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dreamdancer
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Post A Precious Gift
on: July 08, 2007 09:35
(You can see the OOC for this thread here . I hope this is alright for an opening... its pretty meh, but maybe it gets us rolling )


Ainu sat by himself at the base of one of the large and beautiful Mallorn trees of Lothlorien, his lute in his lap. His slender fingers plucked at the strings, sending soft and comforting notes up into the air to join with the peaceful noises of the elven realm. It was a new lute… the old one had been lost before he’d returned to Lorien with Galenfae. It had been a while ago now… he’d been away for some time, having chosen self-exile in his quest to forget the horrors of his past. It hadn’t helped, of course, and he’d run in with Galenfae quite by chance in his travels… together with some friends they ended up getting involved in trouble with some Haradrim men. The memory was still fresh in his mind, though, especially of when she had risked herself to save him from imprisonment. That and many other reasons was why, now, he thought of her as more than just a friend… the elleth held his heart.

And now, they would be setting out together again. The two of them had been chosen to accompany a group of elves who would be going to Minas Tirith, carrying a precious gift to the son of the king and queen of that realm. Before she had left Middle Earth, Galadriel had ordered a bow to be made, and had put a green gem into it herself. Now that her great grandson was old enough to wield the powerful weapon, it was to be taken to him. The rest of the group was still being gathered, and they had only to wait… in the next day or so, they would set out by boat.

For now, Ainu was lost in his music as usual, and he didn’t hear the soft step of someone approaching. When he became aware that he wasn’t alone, he turned his blue eyes to see who it was that had come upon him. Smiling to see Galenfae, he held out his hand to her.
“Sit with me?” he offered, “We may not have much time alone after we set out. Have you spoken to Gaeron… do you know if he’s going to go with us?”

******************************************************************

The archer Iondullas was also preparing to leave Lothlorien for Minas Tirith. He would be going to offer his skill for the protection of the precious bow. Besides that, he always enjoyed travel and seeing new places… and despite his many long years he had never once been to Minas Tirith. It was sure to be exciting, he knew, and he was looking forward to the trip.

Now, though, he had been given the task of searching out the rest of their group. There were at least six other elves who would be accompanying them, and word had been sent out. Presently he waited beside a fountain, which had been designated as a meeting place for those who would go. They needed to decide upon a day to leave, and it would need to be soon… but first, everyone chosen for the important task would need to be gathered in the same place….
Galenfea
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Post RE: A Precious Gift
on: July 09, 2007 12:08
((Huzzah! Hope this is OK...))

Galenfea's hand hovered near her younger brother's elbow as Finnar took another tentative step. He was supposed to be back in bed; his wounded leg was not yet healed and the muscles were still weak, not ready for use, but he was determined to walk across the room completely unsupported, even by a crutch. Galenfea reasoned that if she didn't let him he'd only try when there was nobody there to keep an eye on him and make sure he was safe. He took a breath and put his weaker foot down, stumbled a little, and was back on the strong one.
"Finnar," she began.
"No. I can do it." He took another difficult step. It was only a few feet to his bed, and in a few moments he was there, sitting down and rubbing at his thigh. Galenfea leaned his crutch up against the wall.
"Next time, use that."
He nodded, but grinned wanly. "I can do it!"
"What did you let him do?" The new voice came from behind Galenfea, and she looked round to see Gaeron, her elder brother.
"Walk across the room on his own," she admitted.
Gaeron frowned at them, but then grinned and ruffled Finnar's short hair. It was growing back now. They had had to cut most of it off because there had been no other way to get rid of the blood and dirt that had been matted in it. It was a shame that not all the effects of his imprisonment and torture had been so easy to remedy.
While Galenfea helped Finnar undress and settle himself in bed, Gaeron set up a board game on the bedside table. Finnar did not need so much sleep any more, and this was a fine way of keeping him occupied. Galenfea left them playing and slipped out.
Lothlorien seemed very different from their native village. She had felt claustrophobic at first, missing the open land north of Mirkwood - Greenwood, now. However, she had soon got used to it. The fact that Gaeron and Finnar had settled so well had helped, of course, and then there was Ainu...
She hurried down the nearest rope ladder, trying to think of something else. If she thought of Ainu she would blush, and it was only fortunate that Gaeron was not here to see. He had, in the way of all good brothers when they suspect that their sister's heart is elsewhere, been teasing her mercilessly.
She could hear his lute, and soon found him sitting at the base of a large tree, apparently absorbed in his music. When he noticed her he smiled and reached out his hand.
“Sit with me?” he offered, “We may not have much time alone after we set out. Have you spoken to Gaeron… do you know if he’s going to go with us?”

She sighed and settled beside him. "Yes, I spoke to him. We agreed that he would come if Finnar could be left. He seems to be recovering well now, though he's convinced that he's healed more than he has. We still have to ask the healers for advice, but I think he'll be able to come. I left them playing, but when Finnar goes to sleep Gaeron will join us."

***

Gaeron tucked a blanket closer around Finnar's chin and ran a hand over his forehead. It felt cool and dry now. Gaeron still hadn't got over the fact that his fever had finally broken. It seemed like weeks of misery for them all had gone by first, but at last it was over.
He turned and walked away, leaving Finnar to sleep. He thought that it would be safe to leave him for this journey to Gondor. Certainly his life was no longer in danger. He still couldn't walk and he was considerably thinner than normal, but physically he was nearly healed. The only problem lay in the fact that he was not happy being alone with strangers. Still, Gaeron thought, he had made tentative friendships with a couple of the healers that had been looking after him, if only because to start with he'd had no choice but to let them help him. It might even help him to be parted from them for a while and not be able to hide behind them all the time. Still, he hated the idea of leaving him alone and scared in a strange place.
He shook his head and made his way down to ground level, looking for the fountain where he had been told to meet the others that would be going. He would attend this meeting, and maybe they'd be granted some time and he would be able to leave in good conscience.
He found the right fountain and noticed an archer standing near it, evidently also waiting. Gaeron instinctively paused, then shook his head. Maybe he was not as fully healed as he thought he was. He closed the gap between them and smiled at the other elf in greeting.
"Hello," he said. "I'm Gaeron."
--- All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.
Sirithros_Lirenel
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Post RE: A Precious Gift
on: July 12, 2007 03:14
[OOC: I hope this is ok…]

Lazily she extended a long, bony finger and flicked a few beads of the abacus up and down, the soft clicking of the polished wood beads fading into the silence around her. The other hand dipped towards the inkwell precariously balanced upon the sandy ground of the riverbank, retrieving a battered quill, the mottled brown feathering dulled and bent with excessive use. She had long given up on white quills; even though she’d always felt they had more aesthetic appeal, white was not a practical colour for a quill that took as much use as she cared to pile on it. Scraping the nib along the edge of the tarnished silver container to get rid of excess ink, it hovered over her drawing-board for a second before the furrows in her brow relaxed, then knit again as the quill was guided across the parchment with increasing ferocity, scribbling out a multitude of numbers and symbols.

And then as suddenly as the scribbling had started, it stopped. The slightest hint of a smile curled the corner of Caran’s lips as she made a final mark, underlining the solution to the little problem she had devised for herself, and the quill was returned to the inkwell as she looked over the parchment with a satisfied air. Yes, that would do. Purely an intellectual exercise, of course, because something of that scale was beyond anyone’s current means to accomplish, but it was just so interesting, so relaxing, to watch everything slotting so neatly into place, almost as if Eru Himself had decided that it would be so. Absently the elleth’s fingers returned to the abacus, going over her calculations once more as if to verify them.

Once she had fully verified again the integrity of her calculations, Caran began to pack away her board, slipping the parchment into a barkcloth folder crammed with similar sheets, all covered with miniscule numbers and letters and occasionally diagrams of what looked like just about everything and anything under the sun. She was to attend a meeting of some sort, a convoy to deliver the former Lady of Lorien’s gift to her mortal grandchild in Gondor now that he was of the proper age to receive it. Tucking the board and folder under an arm, she rose and began a leisurely walk to the fountained courtyard where the group had been asked to gather.

As Caran rounded the final corner she saw that two others had already arrived; the archer Iondullas, who was known to Caran by face and name but not much else, and another tall redhead she did not recognize. She paused at the edge, suddenly finding herself unwilling to go further. People had always called her shy, but Caran found the description a vast understatement. She didn’t know why it happened; she just didn’t like having to talk to anyone outside of her usual, rather limited circle. But what had to be done, had to be done, even if she’d put it off as long as possible and perhaps even avoid having to explore the mystery known as “small talk”.
gwendeth
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Post RE: A Precious Gift
on: July 12, 2007 04:19
(( OOC: Ok - lol my turn to take the 'plunge' - hope it's all right!))

Standing quietly in the doorway, a blonde-haired figure peered intently upon the still form on the bed. Asleep he was, and with a nod of satisfaction, Salabeth - who knew that Finnar could not get too much rest - moved silently through the huge Mallorns of Lothlorien on her way to the designated meeting place.

A Healer, the elleth had been one of those tending Galenfea's and Gaeron's brother since their arrival in the Golden Wood... and though Finnar's progress had been 'slow', it was 'steady', and patiently, Salabeth had watched and waited for each day to bring him a little closer to full health. Her salves (she was sure) had done 'much' for the physical healing... and she and the other healers had done their best to aid in the healing of Finnar's spirits as well.

He'd still a long way to go yet, but Salabeth felt that 'enough' progress had been made for her to leave him in the capable hands of her fellows... for she'd decided - though she'd no skills in the warrior-arts at all, the elleth had agreed to accompany the group headed for Minas Tirith.

As she approached the fountain, the elleth saw Caran pausing at the edge of the final turn. “Are you going with us to Minas Tirith?” Salabeth asked in a quiet voice, not wanting to startle the other. With a smile, though, “It’ll be nice to have you along,” the healer added, and letting Caran make up her own mind about the meeting, continued on after a moment or two.

And, her intense jade-green eyes then took 'note' of who else was already there. The archer, Iondullas, and with a blink of surprise, "Gaearon?" Salabeth spoke to her patient's brother. "You are going along?" she asked, and with a slight furrow to her brow, "Does Finnar know you're going? - Is your sister going as well?" the Healer inquired, and hoped Finnar wasn't intending to try and join them as well. He was not well-enough yet for such a journey, and if she had to, Salabeth would put her Healer's 'foot' down to keep him in Lothlorien.

Yet, turning to the archer, Salabeth bowed her head slightly. He was as ‘fair’ as any ellon in Lothlorien, and she quite liked his long, dark hair. He’d a nice singing-voice as well - a touch ’above’ even the normal ’ethereal’ voices of their kind. - And, though it was *she* who usually was ‘apart’ from most of the others of her home, “I haven’t seen you lately, Iondullas,” the elleth said politely, “Have you been busy o n guard-duty?” - And, “Who is still to come?” she inquired of both him, and of Gaearon, and with a glance back to see if Caran had decided to join them…
"Tolo si, a tiro i cherth Eru" "Come now, and see the works of God"
BerethEdhellen
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Post RE: A Precious Gift
on: July 13, 2007 01:27
Manveru had been planning to sail with Elrond. Truly, he had. But at the last moment, his ties to Middle-earth welled in his soul and he decided to put off this last trip for just a while longer. He had heard that Legolas and Gimli had headed for Minas Tirith to help with the re-building of the noble city and after some thought, he had decided to join them. But first he would wander Arda one more time. When he had offered his hand in the White City, he could always travel to Valinor from Dol Amroth.

Somehow, he had ended up in Lothlorien, already dimming since the Lady Galadriel had passed into the west. But his arrival came at a most auspicious time. A small cortege was leaving soon to bring a rare and beautiful gift to the Lady's great-grandson, Elessar's son Eldarion....a bow of yew wood fashioned by her own skill in honor of his coming of age.

He had spent the day wandering among the great mallorns, lost in thought about the changes that had come to Middle-earth since the great war with Sauron. Peace reigned under Elessar's care, although occasional random words of orcs were whispered in the north even now. But basically the world was rapidly being turned over to the world of man, as the elves grew less and less a presence, most having left Middle-earth for Valinor by this time. He had spent enough time here to have met most of those elves who still remained, however, and he reminded himself that he would soon need to meet with some of those same elves.

The sun was dropping slowly over the western trees, it's long beams turning the Golden Woods even more so, and he wandered towards the meeting place, a fountain in the middle of the Caras Galadhon. As he grew close, he heard the voices of those already gathered. He chuckled when he noticed Caran, standing behind tall ferns and peeking out at those next to the fountain. Walking up behind her, his chuckle grew.

"Hiding behind bushes again, Caran," he teased, a broad smile softening his chiseled features and twinkling in his eyes. "May I escort you? Do take my arm and we'll go forward together." He had met Caran while staying here and knew her to be dreadfully shy in groups, though she had a brilliant mind and was charming and delightfully (and surprisingly) witty when speaking with someone known to her. He held out his arm to her, waiting to see if she would brave herself to take it.

As tall as he was, his eyes met those of Iondullas and Gaearon, his dark-haired head bowing in greeting over the top of the ferns, his smile warm. He also saw the top of the head of the fair haired Salabeth, the Healer who had been caring for Gaearon's brother, Finnar. If this was the group that he would be traveling with, it would be an interesting trek to Minas Tirith and he was looking forward to discussing exactly when they would be leaving. He waited for Caran to take his arm, assuring her with his smile.
Life is good! Live it to the fullest. Love well those near and dear. "You cannot step into the same river twice, for the waters are ever flowing on ....." Heraclitus I Aear cân ven na mar
Iri
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Post RE: A Precious Gift
on: July 13, 2007 06:22
Things weren't quite the same, and Risthir knew after this, his duty for the Lady Galadriel would end and he would have nothing more tieing him to Middle Earth. He had stayed close to the Lady for many Ages, he did her bidding having proven his abillity to do so when they had first arrived upon Middle Earth long ago. Now, she was gone with many of the others.

Risthir would have gone with them, but she asked him to fulfill one more deed before leaving the shores. The years that had passed since then seemed short for the neri. Now the time had come, he couldn't wait for it to be finished. His heart had grown weary of the now growing world of Men, his exhausted spirit was more than ready to leave.

His footing was light as he made his way toward the meeting place, where he would meet those whom Galadriel also entrusted this favor to. As he approached, he could hear the voices of the others that had already arrived. A breeze blew through the trees, letting their large trunks slowly sway. His black hair twisted this way and that, following the wind. He frowned and quickly tied it back, having always dealt with the annoyance of his thick black hair. Risthir stopped beside one and looked up to check how high the sun was in the sky. Through his eyes, he could only tell by the bright blur, no longer could his scarred eyes make out a crisp image. Good. For once he wasn't late.

He heard a few more voices and the rustling of the fountain as he drew closer. When he arrived he surveyed the others that where there but only recognized the archer Iondullas, whom served with the guards. None seem to really notice his approach and he perferred it that way. Finding a spot across from the others he settled himself up again one of the more mediocre size trees and gracefully sat down, crossing his legs.
Erumelmo
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Post RE: A Precious Gift
on: July 14, 2007 01:25
I have loved the sadness of his quiet face,
I have understood the despair in his eyes…

Banvain Nestad’s voice drifted among the white trees on the south-eastern side of Lothlórien. He had continued with his habit of tending to Galadriel’s garden and that done, he had moved away from it along the wall of the Deep Fosse. Testing the notes to a new song that clambered in his head about the Lady Arwen in talk with her father, he walked slowly, touching the trunks of the trees as he passed them by.

They were his friends, most he knew since they were young – many said that each species had its own identity, not separate from the rest of its family; but for Banvain, each tree had its own uniqueness. A difference in the shape of the trunk, a distinctive twist of the root, a particular time of growth. Words filtered into his mind, as he envisioned the Evenstar’s light linked to the one of Elessar.

I have known his aura, his hope, his grace,
And the age-old guilt which in his soul lies.
I have soothed his brow and felt the blades,
I have tried to ease constant pain by touch;
He’s love to me, and now when all life fades,
Death, when compared to this love, is not much.

Banvain paused after rounding a copse of new born trees. The fountain stream lay gurgling before him. He smiled and his eyes, now more green than grey, reflected the sparkling waters. He knelt down beside the stream and lifted clear water to his face. Closing his eyes he splashed it across, his smile turning into a grin of delight. The water was cool and it invigorated him instantly. The nearby trees rustled as a breeze blew over the water and Banvain’s eyes opened.

The water reminded him of the promise of a journey.

Banvain was one of the best carpenters in Lothlórien, having associated himself with the workings and nature of wood, since he had seen merely ten summers. When the Lady Galadriel offered him a chance to be a healer, he had refused, choosing instead to work with wood. He had helped fashion the numerous flets in the branches of the mallorns, so many moons ago.

The last task the Lady had appointed him was to help her with the creation of a bow for her great grandson, Eldarion. He had done so. He loved the lady as dearly as he had his own mother and he would have followed her to the west, but, wise as she was, she knew he had to fulfil his destiny on Middle-Earth first. She had asked him to stay. He had done so.

Not unwillingly, he realised later.

The making of the bow had taken the better part of a season. Lady Galadriel had learnt working with metal and stone in the halls of Aulë himself, but with wood her temper was restricted.

Made from a sapling of Beech as tall as he himself was, it had taken four months for the tillering and seasoning to be completed. Another month for the engraving on the two-finger wide girth. Before the bow had been broken in, she took it to the furnaces, where a stone was set into the handle. There, his skill ended. Banvain could never understand metal or stone and he kept away from that part of the design.

Before she left, she had instructed a group of Elves to carry the bow to Minas Tirith – Banvain was amongst those who were asked to go. He was torn. He had never been happy in Eregion, the place where he was born - and Minas Tirith reminded him of Eregion. On the other hand, he wished dearly to meet the Lady Arwen one last time before he left the shores of Middle-Earth.

The combined influence of the need to respect Galadriel’s wish and the need to meet Arwen overcame his reluctance to move away from green life into boundaries of stone.

So it was that he agreed to go.

I have chosen enveloping darkness,
I have spurned the last of the passing ships,
I have shunned every sign of weakness,
For the memory of his eyes, his lips.

His voice rang clear as he walked along the fountain stream and the birds in the trees fell silent to listen. His bare feet made no sound on the ground. The final couplet came to him as he reached the final few trees that sieved away to a clearing where there stood the fountain.

If Aman promised me my share of bliss,
I care not, for, in his heart, I have this.

He sang them in his mind, for amongst others he hardly ever gave voice in word, much less in song.

There were a few elves who already gathered there. He knew most by name and few by familiarity. Most elves knew of his reclusive nature and did not approach him – though he had made close friends, it had not been at his initiative. His grey-green eyes watched each of them for a few long moments, before he stepped out of the concealment of the trees.

Walking slowly, he came to stand beside the only elf he was familiar with: Iondullas.

"Why? Because I'm afraid and he gives me courage."
Sirithros_Lirenel
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Post RE: A Precious Gift
on: July 14, 2007 05:11
After Salabeth had passed Caran lingered a while longer on the fringes, wanting to wait and see who else would be there, with all intention of slipping unobtrusively in when the company reached a large enough size.

She’d very nearly jumped at the sudden intrusion of Manveru’s distinctive laugh and his voice, but caught herself at the last moment, although the board and folder slipped from her fingers and she found herself grappling to halt the fall of the wooden plank and keep a firm hold on the slippery barkcloth lest all its contents came fluttering out. The abacus hit the ground in the soft clatter and rattle of carved, lacquered wood and polished beads.

As Caran bent to retrieve her things she could feel the pressure building up again; any second now and she’d turn a fine shade of red that complemented her tarnished copper curls so well and gave her the appearance of a sunburnt maple leaf in autumn and – three, two, one – here it came! There was the characteristic gradual buildup of heat and she imagined she felt the blood surging through her ears first, then through her cheeks, and within moments she’d be flushing like… like the social pupa that she was! She took her time rearranging the parchment and checking the abacus for cracks even though she knew that was highly unlikely, given how much battering the thing would take on any good day, but it was not until blessed coolness began to return to her head that she finally straightened up to find that Manveru’s invitation still stood.

“Sorry.” She whispered almost sheepishly, still not trusting herself to meet his eyes and praying desperately that the dreadful flush would not come a second time today. Caran took his arm with no small amount of gratitude and allowed him to walk her into the gathering group.
Galenfea
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Post RE: A Precious Gift
on: July 15, 2007 09:04
The sudden arrival of a number of other elves made Gaeron's heart jump into his throat and he automatically shifted away, unwilling to be caught up in a crowd if he could help it. Better to be on the edge so that if he had to run he could.
He was relieved to see a familiar face, though: Salabeth came up and spoke to him.
"Gaearon?" Salabeth spoke to her patient's brother. "You are going along?" she asked, and with a slight furrow to her brow, "Does Finnar know you're going? - Is your sister going as well?" the Healer inquired, and hoped Finnar wasn't intending to try and join them as well. He was not well-enough yet for such a journey, and if she had to, Salabeth would put her Healer's 'foot' down to keep him in Lothlorien.

As soon as he could, Gaeron answered her questions. "I have been asked to go, and so has Galenfea. We've spoken to Finnar about it and I will only go if he can be safely left." He smiled. "We haven't told him that. He doesn't want us to go and might pretend to be having a relapse. I suppose from your presence that you also think he is recovering well enough." He couldn't help frowning. "I must admit that part of my decision was helped by the knowledge that he had friends among you and and your collegues. If we both go it might be more problematic."
He didn't think that she approved of the fact that he was going to leave Finnar alone. He felt, however, that he had little choice. The lord of Lothlorien had allowed them to settle here, and they had been well taken care of, it would be churlish and ungrateful to refuse their help on this errand. No, it could not be helped. If it was possible for him to go, then he had to go.

((Won't post Galenfea until I know what Ainu's doing))
--- All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.
dreamdancer
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Post RE: A Precious Gift
on: July 16, 2007 05:22
(I've tried to give everyone something to reply to here XD I hope its alright please check out the ooc before posting :heart: )

She sighed and settled beside him. "Yes, I spoke to him. We agreed that he would come if Finnar could be left. He seems to be recovering well now, though he's convinced that he's healed more than he has. We still have to ask the healers for advice, but I think he'll be able to come. I left them playing, but when Finnar goes to sleep Gaeron will join us."


“One day he’ll be completely healed,” Ainu said of Finnar with an encouraging smile, “I’m certain of it. He is strong.”

For a moment he strummed the lute without speaking, his mind wandering to some distant place with the notes of the music… but then he raised his blue eyes to Galenfea again. So lovely, he thought as he gazed at her, admiring her brown hair and blue-green eyes. He wondered if she was aware of what he felt for her… he had never tried to hide its, for he knew his affection shone in his eyes and on his face. Since their return he’d often sought to spend time with her, had often sang songs just for her… and his love (perhaps he was bold to call it such, but he knew it to be the truth) came through in the gentle way he would grasp her hand or touch her shoulder. Never yet had he said it outright, though… he wanted to, and though he believed she returned his affection, he still hadn’t worked up the courage.

But, how could he not adore Galenfea? She had never scorned him for the scar along his jaw, the testament to what he’d suffered in his youth… and her quiet voice and smile always cheered his heart and made him feel peaceful. She was so caring for her brothers, and for Ainu himself… she was a comfort in the dark moments when darker memories haunted his thoughts. It was she who had restored a sense of meaning and happiness to his life… yes, he knew without a doubt that, even if she couldn’t love him in return, Ainu would always hold her dear to his heart.

The music had continued to float from his fingers as he sat musing on these thoughts, and his lips quirked up into a grin as he looked at her. Stilling the music, he slowly set aside the lute and turned to face the elleth. Taking her hand in both of his, he raised it and lightly kissed the back of her fingers, knowing that a pinkness was coming to his cheeks.

“Galenfea,” he said, “I’m so very glad we’re traveling together again.”

After a moment, though, he released her hands with a bashful grin before getting to his feet. Stooping, he picked up the lute and then held his hand out to aid her to her feet.
“I think the others are gathering at the fountain,” he said, “Perhaps we should go and join them… I’m eager to know who else will be joining us on the journey to Gondor.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Iondullas was standing in silent thought, pondering the journey ahead and waiting for the other travelers to arrive to the fountain. He wondered how long it would be before they would be able to set out. He knew they would need to have time to prepare their supplies, and to plan their course, but the archer-elf was eager to begin the journey. Of course, taking the bow of Galadriel to its destination was uppermost in his mind, as well as protecting it along the way; although peace now reigned in Middle Earth, there was still the threat of trouble from the occasional orc, and who knew what other sort of danger might be waiting on their road? Besides that, Ion had never been to the White City in his travels, and it was something he wanted to see. It would be very different from the beautiful and peaceful land of Lorien… a land which still seemed timeless to him, though it was not as brilliant as it had been when the Lady had still dwelled there.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when someone approached, though, and he looked up to behold an ellon. He introduced himself as Gaeron, and the archer smiled and nodded in greeting.
“Iondullas,” he named himself, “You are one of the elves chosen to travel to Gondor, are you not? I have seen you around the wood since your arrival, and I apologize that I’ve never introduced myself before. I have often been busy on guard.“

It was then that the healer Salabeth approached, and Iondullas smiled in greeting to her. He had always admired her, thinking her among the fairest of elleths… her eyes had always captivated him. He was silent as she spoke to Gaeron about his brother, watching the exchange without interrupting. He could tell that Salabeth was concerned about her patients as any healer would be, and also that Gaeron cared deeply for his brother. Perhaps it had been a difficult decision for him, deciding to leave Finnar behind to strike out on this quest for which he was chosen… yet he had come to the meeting place. A noble heart, Ion thought, despite whatever horrors he had faced in the past.

Yet, turning to the archer, Salabeth bowed her head slightly. “I haven’t seen you lately, Iondullas,” the elleth said politely, “Have you been busy on guard-duty?” - And, “Who is still to come?” she inquired of both him, and of Gaearon, and with a glance back to see if Caran had decided to join them…


“I have, my lady healer,” Iondullas said with a nod of greeting in return and a smile, “I have often been away, but I returned at the first word of this task we’ve been given. I believe having an experienced healer along will be a good idea, and I’m glad that you’re coming. There are six others, I believe… Gaeron, your sister, and the minstrel Ainu are two of them.”

When Salabeth glanced behind her Iondullas followed with his eyes, and saw Manveru peeking over some ferns. He couldn’t help greeting at the elf’s polite nod over the ferns, but the archer returned it, wondering why it was the tall Manveru was standing behind them in the first place. He understood when he emerged, the elleth Caran on his arm. Ion recognized her, but they had only spoken a few times; she had always seemed to be very shy. As she approached with Manveru the archer bowed slightly in greeting.

“Welcome,” he said, “It is good that more are coming… we have much to discuss. Caran, how are you? And Manveru, it is always a treat to meet with you.” And, not knowing if everyone was acquainted, “This is Gaeron and Salabeth… our traveling group is growing larger by the moment, is it not?”

He noticed then that Risthir had joined the group, though even Iondullas himself hadn’t seen his arrival as he’d been speaking with the others. Motioning to the dark-haired elf who now sat with his back against a tree, “There you are, Risthir… please, come join us, my friend…. and here is Banvain,” he smiled at the newcomer as he came to stand amongst them. He made more introductions around the group and then surveyed them with a sweeping eye. Gaeron, Salabeth, Caran, Manveru, Risthir, Banvain, and himself… seven travelers. There were two missing… and, he smiled inwardly to himself, when they came that would make nine… a group of Nine going on an important task. It was similar to another great event in the history of Middle Earth…. Yet, they were not now seeking to destroy something… they were seeking to protect it, and bring it safely to its recipient.

As if thinking of them had made them appear, Ainu and Galenfae then approached the group gathered at the fountain. Ainu nodded a greeting to all those gathered, one arm grasping his precious lute as he did so. He was glad to see Gaeron there… he believed that the travel may be good for him, as it might do Finnar some good to be on his own for a while… at least, without his siblings. The rest of the travelers he was glad to see as well… quite an assortment, but he was certain everyone had been chosen for a reason.

“Is this all of us, then?” he asked, and shared a smile with Galenfea, “When do we set out?”

“This is what we’ve come to discuss,” Iondullas started, “I think we should be prepared to leave as early as the day after tomorrow… will everyone be able to prepare if given one full day? The best plan seems to be to travel by boat, and so there will be no need to take horses. Considering the size of our group we may have to split up into groups of three and take three small boats, but since it is a long journey it may be wisest to take one larger vessel. What do all of you think- how many in our group are experienced in sailing?”
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Post RE: A Precious Gift
on: July 21, 2007 11:34
Concerned for her patient - though she knew Finnar would be in good hands without her, Salabeth had spoken to Gaeron about his brother.
As soon as he could, Gaeron answered her questions. "I have been asked to go, and so has Galenfea. We've spoken to Finnar about it and I will only go if he can be safely left." He smiled. "We haven't told him that. He doesn't want us to go and might pretend to be having a relapse. I suppose from your presence that you also think he is recovering well enough." He couldn't help frowning. "I must admit that part of my decision was helped by the knowledge that he had friends among you and and your colleagues. If we both go it might be more problematic."

Nodding, “He’ll be fine,” Salabeth reassured him, and (if needed) resolved to ease Galenfea’s mind at the first opportunity.

But, turning to Iondullas, the blonde-haired elleth realized she’d not seen the Archer of late, and commented on his absence.
“I have, my lady healer,” Iondullas said with a nod of greeting in return and a smile, “I have often been away, but I returned at the first word of this task we’ve been given. I believe having an experienced healer along will be a good idea, and I’m glad that you’re coming. There are six others, I believe… Gaeron, your sister, and the minstrel Ainu are two of them.”

After glancing back, Salabeth stood near the fountain with her normal patience to wait for the others to arrive… nodding politely when Iondullas introduced herself and Gaeron to Manveru, and smiling again at they shy Caran. She’d been watching them get settled, too, and so didn’t notice when Risthir joined them until the Archer invited him to come closer.
“There you are, Risthir… please, come join us, my friend…. and here is Banvain,” he smiled at the newcomer as he came to stand amongst them. He made more introductions around the group and then surveyed them with a sweeping eye.

Ainu and Galenfae then approached the group gathered at the fountain. Ainu nodded a greeting to all those gathered, one arm grasping his precious lute as he did so.

“Is this all of us, then?” he asked, and shared a smile with Galenfea, “When do we set out?”

“This is what we’ve come to discuss,” Iondullas started, “I think we should be prepared to leave as early as the day after tomorrow… will everyone be able to prepare if given one full day? The best plan seems to be to travel by boat, and so there will be no need to take horses. Considering the size of our group we may have to split up into groups of three and take three small boats, but since it is a long journey it may be wisest to take one larger vessel. What do all of you think- how many in our group are experienced in sailing?”

Glancing at the others in the group, Salabeth spoke up. “One day will be plenty of time for me,” the Healer replied, since her habit was to keep her herbs and salves stowed neatly. - After all, one never knew what, or when something might be needed, and the blonde-haired elleth wanted them where she could grab them at a moment’s notice. All she'd need to do was decide which of her healing-supplies would be 'best' to have along.

But, continuing, “I’m afraid I know nothing sailing,” Salabeth added apologetically. “But I’m willing to learn…” she added, and with a smile to Iondullas and the others, fell silent to hear what they had to say…

"Tolo si, a tiro i cherth Eru" "Come now, and see the works of God"
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Post RE: A Precious Gift
on: July 26, 2007 03:14
Caran had dropped all her papers and her abacus, startled by his sudden appearance at her shoulder and his quiet chuckle, and he had spent some time helping her pick them up and handing them to her before she took his arm and he led her to meet with the group. While all this was taking place, his sharp hearing caught a conversation between Gaeron and Salabeth about Gaeron and his sister Galenfea joining the group, though leaving their brother Finnar behind. He wondered why the younger brother was being left behind.

But at the same time, moving closer to the fountain, his ears picked up the melodious voice of someone moving towards the group, though it was cut off quickly as whoever it was drew close. As he was leading Caran to join the group, a barefoot ellon joined the group, coming to stand at Iondullas' side. Manveru moved to stand at his other side, bending closer to whisper in the elf's ear, "Your song was lovely, as was the voice who was singing it, though I'd like to hear the ending sometime," he said, an appreciative smile on his handsome face. Banvain was given little time to respond for at that moment, Iondullas began making introductions all around for any who knew not who their fellow companions were.

“Welcome,” he said, “It is good that more are coming… we have much to discuss. Caran, how are you? And Manveru, it is always a treat to meet with you.” And, not knowing if everyone was acquainted, “This is Gaeron and Salabeth… our traveling group is growing larger by the moment, is it not?”


All the faces were at least familiar to Manveru, who had spent some time now in Lothlorien, if not personally known to him. The arrival of two more, plus Iondullas gesturing to the lone ellon sitting by himself with his back to a tree, and further introductions were made. Manveru gazed at the pair that had just arrived with great interest. Ainu, whose jaw was crossed by a significant scar and whose eyes hid deep sadness, brightened his expression significantly whenever he looked at Galenfea. He wondered if the elleth was aware of Ainu's feelings, which Manveru suspected ran very deep indeed.

He also noted the reluctance of the ellon named Risthir to join the group. Manveru chuckled to himself. He and Caran would match each other well on this journey...each as shy as the other.

Manveru noted irrelevantly though remarkably that the number of this group matched that of the 'fellowship', the group of nine that had become lore, though he knew that this journey would not hold the dangers that their's had. All this group of travelers was doing was delivering a gift, albeit a very precious one, to Minas Tirith. The group complete now, Iondullas began to discuss the time of leave-taking in response to Ainu's question.

“Is this all of us, then?” he asked, and shared a smile with Galenfea, “When do we set out?”

“This is what we’ve come to discuss,” Iondullas started, “I think we should be prepared to leave as early as the day after tomorrow… will everyone be able to prepare if given one full day? The best plan seems to be to travel by boat, and so there will be no need to take horses. Considering the size of our group we may have to split up into groups of three and take three small boats, but since it is a long journey it may be wisest to take one larger vessel. What do all of you think- how many in our group are experienced in sailing?”


Not having had any close encounters with sailing vessels other than those he had seen on visits to Mithlond, Manveru offered that he would be fine with rowing a smaller boat though he doubted he would be able to help on one of the tall swan-necked boats still tied to the docks of Lothlorien. But as to leaving the day after the next one, he said, "That will be no problem with me. There is little I need to gather for this trip that is not already set aside."

Indeed, other than a change of clothes or two, all he needed to bring was his mighty sword, Uruvetirno, his bow and his dagger, things he had carried throughout his long life. His beloved horse, Pindal, had been left in Rivendell and no one had called him Hossecáno, the leader of armies, in years. He had led no men in battle since the War of the Ring, and for all intents and purposes was remaining in Middle-Earth for his own pleasure only, knowing that someday he would sail for the west but not now. Perhaps when they completed their trip to Minas Tirith, he would be ready, at which time he could continue further south to Dol Amroth and sail from there.

But for now, he was delighted to be traveling to the White City. It had been too long since he had sat with Elessar and Arwen, and he delighted in thought of seeing their first-born, Eldarion. He looked forward to the pleasure he was sure he'd see in the eyes of the young Princeling at his great-grandmother Galadriel's gift. And was also anticipating the delight of watching Iondullas train and polish the young man's skills.
Life is good! Live it to the fullest. Love well those near and dear. "You cannot step into the same river twice, for the waters are ever flowing on ....." Heraclitus I Aear cân ven na mar
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Post RE: A Precious Gift
on: August 08, 2007 12:53
Banvain’s eyes were green as he smiled a soft smile when Iondullas addressed him. But when the other elves came up, instinctively, he stepped back toward the fountain, closer to the water. The rippling sound of the element made him smile inwardly. His head lowered a degree and he gazed at the elves joining Iondullas’ company. His was not a great height, in fact, all of the elves surrounding him were taller; and so he had to lift his eyes to look at the group of elves who were beginning to form a semicircle around Iondullas.

He knew of Galenfea and her brother, Gaeron. Healers had made talk of their brother a while back and he had chanced upon their conversation. His eyes flicked to Salabeth, she was arrestingly lovely and the green in her eyes reminded him of sunlight falling through a newborn leaf. Though it was not her beauty, but her skill in healing that made her singularly interesting to him.

A warm breeze touched his hair and Banvain’s eyes drooped, becoming a dark green. Lazily, they moved to a figure sitting with his back to a tree, and recognizing another face that he knew, his smile turned outward, curling his full lips. A slight dimple in his left cheek became apparent as his features relaxed.

Risthir! The elf had been a friend of his father’s and was dear to Banvain. His mind softly blotted out everything else and he gazed arrestingly at Risthir. The older elf must have felt his gaze, because he looked to the group and saw Banvain. Banvain’s smile grew deeper and he raised his hand in greeting. But his eyes dropped in attention, and his smile faltered, as he felt the presence of another elf close to him.

"Your song was lovely, as was the voice who was singing it, though I'd like to hear the ending sometime," said the elf, who had come to stand to his right. Banvain turned slightly. The elf was leaning toward him, but still Banvain had to tilt his head back. The other was practically two hands taller than he was, with eyes the colour of the sea. There was raw power exuding from this elf, and Banvain’s eyes narrowed with interest. He seemed familiar, but Banvain could not place him. He had the smell of the mountains of Rivendell about him.

His head cocked slightly to one side, Banvain nodded. He gave a soft nod of consent; which was all he seemed to have time for, since Iondullas began to speak just then.

Overtures of friendship were carried out. Introductions were made. Banvain noted Ainu, another tall elf, perhaps a trifle taller than the one who had spoken to him, had a scar. But the scar was quickly forgotten when Banvain noticed his eyes, a pale blue, like a cloudless, summer sky. They kept moving to Galenfea. Banvain averted his gaze. He had recognised the emotion. It was not becoming to notice such a personal thing.

The breeze had not stopped playing with his hair and he made no move to hold or tuck away the wayward strands of gold and brown that flitted before his eyes. The tunic he was wearing fluttered against his chest and he, surreptitiously, opened his hands to feel it flow through his fingers.

Iondullas was speaking. “This is what we’ve come to discuss. I think we should be prepared to leave as early as the day after tomorrow… will everyone be able to prepare if given one full day? The best plan seems to be to travel by boat, and so there will be no need to take horses. Considering the size of our group we may have to split up into groups of three and take three small boats, but since it is a long journey it may be wisest to take one larger vessel. What do all of you think – how many in our group are experienced in sailing?”

For the first time, Banvain spoke. His voice was soft, but it carried clearly. The wind seemed to help. “I have built boats, Iondullas. I am familiar with them and with sailing on the Celebrant and the Anduin.” He realised that he had everyone’s attention. He paused.

The wind behind his back seemed to prod him. He continued. “Though if my suggestion be taken, it would be to take three small boats. Chance or untoward hazard can cripple a single boat, leaving us bereft; but if we have three and one is harmed we still have two to take us where we wish to go.” He fell silent abruptly. Somehow the silence felt like one after a song is cut in half.
"Why? Because I'm afraid and he gives me courage."
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Post RE: A Precious Gift
on: August 25, 2007 05:51
[OOC: Apologies if I held up posting or anything; I almost forgot it was my turn until Dd reminded me! ><]

Most of the assembled company was barely known to Caran – she had spoken sporadically to the kindly Salabeth (and nor did Caran miss the admiring looks cast at the healer by both the ellon Iondullas and another, arrestingly handsome ellon with the most distinctive eyes of green) and perhaps she was on more familiar terms with Manveru, but everyone else she knew at most by sight and name and precious little else.

“This is what we’ve come to discuss,” Iondullas started, “I think we should be prepared to leave as early as the day after tomorrow… will everyone be able to prepare if given one full day? The best plan seems to be to travel by boat, and so there will be no need to take horses. Considering the size of our group we may have to split up into groups of three and take three small boats, but since it is a long journey it may be wisest to take one larger vessel. What do all of you think- how many in our group are experienced in sailing?”


So far only one had answered to the affirmative. Caran could feel the beginnings of an internal struggle. She knew about boats; how could she not? Growing up by the Anduin, perilously close to the Gladden Fields, the water was a way of life. Even after she had come to Lorien the river was a constant source of comfort, the only link back to a previous life slowly fading and receding into the recesses of her memory, for there was precious little to remember it to her here among the elves. Should she speak up? After all, she had to have *some* use to the company.

“I have built boats, Iondullas. I am familiar with them and with sailing on the Celebrant and the Anduin.” He realised that he had everyone’s attention. He paused.

The wind behind his back seemed to prod him. He continued. “Though if my suggestion be taken, it would be to take three small boats. Chance or untoward hazard can cripple a single boat, leaving us bereft; but if we have three and one is harmed we still have two to take us where we wish to go.” He fell silent abruptly.


The silence fell awkward and deafening. She swallowed, and swallowed again, hard. Perhaps she should speak, but then perhaps there was someone else among the gathered company who already knew what she would say? Duty waged a brief war against Caran’s natural inclinations, and won.

“If I might agree with him,” Caran’s voice, barely above a whisper, seemed to echo into the silence, as she motioned awkwardly at the ellon whose name she did not yet know. “Small boats can better negotiate the rapids as the Anduin approaches the falls of Rauros, and will be easier to handle when we have to bypass the falls by going overland for a distance. I have sailed the upper reaches of the Anduin many times, or at the very least am familiar with boats..."

She trailed off; any more and she was positive her feet would tremble as much as she felt her insides were doing. How she hated the way everyone's eyes swivelled round to rest on her; it made her feel like a rabbit in a trap, surrounded by hungry, circling eagles. Now if only someone would save her, and take the attention off her... Anyone!
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Post RE: A Precious Gift
on: September 07, 2007 05:29
When it was suggested that they might even set off the very next day, Galenfea caught Gaeron's eye and they drew a little way away from the others to whisper between themselves.
"Too soon," she said without preamble. "That's too soon. He needs more time than that." She didn't have to say who she was talking about.
Gaeron nodded. "Yet we can't delay too much. A few more days, perhaps. We're still guests here, we can't dictate..."
"Yet they asked us to join this group."
Gaeron shook his head. "He is well enough for us to go, we both know that so don't try to deny it. A few days, that's all we can really ask."
He didn't wait for her to argue, but walked back to the circle, standing with his back to her. She scowled, but joined him, arms folded.
"How many days?"
"Two. We will ask for the day after tomorrow. That will be enough."
Her scowl deepened, drawing a curious glance from Ainu, but she didn't argue.
“If I might agree with him,” Caran’s voice, barely above a whisper, seemed to echo into the silence, as she motioned awkwardly at the ellon whose name she did not yet know. “Small boats can better negotiate the rapids as the Anduin approaches the falls of Rauros, and will be easier to handle when we have to bypass the falls by going overland for a distance. I have sailed the upper reaches of the Anduin many times, or at the very least am familiar with boats..."

There was a long, uncomfortable pause after Caran had fallen silent. Galenfea and Gaeron once again caught one another's eyes. Their turn.
It was Gaeron that spoke. "In theory, Galenfea and I could leave tomorrow, but we ask that the departure be delayed to the next day; we must say farewell to our brother and ensure that he will..." He paused and Galenfea took up his words.
"We know that he is safe and will be well-cared-for, but we want to ensure that he knows it too, and we don't want to just abandon him with so little warning." She sighed a little. "As for boats, I have never travelled by water, and nor has Gaeron. I'm afraid that we can't help there, but my instinct is to go for many small boats. From the little I have seen of the Anduin it would be easier to manoever them, and should something go wrong we would not have only one boat or only one party."
--- All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.
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Post RE: A Precious Gift
on: October 10, 2007 03:29
(This is total meh, and I’m sorry it took so long to get to, y’all x___x but here it is!)

The group of would-be travelers had come together by the fountain, and Iondullas explained the situation and his concerns with them- the main one being when they would set out for Minas Tirith, and how they would travel. The best idea, to him, was to travel by boat- but would it be better to take a large boat or three smaller ones?
The healer Salabeth spoke up, assuring everyone that one day would be more than enough for her to prepare. It made Ion smile inwardly- she was quite an efficient elleth, it seemed.
She continued though, adding that she knew nothing of sailing. Iondullas returned her smile, thinking that she could learn easily. Manveru added his own assurance that a day was quite enough time, and that he would probably be better with a smaller boat than the larger vessels.

“It is the same for me,” Iondullas agreed, “I would definitely be better suited to sail in a small boat.”

It was Banvain who spoke up next. He had built boats, he said, and was familiar with their handling. The elf seemed a bit uncomfortable when everyone turned to look at him but he continued, suggesting that three small boats would be the best choice for their company. His words made sense to Iondullas who nodded thoughtfully in response. The silence was sudden and abrupt as Banvain halted his speech, however, and for a lengthy moment no one spoke… until shy Caran did so. Her voice was barely above a whisper as she agreed with Banvain, adding that she sailed often and was familiar with small boats as well. Her voice trailed off and she looked more uncomfortable than the ellon before her had at being the center of attention.

Ainu’s heart went out to her, for he knew the feeling- especially after what had happened in his youth, he hated feeling as if he were being scrutinized. He’d been slightly distracted by the words between Gaeron and Galenfae. Her deep scowl had made him raise an eyebrow in question, but she didn’t argue with her brother- and then Gaeron spoke, asking for one extra day before leaving. Galegae added the reason for it, also confessing that they knew nothing about boats. Ainu knew it was difficult for them to leave Finnar behind. Taking his turn to speak, though, “I’ve done some sailing with small boats too, though its been years. I think I would be able to recall the skill.”

“I see,” Iondullas said, and looked around the group. He didn’t really want to wait two days, but he could see a stark determination in the faces of those who’d asked for it. Besides, one extra day wouldn’t hurt- perhaps it would give him time to decide on their exact path.

“Very well,” he said, “Two days, then. That will give us plenty of time to gather supplies and ready the boats- I believe it’s a majority vote that we take three smaller boats, three of us in each one. I suppose we will all do as we will until then- but remember that we’ve been given an honorable task and we must take it seriously. Is everyone agreed?”

After everyone had added their last thoughts the ‘meeting’ was ‘adjourned’. Ainu turned to Galenfae and gave her an encouraging smile, finding her hand for a gentle squeeze before turning back to the group. He lifted his lute and said with a grin, “We’ll have music on our journey- and some of us are excellent singers,” here he glanced at Banvain with a wink, “So that area of our trip should go well. Perhaps we can compose some songs of our own.”

“Perhaps you’ll find yourself entertaining the king of Gondor at journey’s end,” Ion responded. He looked at Manveru and Caran as he took a small step closer to Salabeth.
“I’ve personally never seen the White City- I look forward to it. Have any of you ever been there?”


Ainu turned to Galenfae and spoke softly, "Would you like me to come with you to speak to Finnar?"
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Post RE: A Precious Gift
on: October 12, 2007 05:29
((hope this is ok - if I need to edit anything, just let me know. ))

Considering the immortal lives of the elves grouped at the fountain, Salabeth wasn’t surprised to find that some of them had experience with boats. Banvain had built them, in fact, which was a good thing to know if ‘trouble’ arose in the first leg of their journey to Minas Tirith and repairs needed. Skilled hands were always welcome, she thought, and spoke of her willingness to learn what was needed - giving Iondullas a smile as she did.

The discussion then turned to when they should leave, and whether one large boat or several small ones might be better used to convey them down the Anduin, and keenly, Salabeth listened to the opinions voiced.

Banvain had suggested the latter, and Manveru had commented he’d be more comfortable working on a smaller craft… as had Iondullas - who had returned her smile as he did. - And, even the shy Caran had spoken up… saying that smaller boats would be easier to handle as the group neared Rauros Falls.

Galenfea and her brother had drawn apart a little to confer between themselves… but were soon back.
It was Gaeron that spoke. "In theory, Galenfea and I could leave tomorrow, but we ask that the departure be delayed to the next day; we must say farewell to our brother and ensure that he will..." He paused and Galenfea took up his words. "We know that he is safe and will be well-cared-for, but we want to ensure that he knows it too, and we don't want to just abandon him with so little warning." She sighed a little. "As for boats, I have never travelled by water, and nor has Gaeron. I'm afraid that we can't help there, but my instinct is to go for many small boats. From the little I have seen of the Anduin it would be easier to manoever them, and should something go wrong we would not have only one boat or only one party."

Bowing to what seemed to be the majority (though Risthir had not yet voiced his thoughts on the matter), as the Minstrel Ainu chimed in … both with experience in small boats, as well as to preferring them, Salabeth was yet concerned for Galenfea and Gaeron. She understood deeply their worry for Finnar, and despite her efforts, the two still seemed uncertain of his welfare whilst they were away. - Or, at least how their brother would 'take' being left behind, perhaps.

She heard Ainu’s quiet offer to help the other elleth, though, so did not offer her own aid. Perhaps, Salabeth thought, *she* had done all she could, and it was now up to others. Still though, there seemed to be agreement on waiting two more days, and that bothered the Healer not at all. - After all, what was ‘one more day’ in the long lifespan of an elf, she mused.

As the meeting now seemed to be ‘over’, the elves started to drift away to their own pursuits… though Salabeth paused by Caran to give her a quiet and encouraging smile. “I’m glad you’ll be along,” she told the elleth, and nodded politely at Banvain, Manveru and Risthir before glancing at Ainu when he grinningly hefted his lute.
“We’ll have music on our journey- and some of us are excellent singers,” here he glanced at Banvain with a wink, “So that area of our trip should go well. Perhaps we can compose some songs of our own.”

“Perhaps you’ll find yourself entertaining the king of Gondor at journey’s end,” Ion responded.

It was ‘heartening’ to Salabeth to see the light teasing… such could help forge and strengthen friendships - at least so she hoped. The ‘bonds’ between the Nine Walkers had been legendary… and were *they* not ‘nine’ as well? A thing to be ‘noted’, she thought… and wondered if Ainu and Banvain might (when their task was said and done) write a ballad about it.

Iondullas then stepped a little nearer to her, and Salabeth lifted her eyes to meet the ellon’s.
He looked at Manveru and Caran as he took a small step closer to Salabeth.
“I’ve personally never seen the White City- I look forward to it. Have any of you ever been there?”

For herself, Salabeth shook her head. “Not I,” she answered, “The only time I’ve ever left Lothlorien was long ago when I visited Imladris to study healing with Hîr Elrond,“ and thought back to that journey. She, and some other healers had traversed the Hithaeglir, and spent almost a century with the elven-lord in his Great Library concentrating on their work. - Yet, continuing, “But, I, too, am eager to see Minas Tirith," Salabeth added. - And, rather ‘aware’ of Iondullas by her side, waited politely for the others to answer, too…

[Edited on 12/10/2007 by gwendeth]
"Tolo si, a tiro i cherth Eru" "Come now, and see the works of God"
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Post RE: A Precious Gift
on: October 18, 2007 09:24
((OOC: Oh dear, this is so...so....not good but I hope it gives someone something to work with))

The meeting appeared to be over when it was decided that they would leave the day following tomorrow and would travel three each in three small vessels, much the way the famous nine from the past had traveled. As the group began to disburse to attend to their various means of preparation, Manveru joined a small group that included Iondullas, Caran, Salabeth and Banvain. He chuckled as Ainu had lifted his lute and spoken about singing and music on the journey.

Manveru's voice was a deep baritone that held echoes of the Noldorin voices of old and though he rarely sang these days, he very much enjoyed the harmonies that flourished when a group of elves gathered together in song.

“Perhaps you’ll find yourself entertaining the king of Gondor at journey’s end,” Ion responded. He looked at Manveru and Caran as he took a small step closer to Salabeth.
“I’ve personally never seen the White City- I look forward to it. Have any of you ever been there?”


The tall, dark-haired Noldorin responded, "I spent much time after the great war there, where I had the privilege of assisting Elessar in repairing the damage to the White City. In point of fact, I am greatly looking forward to returning. The last time I saw Eldarion, he was but an infant. It is difficult to think that he is approaching his majority already." Brushing his hair back with his long graceful fingers, he stared into the distance. "Where have the days gone?" Smiling, he added, "I'm sure you will all find it an amazing city, however."

He noted that Ainu had turned to Galenfae and Manveru heard his softly spoken question to accompany her when she went to speak to her brother, Finnar. He had watched the exchanges between the pair and wondered if Galenfea was aware of Ainu's feelings for her, though the slighty rosiness of her cheeks indicated that she might. Politely, though, he turned his gaze to Caran, asking her, "May I accompany you back to your flet?" There was something about the shy elleth that made him feel very protective, though from what particular harm he could not imagine.

When he was back at his own lodgings, he gathered together those things he felt he would need on this journey. He hardly expected to find a use for Uruvetirno or his bow and dagger, but he set them aside to be donned when the time came to leave. It took him only until sunset to pack his gear and then he sat on one of the massive branches of the mallorn upon which his flet was situated, staring off towards the west and the brilliant reds, oranges, and golds as the sun lowered itself below the mountains. His thoughts wandered in several directions.

He considered the group with which he would be heading south, perhaps for him the final time. This lead his thoughts to Legolas and Gimli, busy sharing their particular passions with each other; Gimli demanding Legolas explore the Glittering Caves with him and Legolas taking Gimli back to Fangorn to speak with trees. He never tired of the entertaining discussions between those two most unlikely friends. He wondered if Legolas had had enough of Middle-Earth and was ready to travel into the west. He would make companionable company for Manveru if he were. Manveru chuckled at the random possibility that Legolas would demand that Gimli accompany him and considered that such a trip would be even more amusing.

As the sun disappeared, leaving a lavendar and gold residue in the sky, he pulled himself to his feet, listening to rustling of the leaves in the slight evening breeze, and realized he was hungry. At that moment, he noted Caran walking below him along the path and at the same time, he heard Banvain's voice whispering through the trees in song. Lowering himself to the ground, he caught up with Caran in short time and he bent his head to her.

"I hear Banvain's voice lifted in song and I am starving. What say you we go find him and invite him to sup with us...that is, assuming you are willing to share the evening meal with me as well." He smiled at the shy elleth, his brilliant sea colored eyes full of mirth and pleasure.
Life is good! Live it to the fullest. Love well those near and dear. "You cannot step into the same river twice, for the waters are ever flowing on ....." Heraclitus I Aear cân ven na mar
Erumelmo
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Post RE: A Precious Gift
on: October 21, 2007 03:30
(OOC: This is my first draft, I may correct it later - just thought that I would put it up immediately. Worked on it a bit hurriedly.)

As each of the group conferred on how many boats there should be, Banvain eased himself to the edge of the gathering again. He noticed Caran brief glance and he saw the same recalcitrance he probably had in his. The corner of his mouth twitched; he lowered his eyes.

His bare feet could feel the earth beneath and he closed his toes on it slightly. His ears caught the flow of the conversation and it was finally settled with the interim of two days. A tune had come drifting into his head in the small pauses that flowed within the conversation; but before he could reach for it, with proper attention, a question was asked, “Is everyone agreed?”

Banvain looked at Iondullas and nodded his consent. Small comments were made regarding the discussion. He returned Salabeth’s courteous nod of greeting and then diverted his attention to the words flowing into his mind from the rustling of the leaves behind him.

“We’ll have music on our journey- and some of us are excellent singers,” Ainu stated, with a wink thrown in Banvain’s direction, “so that area of our trip should go well. Perhaps we can compose some songs of our own.”

Banvain’s eyes now shadowed by thought snapped back to look into Ainu’s. The smile so long in coming, now drifted in half-measure onto his lips. “Perhaps,” he said softly, then turned and walked into the foliage. He would have to tell Lillassëa and Celeblas that the day of departure had been decided. He looked around at the tall trees growing around him and sighed.

It would be a while before he would see them again. He had not been away from Lórien since the beginning of the Third Age. Laurelindórinan, it was called then.

Not since Arwen Undómiel had seen nine summers had he left the borders of the wood. His life in Rivendell seemed a brief expanse compared to the time he had spent tending the mallorns. Banvain pulled down a bough laden with golden leaves; he caressed them with the tips of his left hand.

Much had passed since then. The years of his life were countless indeed. And often in the daily twilight of the world, he would find himself wondering about the slight burden of age. Arwen had a child of her own. The Lady of Light had left these shores. The Darkness had been vanquished. His dearest friend, Eäheru, had passed through the Halls of Mandos, fighting in the Great Battle of Pelennor – leaving behind his wife and son, Lillassëa and Celeblas.

Aye, much had changed in this world. He wondered why he did not wish to leave it still…

Perhaps this journey would bring him the answer or create the decision: To remain within the confines of this beautiful world or depart leaving its mortal splendour forever.

* * *

Celeblas had wanted to be a part of the journey he was undertaking. But Banvain did not agree or disagree with his inclination. The young elf would have to discuss that with his mother. Lillassëa had helped Banvain gather a few essentials he would need for the trip to Minas Tirith. He had changed his clothes, though lesser garments gave him more room for movement amongst the trees and the undergrowth.

A slight frown marred his brow as he made his way atop a favourite mallorn. The shoes he wore now would not allow his feet to rest surely on the smooth branches. It took him a bare minute longer to get to where he wanted to be, but that delay had his eyes turn more grey than green, almost similar in colour to the bark of the tree he was climbing. Reaching the fork created by a split in a large bough, he settled himself in it and watch the sun set.

The slanting rays hit the leaves and the golden flowers. The leaves that turned upwards in the wind caught the red glow and reflected it right back like flashing scarlet beams. While the flowers that blossomed in clusters were tinged with crimson halos. Banvain smiled fully. His teeth gleamed and his eyes, now green with pleasure, sparkled gently.

So here we are you and I,
In this beautiful world;
Red sun, in a dark’ning sky
Letting this night unfurl;

When or where and How or why,
Aren’t the questions I keep;
For Time passes by and by
In dreams so full, so deep;

Banvain laid his head back against the tree trunk and watched the sun dip lower over the horizon through half closed eyes.

I must, I must, must I know?
These answers I must reap,
But I have miles, miles to go,
Ere I sleep, Ere I sleep.

"Why? Because I'm afraid and he gives me courage."
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Post RE: A Precious Gift
on: October 26, 2007 12:50
The group had reached a consensus in a surprisingly short amount of time and was now disbanding. Like a deer released from the hunter's trap, Caran quickly slipped back into the background, listening as the minstrel Ainu hefted his lute and spoke of music with Iondullas. The slightest hint of a bittersweet smile tugged at the corners of the elleth's lips as another, vastly different image of singing travellers sprang to mind, and old tunes long forgotten. Simpler, perhaps stronger melodies favoured by the race of men over the more delicate and refined elven style and much more similar to that of the elves of old, particularly the Noldor. Perhaps Manveru would sing for the company, Caran mused; on the few occasions she had heard him, she had decided that he had a particularly pleasant voice. And then there was that other ellon they had overheard on the way in – Banvain, was that his name? The company would not lack for entertainment, then, but even
so, there was entertainment enough to be had right now to watch Galenfea colour ever so slightly as Ainu spoke to her, or to see Iondullas cast more than interested glances at Salabeth.

She turned to go; there was still some packing she had to do, as well as putting her rooms in order for her long absence. Manveru offered to accompany her back, and Caran nodded with the smallest of smiles at the ellon, somehow grateful for his company. Together they left the group, dry leaves crackling softly underfoot as they paced in comfortable silence down a stone slab pathway lined on either side by silver birch, late afternoon sunlight streaming in diffused shafts through gold-green leaves to fall in dappled waves on soft brown loam and leaf litter.

At the foot of the tree where Caran’s flet was built they parted ways, Caran dipping an elegant, almost teasing little curtsey before she ran lightly up the steps. The elleth paused in the entrance, her brows knitting together in a frown as she contemplated what else she had to do. She could feel that annoying itch coming upon her again! The same one that made her obsessively rearrange her shelves from time to time in various orders and classifications, or to just sweep and sweep her flet and make sure the furniture and ornaments were placed just so in order to placate the restlessness that would threaten to consume her otherwise. As it was, the sun had well set by the time Caran straightened up from pinning a light dust-sheet over her bookshelves where she kept her most prized collections of books and papers, and looked around in satisfaction. A small, neat pack stood by the door, and the throws, rugs, and curtains were all in order. Yes, it would do for now. Perhaps she would go for a walk before the evening meal, to clear her thoughts. Already she could feel the beginnings of hundreds of projects all building up within her; it was amazing how much one could think when faced with the mundane, menial tasks of clearing up. And of course, there were the thousand and one things she wanted to finish. She’d gotten stuck at a particularly stubborn calculation regarding light, mirrors, and crystals the day before; perhaps if she tried again she would break through this time.

In the still, cool greyness of the evening Caran took a lesser-used route through the trees, not quite sure where she intended to end up. Her feet, it seemed, had other ideas. It took a while before she vaguely registered that she was near Manveru’s dwelling, and that she could hear a certain someone descending through the leaves, coming towards her. She slowed her footsteps so that the ellon caught up.

"I hear Banvain's voice lifted in song and I am starving. What say you we go find him and invite him to sup with us...that is, assuming you are willing to share the evening meal with me as well." He smiled at the shy elleth, his brilliant sea colored eyes full of mirth and pleasure.


“With you, of course,” Caran laughed softly. “Although I know I should hardly mind strange company as much, seeing how we will be traveling with him. Very well then, let us go and find this elusive singer! By the sound of it he is likely up a nearby mallorn; now there is someone almost as socially inept as I can be!”

With a self-deprecating smile she spun slowly on the spot, head tilted upwards as she scanned the upper reaches of the forest, trying to locate the source of that brilliant voice.
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Post RE: A Precious Gift
on: November 15, 2007 06:57
Ainu turned to Galenfae and spoke softly, "Would you like me to come with you to speak to Finnar?"


Galenfea considered it, ignoring Gaeron's small smirk.
"I'm not sure about this time. Maybe later this evening? We have to talk to him about the trip. Ordinarily, I'd not mind much, but..." she trailed off, not looking forwards to the coming conversation with poor Finnar. He knew that they were planning to leave, he knew all their reasons, but he did not like it.
Fortunately, Ainu spared her the necessity of continuing and she blessed him for it. "Would you come and join us later on, though?" she asked. "I would appreciate the company."

***

“I’ve personally never seen the White City- I look forward to it. Have any of you ever been there?”


Gaeron shook his head, and was about to speak when Salabeth and then Manveru did so. It seemed that everyone else was much the same as himself.
When his turn came, he shook his head again, smiling a little at the thought of his Gondorian friends: Thon and Den.
"I've never been to Minas Tirith, though Galenfea, Ainu and myself have visited Gondor. We travelled in Ithilien, though, nowhere near the White City herself." He suppressed a shiver. He had no reason to remember that journey with any fondness, whatever might have come out of it in the end.
And on that note...
Ainu and Galenfea had drawn aside a little to talk softly. He caught Galenfea's eye and smirked at her, then chuckled as she pointedly ignored him. She was explaining that they did not want him to come with them and speak to Finnar. Gaeron nodded to himself. That was a conversation that he wanted over and done with at the soonest possible opportunity.
"Would you come and join us later on, though?" she asked. "I would appreciate the company."
"We both would," said Gaeron, moving behind her, "Give us... maybe half an hour?"
He nodded slightly and smiled a farewell at Galenfea, then went to join those that were lingering. ((Hope this is OK, DD!))
Galenfea and Gaeron hurried back to the talan where they had left Finnar. He was still asleep, curled up under the blankets with only a fan of red hair showing on the pillow. They settled themselves beside the bed, one on either side, to wait for him to wake up.
He evidently had not been very deeply asleep, for after a little while he pulled the blanket away from his face and blinked at Gaeron, a bit wary until he managed to focus. Then he smiled in greeting.
"Is it all agreed?" he asked softly, as though dreading the answer.
"Yes. We managed to get an extra day, though, so we can stay with you for a little longer."
Finnar nodded, then glanced over at Galenfea.
"Are you both going to go?"
"Yes," she said, and sighed. "I'm afraid Salabeth is going as well."
"What?" He tried to push himself up and hissed in pain as one of his ribs complained. Gaeron and Galenfea both started forwards to help him, but she got there first and wrapped her arm around his shoulders to support him. He leaned on her until the pain had passed, then opened his eyes again to look at Gaeron. Galenfea kept hold of him. He didn't need it, but it made them all feel better.
"You're all going to go and leave me behind?"
"You'll be fine, Finnar," said Galenfea, hugging him.
"I... I know. I just don't want to be alone. You're the only people I feel safe with any more."
Gaeron felt a surge of hatred for the Haradrim that had done this to his brother, but swallowed it down. There was no time for that.
"Don't be silly, Finnar," said Galenfea. "You made friends with Salabeth, didn't you? And what about Den?"
Finnar smiled at the memory of Den. Understandably, since Den had saved and preserved his life, he had become very fond of the young ranger. At length, though, his smile faded.
"I didn't have much choice but to trust them; I was barely even awake."
"Well, now you've had a chance to see that nobody here wants to hurt you."
He pulled a face, then sighed. "You're committed now, there's nothing I can do to change that." He smiled a little. "I suppose that I've lived through worse things."
"Indeed you have, little brother," said Gaeron, reaching out to touch Finnar's hair. Finnar closed his eyes, enjoying the gentle touch, but then tensed and looked towards the door as someone approached, their footsteps tapping on the wood.
"It's probably only Ainu," said Galenfea. She let Gaeron take over supporting Finnar and went to greet the newcomer.
((tag!))
--- All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.
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Post RE: A Precious Gift
on: January 07, 2008 09:32
(Gaah, I'm *so* sorry for taking so dreadfully long to post! Please forgive me- we've been having all kinds of problems at home. I hope this is alright with everyone!)


The meeting over, Iondullas turned his attention to Manveru, Caran and Salabeth, asking them if they had ever been to Minas Tirith, the legendary city of men. Salabeth shook her pretty head and answered in her soft voice.

“Not I,” she answered, “The only time I’ve ever left Lothlorien was long ago when I visited Imladris to study healing with Hîr Elrond,“ and thought back to that journey. “But, I, too, am eager to see Minas Tirith," Salabeth added.


He smiled down at her, glad for some reason that she was eager to see the White City as he was. His friend Manveru answered the question for himself then, explaining that he had spent much time there in the past, assisting Elessar in repairing the damage done during the War of the Ring.

" The last time I saw Eldarion, he was but an infant. It is difficult to think that he is approaching his majority already." Brushing his hair back with his long graceful fingers, he stared into the distance. "Where have the days gone?" Smiling, he added, "I'm sure you will all find it an amazing city, however."


"I look forward to seeing it indeed," Ion said, having caught the far-off look in his friend's eyes, "I'm glad one of us will have been there before. Perhaps you will remember well enough to give us all the grand tour."

Gaeron spoke then, a little smile on his lips as he added in his thoughts.
"I've never been to Minas Tirith, though Galenfea, Ainu and myself have visited Gondor. We travelled in Ithilien, though, nowhere near the White City herself." He suppressed a shiver.


Iondullas guessed that the events that had left Gaeron and Finnar wounded had taken place during the time he'd just described, especially when he sensed the unease in the ellon's demeanor. Offering a comforting smile, "Then it will be a new sight for both of us, friend- you'll have much to tell your brother when you return."

Gaeron drew away to Ainu and Galenfae then, and Manveru politely offered to walk Caran to her flet. Iondullas noted that Banvain had vanished from the group as quietly as he'd arrived, and he turned to put his gaze once again on Salabeth.

"Well, my lady healer," he said, "Perhaps we could keep each other company while we gather supplies for this quest of ours, and then I may walk you to *your* flet for the evening. It does give one a sense of adventure to think about such a journey, does it not?"

The ellon was hoping that they would meet no danger on their trip- but, there was always that possibility. He didn't want to speak of anything that might make the lovely healer at his side nervous, though, so, "Shall we?"

He offered her his arm, smiling once again at the idea of setting out- the added bonus of getting to travel with Salabeth making the prospect even better.

He walked with her while she went to gather her healing supplies. Though he knew much about the plants of the forest, his knowledge of healing was limited to what warriors were taught in order to care for themselves and their comrades. Picking up a small white flower from the pile she had sitting on a cloth, he sniffed it.

"I don't recall the name of this one," he said, and held it out to her, "What is it for?"



*******************************************

Ainu offered, after squeezing Galenfae's hand, to come with her to speak to Finnar- thinking that he might be able to offer some support. He knew how much they dreaded leaving him, and how much he hated that they would be going.

Galenfea considered it, ignoring Gaeron's small smirk.
"I'm not sure about this time. Maybe later this evening? We have to talk to him about the trip. Ordinarily, I'd not mind much, but..." she trailed off,


"I understand," Ainu said with a gentle smile, grasping her shoulder. It was a personal matter- a 'family' matter, one that would undoubtedly be unpleasant- and something that she would need to handle without his presence.

"Would you come and join us later on, though?" she asked. "I would appreciate the company."


His smile brightening, he nodded in agreement at Gaeron's addition that they would both like his company.
"I'll come then," he said, and gave Galenfae's shoulder once more gentle squeeze of comfort and nodded at them both before going to join the others. They were drifting apart and he merely smiled and nodded at Iondullas and Salabeth as they left. Sighing, he sat on the edge of the fountain and drew his lute into his lap, looking around him. He liked it here- it was such a peaceful place. He had been gone for so long, and it had been so wonderful to return with Galenfae, Gaeron and Finnar... he thought back on the events that had brought them all together and shook his golden head. How strange that good should so often come from bad, he mused, and began to idly pluck at the strings of his beloved instrument. A soft, sweet melody filled the air, mingling with the sound of water, and Ainu became lost in its music. While he played the air around him was soft and light, full of gentle sounds and emotions... but gradually the song ended, and the world became what it truly was once again. Smiling a bit, he stood and looked up at the boughs above, then headed toward the flet where Finnar was resting. He found himself feeling bereft when Galenfae wasn't around- as he had for a long while now. He hadn't told her of his feelings, not outright... perhaps he would find the courage to do so on this journey they would share.

Slinging the lute strap over his shoulder he swiftly climbed up the rope ladder, reaching the flet. He heard Galenfae's sweet voice assuring Finnar that it was probably he, and he sighed inwardly. Would the red-headed ellon ever recover from what he had suffered?

But, his eyes lit up when he saw Galenfae and he had to catch himself to keep from telling her how beautiful she was.
"I've not come too soon, have I?" he asked quietly, and gestured at his lute, "I thought perhaps I could play a bit for Finnar, if he'd like for me to."
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Post RE: A Precious Gift
on: January 13, 2008 01:03
Banvain had slipped off to his own pursuits, and Manveru had left with Caran, leaving Salabeth alone with Iondullas, since Galenfea, Gaeron, and Ainu had left, too.

The healer was excited about this journey… this ‘task’, and was looking forward to getting on their way. - Though, with her typical patience, Salabeth would calmly wait until all were ready to depart. - And, knowing that the archer had his own tasks to see to, the elleth was about to offer her leave of him, when Iondullas turned back to look at her.
"Well, my lady healer," he said, "Perhaps we could keep each other company while we gather supplies for this quest of ours, and then I may walk you to *your* flet for the evening. It does give one a sense of adventure to think about such a journey, does it not?"

Quite ‘used’ to working alone, Salabeth nonetheless found herself very much liking the ellon’s suggestions. “I thank you, Iondullas, I” she replied softly, and with a smile, “I would enjoy your company. - And, it does,” she answered his question. “I have never thought to have ‘adventure’,” the healer added… though expected any such would just be seeing new places. - After all, this was merely a trip to Minas Tirith and back - was it not? What ‘ought’ could happen?, but the elf’s voice brought Salabeth back from her ‘musings’.
"Shall we?"

He offered her his arm, smiling once again

Certainly not ‘expecting’ the offer of the archer’s arm, Salabeth nonetheless took it, and found it pleasant to walk with Iondullas to where the healer kept her supplies. They were neatly stacked in pouches or boxes, or (in some cases) earthen jars with sealed-wax tops - to keep the contents from spilling out.

Besides what was dried, or powdered, or mixed as salves, the blonde-haired elleth had pots of herbs and plants growing… and that she knew would be tended well in her absence, so Salabeth busied herself with selecting a number of sacks and small herb-jars for the journey to come. Some of the fresh-growing blossoms and leaves the healer picked, and put them on a clean piece of cloth to be carefully wrapped and stowed in one of the pouches.

Turning to another pile, Salabeth was selecting some bandages and ensuring she’d her healer’s knife packed when the ellon (who’d been watching her, she was well aware) then spoke.
Picking up a small white flower from the pile she had sitting on a cloth, he sniffed it.

"I don't recall the name of this one," he said, and held it out to her, "What is it for?"

Smiling, and looking up into Iondullas’ grey-green eyes, the elleth’s fingers lightly brushing his as she took the proffered bloom. Inhaling it for herself, because the fragrance *was* (just for itself) quite lovely, “It’s called ‘Lissuin’*,” Salabeth told him. “I use it to help calm anxious patients. Fresh blossoms are best, but I do have some dried petals packed as well. Mixed with boiling water, the essence has the same effect. It’s not a complete ‘substitute’ for Athelas, but I prefer using Lissuin - in most cases.”

When all was neatly stacked for readiness to just be stowed into one of the boats, Salabeth turned her jade-green gaze onto Iondullas again. “And you, hîr e-gû?” (master of the bow) the healer inquired. “Is there anything I can do to help you get ready? Have you decided how much food and water we should take along, or do you wish to gather those supplies tomorrow?”

The rest of the day waned both ‘slowly’ and ‘quickly’ for Salabeth, and the Kindler’s stars were shining brightly in the night-dark sky before Iondullas walked her to her Talan, and ‘good-nights’ were bid. As she climbed up to the platform to compose herself for a few hours of light elven-sleep, Salabeth knew she *was* looking forward to this journey very much.

The following day was for the final arrangements, and at the appointed time the day after, the healer was ready and standing at the dock where three graceful swan-boats were waiting to be boarded. As she greeted the other arrivals with a nod and a smile (a slightly ‘extra-bright‘ one for the Archer), there was a fleeting ‘wondering’ of who would be sailing with whom, but with her usual patience, Salabeth waited to be told into which one she should place her packs… the first ‘step’ in the Task to come…

((* ‘Lissuin’ is mentioned once in the HOME book Unfinished Tales as a flower ‘whose fragrance brings heart’s peace'.))
"Tolo si, a tiro i cherth Eru" "Come now, and see the works of God"
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Post RE: A Precious Gift
on: February 27, 2008 06:23
Manveru watched as Caran spun around, her eyes searching for the owner of the melodic voice, Banvain. His eyes also lifted and searched the branches of the mighty mallorns until he finally spotted the ellon, comfortably ensconced in a fork of the branches. Tapping Caran on the shoulder, he pointed and smilingly said, "I do believe we've found him, don't you?"

Leading the shy elleth with his hand under her elbow, they reached the base of the tree and Manveru called up to the branches above, "Banvain, beautiful melody but now you must come down and join Caran and I for the evening meal. With luck, we may find some of our fellow travelers dining in the hall as well, which would be pleasant, I think. We can discuss our journey over roast quail."

He waited at Caran's side for Banvain to join them, and together they wandered towards the common hall where the meals were served. Manveru asked Banvain to sing the song he had just been singing and he picked up the words and notes quickly, joining in with his mellow baritone, harmonizing softly. When the song was completed, he smiled gently. "Thank you, Banvain. It's been too many eons since I have sung like that with another ellon. I feel blessed somehow." And laughing cheerfully, added, "And ravenously hungry."

The meal went by swiftly, Manveru's gentleness and charm easing the shyness of both his companions. They strolled back towards their own flets side by side on the broad paved pathways, wishing Banvain a pleasant goodnight, and continuing on to Caran's. "A lovely evening, my fair one. I will most likely see you tomorrow when we begin to load the boats. Until then, rest well and may I wish you the sweetest of dreams." Bowing low at his waist, he turned and finished the walk to his own flet, where he climbed to his own quiet space.

Laying down upon his soft mat, he stared up through the fluttering leaves at the stars above him, his thoughts full of the evening, the company and music he had shared with them, and the coming journey. Slowly his eyes closed and he drifted into the waking sleep of elvenkind.

He was up and dressed well before the sun rose to tinge the tops of the mallorns. He brewed himself some tea in the small iron pan in which rested a few hot coals and his equally small pot of water. He sipped the tea as his eyes surveyed his quarters, his mind calculating if there was anything else he might need. When he had finished his tea and determined everything he needed was already packed and waiting by the opening, he rinsed his cup with some water from the pot and then poured the rest of the water over the hot coals, drowning out the fire. Slowly, he stepped towards the the landing from which hung his ladder, strapping his sword around his waist above his slim hips, sliding his dagger into a sheath attached to the belt and then slinging his bow and quiver and his pack over his back.

Climbing down to the ground, he made his way to river, where waited the three small boats that would carry them down the Anduin past the Gates of Argonath to the falls of Rauros, where they would disembark at Parth Galen beneath Amon Hen. He thought back to the same journey made so many years ago by Eldarion's own father and the Fellowship, a journey that made their own current journey possible.

He gazed around the small dock, noting the three small boats tied and ready. None of the rest of his fellow travelers were here this early in the morn, so quickly he walked to one of the boats and loaded the pack he was carrying with him into the stern, tying it down, securing his bow and quiver across the top of it along with his dagger. His sword he kept strapped to his waist, though why he was even bringing it along at all puzzled him, even though he had never traveled this land without it in the long years he had roamed it. Shaking his head, he turned to head back for the common hall to break his fast.

A twig snapped along the pathway and he glanced up. "Good morning," he said, waiting for the other early riser to draw closer.

(whoever the fool is who wants to get up at that un-Godly early hour of the morning, please respond. *grins*)
Life is good! Live it to the fullest. Love well those near and dear. "You cannot step into the same river twice, for the waters are ever flowing on ....." Heraclitus I Aear cân ven na mar
Erumelmo
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Post RE: A Precious Gift
on: February 28, 2008 03:32
(OOC: that fool would be me )

"Banvain,” a voice called. Banvain looked down and saw Manveru standing beside Caran, looking up at him. He moved aside a bough full of gold leaves to peer at them better. “Beautiful melody,” Manveru continued, “but now you must come down and join Caran and I for the evening meal. With luck, we may find some of our fellow travelers dining in the hall as well, which would be pleasant, I think. We can discuss our journey over roast quail."

Banvain nodded. Giving one last look at the sky filling with twilight, he bounded down the tree, effortlessly. He landed on his bare feet. He had removed his shoes after all and tossed them to the ground. He gave the couple standing before him a half-smile and then proceeded to don his soft skin shoes.

Banvain preferred eating alone, Celeblas or Lillasëa sometimes joined him; but he chose to eat alone. Now he knew he would be in the company of many and eating on his own was something he could not do – it would just be disrespectful. Celeblas had spoken to him about his reclusive manner many a time and this was just as good a time as any to take a step in being communal.

Banvain was brought out of his thoughts with Manveru’s voice: he asked Banvain to sing the song he had just been singing. Banvain’s eyes sparkled. He smiled at Manveru then at Caran. “Very well,” he said, and without pause, began to sing. Involuntarily, the fingers of his right softly hit his hip, keeping cadence. Manveru picked up the words and notes quickly, joining in with his mellow baritone, harmonizing softly. When the song was completed, he smiled gently. "Thank you, Banvain. It's been too many eons since I have sung like that with another ellon. I feel blessed somehow." And laughing cheerfully, added, "And ravenously hungry."

They had reached the talan of one of the outer guards, where they would be having their meal. “Are the others joining us?” Banvain asked both Manveru and Caran, before beginning to climb the lighted path up the stairs which led to the vaulted talan. Manveru was the one who kept up light conversation, Banvain would merely exchange a smile with Caran at something Manveru said, but mostly he kept silent, getting to know a bit more about Manveru. He also kept a ear on the rustling of the breeze through the trees and heard a small animal pass by under the talan, and also the stealthy prowl of a larger animal in pursuit.

When the meal ended, they walked together for a little while longer and then he left their company at an opening between two mallorns. He climbed to the flet that he seldom used, but which housed his meagre but precious belongings. The bow of Galadriel he had long since handed over, and he expected that it would be with Ainu or Iondullas. He took out two bags, each the size of his arm. One contained the tools that he used to fashion wood into different forms, and the other contained several herbs and linctuses that he had collected over the years and which he kept a supply of by wandering within the forest, the nearby river banks and the adjacent mountains.

He removed the tools he thought would come in handy and placed them in the medicine bag. Next, he checked his medicine reserves. He picked out two tulsi leaves and smelt them. He smiled. Then put two in his mouth. The taste sprang across his tongue and instantly soothed his throat. He packed the rest away. Then he stood up. His light eyes swept the narrow talan and he reached out to an adjoining post and took the coat hanging there. Then he decided against it. He did not find the winters here too harsh, and he knew the winters in Gondor were relatively milder, the summers were warmer. Besides he did not think much of clothes. He preferred light apparel, or just wearing breeches, but then remembering Celeblas’ words, he took another set of clothes as a change – but that was as far as he would take the younger ellon’s words to heart.

Suddenly, he thought of Silmegil!

His eyes turned to the hilt of the sword partially visible from behind the leg vise that he had mounted onto a post extending out from a tree. He bent to pick up Silmegil. His fingers did not feel the weight, as they were used to picking up and working with much heavier material – they hovered over the velvet sheath of a deep purplish-blue colour, inlaid with gold fibre. Grasping its hilt gently with one hand and the sheath with the other, he extricated it in a move that was sharp and seemed familiar but which had not been employed for many scores of years.

The blade glinted under the pale light his skin reflected. It had no markings on its fuller. Save the mark of Lord Celebrimbor, right near its shoulder. It had been one of the many swords given as gifts from the Ruler of Eregion himself to all the smiths who helped forge the Great Rings – amongst them had been Banvain’s father, Amaldon. Banvain turned the sword slowly and it flashed as it moved. There! On the other side, the shoulder had the mark of his father. Banvain touched it with his fingers. He could almost hear his father – teaching him how to work with metal – but Banvain had loved the forests…

His eyes darkened and he pressed the sword back into its scabbard. He made a decision as suddenly as the thought of the sword had struck him. He would take it along, as well as the bow Lord Amdír had given him, when he had joined the Last Alliance. Avidly, had he fought for his lords, Amdír and Erumelmo. But Banvain failed to defend Amdír and the Lord was cut down.

Lord Erumelmo, himself, was gravely wounded in the battle, and Lord Elrond insisted on taking him to Imladris. Banvain would not leave Erumelmo and so he journeyed with him to Rivendell. He found that his knowledge of plants and herbs could be put to great use in the Houses of Healing. He learnt well from Lord Elrond and for a while he was at peace. He found after the wars of the Second Age, the upheaval of the changing of the World and the destruction caused in the Last Alliance that healing a wound was far more complex and satisfying than giving it!

He lived in Rivendell, learning the art of healing from a great master. He saw the births of Elrohir and Elladan and also that of Arwen Undómiel but his love of the dark shades of Lórien surfaced again and he returned to it…forsaking the use of weapons. But tonight, his heart would not rest until he had decided on carrying the weapons with him. Banvain’s brow furrowed. He kept the sword near his bags, removed the bow and the quiver of arrows, and placed all together in one corner of the talan. Then he stepped on the leg vise and grasping the branches of the tree it was connected to, he leapt into its branches. The tree welcomed him like he was born to it. He swung effortlessly to the highest branches that sheltered his weight and he tried to look into the southernmost sky.

His elf eyes could make out nothing out of the ordinary in the touch of the darkened horizon or the constellation of the stars that gathered above it. He cocked his head and smelt the wind. Where had the thought of the weapon come from? He raised his head higher and tried to glean something that perhaps the Valar were spelling out in the skies. But he failed. He sighed and sat down carefully on the branch, using the trunk of the tree as a back-rest. In quiet thought, he drifted to sleep.

* * *

The fluttering of a bird’s wings awoke him. His thick lashes opened slightly and he looked at a crow sitting on the same branch that he was perched on. His eyes narrowed. The crow cawed once and then took to wing. Banvain followed it with his eyes until it could be indiscernible from the still-dark sky. All of the uncertainty came back in a rush and Banvain’s lips tightened. Silmegil would be needed.

Within moments, he was back in his talan. He changed his tunic, and wore his shoes. Then he fashioned a rough sword belt, from some discarded leather in his tool bag, and he fastened it to his back, instead of his hip. He slung his bow across one shoulder and the bag across the other. He nimbly descended from the talan, using the branches running across and into it, and walked towards Silverlode.

Reaching the river, he had a quick rinse, but did not stray too far into its currents – it was still dark and he never did trust water. Then he began to walk to where the company was to meet. On the way, he picked out several twigs from the Meliaceae tree. He put one in his mouth and began to chew – it freshened his mouth considerably and he caressed the tree trunk before he left it. “Fare well,” he said softly.

As he reached the dock, he saw Manveru. He smiled and walked toward the Elf. He snapped one of the Meliaceae twigs. Manveru glanced up as he approached. “Good morning,” he said in greeting.

“Good morning,” Banvain replied. He handed the twig to Manveru. “It revives your tastes,” he said softly. He looked out at the three boats already in the water. “Someone has not slept through the night,” he observed with a trace of a smile in his voice.
"Why? Because I'm afraid and he gives me courage."
Sirithros_Lirenel
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Post RE: A Precious Gift
on: May 06, 2008 03:17
[OOC: APOLOGIES! I completely, absolutely, really, sincerely, totally didn’t realise it was my turn to post, and I’m so so so sorry for holding up the thread! >< ]

There were a few awkward moments of silence as Banvain joined Manveru and Caran on their way to the dining hall, in which not one of them truly knew what to say, but then Manveru brought up the subject of their new companion’s prodigious voice, and Caran was content to listen to the duo as their voices melded almost perfectly, as if they were made for each other. Dinner was a quiet affair; Caran spoke little and yet for once she found herself enjoying the company, and lingered over the meal longer than she was accustomed to. Banvain, it seemed, was about as reclusive as Caran could be, and not Arda’s best conversationalist either which was really a very good arrangement as far as the elleth was concerned.

When the small group finally stood to leave the dining hall they walked out into the gathering night, down the broad paved pathways lined sparsely with softly luminescent lanterns, more for the aesthetic appeal rather than actual need, for elves could see clearly enough in conditions of ambient natural light. The woodland ways were quiet tonight, as they had been for quite some time now. The elves were leaving, either for Valinor, or, as Lothlorien’s population continued to trickle slowly away, to the slightly more populated Lasgalen or even Rivendell. Caran was hardly sure where she would go next when her errand was done. Could she bear to remain as all she had known and become familiar with faded slowly into the mists of time and distant memory? Would she linger until she too became reclaimed by the forest, just as the trees had all but swallowed some of the abandoned structures by now?

They left Banvain at the foot of his talan and then Manveru walked with Caran back to hers. He wished her a rather ornate good-bye and good-night; Caran’s lips twitched upwards at his flowery language and she parted from him with a soft laugh and half-exasperated, half-affectionate “Good night, you honey-tongued flatterer!”

She slept little that night, but dozed in fits and snatches in the uppermost reaches of the old mallorn, numbers and lines and angles dancing in her head along with the pinpoints of light reflecting from the stars in the night sky into her eyes, until the first rays of dawn broke over the distant silhouettes of shadowed, jagged mountains to tint in fiery oranges and yellows the already gold-capped woods of Lorien. Bidding the tree a fond farewell, Caran gave her travelling gear a final going-over and retrieved a sturdy, unembellished staff of weatherworn wood from behind a cupboard. Along with the small knife hung at her waist, this would be the only weaponry she brought with her, for Caran trusted the journey would be an uneventful one. The waterways were safe enough these days, were they not? Besides, a trip along the river to Minas Tirith would hardly take long. With that, the elleth turned and left without looking back.

It was a pleasant walk through the still grey coolness of the false dawn. Few others were out and about at this hour, and Caran paced slowly, leisurely towards the little jetty in the tributary which the group would leave from. Dry leaves crunched underfoot and a light wind rustled the branches and leaves of the trees above. She found Manveru and Banvain already with the boats, Manveru in particular looking like he had been ready *ages* ago, and shook her head with half a smile.

“Did you sleep at all, either of you?”

With a muffled thump, Caran’s pack landed lightly beside Manveru’s, and she slid her staff upright between the packs to hold it still before hitching up her forest-green skirt by slipping the hem into the sash, and wading knee-deep into the water to give the boats a thorough going-over.
Galenfea
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Post RE: A Precious Gift
on: June 29, 2008 11:43
((Hope this is OK!))

But, his eyes lit up when he saw Galenfae and he had to catch himself to keep from telling her how beautiful she was.
"I've not come too soon, have I?" he asked quietly, and gestured at his lute, "I thought perhaps I could play a bit for Finnar, if he'd like for me to."

Galenfea grinned at the thought, and turned to look at her brothers. Finnar had relaxed a little, now that he recognised Ainu.
"I would like that," he said softly, pushing himself a little more upright with a small smile, "Especially as you're all leaving soon. I suppose that you're going too?" He looked hopeful, but wasn't surprised when Ainu nodded. He just sighed.
Galenfea went back to sit beside the bed. Gaeron got up to make room for Ainu to sit down so that he could play more comfortably. Finnar settled back against the wall behind him to listen as Ainu began to play.

***

The next day was largely uneventful, but Gaeron treasured the time. They took Finnar out for a walk and he once more insisted on trying to walk without his crutch. It obviously hurt him to do it, but he managed. That extra day's grace went too fast for Gaeron, but at last he bade Finnar a good night and went to his own bed.

He couldn't sleep; he kept having to get up and check his bag to make sure that he had everything that he intended to pack. At last he gave up trying and went out to sit on the edge of the flet on which their home was built, swinging his legs. The drop was a little larger than he was comfortable with, but he was confident that he wouldn't fall. He looked up at the stars with a small sigh, trying to feel sleepy. At last, he got back up and went in to check on Finnar before returning to his own bed. Finnar was fast asleep, staring at some distant dream, a small smile on his face.
With another sigh, Gaeron went back to bed.

***

In the morning, Galenfea swung her bag onto her back and adjusted the straps absently, then picked up her bow and quiver. She climbed down and put them at the foot of the tree, then scrambled back up the ladder. Gaeron was just about to go down.
"Is Finnar up?" she asked him.
He shook his head. "I glanced in, but he was still asleep."
"Good. We'll go and see him before we leave."
She watched Gaeron climb down - he didn't like the ladders - then went to check on Finnar for herself. She was shocked when she almost knocked into him in the doorway. Mercifully, he had his crutch.
"Finnar!"
"I want to come and see you off." He looked stubbournly at her. "You'd not have me sit here alone while everyone goes off without me?"
"That was the plan. Finnar, go back to bed! We'll come back to say goodbye when we're packed."
"No, I want to come. If you don't help me, I'll do it alone." He frowned at her.

In the end, neither of them could really refuse. They got him down as best they could, and he limped along beside them to the docks, where they were the last to arrive.
--- All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.
Galenfea
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Post RE: A Precious Gift
on: January 04, 2010 01:05
Hey:
Well, this thread seems to have died rather, so after some discussion in the OOC, the general consensus has been to start again and archive this thread.
We'll be starting a new OOC thread and looking for new members as soon as we have an alternative title, and if anyone from this group wants to have another go as well, they're welcome!
See you around,
G**
--- All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given to us.
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