Open: Théoden
With the foul breath of Mordor curling at the gates of Minas Tirith, Théoden's thoughts turned to the enormous task that lay ahead. Watching his Riders of Rohan prepare to ride out, the dance of the horses, the tears of the wives and the confusion of the children were their own burden but he could see in the eyes of each of his riders that there was a determination, a certainty that what they rode to was death or glory. A final fight that would determine not just the future of mankind but of Middle Earth itself.
He could not let fear or doubt settle in his mind, his unease of their potential ride to their doom was buried deep within and while he felt secure in his temporary isolated position outside of his longhouse, he'd have to be mindful of his words as he felt another take his side.
"This battle will have high demands upon our resources, I want Edoras secured but prepared for missions of aid to the outlying lands." He shot off with an order, whoever was with him was an ally and if they were an ally he was expecting them to pull their weight in any way a king would expect of them. "Can I entrust that preparation to you?"
