Heh! Well, he IS a Dunadan Lord, Vardalain. It's not like he bowed to a Hobbit. Heck, Gil-Galad treated Elendil almost as an equal... mind you, probably a funny chap, Gil-Galad...
It is, of course, remarkably simpler (and intentional) that you ALL leave...
... which only leaves the Epilogue!
---
Fornost-Erain
The chill weather and mist of the last couple of months is lightening as you draw towards the mighty city of the North. The last vestiges of winter are dwindling away.
For those who have not seen it before, this beautiful city is a testament to the architectural might of the ancient Dunadan; the city of Elendil himself. But it is no Minas Tirith fortress city (not that anyone has ever used the words 'Minas Tirith' yet anyway), rather a wide sprawl of civilisation, like Osgiliath. The primitive, plague-and-war depleted lands of Cardolan have given way to the lush, rich fields and towns of Arthedain, strong and secure.
And as you draw near the city gates... a messenger is riding out. Which odd uregency for such a short distance, he pelts it over towards Lord Farael, and breathlessly requests word with him in private, as soon as possible.
And so, you guys come, or return, to the palace of the Northern Kings, seat of the throne of the Kings of Men, descendants of Isildur himself, and of the line stretching back to the days of Numenor and beyond. Built, at the time, far from the stronghold of the enemy in Mordor, now merely a shadowland of forgotten evil compared to the darkness of the modern day in Angmar, it is not built as a mighty fortress, though it is strong to be sure, but as a symbol of the power and skill of Man.
This is normally a place of security and joy... but today the mood is sullen, and withdrawn. When Farael leads you people into the great lobby that is the Waiting Hall, he seems to forget about you quite quickly, hurrying off to talk to a couple of Royal Stewards. Other important looking people walk by, quiet, reflective- and unhappy.
Not necessarily from Fornost, Andromir, though you have almost certainly been here before.
Palidan- doesn't take much to guess. Something terrible has happened.
After a while, a well-dressed- if slightly rotund- man turns up. The older players recognise him as the Chamberlain, Lord Gorlim.
"Thank the Valar, you made it back alive!" he says. "We certainly need some good news. Hmm!" he says, looking at the new Elvish arrivals. "I was told you had brought company. The King has been seeing no-one... but he has just asked to see you all. I'd be careful, though; he's not a happy man."