Meduseld settles into hush behind Randwulf as the great doors thud shut and the throne hall’s heat falls away. In the Royal Guard quarters, lamplight sits low on plain wood and iron, and the stables below send up a distant, steady clatter of hooves.
Randwulf loosens his sword belt and lets the weight of armor ease from his shoulders. The quiet feels almost unfamiliar after Helm's Deep and the king's hall.
A Royal Guard
You looked half dead on your feet when you came in. Sit, if you can spare the pride.
The guard sets a wooden cup beside a bench and pulls a folded cloak closer to the brazier. No one rushes him now. There is only the soft scrape of gear and the warm smell of smoke and leather.
Theoden
You have served Rohan well, Randwulf. For tonight, let the burden rest.
Grima Wormtongue
A rare thing, wisdom from the king. Still, even heroes need sleep.
The room eases at that, not friendly, exactly, but calmer. Beyond the wall, horses shift in their stalls, and the kingdom goes on breathing.
Rest in the Royal Guard quarters