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~Stella~ElemmÃrë of Varda and Merry\'s Illustrated SupperPosts: 1167 Send Message |
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Re: A New Chapter (Open) on: September 07, 2012 10:50
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JP post between me and Stella
Aragorn finished his meeting with Hingaer, and went in search of his wife. The council was to start in a day, and he was eager to check in with Elrohir. He did want to know if his half-brother was to attend the council, but that was not his primary reason of seeking the elf out. Concern for Elrohir drove him.
He met Arwen just outside of Elrohir’s door. “How is he?” he asked.
Arwen shook her head. “He acts well, but I do not know if I believe him. A visit from his other brother will do him good.”
Aragorn nodded, and knocked on the chamber door.
Elrohir had returned to his seat at the table once his sister had left. The spacious room felt lonely without any other being in it and the large table felt unneeded for just one soul. In fact, he felt awkward at such a dining spot. Why Gondor furnished a dining hall table for a guest room, the elf did not know.
Sitting there, he picked at his food. He eyed the small slice of boar and picked it up. Taking a nibble, Elrohir put it down. Chewing slowly, he managed to swallow. It was laborious to eat (as was even sitting up or breathing), but at least he was trying.
Hearing a knock at the door, Elrohir stood. With graceful steps, he reached the entrance with a couple strides. Smoothing the wrinkles from his clothes, he opened it.
“My brother,” whispered Elrohir. He bowed to the King and stepped aside. “Do come in. Arwen just left.”
Aragorn nodded. He felt a bit guilty for not seeing his brother earlier. Even though the King had much on his mind, he let none of his emotions show, for the sake of Elrohir. Aragorn did not want to worry the elf further.
He looked at the barely touched plate of food. “I know you do not wish to but you must eat, háno. I am not as forgiving as your sister,” he jested.
“But nevermind that,” he said quickly. Aragorn was not sure how to address the elf. They had always been close, of course, but now, it seemed that something was missing. Elrohir was now different, half of him gone. Their relationship strained.
“I hate to bring this up, Ro, but I will you be attending the council?”
Elrohir sighed as he looked at the plate as Aragorn did. Very little was missing and he knew he should eat. However, it was a struggle. The dark-haired elf looked back at his adoptive brother.
“I am trying. I really am,” he promised. “It is just hard. Swallowing proves to be the most challenging. It wants to stick. So, I am taking it slowly. I will get the food down, don’t worry. Perhaps after I rest it will be easier. I am weary, brother.”
Elrohir went to the window and peered out at the city below him. He leaned against the stone and closed his eyes. Shrugging, he said, “Arwen asked me that as well and I do not know. If my presence will bring war, I will not. I do not wish for battle. Elladan would not want it. There was far too much bloodshed that night.”
Opening his eyes, he turned and looked at Aragorn. “I worry that going to the council will be my downfall. I am being hunted, Elessar. The people who killed our brother seek me as well. The reign of Elrond still lives within me. The assassins will not rest until I am found. They made that quite clear on my ride here. I could hardly shake them.”
Aragorn looked at Elrohir grimly. “I will protect you; I will not lose you too. I will do everything in my power to keep you safe. The only ones that will be present at the council are all trusted, yes, even Éomer. Even if Rohan is behind this Éomer is sensible and will not seek your blood. He may be responsible for the actions of his people but he is not a savage.
We need you there… I need you there. We must determine who attacked Rivendell! We cannot let Elladan’s murderers go unpunished! War and conflict is coming, brother, whether you wish to see it or not. You have fought beside me many times against the evil of Sauron, have you forgotten? I do not wish for bloodshed either but it cannot always be avoided.”
“Like I protected Elladan? Brother, I fear that there is only so much you can do.” asked Elrohir. “I fear my time is drawing to a close. I do not seek death, but it seeks me.” The elf shivered a little and rubbed his arms.
“You were not there. Those men, they were savages. They sight blood and destruction. I never though the Rohirrium were capable of such brutality and I would have trusted Eomer with my life. But, not now.”
He sighed. “I feel it will not go well and the seeds of war will be spread further with this council. I am very apprehensive of this meeting,” Elrohir replied. He shook his head. “There is still a few days for me to decide. I might change my mind by then.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t want Elladan’s murderers unpunished. I just don’t want war to come about because of it,” he said. “Of course I have not forgotten. It is due to that war I wish naught to fight. We are still recovering from that.”
Elrohir left his spot and sat down in a chair at the table. “Join me,” he requested.brushing his hair over his shoulder, he then picked up the boar and took another bite.
“You did what you could, Elrohir. Do not blame yourself for Elladan’s death. And nothing is for certain, yet. Perhaps it was not the Rohirrim who were behind this. It could have been rogues, even.”
Aragorn sighed. “The memory of the War of the Ring is still fresh on my mind, too. But it seems fate will have me fight wars the rest of my life. I fear I have no reprieve from that, and I envy the elves who are able to sail away from the troubles of this world.”
At Elrohir’s request, Aragorn sat reluctantly at the table, and watched the elf start to eat.
“I am afraid I am not hungry, brother. I know. The irony. Here I am pushing you when I will not.”
Elrohir quirked an eyebrow and shook his head after he swallowed his bite. “You don’t know that. Even I don’t know that to be true. However, in my heart I know more could’ve been done. If our spots were reversed, Elladan would’ve done more,” he replied with a sigh.
“If it was not the Rohirrim, then who was it? I saw their helmets, their swords, and their shields. There was no mistaking their emblems,” said Elrohir. “Do you doubt my eyes?”
Elrohir shook his head. “The life after leaving Middle Earth would bore you, brother,” he said with a thin smile. “You would quickly tire of peace. You always enjoyed a wanton lifestyle upon the road. How have you liked being King and staying within the castle’s walls?”
“You have probably eaten in the last day or two. I haven’t eaten a thing since I left Rivendell. I had naught a time to find sustenance,” Elrohir said. “So, I think it is more prudent than I eat then you.” He picked up a hunk of bread and bit into it.
After chewing and swallowing, Elrohir continued, “I find it easier to eat in the company of kin. This long table was quite lonely and awkward with just one person. It feels more suited to a hall then guest chambers.”
“I have investigated their armor and weapons myself, brother. I do not….” Aragorn sighed. “Nothing is certain.”
“I admit, life in Minas Tirith can be dull. But my duties keep me occupied.”
Aragorn looked at the huge table he and Elrohir sat at. It was rather ridiculously large.
“If it makes you feel in better, Elrohir, this table was already here when I arrived. It was certainly not my idea to put such a long table in a guest room!”
“I know nothing is certain, but brother, I know what I saw. There is no mistaking a Rohirrim blade or mark,” the elf replied. “I would tell you a fallacy.”
He raised an eyebrow and shook his head. “Having your days occupied does not mean that you aren’t bored,” retorted Elrohir in his ‘wise’ voice. “Even now you want to be out on the plains or in the woods hunting and doing whatnot.”
He couldn’t help but chuckle. “I did not think you chose this piece for the antechamber. Perhaps when things are calmer, you can request the redecorating of the guest’s chambers,” he suggested as he picked up a few grapes and ate them after finishing the piece of bread. The elf studied the plate – half the meat was gone, most of the grapes had been eaten, and no bread was left.
Swallowing, he pushed the plate away. “Does that satisfy you, brother? I do not think I could eat any more right now,” Elrohir said.
Aragorn just shook his head. Everything was so confusing. As much as he would like to cast doubt in Éomer’s favor, things were not looking good. The evidence was condemning.
“Indeed, I miss my days of rangering.”
He looked at the now half-empty plate.”Very good. I shall get you a toy for good marks,” he jested.
Elrohir smirked. “I will hold you to your word, Elessar,” he remarked.
“I must go now, I have many things that scream for my attention. However, I will try to not make myself scarce to you, Elrohir.”
The elf nodded. “There is no rest for the wicked, eh,” he asked.
Aragorn smiled, and then left the room.
Elrohir watched as Aragorn left. He then stood. Smoothing his tunic, the elf exited the chamber and strode through the halls in hopes to find something to occupy his mind.
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Re: A New Chapter (Open) on: October 28, 2012 01:19
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Ta-dum. Ta-dum. Ta-dum.
The steady beating of the drums pervaded the air. Horses shifted anxiously under their riders’ weight. It was the silence before the storm as the Rohirrim waited on the word of Éomer. The word that Warg-riders threatened the road ahead turned all attention from the journey to Minas Tirith to the present danger. Great steed loping back and forth in front of his people, the king called out orders, “Women, children, return to your homes immediately! Bar your doors and do not open them save for my command!” His horse turned a pace and cantered in front of Éowyn and his queen Lothíriel. “My ladies, see that the women and children obey my orders. Turn all to their homes or to Melduseld, and have the gates secured!” One more turn, and his final orders. “All riders, hearken to me! We must haste! Make ready for battle for we have no time to spare! Haleth, remain behind and lead the second onslaught for we will need your reinforcements. I shall lead the first.” As the stallion slowed and halted in front of Merry and Sam, both garbed and geared for travel. “My friends, I would have you stay behind, but I see in your eyes it is not to be. Falac, Atherol!” He motioned two Riders who immediately responded to his command. “You will bear these Halflings in the second wave. Keep them at your side, and guard them with your very lives.” Everyone scurried off to do his bidding, and a mass movement both inside and outside the walls of Edoras ensued.
Summoning his standard bearer, Éomer formed his original twoscore Riders into four lines of ten. “ These men bear the likenesses of our Gondorian cousins. Do not strike to kill the men, only disarm. But give their vermin steeds no mercy!” The young lad raised the banner on which was wrought the white horse of Rohan on a forest green background. “We ride! We ride for our brethren, for our safety! Forth Eorlingas, and turn the sky red this day!” With a shout, his horse reared, and the company broke into a slow gallop. In the distance could be sighted the enemy, no more than a league away. There were no more than fourscore, but they appeared lethal.
Time seemed to pass slowly. One moment Éomer unsheathed his sword and lowered his sturdy wooden shield, and the next the two masses of bodies surged together in battle. The Riders met the Warg-riders at a breakneck pace and crashed in a cacophony of metal and wood. Almost immediately cries sounded as horses and Wargs went down. Éomer plunged into the heart of battle and laid about cutting the Gondorians from their Wargs. Some of his Riders shoved their infamous long pikes into the barrel-shaped chests of the animals, their lifeblood soon dyeing the tawny ground red and turning it into a sticky, slippery mess. True to their oath, the Riders sought not to slay their fellow Men, but many soon were knocked unconscious. For the moment, both sides remained in a deadlock, neither gaining nor giving ground.
The next rush of Eorlingas soon changed the tide of battle. Although the Wargs were fearsome beasts, their riders were clearly not well-trained to successfully maneuver them much less fight from their backs. Once the second group of Riders charged in with full battle regalia, the Warg-riders attempted to retreat in fear. Morale broken, they kicked their Wargs around, but Éomer’s men were in full pursuit. Within a short period of time, most Wargs lay writhing or dead on the ground. A few managed to get away, but the Eorlingas secured about fifty within a circle of pointed pikes and blades. Disarmed, they remained silent and sullen, staring at their captors with eyes glistening with hate. Éomer rode through the blades and gave voice to his thoughts. “Now what are Gondorians doing riding Wargs within my borders? I should not think you are under the jurisdiction of King Aragorn.” He dismounted and beckoned a few others to remove the helms from several of the men.
Men not of Gondorian stock glared at them but still said nothing as their guises were removed. “You bear not the likenesses of our Southern neighbors,” Éomer remarked in surprise, hiding his disgust at their actions. “You are of the North for you have the countenance and demeanor of Bree-landers. I should wonder why you venture so far south on the backs of Wargs. Who among you will answer for the whole?” he challenged authoritatively, his voice carrying through the circle. “In whose employ are you? Why have you threatened my people?”
A scuffle arose from amongst the Rohirrim, and Haleth brought forth a scrawny lad of no more than thirteen years old. “Lord Éomer, there was to be an attempt on your life. This young man carries orders for your life to be taken, and he possesses a poisoned dagger. The note bears no signature, however. What would you have me do?”
Eyes upon him, Éomer did some quick thinking. “I will bring the lad and another few with me to Minas Tirith as prisoners. There they will explain the nature of their business under pain of death. Haleth, lead the remainder to Helm’s Deep and leave them under the guard of Barden. Our forces will be split, half to Helm’s Deep and half to Minas Tirith. Then, Haleth, return with your men to Edoras, and you are my right-hand man until my return.” He then focused his attention on his Second Marshal. “Falac, ride back to Edoras and summon Éowyn to me. I will have need of her in the White City.”
---
Back in Edoras, the process of returning the city’s inhabitants to their homes was rough but effective. Neither the queen nor her sister-in-law had seen any true danger to their people, but it was enough to convince the citizens to follow orders and not panic. As they waited in the Melduseld, Éowyn saw the moment for a rare conversation with her husband’s wife. As of late, Éowyn had been mourning her separation from Faramir. The growing tension between the two regions had kept Faramir in Minas Tirith and strained their relationship. They had hoped to wed sooner than later, but she could see no such occasion occurring for the near future. And if they went to war…
“Sister, why do you fret?” Lothíriel asked softly, noticing the vacant look on Éowyn’s face. They sat in the presence chamber within Melduseld, waiting anxiously for some word of their men. “Surely we are not in any real danger. Or is there something else? Your face speaks of concern and worry.” The queen was an unusually perceptive woman, something Éowyn often noted with a mixture of annoyance and relief. The pair became fast friends upon the daughter of Imrahil’s arrival in Edoras.
“It is Faramir,” Éowyn admitted, returning her gaze from the wooden wall to Lothíriel. “I like not this game of chess we play with Aragorn. First we make one move, and then he makes another. All the while we contemplate his next move, his next aggression, his next retreat!” she ground her fist into a table in frustration. “Your cousin is caught by the king’s side, and I fear he will not leave it. I cannot hope for no war between us despite the efforts made by my brother. If the king’s council is bent on war, then we will not have the resources to fight it. And that might mean the end of Faramir and I!”
Lothíriel placed a comforting hand on Éowyn’s shoulder. “Éowyn, keep faith. A disagreement does not mean that he will abandon you. You two share a special bond, one that is strengthened through the union of your brother and myself. That will hold strong throughout this ordeal.”
“But I fear that closeness will serve as only a wrench! How can we be certain he will not remain neutral?” She stared at the simple diamond ring that served as the promise of marriage between Faramir and herself. The lady twisted it in agitation. “But why worry about the future before it becomes the present?”
“Exactly. In the meantime, we will work for peace. When you return to Éomer, I know wholeheartedly the both of you will not agitate the king. If anything, dear sister, I have faith in you.”
Éowyn smiled, but almost as soon as she began speaking, the doors opened and Falac rushed in. He made his report and brought forth Éomer’s summon. “We are well, and all business can begin as usual, your Majesty. But Lady Éowyn, you must leave now. Lord Éomer cannot tarry any longer.” With a quick farewell to the queen, Éowyn rushed to join her brother.
---
The Bree-landers stared in awe as a Thyrin’s company descended on the city. In front rode the dark-haired, blue-eyed Northerner with his two children, his son Matthias and his daughter Adrienne. In appearance, the siblings could not have looked any more different. Matthias had inherited the dark-haired, grey-eyed look of those from Dol Amroth, the southernmost fief of Gondor. Their mother was a descendant of Ivriniel, daughter of Adrahil, and therefore another cousin of Faramir and Lothíriel. That bloodline had passed down to Matthias. Adrienne on the other hand took on the appearance of a woman from Eriador, particularly near Bree. She had green eyes and chestnut hair which was a mark of her Gondorian heritage (Thyrin’s family originated in Gondor). It was oft noted that they were a handsome family, close-knit and proud.
They took up residence in the Inn of the Prancing Pony for a couple of days while Thyrin gathered information. His contacts passed onto him snippets of news from around the region, particularly regarding Imladris. Thyrin knew that Elrohir had fled south and that he was pursued. He also knew Hingaer had arrived in Minas Tirith, and it was this that concerned him the most. The lord of Annúminas suspected that Hingaer was connected with those who assaulted Imladris. But he had a neutral opinion on Éomer’s involvement because of a lack of evidence to his knowledge.
His concerns caused him to seek out the bartender Butterbur and gauge the old man’s thoughts. “Burly!” Thyrin called, tapping the bar to get the man’s attention.
Butterbur finished wiping clean a glass and squinted at Thyrin through its clear bottom. “Thyrin, m’lad! What news d’ye have from the lake?”
“Not much, my friend. I have come here to not discuss pleasantries, Burly. I’m on errand to Minas Tirith. What know you of Rohan’s involvement in the attack on Rivendell?”
Butterbur sputtered and coughed to clear his throat then leaned in conspiratorially. “I dunno much, Thyrin, but I do know they found a Rohanian messenger among them. But ye know me, in one ear and out the other, as I allus say!”
“So you do, Burly, so you do.” Knowing no more information was forthcoming that night, Thyrin retired to his room. But he was not alone as his hand turned the brass knob on his door…
---
Gimli, bored and fed up with not being told anything, sought Faramir out. The Lord of Aglarond knew Aragorn was probably busy with Elrohir and so the dwarf sought counsel with the Prince of Ithilien. He reached the door and knocked. Gimli’s face shadowed with surprise as the door opened to both Faramir and Aragorn. He sputtered and said, “My lords! I hope I have not interrupted any secret meetins’. I only wanted a word with Lord Faramir.”
"There is no such thing as a geek, just those who love things the rest of humanity finds weird."
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