7 Fourth Age: And So Comes A New Year [MP]

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7 Fourth Age: And So Comes A New Year [MP]; [ Open ]
Topic Started: 2 Jan 2009, 06:00 PM (582 Views)
Deleted User	2 Jan 2009, 06:00 PM Post #1
Deleted User	What there was to celebrate, Erchirion did not know. Orcs were attacking the Riddermark regularly, a rumor of the Lieutenant of Barad-dur had frightened the people, and now Thul-in-Gyrth was sweeping through the kingdoms of the West. But it would be bad form, a sign of submission, to not celebrate the day Sauron had been defeated seven years ago. The party was noticeably subdued this year. With so many ill in Minas Tirith, it had been moved out of Merethrond, for starters. As the Prince of Dol Amroth moved through the crowd, he saw the players, merchants, and entertainers were spread thin this year. Erchirion reckoned they too had suffered from Thul-in-Gyrth. In the gardens of the Steward’s home, a great pavilion had been raised. From within, Erchirion could hear the sound of his cousin Faramir giving the welcome speech. He probably should have been inside listening to the speech and feasting with the nobles, but he had always enjoyed these open air celebrations where the people milled around, chomping on oversized chicken legs and candied apples. “This is Gondor,” Erchirion said aloud, though more to himself than the people around him.
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Deleted User	3 Jan 2009, 01:03 AM Post #2
Deleted User	Amongst the crowd that lingered just outside the grand pavillion, Gwenneth - daughter to the freshly fallen chamber of Gondor, strolled alone and at her leisure. She had come to the celebration for a good many reasons, the first being a duty to her home and the second to show the whispering ninnies she was far from hiding in shame from her fathers actions. In fact the scholar had taken up a new passion and determination to prove herself quite the opposite. She would tutor herself in lessons of laws, politics and the diplomat tactics. Striving to one day become an officiant of Gondor instead of the healer she had once aspired to be. And what better way to become studious and astute in the measures of such thing than by interacting and observing? It was then that Gwenneth paused and slowly turned her head. The words that the Prince of Dol Amroth had spoken catching the attention of her ears as she stood only a few paces adjacent to him. The dark blue of her eyes lighten with an amiable curiosity as she offers Erchirion a smile of sunlight and repose. It is obvious however that her observation of him is deeper and more detailed than most. Innately she dips into a listless curtsy before rising and allowing her eyes languidly to drift around as if truly inspecting her surroundings for the first time. Demurely she responds while the slow sweep of her stare navigates it's way back to Erchirion's. Traversing along his frame only far enough to seek his mid torso before it ascends back up again. Her stare, surprisingly more serious than other flirtatious beauties, suggests a wisdom to look past his handsome features and more closely at his soul. "A greater beauty there is none than the strength and courage that remains in a people, in a place such as Gondor, during its suffering. It is made stronger for it and by it." she says speaking in a soft tone and nods her head. "That is Gondor."
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Deleted User	6 Jan 2009, 12:14 AM Post #3
Deleted User	It was…unnerving to be here, she hadn’t been in such a large crowd for so long, and it was suffocating, it made her jump and she quickly turned around to apologize for her recent blunder before she spun around and with the quickest look around to make sure that she wouldn’t be missed, the young female fled. Her light green dress flowing out as she practically ran out of the crowd, fleeing across the floor, her shoes clacking in her haste. Reaching down as soon as she was happily out of sight, her hands reached down to yank the shoes off her feet and grip them tightly, keeping her hold on who she was meant to be, whilst having the feeling of being free come over her once again, alone, running away from things that worried for scared her, but she was free. It was then that she glanced upwards to the sky, grinning brightly at the beautiful look that was cast down on their festivities. It was only her ears pricking up at voices that she bothered to pay any attention to where she had escaped. The first voice, she recognized and immediately ducked out of sight at it. To escape meant she was supposed to not be caught playing the part she was not supposed to the playing, but the second voice was new, someone she didn’t know, and she smiled again, the discussion causing her to glance up at the sky once again. They were right. Gondor was not a city, it never had been a city, it had been the people, it had been the kings, even Denethor, to some extent, it had all been Gondor. Gripping the shoes close to her chest and closing her eyes with something she couldn’t place. Just…the thought of those dying caused her to be so, so thankful for everything she had, even if she ran for a bit of wild freedom at every chance she got. She was grateful, oh so grateful, and placing her shoes down next to her feet, she proved it. Her hands cupped together neatly against her chest, her bright eyes closed, and blonde hair falling forward. She was thankful. And she proved it.
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Deleted User	6 Jan 2009, 01:50 AM Post #4
Deleted User	This was sopose to be a party in celebration of the New Year. And while it seemed that some were content to 'party', few others were mourning the loss of loved ones. Loved ones taken by the sickness. Arwen had to be the bearer of bad news to Faramir, telling him about his wife. And she was sure that many in Ithilien would know soon as the Princess of Ithilien would not be making an appearance tonight. It was a sad time and yet a happy time all in one. Many had tried to persuade her to stay in Minas Tirith, not to travel during this time. But for the people, she had to come. She had to be here that was just all there was to it. Though it was deffinatly not quite as much fun as the past celebrations for the New Years. . Her husband had more pressing business than that of attending a party. Some where out on the dance floor, dancing around to the music, while others were sitting at tables, laughing, making merry. To her it was strange how they were reacting. When her mother had been attacked, it was as if the whole of Imladris was covered in sadness. And even now, with all the deaths from the illness, Arwen could feel the sadness around. The people were just showing their emotions in the ways that they knew how. And what better way to drown your sorrows then by music and laughing.
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Deleted User	6 Jan 2009, 03:09 PM Post #5
Deleted User	He hadn’t slept peacefully since he had seen the notice, his sister – her haunting – hadn’t let him. He had only had dreams of sitting with her on the Pelennor Fields and discussing things that he would rather avoid. Including the celebration. Faelyn sat there next to him in a soft yellow dress, her bright blue eyes positively glowing in the thought of a celebration. She had laughed and tugged on his rough and calloused hand to dance with him. He needed the practice, apparently. He had declined, pulling his hand away with a irritated sigh only to glance up and see the hurt expression on her face. It was an expression he always hated on her, even when she had been alive it was something he hated to see. He never wanted her to be sad or unhappy, and even in her death he was making her so. She sat down again and looked up to the sky, silent for a long time to the point where it started to settle in that uncomfortable way around them. And then, she started to talk. And so, here he was. At the celebration, of…a new year, he couldn’t help but think it to be an insult whilst people were still sick and dying within Gondor’s borders. His heart ached for all the families who were affected, the whole situation a little bit close to home for his own liking, but here, within the festivities, it felt worse. He sat quite far away from the party, looking a lot better for wear than he had been in many years, but still very much like the wanderer he had been before Diore had found his collapsed body on the Pelennor Fields. He didn’t feel like standing and dancing and celebrating, although he knew that he probably should, otherwise there would have been very little point in coming. Yet the uncomfortable feeling he always felt whenever he was not within the wild forests and hunting prevented him from getting up and doing the very thing Faelyn had “brought” him here to do. He doubted that would make her give up though. He was here, and that was the first step. The next few were probably going to be a harsh shove forward.
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Deleted User	6 Jan 2009, 03:31 PM Post #6
Deleted User	Erchirion saw the Lady Gwenneth approaching, and acknowledged her with a bow. Not normally inclined to follow such courtly propriety, this was a rare sign of respect from the Prince of Dol Amroth. He found her brave and noble, like so few of the titled Gondorians. “Mae Govannen, Lady Gwenneth. I’m rather surprised to see you here so soon after your father ....” From the groans and coughs of the aristocrats loitering around him, Erchirion understood his statement was one of those things meant to be thought and whispered about in private quarters, but never spoken aloud in public. He also realized he would be sending Lady Gwenneth a formal, written apology and many fine gifts tomorrow. “Pardon my frank words,” Erchirion stated genuinely. “I have not the gift of a silver tongue like your Ladyship. I am a man of action, not one of words. I wish to redeem myself to you, however I may do so." There were distractions all around this celebration, one being a girl who looked very much like his sister’s Lady-in-Waiting running around barefoot and hiding in a bush. Erchirion shook his head, for once keeping silent. Another being a sorry looking man off skulking away from others. The man wore the clothes of a Northern Ranger. The Dunedain were well respected in Gondor, being the King’s own kin. Yet this one did not wear the livery of the King’s House, which seemed to Erchirion a great disrespect at this particular celebration. “Does anyone know this morose Ranger?” Erchirion asked, in a carrying voice while pointing at the man. “I’ve not seen him in the King’s company nor among the Gray Company. Is he a deserter, do you know? Bold of him to show up if it is so. He might be arrested and punished for dereliction or worse.” Erchirion would have insulted the morose man further, but he was shocked to see Queen Arwen present. Erchirion, like so many Gondorians, had been captured in her spell from the first moment he had laid eyes on her at Elessar’s coronation. As a dutiful subject and admirer, he bowed low to her. “You honor us with your presence, my Queen. May I escort you to the pavilion where my cousin Faramir awaits us?” Much as Erchirion did not want to enter the tent, he did not expect the Queen of Gondor and Arnor, a majestic Elven Lady who had chosen death over immortality for love, to stand around the lawn making small talk with lesser nobles. She was surely far above such things. Translation: Mae Govannen = Well met
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Deleted User	6 Jan 2009, 07:48 PM Post #7
Deleted User	There was an innate and impressive subtly, in the way Gwenneth managed the inspecting stare of her steamy, blue eyes. Their prowess easily sweeping past the Prince for a moment and to his 'flock' wiith an easy and intelligent stare. She knew coming would have them all whispering, looking at her with eyes of distrust as if she had committed the same treacherous actions as her father and stone her for it as well. "On the contrary" Gwenneth manages a polite tilt of her head to his dignataries and then looks back to Erchirion. "I'll not pardon my father for his vile and blatant treachery to a place I've called heart and home for a lifetime. So you'll need not pardon yourself for your words or your surprise. A less stalwart person would have whispered contently behind my back." She says challenging, indirectly, the crowd of his officiants with this statement. "You spoke truth, I need no apology for such." There, she pauses. Meeting the Prince with a steady glaze of her eyes. She speaks formally and acts, even as she curtsys -somehow dismissing him from her presence- with not a snobbery but the invigorating thrall of a woman that knows her own power. And there in that is an unspoken notion in her eyes that suggests, for some unapparent reason, she might not like him. Gwenneth steps aside, allowing the Queen her rightul room of entry. Curtsy's until her leg and knee has met the ground and bows her head in reverance. Arwen is a lady of worth, not just because she wears the crown, but because she carries the air of respect, wisdom and honor. One day, she hopes, to meet her more personally.
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Deleted User	6 Jan 2009, 08:55 PM Post #8
Deleted User	Thank goodness it was good weather. Like Eru himself wanted it to be good. But with so much darkness and despair, she just could not seem to get in the spirit of the party. That was when she notice a commotion. It seemed that someone was getting 'called out' for something. But who were the two men. One's voice carried above everything and had an 'air' about it. The other man had not responded. It just seemed to add to the thickness of the air. But it was not but a second after that, the first voice had approached her. Arwen studied the man and tried to recall his name. Faramir was his cousin. . He was fair of face as well as voice. Almost as if there was some elven to him. This must be the Prince of Dol Amroth. "I thank you for your offer" Arwen said with a smile. "But if you do not wish to proceed to the party, then I wish not to be a bother." Though she knew that no one would think her a bother. As they were walking, one person caught her eye. Aragorn had mentioned to her the pain and suffering that this lady had went through. "Lady Gwenneth. I am sorry to hear about your father. Would you not join us?" Arwen knew that her husband thought highly of the Lady, and there would be more than enough room.
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Deleted User	7 Jan 2009, 03:02 AM Post #9
Deleted User	It unnerved him, all of this, it was almost like they were asking for something to happen. To celebrate and be happy despite sadness wrecking havoc over Gondor, it was practically challenging the fates to hurl something at them, and it down right worried Esril. Frowning a little and bringing his hand up to his mouth slightly, running his thumb thoughtfully along his bottom lip before practically jumping at the loud voice that was quite obviously referring to himself. Glancing up and over to the man Esril felt the sheer annoyance ebbing into his senses, and the faint warning voice at the back of him mind reminding him to control what he said and who he said it to. Still, it was not within his nature, nor he doubted anyone elses to take such a acusation without worry. “My Lord I am curious, are you always this accusing or am I blessed with some sort of luck today?” his voice was soft and quiet, quite the opposite of whom he was speaking to. “A deserter is a coward and would not be foolish enough to ever come here, I am neither of these things, please think before you insult people, my Lord, it will save you many apologies and gifts” He knew he did not exactly look how he should, but what he wore was all he had, and being parted from his family – for, that was how he saw them – in so long, Esril lacked quite a few things that made it comfortable for him to sit in the current moving world. His uniform had changed, he wore clothing that was light but warm, something he could lose if need be. It was some of the reason why he never enjoyed being within walls, or gatherings, he wasn’t ready, both socially and appearance. The soon-to-be argument was interrupted by the presence of the Queen, and much like the man he had been close to arguing with, Esril bowed. He also heard the soft voice beside his ear that made him smile. ”Oh my god, Esril, she’s so pretty!” But daren’t cast to look over his shoulder for his sister’s apparition, instead he simply stood once more, allowing the man before him to move his attention elsewhere. Thanking the Valar to not have had the argument escalated any further.
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Deleted User	7 Jan 2009, 09:09 AM Post #10
Deleted User	As soon as she'd arrived at the celebration, she had been steered in the direction of the dance floor. She had been engulfed by the crowd, by the ladies in their lovely dresses and the handsom nobles in their finest wear. This was something she was framiliar with from her time spent at court in Dol Amroth, the wonderful celebrations and the finest gowns, the beautiful decorations and the delicious feasts. The only thing that was missing was the feeling that usually came along with celebrations like this, the joy. There was a melancholy there isntead. The sickness spreading across the lands was a devastating thing. People were falling ill day by day, and those that had already contracted this plague were dying. As Lothiriel was twirled around the dance floor by one of the noblemen of Gondor, she noted that this celebration of the new year was entirely bittersweet with the horrible events occuring as of late. The spirit of the festivities was not something that was reaching her as it had years before. As the song and the dance came to its end she spotted her brother, far from the main festivities and talking to a young woman she did not recognize. She excused herself, politely and quickly. As she made her way towards her brother she heard his raised voice, accusing twoards someone she couldn't see. People were whispering and watching, their eyes directed at Erchirion when Queen Arwen came into her view. Lothiriel noticed the tension had dissipated by the time she'd approached the small group. "My Lady," Lothiriel adressed the Queen of Gondor first, dipping into a curtsy as she did so. "It's an honor."
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