7 Fourth Age: Cloak & Dagger [MP]

7 Fourth Age: Cloak & Dagger [MP]; [ invite ]
Topic Started: 26 Feb 2009, 07:44 PM (146 Views)
Deleted User	26 Feb 2009, 07:44 PM Post #1
Deleted User	The land looked frozen to Éomer's naked eye. Under the chilling hue of first light, all looked static across the plains. It was these plains that he loved, lost, and loved again. It was these plains that he had come to rule and protect, and it was these plains that he would spend the last drops of his life to keep safe. The heir of Rohan had rode to the gates of Mordor fully expecting to never set eyes on these beloved plains again. Fate had the interest of men in mind, however, when Mordor crumbled and the Age of Man began. These plains sprouted him, and it would be these plains that would destroy him. From the porch of Meduseld, the mighty golden hall of Edoras, the King of the Mark could see all. The bustling life of the village below him did not catch his eye, for lives of habit interested him little. Nor did the hunters in the sky catch his attention, for they too lived rhythmically. No, it was the dark spot on the horizon that attracted his eye. From this angle, it could truly be anything. An army of a thousand orcs, a feral horse, or even a trick of the rising sun. Turning away, Éomer King looked back through the open doors of Meduseld. Over the next few moments, flashes of images coursed through his head. Théoden, Théodred, a young Éowyn moving through the corridors, and a slimy Grima spreading his malevolence through the House of Eorl. The greatest and least of man had passed through these doors into the royal seat of Rohan, and Éomer had seen many of them. No more beings of ill repute would threaten the fabric of his ancestry and rule. No Grima would coax him with sweet words, no king of man would demand of Rohan what was meant to be freely given. It was this oath Éomer ruled by. It was this oath Éomer lived by. It was this oath Éomer would come to die by.
Deleted User


Deleted User	27 Feb 2009, 10:03 AM Post #2
Deleted User	Berien galloped through the plains of Rohan, her dark mantel billowing back as she rode against the warm winds of the west. She had traveled far from the Grey Mountains, following the Anduin until she had reached the land of the Rohirrim. Her pace did not slow from the beginning of her journey, apart from periods of rest when she could spare it. It was only when the city of Edoras was clear upon its hilltop did she slow to a walk. Her eyes took in the burial mounds of the past kings as she made her way to the city gates. The wind did not seem to faze the simbelmynë that graced the tombs of the fallen as she trotted past, noticing the slight increase in number. Another has past, she thought, stopping for just a moment at the front of the gates. Her gaze returned to Meduseld that lay revealed under the morning sun, eyes bright with interest. And another has taken his place. She passed the inhabitants of Edoras without a glance, uninterested by their daily doings. As she neared the Golden Halls, she dismounted from her horse, leaving it nearby the steps with no restraint, knowing well that it would not depart without her leave. She ascended up the stone steps which remained well intact without any sign of wear. She removed the hood of her cloak as she halted at the foot of the stairs. “Hail comer from afar!” shouted the watchmen in the usual greeting. Berien dipped her head in due respect as the Doorward approached her. "I am the Doorward of Éomer,” he said. “I must bid you to lay aside your weapons before you enter.” The Elf complied with no restraint, slipping one hand into the folds of her cloak to bring out her dagger and throwing knives before placing it into his outstretched hand. She watched him hand over her belongings to a nearby companion, meeting his weary gaze with a small smile. “Do not be troubled,” she reassured. “I have been sent to Edoras by the King of Gondor and Arnor. It is an important matter, though I am sorry to say that it is to be shared only with King Éomer and the Queen.” The Doorward nodded in understanding before sending off one of his men to notify the King and Queen. Shortly after, he guided her into the great hall where the throne stood tall upon the intricately paved stones of the Meduseld’s interior. Rays of sunlight pierced the roof into the golden hall, emphasizing the grand pillars and the tapestries unfurled upon the walls; woven cloths that, after all these years, still depicted the legends and battles of Rohan. simbelmynë - white "Evermind"
Deleted User


1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous)


« Previous Topic · 7 Fourth Age · Next Topic »