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Folwren · 01-05-2011, 07:11 PM

Thornden was displeased. He was displeased in more than one way. At first, he had been inclined to think well of the place they now stood. All had seemed in order, the courtyard clean, and the workings of the hall apparently going on in an efficient manner. But the sight of the elderly greybeard being thrown from the hall’s doors and left in the dust had stirred a distrust and deep disgust in Thornden. Then there was the expression on the face of the man who had seen to the ejection of the old man. He disappeared in the hall again, looking like a frightened dog with its tale between its legs.

As lord Athanar stopped and the men formed their columns behind and on either side of him, Thornden watched the old man crawl and scramble away. Then they had waited. Too long, they waited. And when Faramund finally decided to come out, it was with a show of force and arms.

This was not how anyone should greet their lord. He should be made welcome, not greeted with men-at-arms. In a time of peace, no known friend should be greeted so. His mind harped back on how he and Saeryn had greeted lord Faramund and the other lords and their soldiers when they had come to the Mead Hall two months ago. They had not tried to impress them with strength. They had attempted to make them welcome and deal with the business as diplomatically as they could. Much thanks they had received for it. When he thought of how they had treated lady Saeryn and her claim to levy the taxes in Eodwine's absence, his blood heated within him, and he looked with calculated distain on this young upstart who presumed to set his men opposite Athanar, as though against him, and who dared to show his face in such a proud and haughty manner.

01-05-2011, 07:11 PM	#859
Folwren Messenger of Hope Join Date: Jun 2005 Location: In a tiny, insignificant little town in one of the many States. Posts: 5,076	Thornden Thornden was displeased. He was displeased in more than one way. At first, he had been inclined to think well of the place they now stood. All had seemed in order, the courtyard clean, and the workings of the hall apparently going on in an efficient manner. But the sight of the elderly greybeard being thrown from the hall’s doors and left in the dust had stirred a distrust and deep disgust in Thornden. Then there was the expression on the face of the man who had seen to the ejection of the old man. He disappeared in the hall again, looking like a frightened dog with its tale between its legs. As lord Athanar stopped and the men formed their columns behind and on either side of him, Thornden watched the old man crawl and scramble away. Then they had waited. Too long, they waited. And when Faramund finally decided to come out, it was with a show of force and arms. This was not how anyone should greet their lord. He should be made welcome, not greeted with men-at-arms. In a time of peace, no known friend should be greeted so. His mind harped back on how he and Saeryn had greeted lord Faramund and the other lords and their soldiers when they had come to the Mead Hall two months ago. They had not tried to impress them with strength. They had attempted to make them welcome and deal with the business as diplomatically as they could. Much thanks they had received for it. When he thought of how they had treated lady Saeryn and her claim to levy the taxes in Eodwine's absence, his blood heated within him, and he looked with calculated distain on this young upstart who presumed to set his men opposite Athanar, as though against him, and who dared to show his face in such a proud and haughty manner.