Fairgrounds
        In a clearing you now stand, surrounded on all sides by tall trees swaying in the gently breeze which blows ever across the vast plains of Lebennin. The grass beneath your feet is tall and green and the sweet smell of life hangs heavy in the air. Large is this clearing, some hundred yards across and nigh unto seventy in width, and it looks to be a fairground of some sort, for the grass is laid low to the ground in many places, as though folk come here often. South through the trees can be seen the glistening spires of Pelargir upon Anduin, Stronghold of Gondor and ancient haven of lost Numenor, her mighty towers thrusting like ivory spikes into the sky. A small path there is to the west, winding it's way between a long row of wooden stands which surround the clearing, and in the distance you are able to descry the expanse of the South Road.
        Empty now is the clearing, for life in the city goes on and the time is not ripe for celebration, but hither and anon there comes a lone traveller, seeking peace and solitude amidst this blessed glade. Rising some paces above ground level, there soars a mighty mound of earth, grass covered and untrodden. And around this mound are many benches, for like a garden has this clearing become, and at times there may be seen man, or woman, resting quietly upon these stone biers; their eyes faced longingly and respectfully towards the lump of earth that rises before them. Before the mound, and circled within a ring of small white stones, there is planted a young lebethron tree, and before it is there is set a plaque of bronze, anchored deep into the ground.
 

The sun rises slowly over the Ephel Duath, casting her glorious light over the green fields of fair Lebennin.

Kylier begins to make his way to the tent that Eartmos has pointed to. He chuckles slightly as he spies Malahir. He motions to Eartmos to follow him. He chuckles again as he steps up to the Gaurd. "Sir, do ye know me? I am Lord Kylier, fighter of the West, great Lord of Dunlostir, now what do ye have to say of this weather that I have brought my men to? could not things have been worked out a bit better?"

Eartmos calls out to Kylier: "I will see you inside!"

Medonihil trots in on his black horse named Thundercrack. Though the horse may not look like much, it is very dependable. Flying above him is his pet bird Talin. Talin sqwaks as he sees the tents. Medonihil is amazed at the site as he trots to the stables and ties his horse up.

Eartmos exits the pavilion grumbling a bit as someone pushes him out, saying that it is NOT TIME yet. From thence, at the entrance to the same pavilion, he walks to Kylier and Medonihil, bowing as he reaches them to be polite.

From out of his reverie, Malahir draws his cloak tight about his neck and over the silver brooch on his lapel. He beams excitedly at the rohan that has introduced himself as Kylier. He uprights himself from leaning on the post and reaches out with his right hand, "Of course I do kind sir. How could I forget my first tour of duty in Rohan." After a moment of awkard silence, "and yes, I couldn't have planed a better welcoming"

Analdin meanders quietly about the clearing, looking long at the various tents and pavillions set up. The somewhat damp ground muffles the heavy stomp of his boots on the ground as he walks about. Gaze wandering even more than Analdin himself, he pays little to no attention to any single thing, but seems to take in the entire place rather slowly.

Eartmos raises an eyebrow as he tries for what must be the third time to enter the conversation. "Tour of duty?" he says quickly, hoping to get a word in. "Yes, we have many...Patrols...in Rohan."

Medonihil walks into the crowd and mingles a bit. He notices a few faces. Well he greets some people along the way.

Kylier raises his head to the sky, then looking at Eartmos he shakes his head a bit. "well sir if I had held such as this event in Rohan, I would make sure the weather was better, now" he looks down at his boots for a moment. "I shall have to find someone to clean my fresh polished boots, surly you could help me do as much. And sir" he glares at the man "Perhaps you would be so kind to introduce your self and address me as Lord!" The last said with a firm nod of his head.

Eartmos smiles, and, trying not to laugh, walks off after a quick nod of his head in the affirmative to what Kylier has said.

Malahir eyes widen at the berating of the rohan royal. He speaks softly as he nods, "Yes lord Kylier, I do remember you. Would you like to step inside the pavillion of my fair city?"

Analdin, stepping past a cluster of men, tilts his head for a second. Turning around with a sharps turn, his heavy boots making something of a squeak on the wet ground, he stands behind them for a few moments. Noticing Malahir, he pays closer attention, and, hearing the last few words of Kylier, stifles a low chuckle.

Kylier stares at the young man and shakes his hooded head "Nay, tis not good enough, perhaps ye could have someone come and clean them now! Tis what I would have done to one of ye lords, at the least." He shakes his head slightly "By Helm what have I done to come to such a barbarion place as this?" He asks noone in particular. He turns in mock disgust, but as he does he spies Analdin and lets out a loud laugh....

Malahir bows his head slightly, letting the long dawn shadows cover his face. He takes a reluctant step back against the tent post, withdrawing from the group. He hikes his foot up against the post and looks away, peering across the muddy fields that was once green.

Analdin smiles at Kylier, allowing the surfacing chuckle to escape, "Well to see you again, Lord Kylier" he says quietly and straight-faced, and somewhat sarcastically with a mischevious twinkle shining in his eyes, "Though I may have to do something about your opinion. Barbarion place, you say?"

Kylier laughs and bows his head to Analdin "Ah...Well now it seems I shall have to take back my words eh? Tis good to see ye again Analdin, really." He sweeps his hands about the area, water driping off his fingers, he shruggs slightly, a mischief smile about his face "What would ye have me say? Trully I need to set that I am a bit better than those that I shall face in the coming days." He laughs again, a deep hearty laugh.

Medonihil is approached by a guard of Minas Tirith. The guard says to Med "What are you doing, we have duties for you!" Medonihil turns around and sees the guard and says "I'm off duty, I was not informed of me having to do any duties here. If I am really needed, come back to me again. This is my vacation time and I shall not have it ruined by duty." The guard listens as carefully as he could since the noise level was so high. He replies to Medonihil saying "Alright, but just be ready. Sorry to disturb you." Medonihil salutes and walks away and chuckles to himself a little. His bird sqwaks as Medonihil leaves. and moves toward what he believes is his commander.

Analdin allows his soft smile to resurface, and he nods for a moment, "I would have most certainly chosen better weather for the coming days..." looking at the water dripping off Kylier's fingers he adds, "For mud is certainly not the best to be fighting in. A competitor with mud on his clothing is never very happy, I fear... especially when you have caused him to fall into it." With that, he chuckles again, and shrugs.

Kylier laughs and nods then with a tilt of his head "Nor snowballs eh?" Is all he says. He turns back to the one he was addresing before "Please, I ment no harm, all in jest, for long do I hold your linage and friendship dear to my heart."

The sound of his Lieutenant's voice stirs a motion from Malahir. He looks his way and gives him a silent nod. His arms remain crossed and he doesn't budge from his location, despite the occational wind gusts, changing direction so that his leather pant legs are soaked with rain.

Analdin laughs, "Aye, nor snowballs." He falls silent as his friend turns to Malahir, and nods back to the guard, his smile fading somewhat. The twinkle dimming slightly, mischief leaving his appearance, he watches in silence.

Kylier flips back his hood, if looked at one would see a mirror image of Kylier and Malahir, except for the color of eyes and hair. Kylier doesn't seem to notice as he chuckles slightly. He shruggs his shoulders under his rain soaked cloak as he turns back to his long friend Analdin "Now, what I wish is a warm ale, surly ye could see to that before I trounce many of ye in said mud?" His eyebrows raise slightly in amusement.

Medonihil walks over to towards what he thinks is Analdin says "Hello sir. How are you?"

Malahir seems to not have heard the rohan explain his jest. During the silence, you may see him wipe away a streak of water from his cheek. Rain water appears overhead, dripping on his shoulder, but his helm apppears to be dry. He continues his silent watch on the upcomming fields of competition, ruined by the miserable seaside rain.

Analdin's smile returns, if only slightly, as he nods towards the tents and pavillions, "I'm certain they have something in the way of a good drink around here. Though work has kept me too busy since my arrival to seek one out. As for getting trounced in the mud... that may please me about as much as finding horses inside my gates." With a quick wink to Malahir, he turnd to the approaching Medonihil, his eyes darken a bit more, and he nods, "I am quite well, Medonihil. Yourself?"

Medonihil waves to Malahir, another fellow guard. He replies to Analdin with "I am fine. Quite fine. How is it going so far? Thinking about entering any contests. I hope I can enter the joust. I know I have a good chance."

Kylier rolls his head back in laughter before setting his eyes on Medonihil. He stands there, hair becoming soaked as he seems a bit eager to find said ale. He affords a slight nod to the man now before him. A grin on his face "Yes, by all means join in, I am sure I shall enjoy seeing ye stuck in the mud." Another slight chuckle and a wink.

Malahir turns lifts his head and half turns to see the new comer in the conversation. He offers him a slight smile and softly chuckles at the mentioning of the incident at the city gates. His eyes avoid the blue grey orbs of the rohan, quickly dismissing the conversation by turning back on the group and continuing his vigil on the rainy bog that has become of the clearing

Into the steely hues of the cloudy morn steps the graceful figure of a slender woman. Clad in the richness of an emerald velvet that bears her far land's hues as readily as the banner that snaps to dancing life atop the pavilion behind her, Aelspeth greets the day with a vaguely disfocused smile and takes but a single lithe step to the side to permit her companion exit from the tent she's just left.

Analdin nods once more to Medonihil, "Glad to see you back, at least. I expect to see you on duty, then, if you are back and ready to enter the compititions." That said, he smiles at Kylier, "Stuck in the mud, my friend? Certainly you do not think I will be the one all dirty?"

Medonihil nods to Analdin and says "Why yes sir. Sorry for my absence. You see, one of my family members was extremely sick and I had to take a leave of absence. He has recovered now so I will be back on duty as soon as the faire is over."

Kylier lets go another chuckle as he turns back to his friend Analdin. A slight shrugg "Tis my plan good sir, besides if memeory serves me well, ye had the last snowball in my face, so tis only fitting that I shall see ye in the mud!" He laughs again. "Now of said ale, tis I think ye only hope to defeat me I think, a strong hangover shall do much to dull my actions." Hearing steps to his left he turns and sees his Clan Master, and his lady's Lady before him he bows. "Ah Lady Aelspeth. I am just telling such friends of the mud that I am afraid they shall find under my attack, but am also giving them a chance as I search out such ale that can be found."

Aldorhain pushes the tent flap open with his hand and straightens himself to his full height as he steps out into the open. He blinks his eyes a couple of times to adjust them to the change in the lighting and a breath of wind stirs his snowy hair about his shoulders as he stretches out his back and lets out a short grunt. Having done that he moves over to where Aelspeth stands and runs his eyes over the surroundings. Nothing shows in his neutral expression that he wears on his features of what he might think of what he sees. He leans over to whisper something quietly into Aelspeth's ear as two more tall riders come out of the tent wearing the red and silver colors of Clan Ethias.

At Medonihil's comment, Analdin raises an eyebrow, "After the faire is over? Perhaps we shall speak of your return in private soon, Medonihil." His smile, however, light as it may be, had not disapeared and as he turns back to Kylier, his brow climbs a bit higher, "I had the last snowball? Perhaps, then, I should give you a chance." Winking, he turns and gives Aelspeth a bow, "Good day," he says quietly, ignoring Kylier's multiple mentions of ale.

Malahir watches with mild interest the colorfully garbed lady and her entourage. His concentration on her makes him blush slightly, and he quickly turns his attention on the guards collected nearby. He notion with his head for his commander to come to his side.

Paying as little attention to that extra brace of riders as she does to the spattering of raindrops that bedew her delicate features, Aelspeth tilts her face so that she might better hear what Aldorhain's low voice would say. Her reply to his murmuring is a soft lilt of subdued laughter, and a lifting up of her finely boned hand to tug his tunic.. just so.. into its place across a shoulder, the gesture holding more of fondness than had she simply kissed him. That duty complete, she turns in time to catch Analdin's mute greeting, and inclines her head to him with a dawning smile in return before letting her violet gaze slither its way about the clearing.. the curve of her lips remaining in tact for Malahir as well.

In the partial shadow of the trees lining this clearing sits Emmengrim, upon a piece of cloth crumpled and stained by travel and time, a wooden staff gently laid on his lap like a thing cherished, palms testing the integrity of such splendid weapon for sparring, the idle conversation heard even to him from the pavillions, yet if the indigo clad man acknowledges any of it, save the words spoken by the white haired lord, is in doubt, his concentration on the shaft oaken and its wellbeing, cross-legged the warrior tall and sandyhaired where he is seated, working on the tool of melee slowly, carefully, though every now and then the gaze of his eyes does find the lady as well, but briefly and far between, more often the all but polished surfave of his weapon the target of intent orbs sharp.

Analdin, out of the corner of his eye, catches Malahir's nod. With a quick smile and a soft "excuse me", he turns and takes the few steps back to Malahir's side. Sweeping a small lock of light hair from his eyes with a gesture that makes his seem younger than his small collection of years, he gives Malahir an expectant look.

Kylier nods to his friend Analdin and makes his way to His lord and his lady. Stoping a few feet from them he bows "M'Lord, M'Lady, I hope ye are well." Standing upright he looks at them, wet blond hair now plastered on his face.

Away from the road... you hear the galloping of heavy horses and then proud horns...

HOOOhooom HOOM

Again, the horns sound and then you see the coming of proud knights on stern steeds seemingly wrought of stone.

Her attention drawn by the familiar turn of a Rohirric voice, Aelspeth offers to Kylier the same smile she's given to all who've met her gaze.. perhaps imbued by a bit more warmth. "Well indeed to be in so noble a place, mi'lord Kylier. I might only hope the same for you.." And with that the lady is interrupted by the brassy braying of horns as they ring through the moisture laden air, and her slim frame turns itself that her eyes might find the direction from which they have hailed.. and for the time being, upon those arriving knights do they remain.

Malahir steps up to meet the young guard he had motioned to speak to and nods over to a quite spot in the corner of the tent. From outside, the rain begins to tapper off, making whispering harder to contain. To him he speaks, "Lieutenant, I do not mean to be rude, but I'm feeling a bit under the weather it seems", stopping to let the pun set in, then eyeing the young officer sourly, "Could I rest up tonight, and avoid the opening ceremonies? I'm hoping to gain my strength for the events"

Helorondur arrives from the nearby road.

Aldorhain continues to turn his eyes here and there, whether this be a thing of boredom or perhaps figuring out exactly where everything is only he shall know. As Kylier greets both Aelspeth and himself, Aldorhain raises up a hand to wipe a drop of rain from the end of his nose and he gives a nod of his head to Kylier, "As with all things associated with age, I would be in a better state of mind if it were less damp, but my joints shall tolerate the sprinkles well enough I suppose." At the sounding of horns and the rumble of horse's hooves, Aldorhain directs his attention in the direction from which the sounds issued and gives Aelspeth a brief smile.

Kylier Bows again to Aelpseth and Aldorhain "tis good indeed to see ye as well as hearing such words." Then hearing the horns he takes a step past his Lord and turns to face the road. He smiles as he does so. Thinking that perhaps his own Lord should have had the entrance.

Now do Emmengrim's spheres fixed on the toil rise and greet the column of arrivals in the distance, clearly awe shining in the prideful orbs, and soon is the staff discarded on the wettening cloth, hands calloused rubbed together for warmth and to clear them of the chipped wood bourne on his skin from the staff, keen the gaze now on the mighty men upon steadfast beasts, keen the step of this Maegisterwigend when he starts down the low slope of a hill, towards the clan leaders, and fellow riders alike.

Though his bright eyes had turned at the sound of horns, to whichever direction they seemed to sound from, ringing through the air, at the sound of Malahir's voice, he turns back to the guard. With a slight frown, he nods slowly, "If it is that you are not feeling up to attending, Malahir, go ahead and take you rest. Though..." he trails off for a moment, eyes darting to the road, "I would have enjoyed your company."

From the South, a horse and rider arrive at a gallop... The Steed is caparisoned in Blue and Gold, as is its rider. He is covered from head to toe in steel mail, but his bright eyes peer out from beneath a great Swan-Winged helm. With standard of the Ship and Swan on the tip of his lance, Helorondur arrives.

Edoraw heads back out to the main road, leaving the clearing behind.

Helorondur raises his voice to an echoing pitch, a most effective herald is he: "HEAR YE! HEAR YE!" he shouts, without pausing his gallop: "The Great Prince Imrahil the Fair arriveth! Welcome to Tournament, Ladies, Lords, Gentles All! Make Way for the Prince!"

Malahir chuckles heartedly, bringing about a ragged cough. Continuing on to his embarassment, even as the fanfair commotion outside commences the arrival of more newcomers to the feastive tourniment. Nodding, he speaks to Analdin, "I'm sorry sir, I do apoligize, but I believe I must take my leave now.", ending with a snappy salute.

Aelspeth quirks a golden brow, it holding a honeyed light that retains the gleam of the sun, along with the flowing river of her loosed down hair.. both made the more bright for the greyish and drizzle laden morn. And her keen eyes sharpen upon the arriving figure before they dart back to Aldorhain's face and she moves her person nearer, clasping his forearm with fingers that bear but a single ring. "You are not that old, my lord.. and if you feel so tired, remain behind while I find some handsome young man from our amongst hosts to show me about." There is the distinct touch of the jest in that melodic and lowly pitched voice, it directed at her companion, before it falls off as the herald does lift his own in announcement.

Eyes yet intent upon the herald, Analdin tears himself away from the approaching commotion to give Malahir another nod, a bit of concern imposing itself over the cheerfulness in his eyes, "Take your rest, then, Malahir. I hope to see you well soon." With that, he sketches a return salute and turns back to the road.

Helorondur Slows to a trot as he takes stock of the situation. He epeats his proclaimation, imploring all with regal word. "Well Met All! Lord Imrahil approacheth with retinue, and with guest Denethor, Steward of Gondor! Steel thyself well, for the contests will begin anon!"

Closer comes Emmengrim, clad not so overly for festives, even if his lengthy frame sports a new tabard and attire otherwise meticulously tailored, head bearing the crown of brownish hair unadorned and dancing lightly in the small breeze descending from cloudclad sky. Almost finishing the distance to Aelspeth and Aldorhain he strides forth, eyes more on the herald with a flowing toungue and speech than his clansmen, internal battle perhance in presence ere the handsomely built warrior bends his knee a ways to the lord of Ethias with a small, efficient cough, lowly speaking words of greeting, so not to disturb the unfolding of current events. "My lord...my lady fair...well met to you on this day.."

All eyes look to the Herald; those unfortunate enough to lie in his path scurry out of the way. But joy, and nt fear, reigns in this place. Presently, the crowd's attention shifts to the road, eagerly awaiting the arrival of the august troupe from Dol Amroth.

Slowly, the Swan-knights of Dol Amroth file into the clearing. They bear their swords and hold them aloft in a sign of salute and they sing as they come. At their head, proud and valiant, sits the Prince himself. He urges his horse foward to whence Helorondur is.

Aldorhain glances downward to Aelspeth and raises an eyebrow at her and he gives a shake of his head, his voice quiet with a hint of amusement in it, "I think such a young man would find himself strung up and flapping in the wind like a banner if you did such." As Emmengrim kneels, Aldorhain reaches out and places a hand on his shoulder, giving the shoulder a firm squeeze as he smiles for a brief moment, "Greetings to you, kinsman. Pay proper attention, the Prince approaches and we should conduct ourselves honorably to those bearing noble blood of this land."

Aelspeth takes the time to incline her head to Emmengrim, giving silent greeting to his words, the bare smile upon her lips remaining in its gentle line before she shifts again her attention in all its weight upon those that now do come. An elegant statue of alabaster and emerald green, she waits beside her husband as a guest and ally in this far land.. amidst the throng of the coming prince's people, a polite interest displayed upon the noble cast of her lovely face.

The gathering crowd parts to admit the Prince and his retinue. Oohs and Ahhs canbe heard from some of the local onlookers, but many of the already-assembled notables look on with silent, dignified admiration. Helorondur, his mission for the moment completed, trots up to his Prince. ""Tis a great honor to welcome you first to this site, milord. As thou canst see, a fair gathering awaits the contests."

Tallis makes her way to Emmengrim's side, standing just behind his shoulder.

Beladan proudly bears aloft the colours of Dol Amroth, and spurs his horse onwards behind his Leige.

Kylier stands to the right of Aldorhain, his right hand resting across his body on his sword hilt. He stand a full step behind as he glances down at Ememgrim then he looks back up to the aproaching group.

Imrahil dismounts from his steed and then as if knowing full well the layout of this ground he comes to a dias. Upon this he climbs until he overlooks the entire of the encampment. He looks now to Helorondur and says, "Sound the horns and we may with fitting and royal posture begin these proceedings."

Sanos arrives from the nearby road.

Helorondur nods his assent."Aye, Milord." With that, he gestures silently to a bevy of retainers, decked out in flowing tabards of blue and white, fringed with gold. With long clarions in hand, they walk their mounts forward slowly. Lo! The bright tones of the Fanfare resound with glory!"

Analdin stands near to the front of the gathered, his deep eyes looking hard over the approaching knights and others of Dol Amroth. His eyes are filled with a bright and cheerful twinkle, yet lying not to deep underneath that can be seen the beginings of suspicion of a sort. With a straight and proud posture, he looks on at the proceedings, though keeps a wary eye on the rest of the crowd.

Closely peering at the magnificent sight of glittering steel and wealth of armour, Emmengrim is close to missing his sister thus quietly arriving to stand behind his broad shoulder, yet some silent communication there is as he turns to gift Tallis a wide smile, reaching those solemn eyes as well, a touch light upon her forearm before this stalwart Maegisterwigend as well returns his attention to the Prince, bold and splendid his bearing beside the lord and lady of the clan and captain, his superior.

Edoraw walks among the Rohirs gathered at this particular event. Not far from him, staying close to as he moves through the crowd closer to the Lady Aelspeth, he holds Laurana's hand. He looks over to Laurana for a linguring glance, and smiles to her before asking, "Where would you like to be, leof?"

Imrahil nods and then with a keen eye holds up his hand awaiting a peace to come over the crowd.

The horns of Imrahil blast!!!!

HOOOHOOOM HOOOM

HOOOHOOOM HOOOM

HOOOHOOOM HOOOM

Imrahil holds up his hand awaiting for the crowd to achieve silence.

Laurana moves slowly but sure-footedly behind her husband, smiling softly. She speaks a quiet reply and moves her head in a gesture of movement. As she does so, she catches a mere glance of the splendor before her.

There is but the wind to offer distraction to Aelspeth, she having fallen silent long before. She now remains so, letting the gentle breeze finger caresses through the flowing mass of her golden hued hair, eyes of violet rivetted upon the dias as the resounding cadence of the brassy horns lofts heavenward yet again.

Imrahil nods being satisfied and begins...
Imrahil holds up his hand and the rings upon his fingers gleam. His proud chiselled face then speaks with a serene note, "To all I give welcome. To all I wish merriment and happy day that those gathered here may come to this Faire and Tournament conducted under the auspices of my House and the Lords of Pelargir. To them, I give many thanks."
Imrahil turns and now bows respectfully to the banners of Pelargir before he continues, "For nigh on an age have we stood here, bastion of the western realms and the chief defense by sword and steel and wisdom against the onslaught of the enemy whose name I dare not utter here. Yet not all this would be possible. Indeed," says Imrahil with a solemn note, "Gondor would be no more if it were not for our friends in Rohan, thus most glad am I to welcome them here to remember our old alliance. To them I salute: Hail Rohan!"
Imrahil now turns and bows to the banner of Rohan.

Helorondur bows in his saddle to the Lords of the Northern Plains.

Beladan slips with comfortable ease from his mount, a page attending it immediately. His armour reflects the light of the morning sun as he proceeds to the dias and lifts the colours triumphantly behind the Prince as he begins to address the assembled crowds. He proceeds to lower the colours as a giant flag of the Ship and Swan is run up a flag pole errected at the rear of the dias.

Imrahil now says, "Yet ere we may conduct these proceedings with honour and dignity it behooves us to recognize those of my folk who have but lately achieved honour." Imrahil looks to Beladan, "Come you forth."

Amarthion arrives from the nearby road.

The innate and soul deepened pride of her people rests in the very curves of Aelspeth's body as she stands with slim shoulders squared amongst the host of Rohan. The rain drenched wind give a tugging snap to the banner of their land as its silvery embroidered stallion gallops overhead, as if to emphasize Imrahil's statements. But still in silence waits she, fingers about her husband's arm as her attention remains upon the prince and those he would honor.

Illiana arrives from the nearby road.

Beladan stands forth and bows deeply as he nears Imrahil.

Imrahil says in a regal tone with a clipped voice, "First, I give to you, the Lord Beladan, knighted but 5 days ago. A most worthy man, he and his heirs are now forever my banner-bearers as long as their line shall last. To him, I give Hail and thanks!"

The knights say as one, "Hail Beladan, Lord of Tarnost, Banner-Bearer of the Prince!"

Imrahil turns now and says, "Helorondur, Lord of Edhellond, Master of the Girithlins. Come ye forth!"

Bourne arrives from the nearby road.

Quiet as stricken is Emmengrim in his garb of blue, clearly fighting emotions, this hardy man of many battles, as the knights solemn of this land, also his half by birth, do assemble themselves, and those honoured are presented.

Helorondur spurs his mount onward, till he is nigh the head of the column. He dismounts, and bows as a liege to his lord.

Tallis silently puts her hand on Emmengrim's shoulder, nearly as tall as her silent brother. She glances briefly at him, then turns her attention to the ceremonies once again.

Imrahil says to the gathering, "Helorondur is a mighty Lord and a valiant knight. Do not think, " the Prince's eyes turn to Helorondur, "That this has gone without notice. Even in sadness comes greatness, for the Knight-Herald, Amarthion the Black Prince of the Girithlins has sailed into the West forsaking our cause here to chase things of another age. Alas for Amarthion and the sorrows of his house..."

Helorondur holds his head downcast as the fate of his kinsmen is recounted.

Imrahil continues, "Therefore, omit no happy hour without any more wretched thought. For from this day forth, Lord Helorondur shall assume the title of Knight-Herald and may enemies shake in the sink of fear at the shuddering of his voice!"

The Knights draw their swords, "Hail Helorondur, Knight-Herald of the Prince!"

Analdin watches the proceedings, holding his attention more upon the crowd than what is happening on the dias. Glacially cool blue eyes watch for a moment the movements of the nobility, but more often that not, his gaze is upon those watching. In silence, he listens to the cheering of those gathered, and his characteristicly smiling face turns solemn and blank.

Helorondur bows once more to Imrahil. "'tis my steadfast will to aid thee in whatsoever capacity desired, Prince Imrahil! Long have my forebears held this office. I Salute thee, as well the knights of the Swan, and our guests the Rohirrim!"

Bourne makes his way into the clearing by himself, looking towards the crowd as he picks his way through the grass towards the rear of the crowd, drawn by the cheering which he has heard. He regards the pr

Kylier Looks to Aldorhain, then taking a step from behind him he draws his sword, holding it up high. Then lowering it downwards to let the blade touch his forhead before he turns the blade upside down and srikes it into the soggy ground. Resting his hands on the now upturned hilt he looks about before letting his gaze fis on Imrahil "I and my men can only rejoice in joining these games with those that our forefathers have pledged alligence to, and that I" he looks at his gathered men "as well hold dear." He looks about then speaks further "Many of ye I know not, and some I have fought with, but as it matters not as our Oath shall always bind us." He looks at Aldorhain then to those gatherd about. "Forev ever shall I cal ye my friends and answer ye call when ever needed."

Medonihil watches in awe. He is just dying for the games to start.

Imrahil looks at Kylier for a moment, "True friends indeed are the Rohirrim! Now permit me one other last brief ceremony, for this concerns my people closely. I call Illiana forth!"

Illianas warm eyes move over the gathering, smiling at the show until she hears her name called. Then her eyes widen and she pales. Shyly, heistantly, she moves forward, her azure gown whispering about her, the silver symble of her lord catching the light

Imrahil looks to Illiana and says, "It has come to me by means of lore at the disposal of the archives of Minas Tirith that you are not, who you seem to be!"

Sanos finds his place next to the Minas Tirith Guard, and sets himself quietly down to a firm position as he watches the valliant men with awe. Scanning over the crowd he recognizes some faces and others look new to him, yet very fair in his eyes of new.

Perhaps not as rash in his moves as Kylier, or as flowing with intimate swordsman's grace with the blade is Emmengrim when he looks back, sideways to Tallis and whispers few chosen words to the lady young and fresh as springtime blossom. "Indeed wondrous is the sight of men of Gondor and proud their bearing, dear sister...glad I am that came, for strongly does now beat the blood of mine mother in mine flesh.." Then, almost shyly, he comes around to gift the Aethelwigend a look of appraisal perhaps, of the powerful words, yet then silence overcomes finally the tall Rohirrim in indigo hues of cloth, his features blending into the host of Mark.

Illiana gasps, her hand rising to her lips, "M'lord?", she asks, her eyes filled with confusion. "I have never told thee false m'lord. I swear it upon the blood in my veins"

Imrahil cries and holds aloft a scroll, "Behold Illiana. Your true legacy. For it has been found that you are of the high blood as long as I have expected and that long ago you were sundered from your kin! Of the House Calanros are you! Therefore, I say to you Illiana. That you are no more! You are now Lady Illiana of the House Calanros!"

Imrahil now says, "Let the Lady Isilirim, Charystra come forth."

Illianas mouth drops open in shock, amazement showing upon her face as she stares at the scroll in her Prince's hand

Imrahil nods and hands the scroll to Illiana with a brief smile.

Charystra blinks and steps forwards as bidden, her blond hair blowing in the breeze. Her voice is clear and ringing, "I come as bidden my Prince."

Helorondur looks to Illiana with undisguised pleasure at the revelation, and glances back to Imrahil with a knowing look.

Illiana curtsies deeply to the Prince, finally remembering her manners, and holds the scroll close to herself as if it were a precious child

Imrahil nods to Charystra, "Long have you served me Bardess and your house is loyal to the fief of Belfalas. Yet not only are you knowing in song. Your counsel is wise as well. Therefore, great Lady, I appoint you a Chief Counsellor of the House Imrazor to be held by you as long as you will it."

Helorondur nods at the widom of Imrahil's words.

Charystra blinks in surprise, high color rising into her cheeks, "I thank thee for this honor my Prince, and I accept it though it comes as a great surprise. I only hope that I am worthy as thou deemest me, and that I may serve both thee and House Imrazor for as long as I do live." her voice is clear and ringing, the power which hides until she speaks or sings revealed

Aelspeth watches without stirring, as the formalities of the festival's opening go on and observing with a quiet interest as her eyes dance from face to face. Occasionally, she lifts up her chin and whispers into Aldorhain's ear, but not in any way disturbing anyone.

Imrahil nods and smiles as he looks now out to the Rohirrim, "First now I thank you for allowing me this hour to do what must be done. Yet also I now address the Rohirrim. Who here may come forth and speak for the Rohirrim our friends of old?

Kylier continues to rest his hands on his sword hilt as he turns to look at his Lord Aldorhain. He moves not nor does his men behind him.

Somewhere behind the gathered crowd, a black horse bears a dark rider upon its back. Slowly the mighty destrier strides forward, until the rider, reinless, halts. There he stands for a brief moment, the rain pouring down upon him, his clothes wet and tight to his body. Not moving at all, content to be behind the crowd, and not making much noise. If one catches sight of him, it is out of the corner of one's eye, but surely this is a sight to be viewed more closely... and then the figure moves. The horse rides away slowly, and disappears from view, seeming to be heading dead westwards and away from the city of Pelargir.

Aldorhain steps out from the main body of the assembled Rohirrim and lifts up a hand to brush an errant lock of snowy hair out of his eyes. After doing this, he turns them upward to look upon Imrahil and he raises his voice to a loud booming bass, "I, Aldorhain of Deeping Coomb, do speak for the Sons of Eorl, Prince Imrahil!"

Illiana moves out of the circle of attention, tears showing in her emerald eyes

Imrahil replies to Aldorhain, "Then come forth Aldorhain of the Mark and speak what you will!"

Charystra slips towards Illiana, a tender smile touching her lips as she murmurs to the young woman

With cool gaze Analdin continues his watching. No hint of the cheerful spirit of the occasion touches him at all, though as the cloudy sunlight touches his face, hints of the importance of what is happening shines as brightly as anything. And yet, as his soldier's posture remains strong and straight, his vigilant eyes sweeping the peaceful crowd, the Lieutenant seems almost uninterested.

All but unnoticeable is the small inclination of proud head and features glowing of Emmengrim as Aldorhain steps forth and readies to speak for the chosen ones of Helm and Bema alike, his fingers digging under the sword belt leathery he wears 'round lean waist, trying to calm themselves for such a display of prowess gathered here shakes even the most valiant of men not accustomed to such, and slowly he leans towards his sister as well, whispering something faintly.

Illiana speaks quietly with the Lady Charystra, blinking in amazement at something the lady has said

Tallis 's solemn face lightens a little at Emmengrim's whisper, but she doesn't go so far as to smile. Not yet.

Perhaps Aelspeth stands taller as her husband moves to greet the nobles of this hosting land, or perhaps she only looks taller as she is left alone without his bulk to frame her. Either way, she yet retains her pride, and the innate nobility that lends her slim frame an elegance as she takes one step to the right that she might observe from better vantage what will be said.. the faint smile never dying from her lips.

Aldorhain moves forward towards the dias, leather creaking with each step along with the jingle of mail. As he steps up on the dias, his boots thump over the surface as he steps towards the center and pauses to give a short half bow to Imrahil. After having done this, Aldorhain turns slowly to look out over the crowd, both Gondorian and Rohirrim alike. He waits for several moments as if composing his thoughts and then he begins, his voice firm and easily heard over the gathered throng, "It pleases us all to receive such a warm welcome from Gondor, our allies for many many long years. It is our sincere hope, that this festival and the mingling once again of our people with yours will help to strengthen the ties that have bound us together for so long. Greetings do I bring from Theoden King to all. His health has not allowed him to make the long journey here to join us in the festivities, but know that Gondor rests in his thoughts with fondness and love." He draws in a breath and his eyes move over the crowd, resting briefly on different faces, both those he knows and those he does not, "Let our kinship begin and let us celebrate life in the events to come during this time of gathering. Together shall both Gondor and the Mark continue to strive to keep the dark forces of evil beaten back from our peoples."

The Knights of Dol Amroth draw their swords as one and say, "Hail Aldorhain! Man of Rohan, valiant friend!"

Imrahil bows to Aldorhain, "My thanks and to you and your kin my joy goes forth so that our merriment shall be great." Imrahil now looks to the throngs, "And who here wishes the faire to begins?"

Kylier pulls his sword from the ground, and holds it high before placing it back into his sheath.

The Knights of Dol Amroth remain as ne in formation, their steeds pawing the ground with anticipation of courses to be run.

Kylier grins and takes a step forward, he looks about before bowing to his lord and to the Prince "I do M'Lord!"

Illiana turns from her companion and smiles brilliantly, "And I too m'lord"

Aelspeth does not lift her dulcet voice, but her smile widens its curve, and takes on the warmth of the dawn upon her face as she inclines her head to the words issued forth by the prince.

Charystra lets her voice ring out, "And too my Prince." the clear ringing notes of her voice tempers by warmth

Imrahil smiles and says now, "Ah! Here is one of the Rohirrim whose limbs are sewn tougher than the bones of mountains! I hear you man of Rohan!" Imrahil now looks at those who speak and then he cries with a lilt in his voice so that above all he can be heard clear and true, "Therefore, by the auspices of the Lords of Gondor I open this Faire!

An extra loud and deep cheer rises from many of those from Minas Tirith in the crowd, espicially the Guard around the edges of the crowd, as they chorus their wishes for the faire to begin. Analdin, gives a half-nod, as he is unable to keep the obvious excitement from shining in his eyes. Whispering, more to himself than anyone around, his light voice answers, "I as well."

Illiana takes Charystra's hand and squeezes it, turing her smile to her friend

Trumpets ring and a clamour begins!

Illiana applauds her Prince, her eyes sparkling happily

Charystra smiles at Illiana, laughing as she murmurs, "Here's to a fun time my friend, and beauty and music to warm the hearts and souls of all."

Helorondur signals to pages clad in white liveries, who presently set rare refreshment in the form of Belfalas White wine on portable tables near the dais. The pages then begin to circulate among the notables, offering dainties and wine to all.

Kylier bows again and proudly beats his right hand on his shield before taking a step back to fall behind the Lady Aelspeth. His small patrol stands behind him.

Tallis smiles, her grave face coming alight like the dawn. She glances silently at her brother.

Imrahil turns to Helorondur and Beladan, "Herald, you and the Lord Beladan go forth and begin to register what contestants may wish to join in what events that are martial, do not take any who you may question in your heart to fail in such a test." Imrahil now looks to Charystra and Illiana, "And you two fair Ladies, go you forth and seek out those who would participate in craft and song and a list shall be made."

Charystra nods to Prince Imrahil, asking almost playfully, "and I my prince? Am I allowed to join in the Bardic competition...or am I banned?"

Illiana laughs softly, "I appeal to you m'lord to allow my friend and lady Charystra to join in the competitions"

Imrahil continues speaking to Illiana, "And since Lady, you have a new house, it is you who shall contrive the theme for the Bardic contest. Tell those who would join you." Imrahil now laughs and says, "Of course."

Kylier turns to face Aelpspeth "My, lady, in the absense of the one that I hold dear, could I please take ye to battle in these games, it would mean much to such as I." He watches Aels for a long moment.

Charystra grins and curtsies and adds, a mischivious tone to her voice, "My prince, I have a boon to beg of thee if thou wilt but hear me before I go about my duties.."

Then from the shadows a figure emerges tall and lordly with a hawkish nose and proud eye. He stands before Helorondur and laughs, "So Girithlin. We meet again at last! I see you have achieved a new position of Herald. Your house was always one for foppery."

Now does the long limbed, powerfully built patrol leader of Westfold leave the side of his sister beautiful, like the flowers on meadows 'round the distant Edoras, to move through the ranks of Rohirrim men to Kylier, whom sheats the mighty blade of his ever so gracefully like a very master of his trade. A glance of reassurance is given back to Tallis, a nod of jaw firm and unbearded, to join the lady Aelspeth in the task of attending sich wondrouns fair, abruptly coming to stop as the Aethelwigend hardy appears before him. Low and solemnly noted are the words that issue forth, "Well met, m'lord Kylier...your speech was most true and suitable methinks, and the lord Aldorhain ever holding clarity in his words, from Helm they must come like a holy lightning." Then the one muses for a momenth, letting his eyes fall on the shield and sword sharp like the scythe of death. "Whyfor such gear, m'lord...fear you of danger, or perhance you are to guard with honour the noble ones ?" Emmengrim inquires, subsiding then as another conversation takes place.

Illiana smiles and inclines her head to her Prince, the light never leaving her eyes. "I shall m'lord, when the time is come. Let those who would participate first give me their names, ere they know their task"

Imrahil nods and speaks, "Speak Charystra."

Charystra blushes and curtsies again, "I would ask, the promise of a single dance at the ball which shall fall later during the fair. Thou wouldst make my night." she laughs softly, green eyes sparkling as she awaits his answer

Imrahil arches a brow and says, "Of course Charystra, it shall be so."

Helorondur grins to his nemesis, Sir Aearion. "I see your sense his left you, if you continue to seek challange against me. Waste your time not with crow-calls, and school-boy pranks, I have duties to perform." He mounts, ignoring the recreant -knight's scowls, and proceeds to the Dol Amroth pavillion. Two pages and a scribe accompany the Herald on foot.

Malia has arrived.

Illiana smiles brightly at Charystra, impressed with her friends courage, as if perhaps she too has held such a thought but would never ask

Charystra laughs and curtsies again, "I thank thee for thy agreeance my Prince, and thence shall I and my friend, Lady Illiana, go about our tasks and seek to show thee fair sport in craft and song."

Sir Aearion replies, "Bah! Craven! Indeed I know you would turn your back to me. But truly I know how you earned your title: Lord Girithlin indeed! We shall meet in single combat Helorondur and there the crows shall smile upon you as you beg for my mercy."

Blinking, for her attention had been elsewhere, Aelspeth slowly brings her eyes around to rest full upon Kylier, man of her clan and her homeland, and yet once again does she smile, bestowing the warmth of her heart upon him. "No greater honor could I desire than to be so nobly asked for such a boon, mi'lord. If you mind not the taking of my colors upon the same field as my own lord, I would gladly bestow such upon you in the memory of that lady I know well you hold quite dear." And from her waist, a pouch that has lain unnoticed, takes she the gold embroidered linen of a purple hued scarf.. it scented with lilies.

Illiana beams and curtsies upon Charystra's words, pledging in that movement to do her utmost at her tastk

Helorondur turns once more to Aearion. "Thou needst not register for the scheduled events. You will be detained from them with injury, in the unlikely event you survive. For the sake of our Prince, a common ally, I pray harass me no further. satisfaction shall be yours in due time."

Imrahil replies with a laugh before disappearing into the crowd, "It shall Girithlin. It shall!"

Charystra laughs softly, "Come Lady Illiana, I shall play a tune upon my harp to bring those who wish to join in song, and craft and other revelry."

Tallis looks about the crowd, seeking out familiar faces among the many strangers.

As the crowd breaks from its previous stillness and attention to begin mulling about, Analdin also moves from his stance near the edge and front, walking toward the Dol Amroth pavillion. His heavy boots make no sound on the rain-soaked ground, as he walks with long and purposful strides, approaching Helorondur from the front. He clears his throat quietly, and waits for Helorondur to finish his conversation with another man.

Malia enters the area, her eyes searching the crowd for other Rohirrims.. Seeing Aelspeth she moves through the crowd to where she is standing. Bowing slightly to the lady she smiles.. "Greetings, M'lady Aelspeth.

Kylier smiles as his eyes bore into Aelspeth's. His smile is great and much relaxing in his stance. He reaches out and takes the offered cloth, almost reverently does he. "My honor, it means much to me, and" He smiles a bit with a chuckle "I shall do ye well, my Lady." He bows agian as he place the small cloth in his shield hand. He turns to Emmengrin, a grin on his face "I have just come from the gap, the land of our struggle with those that seem intent to force us out. I, sir Emmengrim, have found it better to be ready then found lacking!" He smiles but it is clear he finds the question perplexing.

Charystra reaches to tug on Illiana's hand, laughing as she moves to lead the girl furhter into the throng

Helorondur Raises his own standard before the Dol Amroth tent. The two pages set a long table afore him, and place two chairs behind it. Three chairs are set behind it, two are occupied by Helorondur and a scribe. "Analdin! Well met indeed! I trust you'll add you start arm to the meddle of contest in the coming week?"

A cry emanates through the crowd, "The beer and spirits vendor is open!"

Medonihil walks over towards Analdin and asks "What can I join at this Pavilion?"

With her scarf but a fluttering memory in the hands of her clansman, Aelspeth sets her eyes to roaming about the gathering, perhaps seeking the husband she lost to its formalities. And finding him not, she gives a rueful shake of her head, and begins to pick her way among the lingering puddles and swatches of mud, toward the place where the registration table has just been set up.. her slim form all but lost save for the glinting of golden embroideries as she moves through the crowd.

Beladan sits quietly, watching Lord Helorondur mingle easily with all comers, before dispatching a page to bring two mugs of ale from the vendor. He gives the lad a shiny coin and a quick wink as the sandy haired youth slips of into the fracas of the crowded lea.

Imrahil steps down from the dias and now smiles and he walks about the grounds his honour guard behind him warding off the crowd.

Charystra laughs and tugs at Illiana's hand, heading towards a pair of chairs. Once there, she settles, hands slipping to harp strings to send a haunting melody soaring, beckoning any who know of song or craft to come forwards and give their names

Illiana nods and smiles to Charystra, "Aye m'lady, I do long to hear thee sing once again" her face is happy and her mood is bright. Her emerald eyes seeming to glow as she moves off with the lady

Analdin nods, a ghost of a smile touching his face as he glances at the standard just raised before the tent. "'Tis well to see you here, Helorondur," he says, his quiet and light voice carrying well over the crowd's noise, "And, yes, I would be honored to join in the faire's festivities... As well would many of my men." The smile widens, and he adds, "Where should I sign to participate, then?"

Flutes and fiddles start playing as song starts from many places in the fair. Jugglers juggle and merchants begin to open up shop.

Aldorhain moves through the crowd as well, making his way as carefully as he can so he does not jostle anyone. He spots Aelspeth through the milling people and he makes his way over towards the registration tent that she is at as well. He places a hand on her shoulder and smiles, "It is easy to get lost in this, is it not?"

Malia places her hands upon her hips and frowns as the lady Aelspeth ignores her greeting.

Kylier turns from Emmengrim and makes his way through the crowed to the two ladies Illiana and Charystra. He bows slightly then lets his eyes rest on each for a moment, though not to long, more like one of honor "M'Ladies, tis well met and I can only give ye both my thoughts as I feel that honor has been given to each."

Helorondur grins to the Officer of the Guard. "Simply provide the names of your men to the scribe here, I'll vouchsafe to your worth, as I've seen thee and thine men in dire straits, conducting yourselves with honor. And please, take some refreshment." He gestures to a pitcher of chilled wine.

Illiana smiles warmly and nods to Kylier, "I thank you m'lord, it seems to be a day filled with miracles

Charystra's lips curve into a warm smile, green eyes dancing like tainted emeralds beneath her lashes, "M'lord, tis well met indeed, Rohan is dear within my heart and I thank thee for thy greeting." she laughs easily, "perhaps thou hast a mind to try thy hand at song crafting?"

Noticing that he chance to be honoured greatly by carrying the colors of kinswoman to battle valiant has slipped through his overtly courteous fingers, Emmengrim but gives a small nod to Kylier with a polite smile, glancing through the milling people and thick armies of bodies assaulting the festive fields to the lonely place among the trees where his staff lay. "Aye..bitter were those fights 'gainst Helm forsaken foes, yet here we stand unscathed once again...pray 'tis so after the games as well..." But then the sight of Illiana catches the attention of this well-mannered gent of West, and he approaches the lady swiftly, across the puddled ground. "I do hope I am nay overly bold to address you thus, my lady, but I know not of the manners enough I fear, yet I would ask but to be honoured by your colours, M'lady..to bear them in the melee..if you have not blessed someone else, that is.." this having said he stands almost side to side with Kylier, blushing faintly..

One of the forgotten men of Ethias, the silently hawk faced guard that has stood in utter silence at the lady's back throughout the morn, hastily moves to accompany Aelspwth in her traversing of the lawn. Thus it is that the people part before his masculine bulk, and she might travel with easier step to find a place at the milling group of men that have moved to register at Helorondur's table. There does she smile up at the husband she thought lost, united in the end.. and oblivious to the fact that Malia had greeted her at all, the lady's voice having been lost in the murmuring of the crowd.

Medonihil walks over to Helorondur's booth and asks "Excuse me sir, may I sign up for your competition. And may you please tell me where I can sign up for the eating and drinking contest. Also the joust and footlist contest."

Malia watches the crowd for a few moments her blue eyes finding Kylier in the crowd, she rests her eyes upon him for a moment or two, watching as he speaks with the ladies of Gondor.

Helorondur's placid contentment abruptly vanishes as he regards the next soldier in line. He inquires of Medonihil: "Who might thou beest, soldier? What device beareth thee, that I might know of thine repute?"

Analdin nods once more, a quick yet smooth movement, "Thank you, but no, friend." he says, at the offer of wine, "I shall find something soon enough." With that and a friendly smile to the Lord Helorondur, he turns to the scribe and, begining with his own name, lists off also those of about ten guardsmen.

Illiana lifts her eyes to the man and her cheeks color rosily as she smiles and lowers her eyes demurely. She then looks up and takes but a moment to seek a familiar face

Kylier smiles and bows his head to both "Nay, for if I sing, well I am sure many a foe would fall, and not speaking of our friends. But I had to wish ye both well even if I fell many of ye kin." He shruggs slightly with a cheerful smile "I can only hope, that through it all, we can call one another friends and remain so." He glances over his shoulder before turning to the two "Now, if ye both shall let me go, it seems that I shall first challenge Analdin to a fight, for friends have we become and if I choose one to lose to me, it shall be him." He stands proudly.

Beladan looks up and into the eyes of Illiana, smiling brightly to see her again. He beckons her to his side.

Helorondur nods to the Standard bearer, sparing a moment to admire his former squire.

Medonihil says to Helorondur with a smile "My device is the crest of the Silver Ship. You know, the one of the Minas Tirith Guard . That is my company, my commander is Analdin. I am the son of Ledonihil. Is there anything else you need to know sir?"

Tallis parts the flaps, and slips herself into the jade and argent pavilion that houses those Rohirrim that have come to visit this place.

Malia parts the flaps, and slips herself into the jade and argent pavilion that houses those Rohirrim that have come to visit this place.

Analdin turns back to Helorondur after explaining to the scribe that the extra names were those of on-duty guardsmen, and steps quickly and quietly over to stand next to him, "Would you mind, Lord Helorondur," he coughs quickly, "If I remained here for a while?" His eyes fall on Medonihil, and he gives the guard a half-smile and a nod.

Charystra fingers continue upon the harp strings, laughter in her eyes and warmth in her smile as she sits, watching those who attend, and the Rohirrim who stands waiting for Illiana's answer

The silvery gleaming of the armor which clasps the bulk of the men about her, only serves to offset the dark elegance of Aelspeth's emerald clad being. Patiently does this deceptively delicate lady await her turn to speak with Helorondur, for whatever reason.

Medonihil steps back away from Analdin. He thinks to himself 'What a rude man, even if he is my commander!'

Helorondur scoffs and the personal tone of the unknown guardsman. "I inquired of your familial arms. But all guardsman are welcome here, with pleasure! Please, offer your name to the scribe and he shall aid thee. I believe the non-martial events can be registered for in the central fairgrounds." Helorondur turns to Analdin. "Yes? " he says, smiling.

Illiana smiles brightly as Beladan's eyes meet hers and she nods. turning back to the young man she smiles softly, "I thank thee for thy request m'lord and am deeply honored" she draws a bright blue ribbon from her sleeve and hands it to him. "I would be proud if thou wouldst wear this in thy valient efforts upon the field

Kell parts the flaps, and slips himself into the jade and argent pavilion that houses those Rohirrim that have come to visit this place.

Helorondur makes eye contact with Aelspeth briefly, silently pleading her forebearance with silent words.

Aelspeth acknowledges Helorondur's glance with the slightest inclination of her gold crowned head, and then resumes her patient waiting.. delicate hands enfolded at a slender waist, and her protective escort standing watch behind her.

Kylier turns from the ladies as he then makes his way to Analdin's side. He smiles to him and pushes some men aside as he looks at Helorondur. Many grumbles are pushed aside as well as his glare focuses on those that wish to speak out. He looks at the man "I wish, as I" he shows the small cloth that holds the Westfold colors" to fight one called Analdin, for I am sure he is sure to fall..." Though stern is is look, laughter rings in his voice.

If possible, the shallow play of crimson upon high foreheads and cheeks smooth deepens slightly, as this not so overly young of men any more dips to a flowing bow, one not clearly practised in the lands of Mark, but one more of the style to be seen in the very land all here stand now. "Most pleased I am, M'lady, M'lord, that an opportunity such is bestowed upon me, to carry forth the colours of mine mother's lands." Nimble fingers take the ribbon into possession, the strab blending finely on the very colours of Emmengrim's own tunic. "I do hope I shall not let you down, ma'am, even if great are the knights I shall stand 'gainst."

Analdin, with a quick smile that only barely flashing over his face but remains much brigter in his shining eyes, gives Helorondur a nod of thanks and takes up a silent position just beside the table. However, at Kylier's rather forced approach, he gives his friend a wide smile, "Less sure to fall than you, my friend Kylier. Though I would most certainly be honored to fall by your sword... I would be more honored if you would fall by mine."

Beladan sees the exchange with Illiana and the unknown other and his brow knits as she hands her ribbon forth. He stands and turns quietly, slipping away into the crowd.

Illiana curtsies to Emmengrim and smiles, "I shall be watching thee quite closely m'lord, and cheering for thy victory" she smiles again and turns to look for Beladan, leaving Charystra's side

Kylier slams a fist on the table as he turns to an old friend of Analdin then looks at the man before him "If ye would sir!

Helorondur looks sternly to Kylier. "I know thee not, but thine repute as a warrior proceeds thee. The assignment of teams and leagues , or duels, for that matter, is not my province. You may speak with the scribe." He nods his head curtly. "Would you care for a drink?"

Illiana glances back at the lady and frowns a bit in confusion, looking now concerned she nods and seeks the Knight beladan, gathering her skirt in her hand to keep it from the mud

Charystra laughs and nods to Illiana, then lets her voice ring forth, "Come thou, nobles soldiers all..if thou hast skill with song, or music, wood or cloth. In an craft or song, then join thee, the competitions in craft and song, for the creator of the craft which wins, there shall be 2 gold florins as a prize!"

Kylier shakes his head "Nay, I would not, I have given my request." He turns to look at Analdin and with a smile "I bleave he accepts. Now what shall I do, fight my way to him or what. Do ye not know that I carry the Lady of the Westfold's colors?

Bowing one more time to Illiana, both gracious in words as in deeds, Emmengrim quietly excuses himself, searching for the said man to whom the registration into noble duels should be committed to. At last finding him or finding Kylier, does this sandyhaired warrior alter his course through the crowd of people, the work of tying the exquisite piece of fabric unto his sleeve still in half when the booth is before him, this another man of Westfold halting slowly to wait for his turn.

Helorondur nods. "Again, if you wish to commune with the Lieutenant, in whatever form, I suggest you converse with her." Helorondur turns to Aelspeth, and smiling, speaks. "Milady, I've not seen the fairer part of our race apply for such contests of mettle, but if it pleaseth thee, I would not detain a Lady's request."

Analdin silently keeps another smile from making itself known upon his face, but the bright sparkle of his boyishly blue eyes grows even more, "I accept quite willingly, my friend, but unless Lord Helorondur, or whoever it may be that devides the teams, will allow..." he trails of with a shrug.

Kylier looks at Analdin as he speaks then with placing his hands on his hips "well if fight my way to ye Analdin, friend of mine, then so be it, well no, welcome it, so what shall I do then to register?

Helorondur interjects into Kyleir's conversation. "I've given thee leave to see the scribe, for the scheduled events only."

Charystra calls clearly, her fingers still coaxing notes from the harp strings, "Art there none of skill in craft or music amongst those gathered here? Come thou who will and join in the craft of music and of creation...the prizes for craft is 2 gold florins."

Kylier shruggs and heads for the scribe

Helorondur clears his throat. "All else is not in my jurisdiction. But I'm sure all will be sorted out in time. Please bear with us."

Aelspeth's smile holds the poise of a queen as she offers it up to Helorondur and steps forth to rest the fingertips of one hand upon the top of the table. "I know not if I would fall into the fairer half of your noble race, mi'lord, yet indeed wish I to set down my own name upon your register. Though surely those of your own land far surpass the skill I do possess, the leagues of the Mark shall not go unchampioned in any of these contests." Her eyes take an inner spark in the dim and misty hued afternoon as her musical voice flows on, "If kindness does hold to your heart as courtesy to your tongue, I would ask that you mark me down to take part in the test of the bow."

Illiana moves through the crowd now, generally a head shorter than the Knights and men of arms that mill about. Her eyes seek a certain Knight, with concern showing in her azure orbs

Analdin nods toward the scribe, "Aye, speak with him about it, for I would not wish you to end up out of the fights." Pausing a moment, he says a bit more quietly to Kylier's back as he heads to the scribe, "And if only snow were a registered weapon..."

Helorondur nods, a little discomfited to see a fine lady like Aelspeth talking part in 'manly' contests, at least in Gondor. And yet, his lips raise in a signal of approval. "Indeed, milady, though few maidens may compete with those of the South in feats of beauty, your grace, I'm sure, is equally adept in both men's and women's contests." I shall attend to thine request personally.

Beladan slips quietly from between two pavilions and retakes his seat near Helorondur

Oddly so, Emmengrim finds himself close to the lady of the clan again, in the same line leading to the place of registration official, even if this Maegisterwigend is in other thought of the chosen weapon for this most honourable contest, his fingertips slim, calloused, rubbing the place of belt leathery where usually rests the assuring weight of longsword bright, now left behind peacefully in the quarters close by, one a dirk small on the other side of the warrior's bulk. Brief spark lights in the corners of his eyes when he overhears some of the conversation, no sign of discomfort in him of Aelspeth's attendance to the games proud, quiet the manner of this Rohirrim when he awaits his own turn.

Analdin laughs once more, and turning, heads into the crowd, his bright eyes shining more so than his mail.

Aelspeth's reply to Helorondur is every bit as polished as was her request, though the line of a amber hued brow has lifted at the slight hesitation she has glimpsed in his gaze. "I can but attempt my best, mi'lord, and shall be glad not to finish in the last. Unto you do I bid a fair day, and with you do I leave my thanks." And with that, the velvet garbed woman turns and finds the arm of her waiting husband.. both of them, along with the silent guard that trails her, easily lost them in the festive hearted crowd.

Illiana smiles as she finds the man she seeks and comes to stand before him. "Good day to you m'lord Beladan, and congratulations

Kylier makes his way through the crowed to Beladan "Sir, I have been directed to ye, I wish to make a personnel contest with one of my fiends, Analdin in sword, can ye help me?

Helorondur nods to Aelspeth as she departs. "I shall enjoy thine performance, for I've no doubt it will be among the worthier." p Bela = sorry:)

Beladan struggles to hide the interplay of emotion that dance quickly across his face as he is confronted by Illiana. "I thank thee for thy gentle ministrations, Illiana, and return congratulations in like kind unto thee. Fair wert thou to behold upon yon dias. Fair enough, it seems to catch the attention of one worthy of thee."

Illiana smiles at Beladan, inclining her head. "Indeed m'lord I was and am truly amazed at the happenings this day has given me. Art thou then too, participating in these games?

Helorondur nods to Emmengrim as Aelspeth departs. "Forgive me, I doubt not thine prowess, but I must inquire as to thine clan, and personal device, if you take to such custom. "tis only for bookkeeping purposes; we eagerly await your feats on the field."

Beladan looks quickly to Illiana and then to Kylier. "Good Sir, forgive me. I was ... distracted. Please, attend my Lord Helorondur who shalt register thee forthwith. Again, noble master, my abject apologies." He glances back to Illiana.