#theodred verses; second marshal of the riddermark

[menelvagor]

"&" Eowyn and Theodred 🥹 -✧- @pxnxply

Théodred was sitting on the ground looking out over the plains of The Mark, from one of the highest places in Edoras. He had been out of doors, spending time with his younger cousins, laughing and talking.

But at one point, his mind wandered and was only brought back by Éowyn tracing a scar on his forearm. He twitched, startled by the action, and turned to look at her. He calmed immediately, not wanting to scare her, and sighed.

"I am fine," he assured her, response said as though he had done so a thousand times before. Thinking of his various scars made flashes of battle and war appear before him. However, he smiled warmly at his cousin, near twenty years his younger. "I can tell you a story about that one."

[menelvagor]

Wormtongue opened his mouth indignantly to reply to Théodred, but the prince had ignored him, turning to the elf before him, who spoke. Any word said by the strange guest would be worth much more than anything Gríma could have reported. With his cunning and his lying.

As Théodred looked closely at the elf, the two facing each other, he noticed the churning magma behind his eyes and the determination with which he held himself before the entirety of Meduseld. It was something to be admired, what with obvious torture he had gone through. He was going to tell the elf that - too bad - he would worry over his state, but before he could do that, the other mentioned a Captain and a patrol. The prince's brows knit in confusion, which then morphed into anger.

"At the request of a Captain of a patrol...?" he began to ask, voice raising a little in volume, looking around at the faces of the other Eorlingas in the hall. "Who was this Captain?" he asked more carefully to the elf, all the while sharp eyes moved between the men and finally landed on Gríma.

He returned his gaze to the elf. "What was the request made of you? And why are you still left so injured? Let us greet you as a guest should be welcomed." Splutters left the advisor's mouth and he made to push the prince out of the way.

"My lord Théodred, we will do no such thing!" Wormtongue growled. "He is no doubt here to turn our eyes elsewhere - to the plights of the elves, so that we leave our lands defenseless to attack!"

Théodred cast a glare at him and crossed his arms, but then focused again on the elf.

@menelvagor :: theodred | reply to this ::

  had it not been for the ransacking and destruction of the only home that he could recall, Rowan may not have come this far into the land of the Rohirrim. but injuries were rife among those who had inhabited the small inn, both permanently and temporarily. with his own past and memories lost within the Misty Mountains long ago and currently in better health, despite not looking it, than than the others, he had opted to take the short but dangerous journey to the capital of Rohan.

  Edoras was not a city he recognised; although he had known yet not visited it, before losing his memories. as an Elf, he should have been easily picked out among the Men who lived there. and yet… he slipped through the Rohirrim like a knife through butter, his broken form unnoticed by the civilians who called Edoras home. it didn’t take long for the quiet battered elf to reach the guards at the Meduseld and his request to see the King or Prince granted; helped by the seal on the letter he carried.

   with his entrance allowed yet carefully watched by both Hama and the Third Marshal, Rowan followed them inside and towards the King’s throne. hidden curiosity flickered deep inside as he could feel the darkness’s tight hold upon the Hall; while his empathy scanned, recognising who was still fighting against the evil permeating the city. as they waited for the Prince of the Horselords to arrive and ignored the squawking with practised ease, something kept returning haunted eyes to the King.

   Théoden King was a man changed and broken by an evil that acted as friendly and helpful. while Grima… the elf pulled his power back from a creature, for whom he could call nothing but a black hole. then someone caught his attention. pulling it away from the King momentarily as his son entered, the Light from him much like yet different to his two cousins.

  no one had yet to hear him, for words no longer came as easily to him after being captured and tortured by Orcs in forgotten past. still, a fading fire could be seen in his gaze, for he was unwilling to collapse until his message from the group of Rohirrim could be delivered. seeing the concern in Théodred’s features, Rowan finally spoke.

“Do not worry yourself with me, Prince Théodred. My injuries will heal eventually. But I come at the request of the Captain of the patrol that was sent out earlier.” unaware that a patrol should never have been sent out, not without the knowledge of the Prince.

[menelvagor]

"Uh my Prince? Lord Éomer is asking for you to come to the throne room. There's a visitor you might want to see and Grima's squawking protests about him." (Theodred & Rowan (Elrohir)) -✧- @amid-ice-and-snow

Théodred looked up from where he was repairing some tack in the royal stables, as this was a place where he could gather his thoughts. This he often had to do in these times, and in these short visits back to Edoras. He sighed at the young messenger but nodded and thanked him. He got up and headed to the throne room, commotion growing as he neared.

Sure enough, when he arrived, there was Gríma, turning about and squawking his protests, while the King seemed perturbed but did nothing to stop him. It pained Théodred to see his father so changed, so weak, and it only grew worse as time went on. He turned away from the sight and walked up to Gríma, raising his hand. Little respect did he hold for or show to him.

"Silence, Gríma! How can Théoden King possibly make out the situation with your nonsensical raving? What has happened? Tell your King, and your prince also," he said firmly, glowering down at him.

He glanced then at the figure standing nearby, the one Gríma had been yelling about. A stranger; an elf. Though, the prince had never seen one to appear so bedraggled, bruised, and broken. Something dreadful had evidently happened to them. Deep concern was shown in Théodred's countenance.