The splendor of the hall rises up in front of him.The walls, old and steadfast as it was when it was first build all those years ago. In front of him it stretched upwards towards the sky. The pale moonlight, soft and radiant, cascades down the walls of the Hall. Blazing against the blacken mountains far behind to the East, defiantly standing against what vile and wickedness these lands may posses. It’s foundation as strong as it’s belief itself, the fight for good and righteousness, and to stand proudly and protect.
Walking in, the magnificence of the hall spreads out in front of him . High ceilinged with rich, opulent, red walls. There already were a few knights standing around the table. Behind them on the walls hanged suites of armor that gleamed splendidly from the fire that blazed in the heart beside a thick wooden table, gloriously packed with food and drink, around which the knights stood and discussed matters at hand. Elf and man, dwarf and hobbit, all united to stand bold with no fear against those that oppress the Free Peoples of Arda.
Soft orange light form the brazier in front cascades upon his fine, yet strong elven features. Glinting golden from the exquisitely crafted beads that adorns his head. And with the rest of his straight, lank hair held back with expertly braided locks from his open face, the soft rustle of metal rings into the high ceilinged hall from his chain armour, as he walks down the wooden planks. Behind him a crimson cloak hangs richly from his shoulders, trailing it’s luscious texture lightly on the polished oaken floor.
“Suilad” he greets a common welcome in Sindarin, nodding his head towards those standing around the table. Beongarn, their previous leader and commander, was standing with his normal serious continence on the other side of the thickly laid out feast from which the pleasant aroma of freshly prepared goods rise up, teasing Seargildin’s already hungry stomach. It was here that he became a knight, he remembers as he looks up at the faces of those around him.
“By sword and steel, by bow and shield - this is the oath I swore to thee” the words rings out in the quite hall. The recruit, a young stout man, was standing in front of the new Grandmaster, Brywyn.
“My hand to guide my steed to ride - my will to help thee guide” the man repeats proudly after her.
“Guide my sword, Brothers in Arms, Whether Sword or man of field”
“I swear to thee, to guide form harm, with all that I may yield”
“Orc or shade, bow or blade, My shield shall keep thee safe”
“And guide the Lost into light, A sacred hallow place”
“All that wander shall be free, By hammer and by mace”
“This is my oath, I swear to thee, Loyalty and Grace”
The man recites after the Grandmaster, word for word, as this sacred oath of the knights were sworn in front of the others in the hall. It's age old words filling every corner of the room as silence fills the respectful presence of such a scared vow.
Beongarn, stood a step back from the two as Brywyn, with her new responsibilities, looked at the man,“Kneel, Knight of Eriador, We welcome you to our order” she says as a welcoming smile spreads across her proud face. The man bows down as murmurers of approval floats softly behind him. Brywyn takes a bundle of cloth and armour from the table next her and hands it to the receiving hands of the man. Standing up from his knees he then turns around and smiles brightly to those behind him. Cheers rang up from his fellow knights.
Tonight another oath was sworn. He thinks, as the one that he was born with still haunts him
