Barad Eithel -- Outer Courtyard
High walls and lofty towers cast their long shadows down into the courtyard
below. Troops often train here, learning the skills which will protect them
against an implaccable foe always more numerous than they. At times, the whole
of the fortress gathers here to hear the words of their commanders or of the
High King himself...or to muster for battle.
Ringing the courtyard are the grainaries, armouries, smithies, stables, and
other buildings which support and provide for the fortress in peace and in war.
Night has fallen and once again the teeming courtyard has settled down to a few
bright embers. Amidst the orange glow, a few shadows are moving silently,
moving in and out of tents, some huddling by the fires exchanging gossip and
sharing the news. An owl hoots somewhere on the battlements as the mist
descends from the mountains, drifting down into Ard Galen. One lonely man with
a staff walks quietly from fire to fire, searching the faces of the men and
elves alike. As he approaches one of the fires, he mutters, "Hedwin, I will get
you for this! I will." Suddenly he stopps and grinds his staff on the stone
floor, "Argh! Where is the bastard!?" [Derelin]
Amid the nights shadow another figure moves. Across the central court this
exceptionally tall shadow moves. A dark cloak is wrapped about the body of the
other, mail gleams beneath it on distant torches and golden hair can be marked
also. He moves into the camp of Hadors men to bows from a pair of Gaurds he
passes. A quiet few words are spoken in a deep and rich voice, yet youthful.
[Gundor.]
Derelin turns around as one of the men rises. The man is part of one of the
travelling parties, strong, broad, armoured. He says, "Calm down, stranger!"
and puts a heavy hand on Derelin's shoulder. Derelin brushes him off and says,
"Do not try to soothe where you do not comprehend. No insult intended, good
sir, but I am in no mood for fair talk and no deeds."
Hador. steps pleasantly from his tend into the cool evening air. Stepping to a
campfire he spends a few moments filling a plate with the evening's meal. His
mail shirt glints in the firelight, as does his golden hair.
The young Lord of Dor-lomin walks near some gaurds and one stands and talks to
a man, seemingly agitated. He walks swiftly to the pair his gait long , yet not
rushed. Deep green eyes stair at the too men and he looks to see if I face can
be marked, in the dim of the torch light and shadow, none can. "Good evening my
friends, is there a problem. Do not forget we are in a friends house." The
words are softly spoken and calmly so to. A kindly smile does the younger son
of Hador wear.
Derelin slowly relinquishes his hold on the other man's wrist. That man turns
to the young lord and bows, "My lord. 'Tis nothing; everything is calm now."
Derelin, however, speaks not. His eyes try to pierce through the darkness,
searching the young prince's face. At last, Derelin bows, "My lord, forgive my
temper. I am a troubled man and was unable to find my rest." He fingers his
staff, nervously, as he speaks.
The comotion has also disturbed Hador's dinner. But unable to put his repast
asside for the moment he walks, plate in one hand and fork in the other, slowly
past several tents, until he approaches his son's side, where he pauses and
listens to the conversation tucked away in the shadows enjoying his stew.
Looks back at the Shepard, voice and face now clear despite the darkness. "I
mark your face lad, are you not Derelin of Hadorsford? If you have a problem,
we are your kin and we can help, forget that not. Now, can I help? If I can
help you find rest this night will not have been wasted." The voice of the
younger Lord is tinged with fatigue or perhaps annoyance, not at this meeting,
for his face still holds a kindly smile of geniune warmth.
Derelin looks from one face to the next, "Truly, men, forgive me. Let me go
hence to quiet sleep and let yourself be led by yonder blessed owl to tender
sleep. I am but looking for a friend of mine. Nothing to trouble yourself
with." He bows again and turns.
Hador. mops up various gravies with a slab of bread and chews thoughtfully at
these words. When his mouth is again empty he speaks, stepping forward, "And
indeed you have found friends of your own, for we are all friends here. But
perhaps you speak of some specific person of our kin, and perchance we can help
you."
Mouth open and ready to speak Gundor is stopped short when another voice,
similar if not not a little deeper and a little more aged rise from behing him.
Indeed the words where not the ones he would of spoken yet they differed
little, nodding only he turns and offers a smile of greeting to his father.
Several of the gaurds here presetn bow deeplt, Gundor does so too yet not as
deeply as the soldiers therepresent.
Derelin pauses; finally he turns back, "Good lords, you have my thanks for your
concern. Do not trouble yourselves any longer. I was looking for news from my
son Enirel. I was hoping to find a friend of his, by the name of Hedwin. I have
come here, looking for him these last days." Then, as if an afterthought, he
bows, too.
Gundor. hears a call from the other side of the camp and his ears here that it
is the call for Dawn. The high walls of the fort still hide the low son or even
the melting sky yet Gundor smiles and turns to his father, "Forgive me M'lord
and all I here dawn is called and I must be away for this will be the second
day I have not slept, so I must try to grab some hours afore the day starts in
earnest." His face wheres a smile yet it also wheres uncustomary stubble for
the younger lord and slight creases of tiredness and worry. Looking to the
gaurds here present. "Help this man find the bairns, he is obviously wiorried
about the lost lad. Good evening sir or should I say good morning.
Derelin says, "Good night my Lord" and bows, but looking at the guards left
behind, he shakes his head. "Thank you, men, but I have no need of you. I shall
be here tomorrow and talk to Hedwin."
The two guards shrug indifferently, tilting their heads, yet not going
anywhere, content to stay with their lord. Hador himself is a bit bemused by
this manner of dismissal, though he suspects that it is simply as he looks just
as another man eating stew. "And perhaps you shall. Yet I have not heard of
this Hedwin among my people, who might he be?"
Derelin says, "Hedwin is my son's friend amongst you men, my Lord. As I said, I was
hoping to find him here tonight. But he seems not be here. I am a quiet man and
don't like the bawdy crowds and reckless men. My son Enirel however, shares not
my feelings and seeks to prove his courage every day. It troubles the heart of
a father and robs me of my sleep."
As the growing glow in the eastern sky signals morning, those of the Edain
camps stir and make preparations for the day. But of the Eldar, day or night
means little in the way of sleep, and one elleth, seeming restless of the
night's silence, wends her way slowly from the stables. Twirling a long piece
of braided straw absently in her fingers, the maiden stops to hearken to the
voices that echo from the Hithlum camp in the outer courtyard. Taking slow
steps she draws nearer to those in conversation.
Hador. turns to one of the guards and a brief conversation ensues. "Ah, yes, I
do indeed recall this Hedwin, a brave lad of the guard I am told. Yet he has
been in his tent for some time now they say. Perhaps he harbours some wound
from the recent battles which has not yet healed...." Of course this is only
what he has been told by the guardsmen, and indeed it may all be wrong, but you
can only go with what you know. A slight not does hador give the elven maiden
which his keen eyes pick out from the barkened camp.
Derelin shifts his weight from one foot to the other, looking at the elf
approaching. He looks back at the Lord of Dor-Lomin and says, "That is ill news
indeed, my lord. I shall visit the healers when morning has broken to find
Hedwin and perhaps some news of my son. It was rumored that a small band of our
men was separated from the main force in one of the last skirmishes, but I know
little of such things."
Hador. hmmms thoughtfully to himself, "Yet you speak rightly, indeed there was
a small group which was seperated from the rest of us. Yes such are the
fortunes of war. And should it be within my power I will see you reunited with
your son."
The elleth finally draws nearer to those Edain in conversation. Seeing she has
been noticed, she now makes an obvious approach of it, though coming just close
enough to bid them greeting without seeming too intrusive. "Good morn, mellyn,"
she says of a cheerful mien, and casts her gaze eastwards towards the brimming
dawn.
Derelin says, "Thank you my lord for you kind attention, my Lord", and bows. "I
shall get myself gone back to my tent, back to my animals where I belong." He
looks around and notices the elven maid again. "I'll just get my dog back, it
must have wandered off while we were talking. My lady, maybe you have seen it?"
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