Council with Fingolfin

Barad Eithel -- Outer Courtyard

High walls and lofty towers cast their long shadows down into the courtyard below. Troops often train here, learning the skills which will protect them against an implaccable foe always more numerous than they. At times, the whole of the fortress gathers here to hear the words of theircommanders or of the High King himself...or to muster for battle.

Ringing the courtyard are the grainaries, armouries, smithies, stables, and other buildings whichsupport and provide for the fortress in peace and in war.

Morning dawns over the mighty fortress, burning the mist from the sky and melting the frost from the battlements. Banners stiff with cold flap and snap over the walls of the keep, where the daybegins for it's inhabitants and defenders, both man and elf..

As the still young winter sun makes the last tendrils of mist fade and retreat to the darkest north-looking valleys a rumor of hooves and the rustle of steel and leather comes from the south. Over it, elven voices ring clear, making musical even the commands they utter and then, the proud blast of trumpet pierces the morning and a glimmering comitive of High Elven riders enters the courtyard. Tall atop Rochallor the Golden, the High King Rides among his Guards and the light in his eyes makes even the glitter of his mail seem dimmer. Reining in, Fingolfin raises a hand andthe whole group halts in silence.

The arrival of the High King does not go unnoticed among those who watch the keep, and a brief hue and cry is raised at his arrival. Grooms are called to care for the retinues mounts, and word is spread..

Shortly, Galdor, accompanied by the elven Seneschal arrive in the courtyard from the main hall ofthe fortress, robed against the cold. Galdor bows, " I greet you my Lord." he says, his breath clouding in the cold.

Fingolfin. dismounts with effortless grace as careful hands take his elven steed away. For a moment he stands silent letting his keen eyes wander around the battlements and those guarding them. Then he turns with a smile "Nai i.Valar hiruva tielyasse, Galdor Hadorion" He says to thetall Atan "May the Valar gaurd your path, Galdor son of Hador"

Galdor smiles, looking over the courtyard. "I hope your journey was uneventful? It makes me glad to see you." He looks towards the hall of the keep, "If the ride was chilling, the fire burns inyour hall.."

Fingolfin. exchanges a briefer greeting with the Seneschal an then studies Galdor's face "We rode the whole night, yea, for the tidings that came to my ears were somewhat disturbing" he scans the scene around him and as he sees his commitive being adequately tended he nods "I will welcome a fire, but I will even welcome more your company and conversation" He gestures to the building "Let us go to both".

Galdor nods, "Of course. That is a hard road in winter.." He shakes his head, "Yes, I wish I could give you fairer word of happenings here. But nonetheless, it is good you have come." He turns togo to the hall, following the elven King.

Barad Eithel -- Hall of Feasts

Fire burns in a great hearth, warming the hall year round. The floor is paved with flagstones and much covered with thick rugs and mats, especially during the winter, when the stone grows chill.

Tapestries line the walls, bearing images of splendur and loveliness that brighten the hall withcolor. Rows of tables seat the many people that are often found here, and just off of the hall are the kitchens, pantries, and cellars which provide the meals that give this hall its name.

Primarily, the hall is the scene of feasts and laughter, stories and poems and song that often lasts well into the night. But other purposes it serves, also: proclimations are read here, audiences held,justice delivered.

Fingolfin. looks around as he steps into the Hall and for a moment seems to hesitate. Then, with a gesture he indicates the stair that leads to the Council Chambers "We shall speak there. I believe the issues to be discussed may well be suited for some privacy. Come with us, Lord." he addsturning to the Seneschal that respectfully waits behind the King.

Galdor nods again, "Of course." He smiles a little, though his expressin grows reserved again as quickly. "Those chambers may be the best to council in." He steps towards the stair, a pace behind Fingolfin.

Barad Eithel -- Council Chambers

A wide table of polished oak takes up the center of the room with several chairs arranged around it; a larger chair has been placed at the head of the table. A window looks out to the east, letting in the morning light and providing a view of the wide plains which open out in the distance. In the corner, a fire burns in a small hearth and a few, very intricate tapestries cover the stone walls. This is where the High King holds his private meetings, discussing plans and formulating policies with his close advisors and most trusted commanders. Maps and plans, records and reports are often kept here in cabinets or chests: to be discussed and debated until the High King speaks hismind.

Above this chamber the tower continues upwards, providing housing and storage for the High King's personal Guard and servants, and higher still are the quarters for the High King himself.

Galdor crosses the room to the hearth, then bringing two chairs near to the warmth. He waits for the lord to be seated, "Would you eat or drink after your ride? I would offer the hospitality of your warriors." His manner is concerned, grave perhaps and polite, though heartfelt.

A couple of long, graceful strides place Fingolfin. next to the large table and a chair. He sits and, for an instant, lets his gaze wander eastwards through the window, but even as he does hegestures the others to imitate him.

Galdor takes a seat, the others following suit. He leans forward, resting his hands upon his knees, considering a moment before speaking. "It seems your sisters messengers made their way with due haste to your court. Would that we could talk of light things, with Yule so near. But it is not light words I have for you, my Lord.." He pauses, perhaps wearily.

Fingolfin.'s eyes goes now back to Galdor's face and the King stares directly, but not without some warm kindness into the Atan's eyes, "Little our Foe cares for Yule" he says with a sigh "But speak your mind, son of Hador, for I believe yours will not be the worst tidings I have had". With silent efficient a servant comes and leaves a tray with diverse victuals, leaving immediately withthe same discretion.

Galdor considers a moment before speaking, "That is no doubt true." He says with touch of, if not humor, hope. But then he says, carefully considering each word: "The rumors in the valleys were true. The yrch harry our borders, and dire things stalk the wood. Less than a fortnight past, my father and some others battled with them, nearer the fortress than before. They grow bold, like starving wolves, in the winter. It will not be much longer afore the gather together and seek tochallenge our pass, here."

Fingolfin. sets an elbow on the table and rests his chin on the open palm. A glance at the Elven Seneschal receives a silent nod that confirms Galdor's words. And silently he ponders them, his gaze drifting again eastwards "That can not come to pass" he states finally, calmly but firmly "It seems I came not too early..." he goes on, as one thinking aloud. "Are our numbers enough with those that rode with me?" He asks suddenly, facing again those seated in front.

Galdor considers again. "Would that I knew with more certainty of our enemies number." He rests his elbow on his knee, bringing his balled hand to support his lowered chin. Then he raises his head. "We can, and must, hold against them! Our walls will hold. Our men will hold. We willstand when they come."

Fingolfin. waves his hand and shakes his head with sudden impatience "That I know. Well aware I am of the might of this stronghold. That is not what I meant" he goes on the clear elven voice piling up words in quick succession "We need the passes open if we are to keep our watch on the North. I can feel every stirring of the Enemy as the sting of a thorn in my side... It will do us no good to be resist if we are trapped and we cannot scout..."

Galdor nods gravely, "Aye. Too long did I bide in Dorthonion to not know it." He says with a stern mirth. "I have weighed it in my heart if to press an attack now, or to wait and watch another day. Many are the wounded, and I would have all my swords. But the yrch grow in number daily, I fear. One way or another, we must rout them." He speaks with no little conviction, though thequestion can be read upon his brow- How?

"Shall I call my son Fingon and what Ohtari he can bring from the Western Marches?" The King's gaze jumps from one face to the other. The question posed to both his counsellors of today. And Fingolfin's mind is now almost visible active with the building and discarding of plans. Alternatives weighed and balanced... "But it will be some time before he comes... Can we afford it?"

Galdor nods, not in agreement with the plan, but weighing it himself. "If Fingon comes it would strengthen us. But as you say, he will be a little while in coming. I would not bargain on his reaching here before the yrch bring their attack." He pauses, thinking this over. "If he arrives in time, so much the better. But if the time comes to us to strike, we cannotwait."

Fingolfin. raises suddenly and paces the room with quick strides, that, were it not for the elven grace and the stance of the High King, may have been called "nervous" "Then I call my son and we wait..." He concludes eventually "But...if the opportunity arises we attack and clear the passes" And as this alternative is spelled out Fingolfin's eyes gleam with a fell fire. The King obviously better pleased with it "Agreed, then. Send messengers to my son, Lord Seneschal andnow let us refresh ourselves with food and drink"

Galdor smiles, though his manner is not easy still. He moves to stand by the fire, warming his hands near the blaze. "Aye! Such matters dry the palate, and may bring either hunger, or in some,banish it. I am of the former, though."

The elven Seneschal simply nods silently and depart to see to the King's order. Fingolfin. himself, apparently more at ease now that a decision has been made, chuckles slightly at Galdor's words and takes a cup of wine "That is wise for a warrior that knows not when his next meal maycome..."

Galdor smiles grimly, "Aye, it's part of being a soldier. 'If tomorrow we may die, tonight we will feast.'" He says, in a voice as if reciting from an old lay.

"That seems to be, at least, the way of your kindred" Fingolfin nods as he sets the cup back down. "Now that the most urgent has been taken care of, I must see to my sister's wounds" he frowns with concern as this matter comes to his mind "You may stay here, come with me, or do as youplease, Galdor of Dor-Lomin".

Galdor sets his cup aside, and draws a hand across his lips. "Yes, I would not keep you any longer from your kin. You will be a welcome sight to her and surely speed her recovery." He smiles, "I will leave you to that reunion, Lord. I would talk with our captains of what is to be done here."