SCENE 1: North to Eldanar

[tomcat]

Celdrahil had finished the last leg of his journey and his hind end was saddle-weary. Still, he only had another couple miles to go before he made it to Dorthad.

Although his kin, the Steward of Arthedain, resided in Fornost, Celdrahil had found the countryside more to his liking. He also had made good friends with the young noble, Durgil. The two were like-minded in their acknowledment of tradition. Durgil had taken a non-Dúnadan woman as his wife and so been precluded from the court. Yes, he was still accepted among his peers but there would be no way he or any of his line would ever take the throne. Celdrahil's own problems with his position down south made for a commonality that joined them as friends, though he never spoke of it.

The noble had been in Fornost on an errand of Durgil, to the king, regarding crop yields and what Dorthad would be able to offer in support for the kingdom. It had been a good season and Argeleb had been pleased. Now, with day three of his ride drawing into dusk, he saw the house of Durgil sitting in the distance and an audible sigh of relief came from him. It was then that the Dúnadan heard the hard clop of horse hooves running at a good pace. Celdrahil pulled back on his reins to turn his mount only to see the visage of man charging up the road. With no understanding of his intentions, Celdrahil loosened his sword from its scabbard as the haggard-looking rider came forth.

Madoc, upon his mount, saw the rider before him come about and the blade that was now drawn. It gleemed with the gray light of dusk.

[Telcontar]

Cedrahil in the time he spent in the north was less prone to use the Sindarian of his homeland, though he was somewhat loathe to do so. Part of it was Elendili pride, and part of it a result of his upbringing and station. Though since it was seldom spoken by the common people of Arnor he had by necessity to speak the Common tongue more often, especially if wanted to be understood quickly. So unless he knew his audience or wanted to make a point he spoke the common tongue.
  The ring of his sword when he drew it was comforting, he had scant opportunity to draw it of late and his hand felt better for the familiar feel of it.

"Halt there rider! Who rides upon the marches of Arnor in the fief of Durgil of Dorthad with such haste, and what is your errand?"

[tomcat]

Hey Tom, to clarify - is it Celdrahil or Cedrahil? The character sheet says Celdrahil. 

[Telcontar]

  Celdrahil, it would help if i could spell my own name. stupid common.

[Nolmir]

Madoc pulled back on the reins as he saw the gleam of the sword. His first thought was to his bow, but he knew it would not be of much use for defense if the man attacked, so his hand went to the hilt of his sword, though he did not draw.

The man's speech seemed strange to Madoc - a bit archaic and courtly. "Dorthad? Do you know of a man named Dirnhael? I've been asked by a friend of his to deliver a message to him. Put away your sword and answer - we are not enemies 'less you make it so."

[Telcontar]

Celdrahil stood his ground as the man pulled up before him.
"My sword is not yours to command, whatever its position, and I am the one asking questions here along the Kings Road while we are upon the marches of the enemy. If it is Lord Dirnhael that you speak of then yes I know where to find him. What friend is this that has sent you on such an errand and at such haste?"

[Nolmir]

"My mouth is not yours to command either, friend, whether this be the King's Road or no," Madoc replied, his jaw set firmly. He was doing his best not to get riled up at the man's abrasive questioning, with limited success. "Besides, how do I know whether you are indeed not an ememy? For all I know, you are an enemy to Dirnhael who wishes him harm. I will answer your questions, but only to Dirnhael. Now you'd best lead me to him or let me pass and I will find him on my own."

[tomcat]

I just love the meetings of new friends! 

[Telcontar]

"You ride upon me in the night, unannounced, along the border lands of a nation at war making demands. By your look you are not kith or kin of the Lord whom you seek, and whether you were sword companions or not addressing him common along the road to others is impolite. From time before the folk of your blood rooted around in caves painting each other blue we have fought the dark enemy, and here in the lands of our exile I'll not suffer such discourtesy. I care not to know the nature or substance of your private correspondonce, but I'll have assurances that your intent is honest, though your manners be absent. 

     I am Lord Celdrahil of Ithilien, en route to Lord Dirnhael's house, put up your sword as a token of your good intent and I'll escort you to his house where this matter may be judged and your intentions determined."

Sorry man Celdrahil gets defensive on the road and is kind of a dick sometimes. He means well though and from his perspective some crazy guy just rode up in the dark looking for his friend not far from the border of the witch king. 

[tomcat]

I like his aristocracy. 

Old Dúnedain blood that is not used to the northern manner.

[Nolmir]

Madoc grimaced at Celdrahil's insults to his people, but pulled his hand away from his sword. "Manners matter little now in Cardolan. It may be that I've grown 'impolite,' but a fair face may hide a foul heart."

Madoc gently spurred his steed onward. "But if you are Dunedain, as I guess, and an enemy of evil, then you are my friend - I have fought many of its servants these past years."

As he drew near to Celdrahil, Madoc extended a hand in greeting, dirty as it was from his travel, "I am called Madoc. I hope you don't mind my calling you just Celdrahil, for in dark days lordship is earned, and I have yet to see your mettle."

No offense taken. Madoc would probably do the same. So, aristocracy and peasantry meet - should be interesting!

[tomcat]

I am enjoying this, guys! I really like good roleplaying and this is it.

Just as an aside, and not meant to criticize, so please do not take it as such, but a lesson in Tolkien languages:

The terms Dúnedain and Dúnadan are the same but one is plural and the other singular, repsectively. Dúnedain meaning Men of the West, and Dúnadan meaning Man of the West.

- as in -

adan meaning man
edain meaning men
Dún meaning West

So, Dirnhael is a Dúnadan among Dúnedain

You may already be learned in Tolkien's languages and not need this, but if not, I just wanted to add this so that when you guys post you have the context the way you want it.

Okay, lesson over - back to gaming!

[Telcontar]

Celdrahil sheathed his sword and picked up his spear he had planted in the ground. While the sword was his weapon of choice the reach of a spear while mounted couldnt not be denied.
He looked at this traveler who had come upon him on the road, "let us first determine the nature of our relationship before determining terms for address." He turned his horse around without taking the offered hand.
"The House of Lord Dirnhael is near, for you ride near his lands now. You will find him a good host if your intentions are good. Keep in mind a message is often received by the bearing of its carrier and whether you recognize a man or not his title means something to him."

[tomcat]

Another note, you guys are in Dorthad, which is Durgil's land. Dirnhael and his wife Ioreth live east of Dorthad in Amaran.

[sdrotar]

No offense taken. Madoc would probably do the same. So, aristocracy and peasantry meet - should be interesting!

Dirnhael is now part of the aristocracy, but at heart, he's still a adopted peasant boy from the Cardolan region himself. He's going to have an interesting time balancing these two fellows...