Plots

[tomcat]

Nice Brian! That was great... more stuff for me to work with. 

[tomcat]

Durgil rode slowly up to the apartment that they'd had only recently departed.  He didn't think he'd be here so soon again nor under such circumstances.  He noticed that a light was kept on -- his servants must have known of his imminent arrival.  Finding the stables first, he relinquished his beloved steed to the hand there and proceeded to the residence.

"Master Durgil, welcome back to Fornost," came the pleasant greeting from Myrna, Geoffrey's wife. The housewoman took all of the travelers' warm, winter riding cloaks and bid them to enter the hearth room where a fire crackled. A few moments later, the door opened again and Geoffrey came in with his son, carrying firewood. "M'Lord, welcome home!" Handing the wood off to his son, "What brings you back to Fornost during the Yule?"

[tomcat]

I need to catch up the rest of the company to Pethron's thread, as he spent the night with his old friend... so we'll do a bit of RP'ing here, and then I will bring the thread together.

[GandalfOfBorg]

Durgil returned the warm greeting and proceeded to answer the question.  "Business of state, I'm afraid.  The ladies remain at the manor, it will be myself, masters Dirnhael and Fengel, and possibly a new acquaintence of ours, Pethron.  How is everything here?"

[tomcat]

"Very good, sir. The rooms are prepared, as always. Not much to speak of here, M'lord. The city seems to sleep during the winter. Can I get you a bit of sup?"

With the weary nod, Geoffrey left his master and went off to find his wife so that the evening's meal might be prepared. This left the trio of friends standing about, but only for a moment as each went his way to find his room, so that they could relax a bit after the long journey.

Dinner was warm and delicious. Myrna had seasoned a duck and roasted it, filling the house with wonderful smells. Carrots, onions, and potatoes surrounded the bird as it was presented and the men dug in. Fengel could not help but to comment on the meal, and Myrna quickly responded with a beam of pride.

"It's them little folk, master. They come up from the south of Arthedain, with their wares and farm crops. Hobbytlan, I think they are called."

Geoffrey cleared his throat, "T'is Hobbits, love. Hobbits. A queer little folk, but quite neighborly. I marvel that the king granted them such a parcel, but they seem to tend the lands south quite well."

With the new topic, the Company sat and ate their fill until all was gone, and then each found their way to bed. There was business to be done in the morning and they all wanted to be well rested.



Again, if there is any other RP'ing you guys wanna do here, please post. Otherwise I will bring in the new day and Pethron back to the house - and continue on with our tale. 

[sdrotar]

The meal was delicious; Durgil's staff was outstanding and Dirnhael felt like a prince in the city.
"You treat us too well. I'll enjoy this while I can," he said with a grin. "Won't be long before we dine on the plains again, I fear."

[tomcat]

Dirnhael woke in the morning to find the house already active. Durgil's housekeepers were busy making breakfast and assisting with the hew residents. Fengel popped by the Dúnadan's room and Dirnhael saw that the Éothraim had bathed, his beard was neatly shaven and his hair tied back in a pony tail.

"Best hurry, before the water goes cold," he smiled. Fengel did not linger, as Myrna's kitchen began to waft about the fragrance of bacon.

And so another day began for the heroes.

Pethron arrived shortly after breakfast, but still food was made ready for him, along with another reheating of bath water. Once he too was ready, the companions made plans for the day. Camentir had made contact with Durgil via courrier, and so the old commander must be sought out, or at least the messenger. The group decided that the best place to start would be the King's Hall, where at least the Steward might be able to direct them, or would hopefully have knowledge of the problems at hand.

After a brief ride through the chill, winter streets, the Company came to the hall where King Argeleb held court. As usual, it was busy with both important people tending to the country's needs, as well as courtiers and nobles who had naught else to do with their time, save to linger around throne in hopes of gaining favour of one with a higher station than themselves.

The men found that the Steward was tending to business and was unavailable to them, at least until the noon hour, and so found themselves within the Hall. The great dais and large, carved wood throne loomed over all, but it was empty. Fine traces of gold made ornate the seat that Elendil himself had founded so long ago. It was simple in design, but still it was given great reverence by all those within the chamber, including the Company.

"Durgil!" a voice shouted from across the Hall. The young noble turned to see the son of one of his father's friends of old, Borandin. Durgil had never cared much for the man, in his youth, and he wondered to what purpose he was now being entreated.

Only Fengel felt a bit out of sorts, as his other two companions also began to get attention from all of the Dúnedain nobility. He stood by himself and watched the many attempts at sincerity and thought what an awful practice the life of politics must be, but then a figure across the room caught his eye. It was Derufin, Methilir's brother. The two met eyes and there was a purpose in the other man's face.

Fengel knew there was to be trouble.

[Palandil]

Seeing all of the pomp and circumstance of nobility, and the striving with words for some power, Fengel appreciated the way of sword and shield.  He was frustrated that things had to be done this way and wanted, with all that he was, to settle Dirnhael's woes with his own hands.  He wasn't sure what Derufin was up to, but if it was a fight, Fengel was prepared to oblige him.  He would keep his eye on this one.

[BrianM]

Although Pethron was always reluctant to attend court, he could not help himself being caught up in the excitement of the diplomacy and intrigue in the great hall. There were so many stories being written and told all around him. The tale of his companions was the one that concerned him the most, however. Pethron had gleaned from his master's inquiry that their story perhaps had a bearing on the fate of many, and he would continue to observe what he could.

The scribe noticed Fengel's discomfort, and walked over to join him as the others made their inquiries. Scanning the courtiers, Pethron noted with a grin, "Many of them are akin to orcs, I find. With intent just as malicious. But these orcs we cannot simply draw blade and do away with."

[Palandil]

The scribe noticed Fengel's discomfort, and walked over to join him as the others made their inquiries. Scanning the courtiers, Pethron noted with a grin, "Many of them are akin to orcs, I find. With intent just as malicious. But these orcs we cannot simply draw blade and do away with."

"Aye.  And it appears that some are as dumb as trolls."  he grinned to his new companion.  "But if any have malicious intentions toward Dirnhael," he paused, turning back to Derufin.  "They will indeed meet with my blade."

[sdrotar]

Dirnhael's head was spinning. While he was no born noble like Durgil, his increased standing in this community seemed to attract to him unwanted attention. Within moments, he was nodding, bowing, shaking hands left and right, and - honestly - heard little about the conversations around him.

It was not a life he wanted, but if he were to be with Ioreth, it was one he knew must adapt to. So he watched Durgil with the corner of his eye, mimicking him and acting as pleasantly as he could muster, for as long as it took.

It was fortunate, he thought, that he had taken a bath this morning...

[tomcat]

The time passed, and for most of the companions, dreadfully slow. But a few things were learned from the chatter of the many houses of Dúnedain, primarily of the north. It seemed that with the easing of the fear of the plague, the soldiers of Arthedain were able to shore up the defenses along the Angmar frontier. Some word was even spoken of sorties taking place all the way north and east to the now ruined Eldanar. Such talk brought the attention back to the Company, considered heroes of the great battle not a year past.

To the south, the plague had also been reduced with the healers' administrations of Ephanial and the little folk had set about mending bridges and roads along both the East-West road and the Greenway. Dirnhael heard that word had come from as far south as old Tharbad, and the settlements there, that people were once more beginning to prosper.

Whispers were also heard that many wanted to push the king, or at least the prince, into action against the weakened Angmarim and the Easterners that had migrated to the Witch-king's summons. For those people still suffered from the plague, and so weakened would make an easy opponent to drive from the lands of the Dúnedain.

Perhaps this was why Camentir had summoned the companions?

At last, the Steward ended his meeting and the Company was given an audience. Durgil led the way, behind the escort, to the chamber of Orodreth, Steward of Argeleb. He rose to greet them, as they entered, "Gentlemen... good to see you again. What has it been? Since the fall, no?"

[tomcat]

With Matt dismissing himself from the game, I am going to just give narrative of what we were to RP out.



The pleasantries were exchanged between the Steward and the companions, and after a short bit, the topic turned to the business as to why the men had come from the north to Fornost. Durgil looked to Orodreth and asked, "Sir, a message was sent to me in Dorthad from Camentir requesting our presence here in Fornost. Yet, uponst our arrival here, I have heard that the old commander is somewhere to the north, along the Angmarim frontier. Is this true, or do you know differently? And would you know of any reason as to why I would be summoned to Fornost?"

Orodreth pulled at the short-haired goatee that adorned his face, "Was not by my order that you return to the city. I have not seen or heard from Camentir since late Fall. He was moving a contingent of soldiers north to keep an eye on the northern reaches, but no word has come from him since his departure. I cannot guess who, or why you would be summoned to Fornost."

The companions all looked at each other with questions on their faces, but suspicion was beginning to cross Dirnhael's. "Perhaps it was in someone's best interest for us to no longer be in Dorthad," he thought out loud.

Durgil began to feel his temper rise. Not so much from Dirnhael's comments, but due to the absolute waste of time that they just spent in journeying to the city, and preparing for an extended stay in the field. He stood, "With your permission, my Lord, I request leave to return home."

Orodreth nodded, "I do not know what is going on here for sure, but I have my suspicions. I remind you, Durgil... and Dirnhael, the King has given his condonance to Methilir, and that writ cannot be undone save by Argeleb, himself. I ask you to tread warily, here."

"The man has ulterior motives, Lord Steward, and you know it!" answered Durgil, more sharply than may have been wise. "If he is responsible for this useless trek, I can promise you there will be no peace between our houses, whether my sister be betrothed to him, or not! And I am sure that will be the last thing that Argeleb will want... for two of his northern counties to be at odds."

Dirnhael, Fengel and Pethron thought it best to remain silent. The Steward now stood, "Again, Durgil, I would remind you to watch your words in the house of the King! Return to your home and see to your lands."

Durgil nodded, calming himself. "I shall return home immediately, Lord. Know this though, I will respect the King's order, but as master of my house, and all those who reside there, I will not allow any wedding until the return of Argeleb so that he may choose the appropriate date, and lay his blessings upon it." With that, he waved to his companions to follow. The quartet left the room with Orodreth's reply, "As you see fit, Lord Durgil. And mayhaps that will provide you enough time to remedy this situation."

Dirnhael paused slightly, realizing that the Steward was on their side. He was merely following his duty, as all men must, to lord and country.

They quickly followed the hallways towards the exit, moving quietly as they did. But then Fengel espied the large form of Derufin waiting in the foyer of the great hall. He knew that more trouble was brewing, and he regretted the fact that the House of Argeleb only allowed its guards to be armed, leaving him and his companions with mere daggers.

Derufin moved from the wall, and took up a position between the exit doors and the Company. He was taller and broader than Durgil, but still the noble marched forward. Dirnhael and Fengel took up positions on either of his flanks, all the while Pethron watched the companions, marvelling in their loyalty to each other.

The large oaf of a man began to ramble his taunts, "You best know, Durgil, that Methilir won't stand for much more from you! Once he marries your sister, he will be Lord of Dorthad... eldest male! Right? Mayhaps he'll send you back off to the reaches where you can serve your country best!"

Durgil did not think, he just reacted. As he passed the leering face of Derufin, he spun and his fist smashed into the larger man's face. A crunching sound was heard, for the young noble wore the reinforced gloves of his armour, and blood began to flow. In both pain and shock, Derufin fell to his rump and sat there on the floor, sprawl-legged, holding his nose. Dirnhael quickly moved to get between Durgil and his downed foe, while Fengel took up a position of guard. The surprised look was all the larger man could offer as the companions pushed open the doors to the great hall, and exited onto the streets of Fornost.

"Well that was interesting," said a smiling Pethron, as the group strode to find their mounts. Inside the hall, many other courtiers, all who had a shocked look on their faces, came to gather round Derufin and help him up. "Did you see that?" asked the oaf. "He struck me for no good reason!"

more to come, I just wanted to save it so that I don't loose it... check back.

[Palandil]

  I love it!  Peter Jackson couldn't have wrote a better scene!

[tomcat]

With all the commotion, no one noticed the young man that had gone by the name of Arandil. He stood back and watched as all of his plans fell into place. Durgil striking Derufin was more than the assassin could have hoped for, but now he had violence to go along with the public argument.

Yes, he had been the one that goaded the large, simple Derufin into an excited rage, directing all of it towards Durgil. And Arandil had hoped for some altercation between the two, but having Durgil attack first was just perfect.

Smiling to himself, he left the King's Hall through an alternate exit. He had a few more things to do.

The companions had gone back to Durgil's apartment, not knowing which course they should now take. It seemed apparent that their summons to Fornost was a ruse, but should they hurry back to Dorthad or was there more to do here? In any case, the sky had begun to snow very heavily and travel would need to wait until the weather somewhat relented. So the men hunkered down in the warmth of the small apartment and enjoyed a little food and drink.

As dusk settled over all, a messenger came once more to Durgil's home. It was a young, snow-covered lad, who handed the parchment to Geoffrey and then ran off after receipt of a coin. The house servant quickly delivered the message to his master, and the young noble was left with a quandary.

The message came from Derufin. It seemed the man wanted to meet with Durgil outside the King's Hall, to finish their discussion, and he wanted to meet now. The oaf had written that there would be no more fists, and that Durgil could leave his servants behind... he just wanted to talk. After a quick counsel with his friends, Durgil decided to go and meet Derufin and he would go alone, as requested. Grabbing his cloak, he wrapped himself in its warmth and disappeared into the wintry night.

The three remaining companions did not wait long before their instincts made them leave the house, to find their friend.

Derufin stood quietly, listening to Arandil. Methilir had sent this henchman along with him to provide assistance while in Fornost. They had just received word from the messenger boy that Durgil was coming. The lad had waited, as ordered, until noble had left and then ran to let them know. Derufin paced back and forth in anticipation. He did not know what he was going to do. Arandil had told him that he need only pass on Methilir's words and be done with it, but his throbbing nose was telling him otherwise.

But all of that would not matter.

As the large man paced, Arandil, standing in the shadows drew forth a dagger from his cloak. It was one he had stealthily taken from Durgil's desk those weeks past, when he had gone there to send his message to Dorthad. With a quick, surprising strike, Arandil drove the dagger into Derufin's back, just below his skull. The large man let out a guttural sound and then collapsed to the ground.

Not waiting to see what happened, Arandil turned from the scene and walked into the night. He rounded a corner of the Hall and saw a sentry on patrol. He casually approached the soldier and said, "Sir, I believe that I heard something round yonder corner. You may wish to see if there is something going on... especially after today's debacle."

The guard looked at Arandil, then to the corner of the Hall, and moved off in that direction.

Durgil approached the location where he had been asked to meet Derufin, slowing as he did. He saw a strange shape laying in the snow. He cautiously approached until he realized it was a body. Not just any body, it was the brother of his rival, lying dead with a dagger stuck in his back. It was then that Durgil saw the hilt - his family crest was emblazoned on the dagger. The young noble knelt down to the body when he caught movement to his left. A sentry ran forward, his spear levelled at Durgil, "YOU! STOP THERE! DON'T MOVE BY ORDER OF THE KING!"

Pethron, Dirnhael and Fengel heard the shout coming from the snowy darkness ahead. They quickened their pace until they came into view of their friend, kneeling over the dead body of Derufin, while a soldier was holding him in custody.

In Dorthad, Gléowyn opened the door and scowled - before her stood Methilir and nearly twelve others. "Can I help you M' Lord?" she asked.

"I do not wish to speak with you woman," he sneered. "Where is the Lady Ioreth?"

"She is in the house resting, sir, and shall not be disturbed," replied Gléowyn, anger on her tongue. "Well that is too bad, woman, for I have come for her. And by order of the King, she shall not refuse me. Get out of my way!"

Methilir pushed past the Éothraim, into the house, and his men followed.



Okay... that is all I needed to give narrative for. Feel free to commence RP'ing again as you would like.