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Old 07-04-2015, 05:16 PM   #21
Thinlómien
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Join Date: Dec 2004
Location: In a far land beyond the Sea
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Thinlómien is a guest of Galadriel in Lothlórien.Thinlómien is a guest of Galadriel in Lothlórien.Thinlómien is a guest of Galadriel in Lothlórien.Thinlómien is a guest of Galadriel in Lothlórien.Thinlómien is a guest of Galadriel in Lothlórien.
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Wilheard

"All are welcome! Come! There is a fire in the hearth, and warmth enough within. Did you by chance bring wood? We have little left."

"Aye, we did," Wilheard replied, dismounting. "And there will be more now that the roads are open. The King will send another caravan in a moon's turn."

Wilheard approached Lord Eodwine to greet him formally. The Eorl of Scarburg looked old and frail, he thought. He questioned, again, his father's decision to send him here.

"King Éomer sends his regards, as does my father, Lord Athanar." Wilheard was certain there was something missing in his niceties, but he had never been good at court manners. He was glad his mother couldn't hear him. "And my father also wishes you would find a place for his son in your household, for a time," Wilheard added, doing his best to keep his voice neutral. He produced a piece of parchment from his belt. "He wrote you a letter."

~*~

Brith

Brith sat on one of the wagons, a little reluctant to get up. She felt like an intruder here among all the people laughing and crying and rejoicing at their arrival. The folk here looked haggard and starved, worse than any Brith had seen in Arnor, even though the winters were often harsh there. Their relief felt very personal, it was none of Brith's business really.

"A little overwhelming, huh?" Caranthir asked.
Brith snapped out of her daydreaming. "A little," she admitted, and smiled at the sellsword she had traveled with for half a year. "Where's Fréa?"
"Took his horse, and yours."
"Oh," Brith said. "Do you think he's still mad at me?"
Caranthir shook his head. "He still disapproves, though. Anyway, I better see to my old lady here or I'll hear about it too. I'll catch up with you later."
Caranthir took the reins of his pretty grey mare and started leading her away. Brith sat and hugged her knees like a little girl.

Travelling with Caranthir and Fréa had been like travelling with a pair of uncles. Brith had come to greatly depend on the two old sellswords, and Caranthir's counsel and Fréa's cheerful spirits had got her through much. But Uncle Caranthir was sometimes a little too protective, and Uncle Fréa would always nag her about exercising her horse and taking care of him herself. Brith was a decent rider and she liked feeding her old gelding apples, but she preferred travelling in a wagon and she found taking care of her own horse tedious at times. Well, the Rohirrim sure loved their horses.

"My lady," said a voice in the rough but melodic speech of Rohan. Abruptly, Brith turned, realising she was being addressed by a waifish woman maybe half a dozen years her senior, a maid judging by the clothing. "Welcome to the Scarburg Mead Hall."

Brith smiled a little and nodded, acutely trying to remember what else than "thank you" she could say.

Then the other woman blurted out something, really fast, and Brith realised she had no idea what had just been asked. She looked around for Caranthir or Fréa, but neither of them was anywhere to be seen.

"Ummm... do you speak the common tongue?" she asked.
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