Chapter I: Blood on the Snow - February 25th, 2960

[geomtje]

Hasted footsteps are heard at that very moment coming from afar, accompanied by a worriedly young voice speaking to himself. “Oh, I better not be late! What would the King make of it; what would FATHER make of it!”

A boy who seemingly might just have come to age, wearing armour clearly made for him to grow into, barges into the room. He hastily excuses himself: “I am sorry if I am late; I meant to arrive sooner, but I had to take a detour because of the high water-level of the river Snowbourn.” He now looks down and continues to talk to himself: “I should have know that the river could be high during this time of year; I should have known better!”

He suddenly looks up with a new worry on his face. “I am so sorry, I completely forgot to introduce myself; where are my manners!” He picks himself up and quickly, and rather comically, stands to attention. “I am Éodir, son of Éodas!”

Éodir now starts to look around for the first time since he barged in and notices that the company is at ease and minding there own business. He drops his stance and starts to blush, feeling ashamed of what has just transpired. He quickly goes to the closest free bunk he can find, with his head down low and mumbling something about failing even the simplest of tasks.

[Taraborn]

Ceorgrim leans back on the wall as Sangric sits down, looking him over as though assessing him. "No, well, sort of. I arrived in the city yesterday and recieved a message today to come here. Not much more to it so whether that solves your riddle I know not." At that moment someone bursts through the door, causing Ceorgrim to startle and reach for the blade at his hip before seeing it was just a nervous boy. He settled back into his seat in the far corner of the room, watching as Eodir announces who he is and dithers about why he was late. Glancing to Sangric he gives a dry chuckle. "I hope he isn't here for the same purpose as the rest of us." He whispers, his eyes watching the boy as he finds a bunk.

[HunterGreen]

"We know not what purpose that is," Sangric says with a laugh, "so perhaps he will be the best suited of all of us!"

[Taraborn]

"Maybe." Ceorgrim answers, returning his attention to the older man. "So what about yourself? Why did you get summoned to see the King?" He asks.

[HunterGreen]

Sangric settles comfortably on what might be someone else's bunk, and sets his harp in his lap. "I know not," he says. "I have been to the Golden Hall but once, after my days and years of service in Cenric's guard, when I had taken back up the telling of tales. My wanderings do not come often to Edoras."

[Taraborn]

"Quite the riddle then." Ceorgrim answers, glancing around the room at the other occupants for a few moments and returning his attention to Sangric. "I guess all shall be revealed when we are summoned to Meduseld." He pulls a ring from his finger, turning it a few times as his eyes focus on the simple copper band.

[Othniel]

"Well, I've never been here before," Istril offers. "The land reminds me of the hills of Lossarnach, but there is no sea, of course. The land is very rich here," she adds, stamping a food as if for emphasis. "Good soil. I'll bet the plants are hearty. I should like to get out into a forest and see what I might find. Are there any herbs common to this land that the healers use to soothe hurts or aches and the like?"

[Hamarr]

Theofred sits near his bunk, saying little with the arrival of the newcomers. But he looks into his mug of ale.

[Taraborn]

Cerogrim glances over to where Istril was sat by the fire and gives a vague shrug. "I know not about any healing herbs, though I am sure you will be able to find some if you ask a healer." He suggests.

[geomtje]

It takes a while for Éodir to overcome his shame and to rise from his bunk. He walks to the nearest servant and asks ”Excuse me Sir, could you please tell me when we are expected? Because I would like to know how much time I have to prepare.”