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Nifredil
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Post Through Darkness Their Path Shall Take Them
on: January 04, 2013 08:51
[This is a semi-scripted RP, by Lilypad, Erucenindë, Dinanlasse, Kouryuu.lv, and Nifredil. If you have questions or have a burning need to join this, please see the OOC first and PM me. Thanks!]

The winter was over.

Although mornings would still linger in the past and try to scare the elves of Imladris with a chilly breath back in their warm homes, the spring was clearly in the air. The ground had awoken, and life, eager after being restricted by snow and ice for months, was breaking through soil, warmed by the caressing touch of the Sun.

Birds had just arrived, and their voices filled the air. There was no wonder everybody was trying to spend as much time as possible outside. Calmathil was happily doing just that – climbing the slopes of hills and valleys that were rapidly turning greener with every new day, and returning home just before sunset, to prepare supper for him and his brother. The young ellon always returned with muddy boots and clothes, but that never stopped him. He felt that the waking nature was rousing something inside him from the long winter’s sleep, and that “something” was making him restless. He was feeling so alive he could laugh aloud, just because. He would break into a sudden run, and slip on a muddy slope to feel the southern end of his body meet the wet and cold ground, but that didn’t diminish his spirits in the least. He was happy.

Calmathil could never understand how his elder brother, Caimallen, could be spending so much time locked up in his forge, when so much was happening around them! Every day, the nature was changing. One day, there was the softest green shade that touched a brownish field, the next day the green was already unnaturally bright, and one could see young grass breaking through the soft protecting cover of autumn leaves it had been hiding under. Every corner had a different shade of green, and he just couldn’t wait for the first flowers to appear! Calmathil watched buds on the twigs of trees and bushes eagerly, awaiting the moment they would swell and then – erupt with a burst of life!

Caimallen, however, seemed oblivious to those wonderous changes. He surrendered himself to the heat of fire in his forge, and molten steel or mithril, just as he had been doing nearly every day throughout the winter. He appreciated anothe kind of wonder – creation. His greatest joy was to see things taking shape under his skilled fingers, weapons acquiring a life of their own, either with a touch of magic, or without. That didn’t matter. What did matter, was to be on the same wave-length with the material he was working on, and the result they had to achieve, together.

That afternoon, he was working on a special order, a special sword. He had been putting it off, for different reasons, one of them being that it hadn’t been born in his vision yet. He never started working on a weapon until it made a presence in his vision. This one had been late in appearing, but once it had, he couldn’t put it away.

A song flew from his lips, an ancient tale of an ages-old passing over mountains and heading towards the sea, a voyage of his forefathers, the Teleri elves, folowing the call of the Valar to the West.

Caimallen used to sing often, when working. He felt his creations were being born accompanied by a song, just as Arda had come into exestence, through the sining of Ainur. This sword was meant for a traveler, and it was coming alive with an ancient song of the most important travel even folk had ever undertaken.

~~~

The winter was over, finnaly over, and not a moment too soon. Even though Estelwen did not care for the changing seasons or nature as much as others of her kind, she waited for the spring for a whole different reason. It was time, time to get back to the route, her brother had taken 20 years ago.
Ever since she became a guard and could accompany caravans, she did. Never once would she think it would be easy, never once would she assume she would return alive, never once was she right. But there was a reason for her beliefs, there had been as incident that took her brother from her. She did not care for all the other Elves that vanished with him, but her brother only. He was a fine swordsman, the best she has ever seen, the best Imladris had seen for centuries, and his skill with the bow was the legendary, at least no one in recorded history had not managed to beat the amount of points he had gotten in the last tournamant he had participated in. With this sparkling feeling inside, she was looking foward to step trough the dark forest once more, as it had been a serval years since she last lay her feet on the cursed ground, close to the realm of the Wood-elf King.

She removed these sad memories from her mind just as she brushed the rust from her Longsword. It had been with her for a long time, but at last this winter had shown that it was time for a new one. All the water, all the snow had made the blade dull and red, not bloody red like after a fight, but red like the colour of aging steel. It was time for a new sword, a swordt that had been in making for the last year. A sword like no other, made by a smith like no other – Caimallen.

As she walked through Imladris she left her home on her right, a big house - a symbol of status in old times, now - a relic of the past. She was the only of her close kin left here, the only who still walked this earth and braved to do what her family had done for the past milenia. There where other houses, there were other names, but she did not care, she was not intrested in them, as she was not living here. She simply used to stay there until she was once again on her way, once again working for a caravan.

Caimallen’s forge was on the outskirts of Imladris. It was not far, but still all buildings where work with fire was done, were away from the city - and for a good reason. If fire broke out, it could do great damage.

Just as Estelwen arrived at the gate she noticed Calmathil coming from outside the city. He had mud all over him, but he was literally beaming in joy.

“What do we have here! Calmathil, how have you been? I hope you have practiced with your bow as I told you last time we met?”

Calmathil was so far away in his thoughts, Estelwen’s voice startled him. He jumped, and his feet slipped from under him. With a loud “Woa!” the world spun backwards, and his back hit the slippery path, forcing wind out of his lungs.

When he came back to his senses, he saw her worried face hovering above him and examining his with serious eyes.

“Estelwen! You’re back!” he exclaimed joyfully, wrapping his arms around the slender neck of his friend. “We hadn’t been expecting you for a week or so!”

There goes my clean green cloak, thought Estelwen to herself not letting any of this get on her face. And with a big smile she helped the startled elf get back on his feet.

“Sorry little one, did not mean to scare you. And you know how it is, not always the time is the same here and Loth-Lorien. Just get used to it, last time I was two weeks late.” She said half in ernest haf as a joke. “So, have have you been?”

Calmathil blushed at her words “little one” – Estelwen was the only one who called him that, and she was the only one he could not bring himself to correct.

“Good!” he beamed, “the spring is here! A little late this year, but it has arrived. I bought three new books from human travelers who passed Imladris this winter, I have already read them all, do you want to see? Come on inside, I’ll show you!” he scrambled to his feet and led his friend inside.

The fire had died in the fireplace while he had been away, so the small home where the two brothers had been living in for (80) years since they had moved from Loth-Lorien, was not as cozy as it could have been. Knowing Caimallen would be home soon, Calmathil kicked his muddy boots off and dropped his mud-covered cloak by the door, and hurried to light the fire again. Then he rushed to get the new books (Gondorian contemporary poetry, a Complete history of Arnor, and a collection of recipes of unknown origin as the book had lost its cover and introduction), and after dropping them in Estelwen’s hands, he stormed in the small kitchen, all the while chattering away about everything he could remember about the past winter. How the first frost had turned leaves especially red, how a human traveler had gotten lost in a snow-storm, and how Imladris guards had undertaken a “search-and-rescue” mission, how two new babies had been born... and so on, and so on. While his restless mouth was talking, his hands skillfully were working on a vegetable stew he knew Caimallen liked.

“Really, I would love to take a look.” She lied a bit, at least she was not really keen on seeing yet another book on poetry.

Estelwen was once again happy to see a home where some one actually lived. Yes it was messy, yes it showed some dirt, some use, but at least it was not dust collected during months of being empty. Here at the warm fire she felt more at home as in her own home.

Just as they both went inside Calmathil hurried to get his books, Estelwen prepared her present, a book on hunting, not only a manual on bow use but also how to clean and prepare game for being cooked, even some recipes of hare and duck, even boar. And a second one – a book on plants, herbs and other things that that could be found in the wild. All that was usefull, as she did not see the use of poetry. You are not safe if you excel at it and, of course, poetry can not still your thirst, nor feed you. So she placed the books on the table just before the fireplace for Calmathil to find (and she was quite sure it would take some time, maybe not even today or the day after tomorrow), so of course she had signed both of them and included a message for him.

Of course when he returned the books were not noticed, and they started a conversation about everyday things, Calmathil tried to fill her in on anything that had happened in Imladris, and she was happy.
We still remember, we who dwell In this far land, beneath the trees The starlight on the Western seas...
In the Realm of Ulmo
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