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Post by Tolwyn on Dec 14, 2004 21:15:55 GMT -5
*Dernwine senses the tension between these two, and decides to do a little something. She stands up, even though she is a few inches shorter (Elves are taller than Rohirrim, right?) and begins pacing between them. "Just stretching my legs," she comments, explaining it. She still holds her sword at her side, almost unconsciously (as if she's so used to donig it she's not thinking about it). She hums Eorl's song softly to herself, calming her nerves with the familiar tune.
"Where now the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing..." (et cetera)
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Post by Tolwyn on Dec 14, 2004 21:06:39 GMT -5
*Dernwine watches, thinking to herself. Ah, the oneness of horse and rider. the care, and trust. I could probably write pages of poetry about it. A slight smile forms on her lips as she watches menel and sereg.
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Post by Tolwyn on Dec 14, 2004 20:53:02 GMT -5
*Dernwine observes this quietly, and when menel goes back to sharpening her knife, Dernwine unsheathes her sword too. She pretends to study the emeralds and diamonds in the hilt, and the horses on the blade, but really she is waiting in case anything happens.
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Post by Tolwyn on Dec 14, 2004 20:28:27 GMT -5
*Dernwine smiles friendly-like, and says "Dernwine of Edoras. Yes, your name sounds familiar... Mirkwood elf... I've traveled through there many times, you always seem to be guarding... you do a very good job at it too, ma'am!"
*Dernwine galnces at Menel, hoping she's not feeling too left out of the conversation. Then she glances down the hill at the horses, all grazing peacefully. Finally deciding she's said enough, Dernwine adjusts her helm and leans back on her elbows, basking in the firelight.
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Post by Tolwyn on Dec 13, 2004 21:47:06 GMT -5
*Dernwine somehow gets off-topic and becomes quiet. Then pipes up: "So, m'lady Elf, have we met before? I travel many places with many people, and you seem familiar, what is your name?"
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Post by Tolwyn on Dec 13, 2004 17:40:02 GMT -5
Lucky for Eleryn, Dernwine is sitting between her and Menel. She offers Eleryn an apple, takes a swig out of a second flagon she has (Rohirric white wine she snuck out of a bar), and attempts to start a conversation about the web-building habits of the spiders of Mirkwood.
Meanwhile, Baldor (seeing that Sereg ignored him) has moved to a new patch of grass to graze. Then the new horse comes, a horse Baldor has met on some journey before ((most likely...)). Baldor nickers a 'hello' to Randir and grazes slowly on his favorite grass.
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Post by Tolwyn on Dec 12, 2004 0:34:30 GMT -5
*Dernwine gets halfway through her apple and smiles. "I'm from Edoras, grew up admiring these hills." She gets another 1/4 of her apple finished and stares at it for a minute, thinking. "Did you know you can make alcohol out of apples?" She then goes on talking and talking, explaining how if you crush and strain the apples and let the juice ferment for a few weeks, then you can freeze it overnight and remove the excess water (ice) in the morning and you are left with a very alcoholic drink that, if you drink too much, you can be struck down blind.
*She then goes on another schpiel about what mix of apples to use for this, and the tastes of various types of apples, and where apples grow (mostly in the Shire and the orchards of Gondor). The whole time she is talking, she occasionally takes a bite of her apple and munches it. When she is done talking, and done with the apple, she throws the core over her shoulder and leans back on her elbows... totally relaxed.
"So where are you going to? Is it a great journey, or are you a mere traveler like myself?"
*Baldor completely ignores Sereg, grazing at his leisure. When he feels full, he glances back at Sereg and neighs softly, then takes off full gallop for a few hundred feet, turns, and gallops back, as if to say "look at what i can do, na na na nyah nyah"
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Post by Tolwyn on Dec 12, 2004 0:13:18 GMT -5
*Dernwine sits s few feet away from Menel, takes her hand off her sword as she takes an apple out of her pack.
"So," she starts in, taking a bite, "Wher're you *MUNCH* from?" *munch chewchewchew*
Baldor meanwhile looks up from his grazing to see a non-Meara, black stallion approaching. Mearas being s bit snobbish about their rank, Baldor snorts and turns away from the new horse, swishing his tail.
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Post by Tolwyn on Dec 12, 2004 0:02:38 GMT -5
*Dernwine adjusts her helm and strides over to the fire. She sees Menel and bows to her.
"Hullo m'lady... may I share the warmth of your campfire?"
*Dernwine notices the glint of green eyes and watches Menel warily, waiting for an answer.
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Post by Tolwyn on Dec 11, 2004 23:35:52 GMT -5
*Dernwine rides east, she passed through the Gap of Rohan many hours ago and is heading to Gondor. It feels so unbelieveably good to be hoem, but she can't stay for fear of being caught. But she can still stay one night...
She slows Baldor down to a trot when she sees a fire lit on the crest of one of the larger hills. She slows him again to a walk when they are 100 feet away, and dismounts at 50 feet away... leaving Baldor to graze and taking her pack with her, she walks nearer and nearer to the campfire.
She keeps her hand on the handle of her sword but doesn't draw it... who knows, this camper may be nice.
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Post by Tolwyn on Dec 27, 2004 2:49:42 GMT -5
((just a post-script...))
((Draco, I know that at the end of the RP [before armless Draco made his way to the Shire] that your character promised to come back in three months for the burial of the three royal Rohirrim. Even though the number's down to 2 now, he doesn't know that. and it's been about two months so maaaybe he should come? so do what you like... ;D))
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Post by Tolwyn on Dec 27, 2004 2:24:13 GMT -5
It has been two months since the horrible day of battle... and one week since they told me about Elfwine. I have been drifting in and out of consciousness, standing on the brink of death but never falling in. I have been healing, at least physically. But I know the memories will never fade. The visions of death are stained in my mind, replaying vividly whenever they wish. In fact, it is starting again now. Brother... I sit up, cough violently, blood coming up. The healers rush to me with their herbs and cloths. Foolish healers. There are scars even you can never touch. But they do their best, calling me "Queen" and "my lady" over and over. It nearly sickens me to be made such. I still remember the battlefield, and laying next to Elfwine in his dying moments. Dear, dear brother. He took the crown from his head and placed it on mine, handing over the rule of the kingdom just like that. He was never greedy, nor power-hungry. He was simply a good soldier and a son of kings. I remember the moments seemed like days. We talked, but not as if we were dying in battle. We talked as if it was a warm day in the Westfold, as if we were children taking a walk through the tall grass. My left arm was somehow hurt, as were many other places, but the pain numbed as I numbed. In the end, Elfwine was holding me, and we were sobbing, as we both died. But I was not dead. Why had I not died? If I had, I wouldn't feel so guilty. It feels like it is my fault, and it certainly is, that father and brother are now dead. If only I hadn't run away all those years ago, if only mother had not died, if only, if only... It was only a week ago that I was in my right mind, awake and not murmuring about death. The healers told me everything. Father's death, I remember it. I was not there, but Elfwine sent a messenger from Helm's Deep, and told me when I arrived. They told me of how the evil one this war was against, this Necromancer, was defeated. I was at first glad. "Where is Elfwine?" I had said. "Now he can rebuild the nation, and rule in peace." But they had become quiet. I asked again, and no answer. I had began to yell, when one finally told me the truth. He was dead. That was it, no trying to revive him, no Elvish magic. He was dead. Now they all call me Queen. They seem amazed that I have returned, alive. The rumors are spreading, the story of how I was disguised, how I fought. They did not think I would return when I ran away. I was only a foolish girl, barely fifteen, not well trained. But I survived. Six years of travel, of hiding, of practice, growing skill, adventures and battle, all ended after that disastrous day. Now, the healers tell me, the world is recovering. Crops are being resown, homes rebuilt, dead buried and wounded healed. And my father and brother now lie embalmed and waiting for burial. "They are in the throne room," they say, "displayed in kingly robes and crowns, with many mourners weeping over them." Weeping, weeping. Though my days are spent in this tiny room (I have not left here since I woke), and most hours are spent resting and healing, often at night i awake from a nightmare about the battle, and weep. Weeping. That is all I can do now. I do not know if I can bear the responsibility of a country with all the ones I loved dead. I am now an orphan, lonely and crying. But they seem to think I can be a Queen, just and merciful, stern and noble, and all the qualities that I have not. They say I will be healed by at least next week if not sooner, and then there is to be a burial and coronation. I'm sorry to disappoint them, but if my emotions continue to be this way I may go to drastic measures to avoid this burden... ((note: this is AFTER the huge necro war RP, of course. And that RP really REALLY changed my character. so of course this does not count when compared to other RPs in which I am disguised. Of course those are between 3042 and 30-- whenever... [because tolly's future was supposed to be uncertain..] anyway. right-o. she is 21 years old in this, just so you know. well, let's see where this RP goes, then? ;D))
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Post by Tolwyn on Apr 16, 2005 23:46:40 GMT -5
Tolwyn finished up the last of the work, feeding the horses, and pulled her helm up the tiniest bit to wipe the sweat off her brow. She adjusted her helm and walked to Baldor's stall, stroking his velvety nose. She began speaking softly to him in Rohirric. *translated* "Where now the horse and the rider, hm? What do we do now? Life is peaceful and boring. Let's ride out and find conflict." She chuckled a bit and leaned against the stall door while the normal-looknig Meara finished his breakfast.
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Post by Tolwyn on Apr 16, 2005 23:24:45 GMT -5
Tolwyn stumbled downstairs after a long night. She had gone to sleep late, but because of her warring thoughts she hadn't been able to relax, and when she did drift off she had a very long, annoying nightmare. Finally she had gotten up and bathed and dressed, disguise and all.
Tolwyn sat down at the bar and ordered a scant breakfast, and gave back the key to her room. She knew she still had to work one more time in the stable, so she ate quickly and wandered outside. Her pack on her back and the sun reflecting off her helm, she went to work raking hay and grooming horses, shoveling stalls and stacking bales. This took awhile, but she didn't mind. Nothing else to do...
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Post by Tolwyn on Apr 16, 2005 22:35:50 GMT -5
Tolwyn sat in a local tavern, bored to death. It'd been at least 2 years now since she ran away, and the adventures seemed to be in short supply. She hoped that maybe she would find soem group, treasure-hunters, legend-seekers, ANYTHING to get her mind off home.
She had been there about a week, sitting around. She was kind of low on money, and if nothing happened in the next night, she knew she would have to go back to the forest and camp out. She thought about goign back to Edoras to get some more money from Elfwine...
No, she could handle it. She had been working mornings in the tavern stables for the keeper, and had been getting paid a little. Since she had been worknig and donig nothing, she was out of practice when it came to riding and fighting. But she wasn't so far gone; if anything happened, she would still defend herself.
Tolwyn sighed and adjusted her helm, leaning back in her chair by the fire. The depressing thoughts that came to her were of home, and her father, and her brother; how they felt, what she had done, how the country was. She shook her head and began to think of other things- past adventures, maybe practicing soon, ordering a meal.
In summary- the poor stable-boy from Edoras was very, very bored.
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