Théoden

Finally.

It had taken some time to bring everything together. Théoden Serrett had never been a man for small or subtle measures, nor had he ever been one to spare expense. Perhaps, to some, the procession was a little ridiculous: three carriages, twenty household guard, seven horses, all adorned with the proper House Serrett regalia and colors. The dyers had done, as ever, excellent work in touching up his cloaks and furs, his tunics, his breeches: it all needed to be perfect after all.

The journey itself began in the early morning, Théoden proceeded through the lower keep and out into Silverhill town, then down to the southern flats where the caravan itself awaited. The travel itself wouldn't be all too long - a week, perhaps, or more if the snows were somehow too high, to reach Goldengrove.

It wasn't until he was half a day away that Théoden realized this had been the first proper leave he had taken in some years. There was something to that, some strange thing he couldn't quite put his mind to. No matter, he thought.

This will be good, a contented smile crossed his lips. It was a small thing, but Théoden realized that he missed this.