have you seen much of Edoras?" he asked breaking the quiet between them and turned and went to stand beside the brightly burning beacon. "Come and warm your hands." Elador said and unfastened his cloak and offered it to her when another wind sent a shiver through the maiden. The beacons flames danced in the wind but the warmth it offered was far better then any Ealdor would find within Meduseld.

Frédel gladly accepted the rohir’s cloak. She fastened it around her neck and wrapped herself within its thick wool. Absorbing the warmth from the large fire, she watched it dance this way and that in the strong winds. As her eye followed the chaotic swaying of the fire, her mind wandered back to her most secret of thoughts.

Her beloved cousin had started a war with Helm King and his people. There would be no way to turn back the clock and undo the tragedy. She had been powerless to stop the oncoming storm, powerless to make Wulf see reason. What could a woman do in such times? Even one with as great of status as she was unable to sway the heart of her closest relative and closest friend. These thoughts plagued her mind as she forgot her present situation and company.

Ealdor had been watching the flames of the beacon as they moved with the winter winds. The silence between the two strangers grew and Ealdor looked to the maid. Her face expressed how deeply lost in thought she was.

"My lady?" he questioned as he felt the tug of the cold breeze at his dunlending cloth. He knew they must soon return to the warmth of the Hall. Ealdor knew also his room would no longer be his. Nothing from his previous life would ever be his, not while he wore this disguise. "My lady, perhaps we should return to the Hall?" Ealdor asked as the first flakes of fresh snow were starting to fall.

Frédel felt her mind being pulled back to reality suddenly by the words of the Rider beside her. Though the words he had spoken had fallen upon deaf ears, she had heard the words “return” and “Hall” and was able to guess his meaning. She nodded with a faint smile.

A guard emerged from the main doors and his eyes fell upon the two stargazers. “Lady Frédel!” the guard exclaimed, bowing low. “Lord Wulf has requested your presence.” He kept his head and eye low as he held open the door for her.

Frédel turned to Ealdor and smiled. “I fear I must take my leave of you,” she said, keeping a faint smile on her lips. “Perhaps our paths will cross yet again, should the smoke of the fires once more cloud our eyes.”

Frédel turned and walked through the door the guard had held open for her without a second glance. The guard bowed his head lower as she passed and dared to turn and look at Ealdor. Though his eyes were full of questions, he simply turned and followed Frédel through the doors and disappeared within. His curiosity of why Lady Frédel kept company with such a lowly Rider would not be satisfied that night.

“Lady Fredel?” Ealdor asked looking from the guard to the newly identified woman beside him. When Fredel bid Ealdor farewells he bowed his head in the due respect. And then she was gone, the guard glanced back at him briefly before following Fredel. Ealdor remained outside and after a time he glanced back at the hall. No, he would not return there. Instead the disguised Rohir turned and walked down the steps into the streets of Edoras.

The merriment from Meduseld could still be heard as Ealdor returned to the house he had claimed when he took up the life of Dunlander. He did not light the fire but lay down before the empty hearth thinking over everything he had said to Fredel and again wondering at her connection to Wulf…
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