High King Meginil Gieachoir

High King of the Géadine-Ard Glanduil (a.k.a. Meginil Gieachoir (Man of the Goldhorn)

Son of the reunited line of Ceior, Meginil was born Glanduil and would become the first High King and progenitor of the Géadine men who would become the fiercest enemies of the giants. From Meginil's line, many heroes of men would arise, culminating in his distant descendant Gydwïyr who led the united coalition of men in the final war with the giants at Hautkrig.

Physical Description

General Physical Condition

Tall and well-built for the hard life he lived, Meginil displayed an authoritative presence, commanding attention wherever he went. Great too, was the King's posture, as he stood tale in regal bearing, exuding his confidence and authority. Yet his face was unremarkable, his short blond hair turned to a light grey with age, and his face remained forever uncovered by hair. His eyes were drooping and soft, displaying love and gentleness where one might expect sternness and authority.

Identifying Characteristics

Glanduil was named thus for his golden hair, where it was once vibrant, during the age when he came to be king, his hair came to become a dull blond.

Special abilities

Longer life, given by his distant Fae ancestors

Mental characteristics

Personal history

Long-suffering, the sweat, and blood of men were shed in elder days when the sky was blotted and black when fires and tempests raged across the land in beaten step with the roar and clanging of the Kunkal whose rage blanketed the earth in misery. From these times, a destiny was forged, that one would rise to avenge the death and loss of men in such times. The suffering of men would not be without recompense. A dream was seen, of sprawling green lands, gold, and riches dotting the land that was theirs. This was the dream of man, of all men for all men were in bondage or bonded to death in the days when the world was young. The dream began with a fleeing when the clan of men so close to freedom were lifted away in the night and forded to the western shore to freedom. A blade was bound to them, a blade forged not with malice or cruel intentions, but the very blade of freedom, the blade of man. So then did escape bands and roving tribes of men, from the clutches of the vile Dawn Kings. They marched and died along the paths and dens of the vast Raonrin, separating and conversing as they went. And yet those few who ventured further to the west than any other would become the blessed, for on a dim day, they came upon strangers as they cowered in their caves. Strangers who sang a strange tongue, and yet who came to them in friendship and understanding. All was changed the day when Fae and Man met, amidst a hollow tree and a deep abyss, the two races of freedom formed a pact and came to understand one another. As they came to understand one another, one came who could speak both of their tongues and a song was born, ruddy and simple but shared between them as a sign of friendship.

nuair a éiden gaotha fuara
nuair a aiargi oiera gan réalta
nuair a liare an mac tíre sa dorchadas
nuair a ghreamaíonn eagla an croí
nuair nach dóigh liom dul ar aghaidh
Is cuimhin liom brionglóidí boga
Is cuimhin liom teallaigh the
Is cuimhin liom cara agus gaol
Smaoiním ar bhia agus uisce maith
Coinním creideamh ar feadh laethanta níos fearr
Tá aithne agam ar thalamh neart
Feicim laethanta uaisle
laethanta nuair a shiúlaimid talamh bog
le chéile i laethanta simplí go deo

This was the bond of men and fae, this was the alliance that would reshape the world forever, this was the friendship of the known and the unknown and tie the world forevermore to the whims and deeds of men, the courageous and righteous, the vile and shameless, and all who accompanied them in death and ruin until the end of days. The friendship of man and fae would see the beginning of the long wars, generations of men would live and die in the east, crying and desperate to free their kin from the tyranny of giant hands. High in those early days were the grandsons of wise Ceior, Ardenwulf, and Gamelin, each was proud captain of men and each saw blood run during the first battle. The brothers marched onto the first battle alongside the Faen kings of old, the Shining Son of the Huldra, Eldest and clad in shimmering armor and splendid arms of glory, and the Black King of the Mainar with a blackened spear dripping in the blood of his foes. Death and glory upon the field of the first battle was what met men, for they had nothing like the great steel of the Fae, nor the great power and might of the giants. So many fathers, sons, and brothers fell upon An Thiad Bhiar, that in the old tongues of men, it could be called Briedn Dragrau, the Battle of Tears.
At the battle's end, the valor of men came into question by the proud Huldra Elder King, yet the valor of men was defended by Ardenwulf, with a hand upon pommel he defended the courage of men and claimed then, beneath the stink of defeat, that one day, one would arise from their number and glorify the line of men.

"For one shall come that shall bring honor to our name, and the name of all before us. By the grace of the High Ones shall come our lost heir and the mission of the many shall fall to they, to avenge the dead masses, to rally the faithful and when iron turns to gold, the dawn of men shall come and blanket the world in our glory."

Many would come since the days of Ardenwulf's prophetic words, as the men of Tirmagall settled and spread, the tribes of men came to be more numerous and more prone to raise the spear against their own. The five tribes of Ardenwulf arose from each of his children, and the two lesser tribes of Gamelin came under them, as was fitting in those days. Yet all knew the destiny of their bloodline, growing old in these young days, many of their line came to believe in their own destinies and tried in vain to become the one to unite the clans of men. Many came and many failed, as time marched on in search of the one. Such men were numerous, and yet the hour of the savior of men came near, in the days and ages of great heroes, one was born to the line of Gamelin and Ardenwulf, reconnected was the bloodline that would come to save men.

Glanduil, son of Ebrinil and Rehena came to service under the master of his lands, Ancaron Aescan, Lord-Chief of the Ulweri and of the Eorni, son of Acléan and brother Duran Draunkora. For modest Glanduil served his master and made ready for the hour of duty that would come. When the great Laeomena gems were taken, the Elder King of the Huldra, An Lonrach rode forth from the safety of Tirmagall and met his valiant end by the wrath of the great tyrant Nidgram. Once more, the armies of the fae rallied and called their allies to war. Ancaron rode from the bastion, Glanduil in tow, to the fields of the east where once more, the blood of man would be spilled. Yet men did not ride with the King of Tirmagall and Lord Toreach and all his hosts, nor the Mainar king and his steel, they rode with the fire-hearted prince Eaforn, who brought just death and ruin to the giants as he forced them to flee in terror upon his wake.

Yet so was the resolve of the giants strong, that upon battle made at the Vingaldin river, the valor of the Fae nearly shattered upon the strength of one of the greatest thegns of the tyrant Nidgram, one called Hraust Miklihræglir, the Great and Terrible. Miklihræglir shattered all in his path, fought to the tune of war drums and trumpets and horns of ivory. His great shield deflected all blows and his sword bore down on the masses of men. Yet above all, Hraust Miklihræglir was proud and boastful and his taunts tore at the honor of men deeply. Boastful Hraust bid one of the number of men to come forth and face him alone, yet each day, none came forth for all were fearful of Miklihræglir's power and prowess. As the challenges became more numerous, many looked to Ancaron to lead them and slay the mighty giant, yet he refused.

On the fourteenth day of the challenge, proud Miklihræglir came forth once more, towering over like a pillar of granite, clad in his gleaming armor of silver and wrought iron. His sword was wide, sharp, and still shone red with the blood of previous men slain as he uttered his challenge and issued forth. Yet this was the day that he would meet one who would accept, a boy no more than fourteen, clad in simple garb and wielding naught but an old bow and hunting knife. Miklihræglir boomed with laughter as many among the host of men bid the boy to come away and out of the sight of the giant. Yet the boy remained unafraid, for the son of Ebrinil and Rehena, of the House of Ceior, calmed his breath and steadied his arms, and his fingers, and gazed deep into the eyes of the giant before him, unnerving him. Glanduil, a boy with not a bit of hair upon his face, with short matted blond hair resting on his head remained helmetless in the fray. Poor woven sandals for shoes, an oversized tunic, and a small belt were all that prevented Miklihræglir's sword from cleaving the boy in two. His arms were adorned with naught but a small ring of silver and a brace on his wrist. In his hands, an old hunting bow from his father and a pendant from his mother, a bow of yew with black arrows tucked away in an old quiver at his side which fell.
"Am I a dog? Have you come to slay me with sticks?" spoke the giant, mocking his opponent. Yet Glanduil did not speak, he quickly reached toward the ground, picking his quiver and fastening it to himself as his breath steadied and his eyes became narrow. Once more, as he had done many times, Miklihræglir blew his great golden horn, shaking the ground, and the fight began between them. With a mighty cleave, the giant's sword pierced the earth, sending chunks of rock and stone flying all around. Yet he did not take Glanduil, who evaded and in the time of the swing had leashed six arrows at the giant. Five arrows did not pierce his armor, yet the sixth struck Miklihræglir in the throat and in disbelief, the Great and Terrible bowed over and began to choke on his own blood. In silence now were both armies, staring in disbelief over the sight before them. Struck by the silence, Glanduil went forth, proud, and in step, reaching for the horn of Miklihræglir and blowing it himself, saying "Not so great as I." Seeing their leader, and the most prized thegn of Nidgram felled now beneath a boy, the giant army hurried away in a frenzied dash, and the day was won thusly.
In the night, Glanduil enjoyed splendorous celebration as the figure of honor among the western camp. Toasts of all kinds were made and many visits to the boy. There, the boy met for the first time, his distant kinsman and master Ancaron who thanked him and praised him greatly. Ancaron, a valorous leader of men in his own right, now came to envy the boy, as many in his army now treated Glanduil with respect and reverence fitting only him. Many flocked behind him and many came to call him Meginil Gieachoir, the Man of the Goldhorn and he carried the name, and the horn of Miklihræglir with him for the rest of his days.
Yet the armies of the west would find their victory snatched from them. For they came upon a plateau overlooking rolling hills of fertile land. Eandris, son of the Huldra King Galerain began to call the land Rollagla, the Rolling Greens, but this would not be a name that remained for long. On a crisp and clear night, doom came to the army of the west. The silent night was broken by a great rush of wind, like a tempest upon the ocean it came, and blew away many tents of the camp. Then a great bellow shook the earth. Then came the whirling of the wind and shaking of the soil which was pierced by a ferocious cry. From the sky, the great Draigs of the Jotnar descended, led by the ferocious Basdūh, on wings of bony iron they came upon the camp at Rollagla, and their great fires burned away at the Western army. In the chaos, Meginil fearful of the fire, was saved by Eleial, the noble son of Ancaron, who spirited the boy away on his back where they came upon the rest of their number. Ancaron greatly praised his son, "My boy, in deeds you have remained true and in valor, you have saved lives, you shall be the highest among us in the days to come!" Yet Eleial said humbly, "Father, I have done nothing but what is expected of me, I am no better a man than the one I have brought upon my shoulders." Ancaron pretended to agree, but in his heart, he came to realize that his son had become a friend of Meginil and he grew further enmity towards the boy.
This enmity for Meginil would drive Ancaron to jealousy and intrigue. After the great destruction of Tirmagall by the tyrant King Nidgram and the slaying of King Galerain, the tribes of men came into the service of Galerain's sons and established citadels of their own. The men of Ceior's House came to build six cities, Dira, Caśural, Mihvahn, Kannesh, Airnthal, and finally Durandell. Ancaron, leader of men, came to dwell in Dira, forging a lordship for himself and his house. To Kannesh he bid Eleial before he granted Durandell to Meginil, for it was last among the cities. Thence a day came when Ancaron sat atop his throne and an old seer named Deothin came to him bidding him listen.
"Oh lord of men, to the great hall of a great lord I have come bearing a message of importance." Ancaron bid the seer to come forth, for he thought himself the subject of this message. Then did Deothin speak, "Lord, I have seen a light among thee, a light shining with the spark of a thousand stars. Yet this light has become hidden, shrouded, kept beneath a cloak of dark. I believe well that one of thy captains is kept beneath it, this boy of the Goldhorn is ordained by those above to lead, they wish for the circlet to pass to the younger." Hearing this, Ancaron flew into a rage and said "Leave me now old man, this boy is not he whom you speak, he is naught but a tool and no tool of the gods. Damn them, damn them in wishing evil upon their proper son, damn them in wishing to see him thrown down!" Deothin was ushered away, tossed to the dirt by the men of Ancaron though as he left Dira for Durandell, many came to be swayed by the words of him and left with him, naming him elder and seer of things to come.
In Durandell, beneath raised stone, Meginil strengthened the land there under the orders of his lord Ancaron. It was in active frenzy that the seer and his followers came to Durandell, singing songs of praise and hope. "Meginil, golden dream, gold-horned, come from the city and hear the people!" And so, Meginil came to meet Deothin and heard the wise man speak. Yet Meginil in his wisdom, understood well the words of Deothin but he did not wish them to be true. Deothin revealed a great scar, given to him by giant blade, in days of old. Meginil did not understand, and still, he questioned the old man before him, who arose with a wobble before falling to the ground. Meginil grasped the old man and steaded his walk and Deothin spoke once more. "Wisdom granted to me must not pass without action, please oh Glanduil, a call has been made that must be answered, for a silent cry has rung out across the land, a cry for you to do what has been decreed so long ago." Yet in kindness, Meginil dismissed him and once more Deothin hobbled away, sunken in silence and thought.
A day or so passed and once more did Deothin compel his message to Meginil, speaking of his father, speaking of honor, yet Meginil dismissed him again. Deothin spoke still, speaking of his mother, of the reckoning to come, and of the destiny of men. Meginil, tried of patience, rashly rebuked him, wishing him gone for he did not believe himself ready for the great deeds spoken to him by the old man.
To a meadow of silence he ran, beneath a halo of clear moonlight he sat in silence there, his mind wrestling with the path set before him. Destiny had come for Meginil yet he remained still a boy, unprepared for what was to come. Glanduil sat timid and afraid and as he sat in silence, pondering many things, a rustling came from the trees and bushes nearby. Once more did Deothin come forth, yet different than before, clad in worn grey, of quiet splendor he strode forth, cane bound. Cloaked in mystery, the old seer came forward, determined in stride, to Meginil as he sat and looked on. In a soft voice, he spoke, "I have no more secrets to shed, if you will not reach for your destiny, then the future I see of men shall not come." Deothin held the outstretched hands of Meginil, though calloused, weathered, and hard, they remained gentle and in the way Meginil remembered the touch of his father so many years ago. Then Deothin spoke once more, "I did not mold thee from the dirt for man to rest his head against it."
Deothin was no more a timid old man, but now of strength and power, his left eye shrunk away, his posture sprang up, unfettered by the ages and his cane turned to a great scepter. Meginil dropped then, to his knees, for now, he understood who truly stood before him, He on High, He from the pool beneath the wide world, the Great Learner, the Blood Shedder. He who walked in lightless days, Weda the First, and Ranir, lord of all the world. All around, the world seemed different, vibrant color replaced dullness, the sky twirled, and the stars danced, the ground hummed in song and step with Ranir. All seemed in balance and peace, for there Ranir stood for a time, Meginil clutching the ground in fear beside his creator, seeking safety. "Rise my son, rise now and leave fear behind you, for fear has been the death of men for too long, rise and know all will be well." Meginil rose slowly and saw the color of the world spring from the earth, he saw the sky spinning and the stars dancing. His mind was made ready, he saw the glories and greatness of Weda and saw the truth as the High One had. Now was the boy finally shed and cast away, for Meginil no longer denied his destiny, in the garden of moonlight he spoke to great Ranir. Meginil, of the line of old Ceior, of Ardenwulf and Gamelin, the keeper of the golden horn, the boy of golden dreams, went away now bound in fate to unite men.
Meginil strode to Dira, to the chair of Ancaron where seat he acclaimed him yet shrouded deep was his veil of jealousy. Meginil did not reply to his forked words, "A call has been made oh lord, a call from above to bring about the glory of men, a call I have answered, though I did not wish it." Ancaron then knew that Glanduil was no more, now striding before him was Meginil and so he bid his guest to rest, for they would speak of this when he rose. Yet Ancaron did not wish to give away his power, in the night, while Meginil slept, Ancaron bid his son Eleial to come before him. In secrecy, he bid his son to kill their guest, as a test of the son's loyalty to his father. When Eleial, a man of honor, refused his father's demand, Ancaron struck him and spoke of a lost son. Eleial gathered himself, he stood for a moment, ponderous, deep in thought before with a steady walk, he left the hall of his father and went into the night, shedding tears for the loss of a father. Ancaron summoned his servants and bid these men the same order he had given to Eleial, and the assassins went forth without thought.
In the shadow of moonlight, the men of Ancaron crept into the abode where Meginil had laid. As they crept they found the room empty, for Eleial had alerted his friend of the danger and shepherded him away from Dira. Megniil sought safety in the woods of Haruth, outside of Dira where he came to understand the deed of Ancaron. Meginil rallied those loyal to him, and with a heart heavy with reluctance, he raised his sword to the heavens and announced war on Ancaron. So then began the first Brother's War between men, the first in their history when the blood of men would be shed by another in war.
Yet all did not follow the deeds of Ancaron, many among the five cities left their halls of stone and safety and joined with the exiled lord-captain. Low was the house of Ancaron upon the discovery of one such ally of Meginil. Déari Feargaied, daughter of Ancaron, led her and her troop of warrior women from Dira where they lay and began the long march to exile with Meginil for he was judged righteous. Yet so too did Feargaied flee with heavy heart, for she left behind her a much-loved brother, still compelled by duty to remain by his father's side and he did thusly. Valiant Déari would come to be beloved by Meginil and she to him and in the chaos of war the two were wed.
While Ancaron united the remainder of the five cities against Meginil, the exiled lord of Durandell traveled widely, seeking friendship and alliance with many who had owed debts of gratitude to his family in older times. Meginil traveled to the court of the lord of the plains, the last son of Galerain, Eregrin Hasilin now lord of the lands of his name. Coming to the court of this Fae lord of legend, Meginil postured himself before the proud son of the former King of Tirmagall. Yet humble Eregrin bid him stand, for strength alone was not their way, in their hearts was kindness and understanding and so it was that a friendship blossomed between the two like that of their ancestors of old, Sylren and Ceior who in friendship, fostered the great alliance of men and fae. Hasilin proved a generous ally, as he was in harder times, he did not hesitate in fulfilling duty and remained honor-bound to his new friend.
Yet so too in meeting with the esteemed son of Galerain, did Meginil also come to see another of Hasilin's guests, the young Sureno prince, tall and proud warrior of the Southlands, Donis who was called the Feilhamur, "the Hammerer of his Foes" in the tongue of the North. Mighty and proud was this Sureno prince, for his strength was heated in the crucible of battle, his gaze was stern and he delighted in the chaos of war. His people were demons to the giants whom they fought, in the shrubs, and amidst the groves, they hacked and slew many of the giants who came to do battle with them in the manner of the men of the north. For of all men in his age, none could match the Fielhamur in strength, for he wielded his great sword Bellovesus with such skill he was called among those in the South, Donis Luezarmetura, Donis the Longarmed. In meeting this Southern prince, Hasilin aided in forging an understanding and a friendship between the Northerners and the Southerners as Donis' mother Aethira, daughter of Harbriel, sister of Halvin, was the aunt of Meginil's mother Rehena. The two lords of their own lands did reach a pact of agreement and friendship and as Donis departed to the lands of his father Khar-Urudin, he spoke of the call to war and the mustering of men.
As Meginil departed the great court of Eregrin, he mustered his forces and gathered for battle. Battle was coming, fire and ruin awaited, for so too did Ancaron muster the might of men, all mustered among the five cities of men and they came to the field outside Dira rattling spears and shaking shields. In the chaos of the gathering storm, the men, women, and children of Durandell begged their lord to not wage war upon the battlefield, they bid him to make peace, to lead with care, and not endanger himself to the blows and speartips of Ancaron and the lords of the five cities. Yet the heart of Meginil was softened by their petition, he agreed then to allow his army to be led by Déari and so the army marched off without him. Yet in complying with the words of the people of Durandell, Meginil's army was disheartened without the presence of their great leader. Upon battle in the Wood of Haruth, Ancaron proved himself superior to the command of his daughter and drove the host of Durandell from the land, taking many captive and claiming many prizes of relics and arms. In the sorrow of war, Eleial as lord of Kannesh slew many of Durandell's host, tears wetted his blade as he bore it dripping with the blood of the men of his nation. Déari had come to be gravely wounded by the deeds of her brother and returned to Meginil near death.
When the host of Durandell and his beloved Déari returned, beaten and bloodied, Meginil's heart hardened and he denied the further petition of his people to remain in safety. Donning once more the sword and shield, Meginil appeared before his beleaguered men and inspired them anew with words of valor and courage. The divine mission remained and now would come the days of the sons of the great gods. Now sung was rage, sung was the rage of Meginil for the suffering of his people and the victory of his enemies, doom brought by the iron-willed warriors of Meginil, doom upon the men of falsities and trickery. Doom would come to the traitors of the five cities, for the wrath of Durandell would hurl down unrighteous souls to the house of death, their bodies crushed, feasts for the hungry dog, and carrion for preying birds above. Dear friends, be men now, be men of valor and courage for valor and courage are the making of men. Sing of victory, sing of triumph and the pouring forth of great deeds, sing for the opening of the red dawn upon the bloodied world. At once, the cries and battle drum rang out in the camp of the host of Durandell and once more, the army was roused with passion, marching back from whence they came with renewed vigor. At their head was Meginil, atop his Faen steed Camgydol, an aura of invincibility about him, shining with courage for all to see. As they came, they were joined by the fierce Southern prince Donis, who arrived with the great warriors of the Sureno, marching and beating their shields to a chant of war and blood. For the day of reckoning had come, a day when the smoke of death and ruin would come to the field of battle, brother shall slay brother, the father shall slay the son, and the world would be made anew for the victory, be for the better or worse.
In lockstep, the armies of men marched to war against one another, songs sung of victory and riches and glory, the ringing of trumpets gilded and booming horns of ivory. To and fro, from homeland away they went to battle, to war and death. No tears were shed for the folly of man, the pursuit of destiny and fate lit the way in the night like the stars above. Shall man be forever held bound, shall man forever remain cowering in wretched fear at the sight of their enemy? No, man arose fiery and aware, the flame of ambition burned in the heart of men in those days, yet for all courage and glory, what passed on was grueling death at a pointed end, immortality in memory forever. Men knawed on their shields, spit bark, and came to a frenzy in anticipating the coming ring of battle.
When battle came, bloodshed and ruin came to the rival houses of men who bruised one another with fists and impaled with spears, slashed with swords, and bludgeoned with ax and mace as shields clashed together and agony rang out across the land. At the white cliffs of Unargel, the sons of the six cities slew one another without remorse. Yet the enemies of both sides did not meet, for in the fray, the great and noble son of Ancaron, Eleial came upon a long host of men and fought them bitterly. Eleial, among the most skilled and revered warriors of his time, did prove his might and his weapon cleaved through all men before him. Thus to their comrades did they go, shocked and cloaked in fear at the sight of the great warrior before them. The herded warriors of Durandell huddled together, like sheep in a flock, far into the shade of great Eleial's shadow. To the huddled host, once proud and strong, did Eleial usher forth a challenge, drunk with rage at the men of Durandell. Any come forward would be single met, for valor and glory in the field, a challenge of dueling was made. So too, in the melee, was another blood drunk, Meginil strode forth, raging and proud. Now clear was the land, feet did not inch forward to the pair, once brothers in battle and sons of proud deeds, now fierce rivals, each vied for blood and death. So inflamed was the flared plume atop the crown of Meginil, fettering in the wind, the red sky, thickened with blood, dulled the air now tainted with plagues of death and cries of anguish. Yet in sight of his dear friend, the bloodlust of Eleial seemed to dim and falter. Yet like the lightning of high Rymr, Meginil threw himself at his foe, fierce and stern flew the javelins and rage of Meginil, ailed in blood and fame, the warriors flew at one another and in sight of all, the pair danced with spear and shield.
Fierce as a lion and strong as an awoken bear, Meginil would not be denied and so with his weighted sword drawn, in view of the birds of prey circling high above. Meginil moved and inched closer still, his figure was lit aflame by divine glory and his spear rang out and cried for blood. At length, Meginil drove his spear forward, at a place between helm and mail shirt, at the throat, where the words of Eleial would never echo from again. The spear of iron was driven furiously, driven through the windpipe and out back. Dropped weapon and shield, the good son of Ancaron slumped over, eyes panicked, then fell and prone upon the red ground. While for a moment, Meginil's gaze saw his enemy defeated, he triumphed for a moment, before his eyes brought realization to his mind and he began to weep. Sadness and sorrow came over him, and while the roar of battle raged all around, the wailing and cries of Meginil brought their roar to a whimper and all came to know the sorrow of Geiachoir. All around, Meginil waved and rattled his spear, thrust against his own who wished to retrieve the arms and armor of fair Eleial now slain. Yet shared in sorrow was the father, spying afar the death of his only son. Ancaron War-leader no longer, the father of Eleial did emerge and so too did a wailing and grief come from his strained throat. For at the unholy sight of his son now slain and fallen, the father fled the battlefield in haste, coming upon a dark and secluded grove. Then did Ancaron tear at his eyes, plucking them out, and rent them away. Yet pain did not dampen, and so he thrust his long sword into his chest and further he fell upon it until he lay dead. No more in pursuit of glory, Meginil spoke and ended the war then.

"Eleial and Ancaron, beloved and pleasant in their life, And in their death they were not parted; They were swifter than eagles, They were more noble than lions... How have the mighty fallen in the midst of battle! Eleial, beloved, and slain now upon your high places oh gods! My heart aches now, my brother; You were forever pleasant to me and I to you. Your love to me was more wonderful than the love of any I have ever known! How have the mighty fallen, and the glories of war perished at sight of you now!"

So Meginil carried the body of Eleial away, burying him atop a high place near the field of battle, raising a grand stone and cairn, carved with rings and runes of remorse and reverence. Meginil sought to reconcile with the lords of the cities but found them also slain upon the field, only their servants and thralls came before him bowing low, offering silver and gold rings and ornaments. So it was that the rings of lordship came to be melted, instead coming to be one with the newly forged crown of Meginil who claimed lordship over all the Géadine. All of the riches of the cities were brought to Durandell, reformed into the capital of a new nation. The High King rose, newly crowned, emboldened, and announced a new age for the children of Weda. A hail and a shout were heard across the land, for a king had come, a king of men to rule the children of the High Ones. Amidst the great mass, a single-eyed traveler, cane-wielding, weary and tired from days of journey looked on, as one might look upon a child taking their first steps. For the end of all things would not come, mankind was placed upon its pedestal of righteousness at the hour of Meginil's ascension. It is said then that true light came upon the lands of men, no longer the shade and hew of light but sunshine, splendid and renewed. He ruled wisely, he ruled strongly, and justly. For in the heart of Meginil now was the heart of a king. By his wife Déari, he loved and brought into the world a single son Eoffair, in the tongue of men a name that means "most fair". As he came to adulthood, Meginil sent a message to his friend, now the lord of the Southlands Khar-Donis. He wished for a union between their houses and a great matrimony was announced between the High King's son and the loved daughter of Khar-Donis, Beleileia who came to Durandell amidst shouts and acclaim from her Sureno guardsmen, much to the joy of the people of the city. During the golden years of his rule, a message came from the far west. A great realm was found in the days of Meginil's rule, from the tribe of Halvin, Elmdùin and the Fae prince Ealen had come to found an island realm called Siossein. An envoy came to the High King's hall in Durandell, offering submission, but Meginil did not think it necessary or feasible to claim overlordship of a land so far away. He sent the messenger away with a word of peace, of refusal, that which granted the Dhateah means to rule the land of their own accord and in the measure they deemed most fitting. Meginil sent congratulations to this Elmdùin now called Ethardine, the Father of Men, and he received a golden ax amidst a bundle of yew twigs. Ethadine bid it that if he so ever required the aid of the Dhateah, all that would make this known would be the golden ax, sent to the island realm. In the waning years, of the old High King's days, in the great citadel of Durandell, nestled amidst the valleys and rivers, there did rule a great High King of valor and wisdom. For years uncountable, his name echoed throughout his lands and through the lands of those he deemed friends. For Meginil's rule came over the land and a new age of peace and security existed for the Géadine where they had never had before. But now, despite the long life granted by Faen blood, the twilight of life approached the great King. The weight of his lasting legacy pressed upon his old bones, and the weariness of age seeping into his soul, caused him pain.
The old High King had witnessed much in his long life, the life and death of many, and the passing of the generations who had known only war and death. Once flowing with energy, Meginil now sat unwieldy upon the carven stone throne atop Durandell. The grand halls of his palace, once dimmed with the ringing of laughter and revelry among friends, now echoed an eerie silence, as all the King's once dear friends met death and a long sleep.
Upon the falling of autumn leaves, Meginil sought to wander the land as he once did. He found solace in the whispering trees and the singing of rushing water in the creeks. The humbling colors of nature reminded him of his youth when the days seemed longer and fuller in meaning. But in each passing day, Meginil's steps came to be slower, the weight upon his shoulders increasing as his mind cleared. In the evening, he gazed atop Durandell's wake, upon breathtaking sunset and felt a deep longing from the shackles of rule that had bound him for so long. Once more, in the old king, the call of adventure silenced the call of duty, which whispered his name no more. Meginil yearned once more for the thrill of the unknown, the excitement of the uncharted and undiscovered, and the freedom of the uncrowned.
The old king then set his crown atop the brow of his only child, his son Eoffair who was much hailed across the land for his wisdom. Old Meginil bid farewell to his keep, the land he had protected, and the people he had nurtured for so many years. With a heart of renewed spirit, he set forth on his last journey, his last adventure, guided only by the flickering flames of a distant memory. So he went, through the vastness of the land he went, aching and old, as he stopped and sought shelter among those who did not know his name, nor his deeds. As he ventured, he found more and more of his former self, fragmented but alive still, reminding him of the vibrant soul that once inhabited him and burned so bright in younger times.
Once more the seasons turned, and bitter cold came to the land. Yet Meginil went on, for he had not reached where he had wished to go. No longer did gentle breeze grace him, now came hard winds and bitter snows. The old man fell many times, aching and wounded, yet courage remained in him and he went on. In the hard snows, Meginil still found the beauty of life unfettered, the hard snows carried with them whispers of a hard life, a life Meginil had known once. The old king gazed at the frozen landscape, the dunes of snow stretching forever, the frozen rivers sprinkled in frost, and so found the land thriving and alive still as he passed.
As the journey came then to a close, Meginil's long steps finally led him to his destination, to a high place near the field of an old battle now lost to the ages. To an old pillar of stone, weathered and worn, moss and leaves made the carved runes unintelligible but Meginil knew them well. There sat the rest of an old friend who now in the twilight of Meginil's life, he missed more dearly. As his hands shook, and his voice trembled, Meginil came to see his old friend, for a final reunion.
The old king's hand brushed away the leaves that had settled upon the pillar. Etched into the stone, in the runes lay the name of Eleial, a name so beloved by the king. His eyes came to water and filled with tears as he whispered fond memories and faint words into the quiet stillness atop that peaceful place.
Finally, then did the old king's body give and he fell upon the stone, his friend before him. His heart grew weary, having endured much to be beside his beloved friend. Meginil now yearned for eternal rest and as the sun cast a final ray upon the world before the birth of night, Glanduil closed his eyes slowly, his breath faded and he whispered his last words and a serene look came over his weathered face, as he felt the familiar warmth of Eleial's smile gazing at him once more as his old friend guided him home to an everlasting peace.

Accomplishments & Achievements

Founded the High Kingdom of the Géadine
Created a legendary legacy as the first and greatest King of men

Social

Contacts & Relations

A great friend of Lord Eregrin of Eregrinel and of Khar-Donis of the Sureno of Rielar. Meginil's famous friendship with Eleial Maegellen was widely known

Family Ties

Son of Ebrinil and Rehena
Husband of Déari Feargaied
Father of High King Eoffair
Great ancestor of the Tirdôla and the Teaghaisí

Social Aptitude

A visionary and a decisive leader, Meginil was embolded by his ideals of wisdom and honor and carried a great weight upon his shoulders. Yet his compassion remained forever despite the circumstances of his life, compassion for his friends and his enemies alike. He strove to alleviate hardship and ensure a bright future for his heirs and his people which consumed him in his ruling days.

Hobbies & Pets

Camgydol- called the Shadowstepper, the warhorse of Meginil, bred from the prized warhorses of the Fae and gifted to Meginil by Eregrin during his visit to the realm of Eregrinel.