Dragontide & The First Gathering of the Five Armies, Pt IV

These are old adventure topics, including their OOC threads for The One Ring: Company of the Gray Wolf.
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Re: Dragontide & The First Gathering of the Five Armies, Pt IV

Unread post by Rosco » 14 Jun 2019, 01:45

Earning a few coppers as a guest performer in the local inns was a fine existence for Rosco of Buckland, but he found it wearing thin after a time. He kept tabs on his friends over the days following the celebration, and decided that he would try a new endeavour while the town was still full of people from throughout Rhovanion and even from beyond.

As the only Hobbit in the town (Hobbits simply don't do much traveling, you see), and only the second Hobbit to have ever spent any time with the Men of Dale and Lake-town (Bilbo was a bit of a legend in local lore), Rosco embellished his position a bit and pretended to be a close acquaintance of the famous Mr. Baggins.

He began to play-act the stories of Bilbo's adventures in the town square of Dale, much to the delight of all who watched. Each dwarf, Gandalf the Wizard, and Bilbo himself were represented by Rosco in these shows, and he earned many coins on the busiest days. His general performance had him switching hats to represent the different characters, and using a wide range of voices and accents to lend some realism to the shows.

Once, he was performing a particularly engrossing version of Bilbo's story about the trolls in the Trollshaws. Children laughed at his silly voices of all the trolls (seven, in this telling of the story). One audience member watched quietly from behind the crowd, smoking a long pipe, "harumphing" all the way through. When Rosco finished with a quite untrue but quite exciting climax (Gandalf casting a spell and turning the Trolls into stone and the Dwarves of Thorin's company destroying the statues with huge swings of their great axes), he bowed deeply and soaked in the cheers of the on-lookers, who filled up his cup with coins of many denominations.

"I suppose you are quite pleased with your own performance?" said a deep voice, as the crowd dissapated.

"Well, if I must say, it was one of my best!" he said as he scooped up the coins overflowing his cup, not even looking at the owner of the voice. "I really had them hanging on every word, did I not? And the poem about the Dwarves in sacks...I am quite proud of that! Made it up on the spot!"

"Would it surprise you to know that Bilbo did not ride on the shoulders of Tom, or that there were three trolls, and not seven?"

"I tell the story just as my good friend Bilbo told it me! Believe it or not, it's all true!"

"That is strange, for Bilbo has not mentioned your name once to me, Mr. Rosco Bolger, though I do remember your grandfather quite fondly!"

With a gulp, Rosco looked up, eyes wide open with shock. He saw the long, sullen face of Gandalf the Grey peering down on him with a look of disapproval.

"Mr. Gandalf! Heh. Of course! Well, each good tale must be told in a way that suits the audience, you see, and..."

"Say no more!" Gandalf said, his old face breaking into a bright smile. "Your secret is safe with me! But do be more careful about telling tales of Bilbo far and wide. I think it is best that Bilbo's fame should stay as close to the Shire as possible. You wouldn't want admirers from all over Middle Earth traveling to see him and learning of the charms of the Shire now would you? They might fall in love with the place and try to move in!"

The Wizard patted Rosco on his curly-haired head and walked away. Just before he blended into the busy traffic of Dale, he looked back and called out to Rosco, "Remember what I said now! Or I shall turn you to stone!" He laughed and then was lost among the people.

Rosco stuffed his collection of hoods and hats into a burlap sack, emptied his cup of coins into a large coinpurse on his belt, and began walking toward the inn where he was staying.

I wonder what Aethelwulf is up to? It's been awhile since I've seen him!
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Re: Dragontide & The First Gathering of the Five Armies, Pt IV

Unread post by Eadnes » 14 Jun 2019, 05:00

Éadnes collected supplies for winter with his comrades, the morning conversation quickly resolving who should seek bread and who meat. On his wanderings through the market he paid particular attention to traders arriving from distant lands. Where he could he exchanged news from them buying some small trinket whenever necessary to smooth the flow of conversation. It seemed much of the land between the Grey Havens and the Misty Mountains remained at peace and between the mountains and here the dangers were unexceptional. The news from the South was more concerning as it seemed all spoke of an unease in their business beyond that of dark clouds and arriving winter.
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Re: Dragontide & The First Gathering of the Five Armies, Pt IV

Unread post by Fieranor of Imladris » 14 Jun 2019, 09:21

Rosco wrote:
14 Jun 2019, 01:45
"I suppose you are quite pleased with your own performance?" said a deep voice, as the crowd dissapated.

"That is strange, for Bilbo has not mentioned your name once to me, Mr. Rosco Bolger, though I do remember your grandfather quite fondly!"

With a gulp, Rosco looked up, eyes wide open with shock. He saw the long, sullen face of Gandalf the Grey peering down on him with a look of disapproval.
LoreMaster Note Oh my gosh, that's absolutely priceless!!! I nearly busted a gut, LOL. It's okay, though, as it helps make room for Second Breakfast. Thank you, that is an awesome bit of writing, LOL.
 
Eadnes wrote:
14 Jun 2019, 05:00
The news from the South was more concerning as it seemed all spoke of an unease in their business beyond that of dark clouds and arriving winter.
You know not why, but a shiver runs through your body, something not natural to the cold, here, as your thoughts continue to wander in the darkness common to the Elven folk of the former Greenwood the Great, as you think about this. You have felt this sort of cold rush through your body, before, as if someone were, in the proverb, walking over your grave; in your four-hundred-nineteen years in Middle-earth you have felt it dozens of times, though none as acute, in the whole of your memory, as that which you've just experienced. You have shaken these feelings of impending doom off, before, and you shake this one off, now, the stones of the roads and the thatch on the rooftops helping to draw off your melancholy.
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Re: Dragontide & The First Gathering of the Five Armies, Pt IV

Unread post by Rosco » 15 Jun 2019, 08:00

Rosco's preparations were simple: lots and lots of seed cakes of various flavors (they stay quite fresh when properly wrapped), a large bag of crushed tea leaves, simple cooking tools, extra strings for his lute, a bag of the decent (but not quite right) local pipeleaf, an extra jacket and hood, and a nice set of flint & steel for making warm fires.

Unlike most Hobbits, Rosco was born and raised in Buckland, where travel and adventures aren't looked down upon to the degree as Shire Hobbits. And after spending much of his adult life in Bree, hearing tales from all manner of folk in the Prancing Pony, he had a thirst to see some of the places and people that he learned about.

He had mostly forgotten about the Cold Drake when it was time to leave. Hobbits have a way of keeping their minds on the tasks at hand, and Rosco was no different. He was quite looking forward to traveling with his new friends, though he wasn't quite sure if he would be a help or hindrance. He was determined to be, at the very least, a source of merriment and perhaps even an indispensable fellow, considering the pride he felt in his camp-cooking and his songs.

For the rest of the preparation time, he visited as many inns and shops as he could, making friends at most and being shooed away at a few. The people of Dale were mostly delighted with his cheerful attitude and invited him to any and all gatherings where music was welcomed.
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Re: Dragontide & The First Gathering of the Five Armies, Pt IV

Unread post by Frerin » 15 Jun 2019, 12:16

Stepping out of the house after his companions, Frerin casts a critical glance at the clouds covering the sky overhead, pulls his cloak closer about him, and steps up to talk to them.

"'t seems ta me I got a day or two left 'ere, 'fore I need ta head back ta th' Mountain. Can't linger ta long, or the snow'll get so dense it bars my way. Breakfast sounds good though, an' after that we can find a merchant that won't pull th' wool o'er yer eyes when it comes ta buyin' supplies. If any of ya want ta spend yer winter in Erebor, ye're more than welcome ta stay at my place, but ya'd 'ave ta be willin' ta stay underground fer several months at least, while th' snow blankets th' land."
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Re: Dragontide & The First Gathering of the Five Armies, Pt IV

Unread post by Artorius » 15 Jun 2019, 14:59

The usual sound of the city was now muffled and quiet. Snow has the amazing property of taking all noise and bustle and reducing it to a low background hum. Artorius stood outside on an elevated position far outside the city on one of the grand hills, taking in the view of the snowy landscape and admiring the torches slowly lighting up across the winter streets as the darkness raced in quickly. Winter in the North always chased away the light with speed, folk would find they would be lucky with even four hours of daylight in this season. The white smoke of pipeweed raised from the pipe in the Rangers hand. The smell was sweet and warm, although the fumes quickly dissapeared in the minus temperatures of the air.

He sat there, happily in his solitude as it gave him time to think, to plan of the coming plans they had discussed with the Kings and the Wizards. He had many things on his mind ranging from deciding whether to accompany his friend Frerin to the halls of Erebor or to remain with the world of Men. He was also uncertain of what to expect on the upcoming excursion into the mountains to seek out possibly more dragonkin. A long forgotten fear and danger that still lurked in the dark places of the world, albeit them being smaller than Smaug, still just as dangerous.

Death was on his mind, of course it was. He saw how easily the cold drake took down the guards, those who were without a doubt more galliant than he had been with their fearless charge to the beast when he tarried. The fellowship was strong, but not undefeatable. How would he act if he saw his friends die before him? What would they do if his end was met amongst the rocks and snows of the mountains? Who would mourn him at home?

He gazed across the night sky now, the city far below lit up like a beacon against the shadow. Further on he saw the twilight outlines of forests, and Ravens in the sky with the birds shapes being clear as they flew across the moon. And yet, the darkness was not the over-arching power. Far from it, the snow reflect the light and the hope of the moon and the beauty of Middle Earth was still strong despite the lack of the sun. These hours had been powerful for the Ranger, they took him to other places in the past and to times before blood and fear. There was hope which he had held and it was hope magnified by that of friendship and good company, of knowing his children were waiting for his return and that he still the memory of loved ones stronger than any other emotion. Extingushing the pipe, he took to his feet and sang defiantly into the oncoming darkness of the night... after all, songs were magical.

"Fear not this night. You will not go astray.
Shadows, they may fall but still the stars find their way.
Be awaken from a gentle sleep. Hear the mumering of the wind.
Awaken as the silence grows from the solitude of within.
Blackness spreads through all the land and your tired eyes open wearily.
Sunsets have forsaken us and the challenge arises.

Nightmares come and shadows grow... and the Ice glows and heartbeats slow.

Fear not this night. You will not go astray. Shadows, they may fall but still the stars find their way.
And you can always be strong and lift your voice with the first light of the morn.

Dawn is just a heartbeat away.
Hope is just a sunrise away.
Home is just a sunrise away..."

With a steadfast feeling in his heart, he begins to the long walk back to his lodgings in the city. His anxiety of choice being defeated, he now knows in his heart what he will do. Speaking to himself as he strides through the snow with power and purpose:

"I will stay in Dale for a time, but the snows do not slow me as much as others. I am from a land where such weather is often present. I will therefore wait until the worse of the blizzards are gone and then venture to Erebor while other folk still stay warmed by their fires. I am a Ranger, and though my company will be split apart I will be sure that I am still there for each of them until we can reunite as one again, even if it means travelling to each of their locations despite the conditions of the season."

His heart is full of fire, and snowfall brings only more beauty to his journey back to Dale. He will relay the news to his friends in the morning when they break their fast.
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Re: Dragontide & The First Gathering of the Five Armies, Pt IV

Unread post by Fieranor of Imladris » 15 Jun 2019, 21:22

Despite all misgivings an underlying feeling of hope resides in the hearts of all within Dale, and it can be contagious. A shadow grows in the minds of those who have crossed minions of shadow, but to all others their life could be less blissful and they would still be significantly happy.

The sun begins to dip behind the peaks of the Misty Mountains, as it has done every day for millennia, though this particular sundown carries an air of newness with it, even though Bard has been King, in truth, for nearly three years, beloved of the people of Dale and the surrounding territory. As the natural light of dusk slowly dies, torches in a thousand places in the city spring to life; when you are in places where you can see over the walls between Dale and Erebor, or Esgaroth, you can see their illumination is the brightest it's likely ever been.
 
LoreMaster Note I must presume, here, that you are all in close proximity to one another; if this is not true, please feel free to correct me?
 
When the massive basso trumps blow from the parapets facing Erebor and King's Dáin, Thranduil and Bard emerge onto the elevated front 'porch' of the Palace, flanked by Gandalf, Radagast, and three other Elves, two males and a female, all of such beauty and magnificence it raises a question as to their identities, though the regal set of their bodies and faces is such they must certainly be royalty, one would not wrong in their assumption. The only Elvish strongholds you know of beside the Woodland Realm would be the fabled Golden Wood and the Hidden Valley of Imladris; could it be true those places do, indeed, exist.

At this point Gandalf touches his Wizard's staff to the bottom of a clean-cut massive crystal hung in a steel-wrought basket above, a soft-light beginning to glow from it as the last drops of sunlight disappear and night takes its proper place over the Market Square and Palace. This light illuminates the entire area, somehow without blinding anyone, continuing to allow the revealed faces of the royals to be seen, along with the ceremonial parts about the be played.

Bard begins with an introduction of all present, of the additions of Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel of Lóthlorien forest and Lord Elrond Halfelven of Rivendell. At one point he begins on the slaying of the Dragon in this very court yard and pulls all of you up to the steps below the 'porch', including the Guards who participated and lost their friends, and a cry of adulation rises into the night sky. Soon, however, your moment in the sun of these people is over and you become part of the crown, yet again, none of them knowing of the task you may be called to perform the following Spring.

Each of the Kings are allowed to make a small speech, along with the Lady Galadriel, who shows much happiness but, somehow, seems sad at the same time, her happiness a facade for some hidden pain, their speeches all about new prosperity and a defeat of those who would take Sauron's place and continue enforcing the edicts and troubles brought about by Morgoth. All of the Wise, in this instance, are allowed to speak, and they portend glad tidings of a strong future to abound.

Wandering the crowd during this nearly full-hour series of speeches, all of you tend to notice another Elf as beautiful and full of hope, with sadness, as that of the Lady Galadriel, though she seems a bit more ethereal, unable to be touched, nor does she touch anyone else. Anyone attempting to garner her attention finds themselves in the middle of a crowd, without this Elf-woman in sight. Moriel and Éadnes, you will know her as the Lady Írimë, a High-elf guest of Thranduil King; you've never spoken with her, though you know her by fame, instead. The Legend is that she was once one of the Wise, though she was attacked by minions of the Dark Lord, both physically and in her mind, and though she was saved by her people she decided to go into a self-imposed exile within the Woodland Realm until it is time for her to fade into the West. She does not allow herself to be cornered on this night, the significance of the evening belonging to another.

The speeches concluded by King Bard's most trusted advisors, the basso trump's sound again, a short Imperial call for attention, and then, in what turns out to be the very brief pinnacle of the evening, Bard takes a knee, is blessed, and a circlet placed upon his head. When he steps forward, again, as King, applause erupts for several solid minutes, roars of adulation from all but the Elves and, then, when the roar has become dull enough, he announces,

"Thank you. I shall endeavor to be the best Master of this realm I can be. Please, TO THE FEAST!" He grins broadly at everyone in the crowd and, when the other royals have left the balcony, he finally notices and disappears inside, as well.

Between a few of you and several of you have been standing nearby an elderly woman wearing a cloak made for cold such as this, lined and trimmed with fur and coated in purple silk. A hat of similar furs and covers rests atop her white-haired head, her face care-worn though still thin, a hint of a much-younger beauty continuing to rest there. Her stance, though she cannot be more than five-and-a-half-feet in height, is regal and strong in and of itself. Darned white gloves cover her hands, their thinner weave seeming to be just enough protection for her, and her boots made of treated soft calf-skin.

With her stands a young man who is entranced with the goings on...
 
LoreMaster Note Ed, you've already written a description of what Glirion looks like; what about his size, how he stands, what sort of look crosses his face, normally, and when he's curious or confused?
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Re: Dragontide & The First Gathering of the Five Armies, Pt IV

Unread post by Moriel » 15 Jun 2019, 21:54

After a hearty breakfast, Moriel steps out into the snow, pulling her fur coat tighter around her, bracing against the bitter cold wind. She greets her companions and everyone in town with a gentle smile, which can be seen even underneath her head cloak. As she walks through the city, she cannot get the song out of her head and hums it to herself as to not draw too much attention to its subject matter.

Moriel visits the merchant's tables to begin to gather supplies needed for the winter, including plenty of arrows and resin for her bow. Her recent encounter with the cold drake is also on her mind and she is wondering if there is a connection between the wraith and the dragon.

As the day goes on, she feels the excitement in the air growing stronger as the time of the coronation draws nearer and makes her way toward the palace for the actual celebration. Immediately noticing the Elven royalty, Lady Írimë, she silently allows her eyes to meet each of theirs, and nods reverently, so to not cause a distraction.

After the crowning, while making her way into the feast, she notices the elderly woman and the young man accompanying her, and wonders who they might be.
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Re: Dragontide & The First Gathering of the Five Armies, Pt IV

Unread post by Glirion » 16 Jun 2019, 05:35

The hour grew late, Glirion rested one of his leather gloved hands upon the wrappings of his hilt. Standing against the crowd as they filled every nook and cranny of the area he adopted a relaxed posture with a slightly more wider stance than his usual gate would call for, it gave him a nice easy balance despite the pushing and shoving of the crowd to try and get a closer look at there new king.
Despite his duty upon his mind, the Barding couldn't help but reflect on just how loved the new king was, poor men dressed in old clothes and rotting teeth, all the way to noble garments of the nobles, short and stout dwarf folk along with the elegant features of elves. It was truly a melting pot of cultures of the like that he could not recall ever witnessing before.

Torches began to be lit, in order to fight against the darkness encroaching upon the people which created a somewhat orange tint to the area, Glirion shadow grew from his feet and stood tall in the glow of the fire. Glirion stood tall almost reaching 6ft in height so peering over the crowd was not quite a problem, for the people behind him however were not quite so fortunate, he began to hear some angry mutterings that they could not see. Glirion was about to turn and give a piece of his mind to the snide insults behind his back but before he could speak loud trumpets filled the air with a cacophony of song. The noise of the crowd died away as everyone's eyes were drawn to the elevated porch of the palace.

Striding upon this stage was strange troupe of actors. The soon to be King was instantly recognisable, for he had seen him many times in the past couple of years, for it was only recently before he discovered his taste for the healing arts that he had trained as a kings guard, and Bard despite not bearing the crown had been the closest thing they had to a King in the last three years.
Beside him strode an elf, with his regal appearance and terrifying aura of confidence that he seemed to protrude Glirion could only reckon that this was Thranduil, the fact that he would show to this coronation only gave the future King even more gravitas in this crowning ceremony. Along side him was a few more elves that he could not recognise but was taken aback by their appearance, each of them looked as though an truly talent artist had painted them upon a canvas and yet they walked amongst us. The Barding himself was taken aback and he along with those that stood behind him could do nothing but gape some even open mouthed as these people strode upon the stage.

Eyes following the elves, Glirion had almost missed the two older gentleman that walked behind them. They both favoured pointed hats, and the wrinkles upon their faces indicated hard travel and long years were wearing them on them. One favoured brown clothing mixed with the touches of nature such as dirt and leaves. In truth, this mainly be due to his wealthy upbringing he thought that the man was truly out of place in such a setting, he privately wondered if he would be escorted off the stage as a mad vagrant who found himself in the wrong place at the wrong time. The other favoured a more grey attire and some whispers started to murmur among the crowd of "that is Gundulf!, He is nothing but trouble that one." Glirion looked at the stout woman whispering in the ear of the burly man beside her with a raised eyebrow, he was pretty sure that wasn't his name but it sounded close to what he had heard.

As they assembled, the heroes involved in the slaying of the dragon were pulled upon the steps leading up to the 'porch' and the crowd basked in their heroism. Glirion secret wished that he too could count himself amongst, but he had was too injured at the time to truly participate in battle to show his valour. As a former guard himself, he knew of some of those that lost their lives in that battle and as their heroic sacrifice was addressed it felt as if his heart was pierced with a cold knife. Putting his hands together in a polite gesture of thanks, the Barding attempted to suppress the faces of those now lost into the back of his mind, for this was supposed to be a happy occasion after all. It would not do for himself or the lady Asfried to give heed to such heavy sorrow, at least not at this time.

The crowd eyes along with the Bardings own drifted to Bard as he walked forward to introduce those upon the stage. "Pa, can we eat now?" Asked one of the small children, hanging off his fathers hand. "Soon, but first we need to listen to these speeches, then we can fill our bellies." Glirion suppressed a small chuckle as the child began to sulk, as he turned his attention back to the stage as the introductions were wrapping up.

Soon after came the speeches along with the elven woman who was introduced as the Lady Galadirel. Despite the fact that she addressed the crowd Glirion couldn't help but shake the feeling that she was looking at him directly despite the sea of people around him, it wasn't just him either. Many were moved to tears and others would avert their gaze to their boots to avoid the eye contact. For the joy in her voice laced with the sorrow within was almost too much for mere men to take with stoic grace, even the young boys with rumbling stomachs would stop their silent protests of staying for these speeches.

As the speeches came to a close, the true reason for their congregation had come upon them, Bard took the knee. The crowd held their collective breath, as the blessings proceeded and the circlet crown was placed upon his head the crowd erupted into cheers. "Long may he reign! King Bard!" Glirion shouted his hands slamming together in thunderous applause. Despite the cold air, along with the snow crunching under his foot Glirion was feeling quite uncomfortably warm from the press of bodies, but it had come to his attention that many were making their way slowly to the back of the crowd. Almost as if they were waiting for something... "Thank you. I shall endeavour to be the best Master of this realm I can be. Please, TO THE FEAST!" As the new King shouted this, the flood gates had been opened as many jockeyed for position to fill their hungry bellies.

Folding him arms against the cold that seemed to slowly engulf them once again, far more so now with the lack of the suns heat upon their backs. Glirions eyes met that of the matron and he said to her "did you have any other business for today lady Asfried? Perhaps you would like to join the feast also? I could bring you something if you prefer the comfort of your own home, the hour is getting late after all." Secretly inside he himself wished to join the feast and the merry making, but he owed the lady much and would take her needs far above his own. Despite the cold he still maintained a solid stance in the snow, his hand resting upon his hilt once again. Glirion couldn't help but shake the feeling he was being watched, but as his eyes scanned the horizon the darkness and bustle of people made it quite difficult to see anyone looking in their direction, all the same he still adopted a relaxed posture, his shoulders were low, his head scanning from side to side in a nonchalant manner.
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Re: Dragontide & The First Gathering of the Five Armies, Pt IV

Unread post by Fieranor of Imladris » 16 Jun 2019, 08:22

As Glirion tended to his lady's presumed needs, from the corner of Glirion's eye and, perhaps, to the joy of many of the rest of you standing in proximity to Asfrid, whom you've not met but feel comfortable around, perhaps, nonetheless, a tall grey-robed figure with a similarly grey pointed hat wanders through the crowd, their parting as the land does for a river, approaches,

"Lady Asfrid," the loud depths of Gandalf's grumbly voice pierce the night sounds all around, many of the common folk gasping as he passes them to end in the midst of you all. Any of you who may deign to turn and walk away through the crowd, thinking yourself not welcome, have your name called and an invitation similar to, 'please remain, for I have turned the King's mind to invite all of you in to the feast, this night of snow and peace', asked of you.

"Mithrindir, you know I am not one of the intolerable nobles of this town; why do you call me lady?" A broad smile suddenly lines his visage, tending to be contagious as he draws the woman into his arms and close to his chest. You hear her sniffle once, twice, and see Gandalf's body begin to quake as a slow laughter emits from his mouth, Asfried asking, "When was the last time you washed this claptrap you wear?! It stinks." They laugh together and he releases her, explaining,

"I apologize for not visiting you often in Esgaroth, though my heart is warmed because of the new station you have taken on." She tries to lower her voice, but a short low-lull in the conversation thereabouts keeps her words evident to you all,

"We were over five decades ago, you old Wizard and, though I am grateful you have decided to take on the look to match my own aged one, it does not change the fact you stole my heart and then never fulfilled your vow." Gandalf steps back a bit, his lips pursed against speaking and he simply nods his head. "I know you couldn't," Asfrid says with some sorrow, "and I am yet grateful you were in the midst of the salvation of Rhovanion." She does point a wicked little finger at him, however,

"You could have come to visit me five years ago, this night, could you not?!" Gandalf, capitulation in his voice, explains,

"I could not, Asfrid. There is much afoot in our world, so much it cannot be explained this night. In its stead, tell me of your life as all of us go inside." He gestures for all of you to follow him.

On entering the hall you see there is plenty of space to be had; the Guard keeps too many folk from pouring into the Hall, and it would seem the folk of Dale and all about understood the Palace would be too small to fit everyone. Any who look back see long tables and small open-sided tents are being set and the steaming hot dishes of the many chefs about are being opened for the service of many. Despite the wealth of the town Bard, his government, and the many nobles of the city have tried to establish with all, some still slip through the cracks and/or are left to their own devices. Crimes, especially larceny, though they do not flourish within the town, nor are they hidden from the minds of those dwelling within the grand walls.

The Main Hall of the Palace is likewise appointed, perhaps a bit more richly, as that space outside in the Market Square and in other places around Dale, long table in the middle with large candles, barrels of ale and wines from the local area, including Erebor, and the vast fabled vineyards of Dorwinion. Meats from all over Rhovanion and points South and East cover these tables.

The Nobles seen on the balcony, earlier, as well as those from the Villages of Men in the Vales of Anduin meander and revel happily with others throughout the hall.
 
LoreMaster Note Perhaps one final opportunity to write something about enjoying the evening at-hand and or conversing with others within the hall. The sum total of wisdom, riches, and nobility in this room, at present, were it to be destroyed by a Dragon, would rob all of comfort, dedication, rebirth, and wealth to the total destruction of the region. Feel free to take advantage of the situation, write stories of conversation(s) held throughout the evening with these folk, but please write plausibly? None of these people are in the positions they're presently in due to weakness, lack or respect or failure of admiration from not only their own people, but others, as well, and should not be treated as anything less than their strength, nobility, or strength of conscience suggests.

You may ask me things about those in attendance, their strengths and abilities to aid you and/or answer questions. However, I wouldn't try to hold onto them over-long, as these sorts of parties have much to do with wheeling and dealing, as is true with all politics. Acknowledgements do come from all corners for one or more of you, or for the group in its entirety, whether for the slaying of the Dragon or the sharing of information, etc. For you, Ellisidil, you will certainly find it easier to converse openly with Fridwald the Runner, Ingomer Axebreaker, and Ceawin of the East Bight.

It is my goal to move into the coming Fellowship Phase by the end of this coming week, if not earlier and, hopefully, to have it finished before Sarah and I go on our second wedding anniversary to NASA in Houston eleven days hence, so we may begin the coming adventure fresh upon our return. :D Will it actually happen that way? Nope, hehe. But one can always lay expectations and hopes, and have something even better replace them, as with all of your recent research about Wraith's and the attempt to find Karak Azshur. :lol:
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Re: Dragontide & The First Gathering of the Five Armies, Pt IV

Unread post by Eadnes » 16 Jun 2019, 09:28

As is his habit, Éadnes moves into the shadows of the town as the shadows lengthen. The house they were now gifted as a place to stay had been stocked with food and firewood by the company. Éadnes hoped it was enough, the halfling seemed to have hollow legs! Where did all that food go? Quickly turning down side streets and narrow alleys he reflected on the day.

He has been conspicuous in the market as he bought what was needed, smiling and open faced, picking up snippets of gossip from all the traders. Hearing of traders from the south-east, he spent longer than he should searching them out and was pleased to see trinkets that reminded him of adventures long ago. Bright colours, red, blue and gold on silks and jerkins fluttering in the breeze, such a clash to the drab colours of winter in the north. Reminding him of summer and days spent wandering in the warmth Éadnes now wandered away from the market as the daylight faded.

Using all his skills he picked up news from the small creatures of the town. Although many knew of the death of the cold-drake, none spoke of how the creature entered the city no more than catching a site of a shape gliding by or a shadow from the corner of the eye. Whatever drove the creature must have been given it the motivation to ignore everyday conveniences such as food and sleep! Éadnes remembered the nagging fear that lay within his mind, something is coming, he was sure of it. He moved to gain a better vantage of the ceremony at the peal of the trumpets.

Spotting Moriel moving through the crowd, he sought out his comrades each one of whom had taken a point where they could watch but also guard should anything else go wrong! Nodding at the common sense of it all he spotted Moriel glance towards an older lady and her guard. He saw no threat there and his eyes continued to roam across the throng. The great and wise were here, perhaps there was more to hear as if his eyes did not fail him, for so many to come in person for such a short ceremony suggests a council afterwards. Perhaps the wise fear the north is not long for peace?

The ceremony ends and it is easy to hear his compatriots being called. Catching a sharp eye from the elven host, Éadnes moves from the shadows into the crowd to follow the summons.
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Re: Dragontide & The First Gathering of the Five Armies, Pt IV

Unread post by Artorius » 17 Jun 2019, 14:40

The festivities of the coronation were grand, far grander than Artorius had prepared for. There he stood clad in a simple dark green woolen robe, with a chalky white linen shirt on below. His over-britches were a clean, earthy colour and on his feet were simple, fresh woolen socks and his ever reliable travelling boots, but now completely free from mud, grim and with somewhat of a shine thanks to the hardwork of a city bootblack. His usual attire was drying in the laundry houses after having a deep clean and a fresh coat of protective layering made from beeswax and some other strange concutions that the city leatherworker had perfected to ensure clothes lasted far longer than normally possibly and keep their freshness.

Among him were noble lords and ladies, dancing in the candlelight halls and drinking fine wines, speaking in dialects which sounded like they were born with a silver spoon in their mouths. Several of the women had commented on negatively on his poor choice of clothing, but commented on his "rugged good looks" as they put it. The Ranger made a forced smile, and a quick escape on all such occurances.

Feeling out of place, he took to familiar ground and looked towards Elven company. He may not be dressed as finely as the Eldar, but he spoke their language very well and it was a good excuse to avoid speaking with the Dalish folk too.
Of all the Elves, the new lady had caught his eye. An undeninable beauty, like all Elven maids, but this one peaked his interest as she had another Man as a companion. This was curious for him as more often than not Elven Men were the normal bodyguards simply because they held greater skill in almost all areas than the rest of the races. Perhaps her companion would have some grand stories he may share with Artorius, and his friends, especially little Rosco, hungry for new material and Frerin who himself could spin an epic yarn or two.

He approached the couple, nodded a smile and prepared a greeting.

"Mae govannen. Elen sila lumenn' omentielvo, Hiril. I eneth nîn Artorius." He bows to the Elf maid after introducing himself, and turns to her companion to offer the same introduction.

"Greetings, I am Artorius and it is pleasure to meet you. It is my understanding you have recently come to the city? I must say you travelled well in such weather." He offers a hand. This fellow could be a good drinking companion if his Elven charge would allow it.

"Mayhaps if your lady is speaking with the Istari and King, we may get an ale or mead and talk of the road along with some dear friends of mine if we can find them, you see - some of them are a little short so harder to spot in a crowded room."
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Re: Dragontide & The First Gathering of the Five Armies, Pt IV

Unread post by Fieranor of Imladris » 17 Jun 2019, 16:05

LoreMaster Note Artorius, I am somewhat confused, my friend. Did you approach and speak to the folk who are supposed to be Asfrid and Glirion? And your word about getting an Ale with the young man, is that to Glirion? I am going to write the following assuming those two items are yes.
 
The lady talking with the Elf entourage, and well in Sindarin, turns at your greeting, her wizened face aglow as you greet her properly in the High Tongue, but she had yet to remove her hood before you might be able to recognize her. Still, she bows her Human head and answers,

"Suillad, meldir-nín Artorius, Elbereth gal-i'o síla-bo ammen pân. Eneth-nín Asfrid. Togi-man al-nin Dale, nín lithui elvellon?" She stops to clear her throat, then asks, "Forgive me, my Quenya is tired, hard to speak in the tongue of the Grey Elves, this night, I am afraid. May we speak in Westron, instead?"

Greeting, my friend Artorius, the light of Elbereth shine on us all. I am called Asfrid. What brings you to Dale, my dusty friend?
 
LoreMaster Note I have not answered everything, here, that I wanted to, but it's a start.

Also, I am still using Hiswelókë's Sindarin dictionary (Edition 1.6, Lexicon 0.993) for my Elvish, as I find it entirely too difficult to find phrases on the internet, moreso than building them from scratch. My apologies if this is confusing to anyone.

If you're interested in having the program, feel free to download it, below. However, it's an old program, so installing and using it will require you to do so as the Administrator, and I don't honestly know what manner of security issues this could cause, if any. The program is fairly intuitive, as you have a good grouping of languages in the drop-down at the lower-left corner, you choose whether you write something in that other language or you write something in English to have it translated to the other language near the top left. I have found no means of grabbing the text at the bottom except to go take a screenshot and extract it, and this program has been around since about 2003-5, I think. This is the last version of it made, to the best of my knowledge.
Dragon Flame 2.0 - setup.zip
Find out more about this work, which I now see is likely ongoing, though not as complete as the program, HERE
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Re: Dragontide & The First Gathering of the Five Armies, Pt IV

Unread post by Glirion » 17 Jun 2019, 16:55

Glirion stood on guard as the crowd began to disperse around them. the flames of the torches cast his shadow upon the ground and he could start to feel the first touches of fatigue pulling at the corners of his eyes. Stifling a yawn, he was about to ask lady Asfrid what she planned to do, before taking note that her attention was upon a figure encroaching upon them. Despite his duty of defence, he felt no ill will upon the old woman, in fact it seemed an old flame had been awakened behind those wizened eyes, the Barding followed the gaze and saw that it was none other than the grey clad wizard striding up them with a powerful stride that one would not have guessed one of his age to make.

Asfrid was more talkative and joyful then Glirion could recall him seeing her, in all the years that he had spent under her tutelage he had never seen the old woman so at ease. Glirion could feel the return of the smile at the edge of his lips once again, along with the coldness that was tugging at him seemed to flicker away in the warmth of that these two shared with one another. The Barding took his eyes off the pair and found his eyes meet that of an elven woman being joined by one of her companions in the distance.

"Mae govannen. Elen sila lumenn' omentielvo, Hiril. I eneth nîn Artorius." Glirion spun around, and before him stood a man that looked as if he was a vagrant, or perhaps a traveller or perish the thought even a burglar. Blinking in confusion for a few moments it suddenly dawned on him that the strange tongue that he had spoken was reminiscent of the language that the Elven folk were speaking in the markets and in the crowds. Feeling a little foolish, and twice as much for first judging the mans appearance alone for it was not many of his kin that could speak the tongue so fluidly, Glirion had once heard a phrase from his mentor that seemed to sum this situation up quite nicely 'Don't judge a book by it's cover.' Rather more surprisingly is when the young guard heard his charge respond in kind with the same elegant language. Feeling the red rise to his cheeks he cursed his lack of understanding and fancied he must have seemed quite foolish, standing there the witless fool. Aggravated by his lack of knowledge his mentor must of caught on as he gave her a sideways glance as she made the request to turn the language back to Westron, which put Glirion much more at ease.

The traveller turned his attention to the Barding now and offered his greeting in Westron, as he extended his hand. Smiling, Glirion took the hand and gave a firm shake, he replied to the introduction "I am Glirion, son of Selwyn and you are quite right, we did come here recently for the ceremony, we do not travel that often unless the need comes, we usually stay in the healing houses but one does what he must when the need arises." He decided that he liked this Artorius, his voice put him at ease and he gave the impression of a man of importance, or at least a man of great quality.

"I would treasure the opportunity to drink ale and talk with you further friend, if lady Asfrid would allow it of course. --- Short you say? You travel with dwarf folk if I take your meaning? I hear they can be a most stubborn people, but truer friends you could never find."
Last edited by Glirion on 18 Jun 2019, 13:57, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: Dragontide & The First Gathering of the Five Armies, Pt IV

Unread post by Fieranor of Imladris » 17 Jun 2019, 17:33

LoreMaster Note Okay, Artorius, this is one of those times when some clarification is necessary, even more than I thought originally... first, when you announce yourself to the Elf-lady, are you talking to Asfrid, the head of the Water House in Dale, the Hospital, similar to the one in Esgaroth, or are you talking to another lady near an Elf entourage?

Second, are you talking outside the Palace Main Hall, before going into the gathering -which all of you were told you would not be allowed into, but have now been invited by a Wizard, anyway-, or are you inside the Hall where many of the more important folk have gathered on this occasion?

Third, would you be interrupting anyone, such as Gandalf, or the Elf entourage?

Please, for the love of Mike, clear up where you are and whom you are addressing?

Thank you.
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