Midnight Masquerade - Session 1

Theatre of the Fountain

A large open area, roughly circular, this clearing is ringed by tall pines, thickly limbed with almost wall-like density. The lawn is of short cropped grass, on the bowl-like hill which makes up the clearing; on one side is a tall wooden structure, looking much like an outdoor stage or half-pavillion. There are torches burning brightly in sconces all about it to light the stage, and there are silken drapes which open and shut with performances hanging on rails above. On the hill opposite the stage, there are almost natural looking depressions in the ground, no doubt rows where people may sit to watch. From above, warm golden light of the sun illuminates all.

Two paths converge in the center of the bowl, one the white-pebbled trail leading back toward the house, and the other a tidy forest path leading out the other side of the hollow. They meet about a great fountain in the very bottom of the bowl-like open space, a stone basin carved with waves, fish, and ships, while the center which spouts water is a giant figure with a crown of clouds, and waves for raiment.

BRUINEN:

The elleth before you floats amidst layers of blue and silver, which trail behind and around her on the slightest breeze. Small glass beads are sewn in random trails across the bodice. Her dark hair is tied into long loops and knots, dotted with glass beads and waterlilies. Small bronze fish hang on long threads from her waist, falling around her calves and clinking together musically as she walks. She wears a half-mask of silver and blue, and goes happily barefooted.

WHITE_DOVE:

A wide gown of white flows down the slender form of the woman you look at, flecked with tiny sparks of silver, the hem and neckline embroidered with silver thread and tiny white feathers. A scarf is slung around her shoulders, and her dark hair is braided and adorned with the same sort of white feathers as her dress. Two pieces of cloth, finally, cut in the shape of elegant wings, flow down her back, almost seeming to flutter now and then when a movement stirs them.

Her face is covered by a mask, beak and feathers, the picture of a dove, pure as snow. But behind this mask, two clear eyes of silvery grey sparkle with the joy of youth, and they, along with her quiet, regal stance, might be the most clear sign of who she might be.

STARS:

The material that cloths this elf is of dark blue shades, in a material that seems to be made of the night sky, she has small diamonds embroidered in the fabric to create the illusion of stars. She has a mask only on the eyes, it of dark, dark blue. Her shoulders and collarbone remain bare. The soft fabric after passing the subtle swell of her hips fall into a full, beautiful, sweeping skirt. The contrast between the night colored fabric and her milky white skin suggest a relationship between the moon and the night sky. Her dark colored hair is loose and falls down strait to the middle of her back. She has a few diamond like jewels in her hair. You can see through her mask, her bright blue eyes.

TINNUFUIN:

Standing tall, this elleth is bedecked all in silky black, sparkling with tiny silver stars woven into the material. A tight, high collared bodice enhances her slight frame, with loose sleeves, made of an indescribable mesh, flaring out at the elbows and ending just past her wrists. Her skirt allows for her graceful, silent movements, and swirls around her dainty slippered feet. A veil hangs down to her shoulders, and nothing can be seen behind it, but presumably she can see out. Her midnight hair flows loose down to her waist, studded with the same silver stars as in her dress. Thin, black silk gloves cover her hands, the only part of her not glittering with stars. No part of her complexion could be seen to give a clue to who she was, save for her dark hair and light, soprano voice.

CELEMAR:

Inky black cloth sheaths this slender maiden from her toes to the top of her head; a full face porcelain mask of a sad, beautiful woman, painted black, covers her face underneath a simple circlet of silver. But it is not the darkness that makes her graceful silhouette hard to discern:

An immense veil of black silk comes down from the circlet to surround the figure, and it is thick with ribbonlike clouds of silver thread and strewn with tiny gems, all shining with silver-white light.

In her hand is a large silver sickle inset with seven gems, all gleaming white.

SUNSET:

The material that clothes this maiden fair hangs in sheer iridescence about her lissome frame, hinting at the curves of her torso before passing the subtle swell of her hips into a full, sweeping skirt. Her shoulders and collarbone remain bare, the fabric soft against the milky white skin of her upper torso and arms forming a striking contrast in indigo blue, fading gradually to a vivid purple around her waist. The colors of her raiment further transform through intense pinks, reds, and oranges, the many layers of lightweight splendor ending in a deep vibrant gold as they sweep the ground in a hem stitched with gilded threads. Even when tucked beneath the flowing drape of her garment, soft simple slippers of verdant green wrap her dainty feet in the life of Spring, as seen in the meeting of earth and sky at the height of sunset's beauty.

A smooth, shining waterfall of flaxen locks cascades freely down the lady's back, dancing lightly over bare shoulders in aureate waves. Resting weightlessly atop her head is an adornment wrought of fire and ice - a crown of tiny starlike crystals that seem lit from within by the light of Elbereth. No mask hides the curious stare of Lady Sunset's argent gaze, but rather a hand-woven veil of fine silver threads, hiding aught else that might give away her identity save her eyes. Though not of the lady's gown, she wears low on her shoulders a sheer, light length of midnight blue gauze. Studded with dazzling crystals to match those in her crown, she shimmers as does the night sky with any movement in the light.

WINTER:

Tall is the elven woman before you. A mane of deepest sable hair frames a silver mask; So highly polished is this item that it appears mirror-like. Its only adornment is a clear crystal droplet fashioned into a tear that lies on the right side just below the eye socket. Hazel eyes flecked with gold can be seen gazing out from behind the expressionless mask.

From her shoulders hangs a woolen cloak, white as the driven-snow. Around the collar is fur, white in nature, and carefully stitched about the hem are many sparkling but tiny crystals. The garment has the appearance of being a covering woven from frost and ice.

To be glimpsed beneath the white cloak is a long black silk dress, the waist gathered by a twisted silver cord. Emerging from beneath the hem line are pair of simple black leather boots.

The final thing of her appearance to be noted is a long sword, or the semblence of one, slung across her back.

HAIL:

Before you is a tall firstborn, dressed up in fine, silken clothes. Atop the clothes, he is wearing a gray cloak, fastened about the neck with a silver brooch. The edhel is wearing the hood so that you cannot tell who he is, but only guess, as well as a pair of snow-white gloves and two similar boots. At his waist is a silver belt, elaborately created by some quende, from which a white sheath is hanging, bearing a sword with a fine silver handhold. A leather quiver can be seen on his back, as well as the appropriate longbow, having a bowstring at the hue of ice. You are looking at Hail.

GROIN_THE_DWARF:

Most likely standing below you is a stocky dwarf of four feet. A thick and coarse red beard threatens to envelop his entire face, yet delicate eyes, sparkling with mirth, manage to peer out from beneath the bushy eyebrows. An oversized helmet sits low over his head, deer's antlers poking out either side at the top, and a large robe is draped over his ... puffy form, cinched close to his body at the waist. The dwarf appears ready for both battle and feasting--in one hand, a battleaxe of strange make (it looks as if two hatchets have been connected back to back), and in the other, a large mug filled with some dark ale.

CRANEBILL:

Your eyes gaze upon colourful inner light and beauty, stems and buds shooting here and there in a glorious array of carefully placed niphredils. Gently sealed small lips and a natural look of calm find grace between two long stemmed Indian Shot rising up from her shoulders; there they sit against her checks, drifting with delicacy in stride and breeze. The vibrant depth of a white Cranebill abounds the slender arc of two relaxed eyebrows, odd and unique this flower rests. A part slips to her forehead, dull white blond hair rests intertwined with marjoram flowers, which known to few tend to make those smelling them quite hungry, a skill subtly used by this Bathril to encourage eating. Behind her ears, with which carry the natural light up to their peak and emerge from the thin cover of her snowflake-like soft hair, are two flowers, one on each side, leaning forward above her cheeks, both delicate blue Cranebills. The small amulet that rounds her head with the melting snowdrop shaped as a tear, still sits upon her brow, but now carrying a wreath of silk flowers upon its chainlets. A tiny dilapidated braid of hair runs to the rear of her head, which at the moment is as well filled with tiny flowers, both silk and real.

An erect posture supports her small shoulders, clothed in an covered garment, adorned in flowers of whites, blues, reds, oranges and yellows. Emerging from assortments of all areas are real flowers, bathing her body in tremendously strong scents. Short sleeves meet the main body of the garment under flowing silver niphredils, appearing much like a labyrinth of glistening winter flakes in the purest of light. Beneath her garment a dull green sleeve slips to her wrists, its texture appearing like tended grass in a blossoming meadow. At its ending, a warm grayish white fur is laced with flowers of silky orange. Worn moccasins are upon her feat, laced with the same abundant flowerings, insulating her small feet with colours unbound.

RAKE:

Behind this costume hides a lady tall and slender. Her gown is simple and narrow - it has long, plain sleeves and the hem is close-fitting from the hip to the ankles. The garb is of a dark, softly shimmering colour, like polished wood.

A mask covers the forehead and the nose of this lady. Eyes of the soft, dark green of fir-trees and moss glimmer through the openings in its rusty-brown surface. The skin below it is closer to pale pink than ivory, a softer version of the rose on her lips.

The most curious part of the lady's costume is her coiffure. The wine-coloured hair is tied on a tight knot on the back of her head, and above it, metallic tines spread out like a large fan.

MANDOLINE:

Although the person wearing this disguise may tell you it is a lute, it looks like a big mandolin with a carved face at the end of the handle. If she turns back to you, you can see 21 copper braids descending along her back and retained by a bridge at her ankle level. The garment she is wearing and all her body looks as though it is made from blond wood. She is wearing a half-mask made of wood. It hides all emotion from her face. The other part of her face is painted to match. Threads in her hair makes the strings of the instrument looks like they are carved from the same piece as her head.

ENT:

Though hidden behind a costume, this Quende surely is one of male gender. A brown mask covers his face, and where would be eyes there is something curious: two brown stones are set on that place, and they seems to emit a soft green light, though if you look well enough, you can see a pair of eyes hiding behind them. At the end of the mask is a beard, one colored like it is made of moss. Curiously enough, green hair flows behind the mask, into the Edhel’s neck.

The cloths worn under the mask are brown colored as well. Waves within the clothes are made thus, that they do not move, making it look like bark.

His feet count too many tows, seven there are, looking like old roots.

There can be little mistake, you look upon quite a small version of an ent.

NIMRHOFEL:

Dark blue, deep set eyes gaze out from a feathered mask, with dark hair coiffed in intricate braids framing the elleth's face. A soft, velvety dress in midnight blue outlines her form, fitting from the chest to the hips, before flaring out like a breaking wave. A pair of downy white wings grace her back; a pendant in the shape of outspread wings hangs from a necklace. Scrollwork decorates the hems and panels of the dress and soft slippers in a silvery color adorn her feet.

AEARIELL:

This 'daughter of the sea' floats in a gown of gauze over a silk sheath, with soft colors that subtly change in the light as if to mirror the ebb and flow of an early-morning ocean. The silk sheath that forms the base of her attire is close-fitting and of a deep blue. Over this floats a gauze robe of purple, rose, and gold. The floor-length hem is ruffled in white and gold as if to suggest the surf. A deep-blue mask covers the elleth's face but for piercing grey eyes and soft lips turned up in a quiet smile. Over her head is draped a veil of shimmering peach, gold and rose, decorated with small seashells and tiny pearls. It falls to well below her waist and resembles the sand of a beach reflecting morning sunlight. A few strands of wavy chestnut hair can be seen tucked underneath the pearl-encrusted tiara that holds this veil in place. On her feet are a pair of deep-blue slippers.

ELWHEN:

A tall and fair-skinned elleth with baby blue eyes, tinted with light green flecks. Underneath a long cloak of midnight black, she wears a long dress in many shades of blue with a tightly laced bodice of black, wrapped around her slender figure as black leather boots lace up to mid-thigh, as she sheathes nothing but small flute of silver and parchments, ink, and a pen incased in a small, midnight blue velvet pouch, both wrapped in her black braided belt. Her light auburn red hair, cascades down to her mid-calf in small waves and tiny curls, resembling something like a calm current in a river. You can see that she shines in smiles and friendship with a hint of grace.

From the valley beyond the gardens, the ringing of a silver bell rises loudly and clearly, its euphonious voice beckoning all to join in the celebration it voices. The Midnight Masquerade is soon to begin.

Night falls on a valley far from sleeping, and void of all darkness on so mild an eve. Lining the paths down into the Theatre lawn are rows of festive luminaries; candlelight from within colored glass bottles casts shards of ruby and sapphire light in a flickering dance over the moonlit walkways. Stars glint off the rippled waters in the Fountain's basin. Upon its surface floats a myriad of tiny white blossoms, the first pale faces of spring now upturned to Ithil.

It is a night of celebration, as is foretold by the voices of laughter and song that arise from the hills even before one reaches this clearing. Brightly dressed quendi appear not so at all, but rather a gathering of creatures in many a form. Smiles remain, though hidden beneath veil and mask.

It seems somehow poigniant that an elleth, the very picture of Winter's chill, sidles into the spring touched Theatre, white cloak swirling about her and sliver mask shining brightly- colours reflected in it. From behind the mask she glances about at the other masked and costume-dressed Quendi. A smile touches her lips but its hard to tell that, due to how her mask hides her face.

From the shadows steps an elleth in flowing robes of gold, peach, rose and blue. A glass of golden liquid is in her hand and she brings it delicately to her lips, which are just visible below her dark blue half-mask. A smile rests on those lips, and even more brilliantly dances in shining grey eyes, as she stands quietly observing those moving about in the firelit clearing.

A flowering of many colors moves much like a Quendi, and of one's appearance this shape still somewhat has, though hidden by a veil of ever-present niphredils. A smile is though visible, for this elleth's face is not fully covered, though disguised enough. A gleam of interest follows each and every quendi that passes, intriguing new interests and thoughts of all kinds in the mind of this particular elleth.

A glint of purest white, not unlike to that of the wintery elleth, appears between the trees, approaching from the pathway. A tall maiden holding herself with somewhat dignified bearing, hands as white as her costume, joins the gathering, her smile radiating more from her being than her face which is hidden behind a feathery bird's mask.

As the Valley curls into the womb of night, one of the shadows takes the form of a Firstborn, clad in the weave of lights that the Firstborn saw when first they awoke. The figure walks toward the gathering, visible mostly by the slow undulation of the net of stars around her. Her face - a black mask - is impassive, but if anything it is sad rather than cold. Her movements are grace and peace and silence.

Coming from the narrow trail, hers a walking music instrument that have some difficulties to pass. Her greeting to the people already arrived before her body enter the place, "Mae Govannen!" she says.

A tall lady in a brown costume stands where the colourful light of the candles and lanterns is reflected from a multitude of wine bottles and decanters. This Rake obviously has fine manners; she is holding a glass of red wine against the light, marveling at the swirl of colours in the liquid. The lady observes the gathering of quendi with a smile on her lips, nodding greetings as courteously as possible when half of her face is covered by a mask - yet there is also something nervous aboutt her posture.

A slender elleth in snowy white enters, her mask that of a swan; her hair is lifted away by braids and reveals a slender, swanlike neck. Feathered wings grace her back, and her dress reminds one of a swan on water, as it fades from white to dark blue. "Mae govannen, mellyn" calls the swan-elf, her voice fluting and light.

The elleth in blue, gold and rose laughs quietly as she observes another Quende dressed in cumbersome attire resembling a musical instrument. The pleasure of seeing her fellow Imladhrim in costume is a cheerful sight. She moves closer to two ellith nearby who are dressed in white, one in fur and the other in feathers. "Mae govannen, mellyn," she greets them quietly, then turns as another white-clad elleth enters the clearing. "It seems that white is the fashion this season!" she jokes cheerfully.

A hearty bellow bludgeons the air, knocking over any sense of serenity that has settled into the theatre. "Ha HA! It seems I've found the party!" shouts a newly arrived ... dwarf. "I always wondered where yeh silly folk met to trade ya poems and drink ya weak wine!" He thrusts his mug into the air and guffaws again. "Well, I've brought some stronger ale, if yeh wants to have a good time!" He enters just behind the elf-swan, offering her a "Hey there!"

Nimrhofel laughs brightly. "Ah, my good dwarf, it is always a more cheerful party with one of your....kind....around!" She also gives a greeting to the others around her, including the other two in white.

Succeeding in entering, Mandoline goes directly at Rake. Bending the head on a side, then the other; she tries to guess whom is behind the mask.

Winter nods to the elleth who just greeted her before she puts her hands to her hips, the white cloak being pushed back to reveal a black gown beneath. She then stands on her tiptoes to catch sight of the walking mandolin "Mellon, come here a moment will you?". The shouts of a 'Dwarf' make her laugh as she observes his antics.

Quiet though her steps remain, a lady walks lightly from the midst of a gathering of several quendi. Arrayed in the brightest purples, golds, and blues, her raiment is as hewn of the sunset itself. Indeed her manner seems to match her colorful garment, as far as can be seen from the sparkle of silver eyes above her veil. Yet beneath this cover, a faint outline of a smile takes shape, and to each new arrival Lady Sunset nods fluidly ere her gaze alights on she who is dressed as a rake. "Thank you for leaving your garden post to supply us with good cheer in excess," she chuckles brightly, sweeping her hand over the selection of wines. "Is it not a lovely niii--" Here the lady's voice falters against her better judgment, replaced now by a robust laugh. "Ah, Master Dwarf!" she calls through her merriment. "Did you bring enough to share?"

Hearing Winter voice calling her over the crowd noise, Mandoline manage to go in front of her.

The elleth adorned in the many shades of color and flowers moves for a table prepared with food, but for a moment she is lost by all attention, and fills a glass with the sparkling red liquid already in many other's hands. Moving from the table she glances around once more at each costume, marveling in an undeniable joy, until her eyes find concern and joy in the presence of what seems to be a dwarf. And for a while this figure draws her attention, with successions of tiny laughter emitting from her lips.

A humorous twinkle shows in the grey eyes behind the dove's mask as the elleth in question answers in a low voice, perhaps as not to be recognized at once, "The tailors will be out of white cloth by now. But how would one better compliment the..." interrupted by the dwarven merriment, she turns her head, her amusement obviously increased, though she finishes her sentence calmly, "... the stars and moon?"

Nimrhofel nods her agreement to the dove. "It seems that we are almost reluctant to leave the winter behind, with our white garments."

Night approaches Sunset. "Ah, my predecessor! The question is not whether our friend the dwarf brought enough to share. By his bluster, I do not doubt that he did - and drank the lot of it already!" The mirth of her voice looks odd against her mask, but there is no mistaking it. She looks over the wines, drifting lazily in her cloud of stars.

The black and white dressed Winter bends closer to the Mandolin and whispers to her, the words 'poem' and 'maybe recite soon' can clearly be heard before she straightens up "Did I hear Dwarven Ale mentioned, or at least some wine?"

"No, mellon," The dove says, a wide grin audible in her voice. "I think that our forms represent spring well enough; you have the unfrozen water with you as well, do you not?" she points towards the blueish colour of the swan-maiden's skirts. "I might have brought a nest to make clear it is spring now." With that, she glances towards the wintery clad person.

"Ale? Oh my!" Rake simply exclaims to the dwarf. Still carrying a glass of wine, she approaches the Lady Sunset, stopping right next to her. "I think the garden can manage this eve without this particular rake," she declares. "But indeed, here we have Night and Sunset, but no Day! I cannot work at Night, now, what can I do!" she shakes her head. "Please, help yourself. Never mind the ale," the lady adds to Night, gesturing towards the wines.

Mandoline nods to Winter. Her mask hides her emotion, but you can easily feel that if she weren't wearing those accessories, she would have become white as all those costume around.

Nimrhofel chuckles at the dove's observations. "Indeed, I do have the unfrozen water with me, and swans themselves are birds that can herald the spring, gracing the lakes with their presence to mate and lay their eggs." She gestures towards the refreshment tables. "I think I shall partake of the boards to see what pleasure might be found there."

Like most of the revelers, the sea-elleth too watches the 'dwarf' with surprise and amusement. "I doubt any of us are so in need of refreshment as to share a glass of dwarven ale," she adds to the general commentary of the drink, swirling the wine in her own cup to underscore the point.

With a cool rush of fabrics, a silent figure slips into the firelight. The metal medallions about her slender waist whisper a faint melody with the movement of her skirts, but her bare feet are silent on the stone. She carries a small lilypad with a candle fixed at its center, casting a strange light on her silvery face. The dark eyes behind the mask are more ember than river, and a soft smile flickers about her lips as she surveys the merry crowd. A gaggle of ellith and one dwarf for good measure, it seems.

"As well you may, mellon." answers the dove amiably to the swan. "So long as you do not lay fresh eggs, or take away all that have been put there already. Perhaps I might join you to make sure of this?" She nods towards the cart.

The flowered elleth continues to watch all the merriment in her own self-enjoyment, seldom sipping from the glass within her clasp. Hearing much about the talks of winter and spring causes her to look down, seeing many a spring-time flower about her all in good representation of the season at hand. Smiling she takes another sip of her drink, adoring yet all there the more.

Groin's thick eyebrows raise up at Sunset's query, and his haphazard beard twitches as his mouth, wherever it may be hidden beneath, moves. "Ehhh, enough for all, yeh say? Ehh... well..." He now glances to his single mug of ale doubtfully. "Well I--ahh, yes! As that ... wraith sez, I drank it all m'self! 'sides, yall couldna stomach it, since yeh be drinkin so much of that grape-water." Then, for apparently no reason, he thrusts his 'battleaxe' in the air and yells, "Yaar!"

At the dwarf's wild cry, the river bends and it seems she may cry with mirth.

Sunset greets Night in a welcome meeting of those not far sundered. "Truly we shall stand better together than apart, for dusk shall find no rest and renewal without Night and the blessing she brings in the stars!" Her words to Rake as well as Night, the lady rests a hand fleetingly upon the shoulders each of the two. "Aye, shall we have wont for ale, when so many fine spirits are to be chosen from?"

A hint of this reveler's identity might be found therein, perhaps, for again Sunset’s enthusiasm finds itself on the topic of wine. She leaves the immediate company for only a moment, then returning with a glass of Eldaril. "Might I offer anyone else refreshment?" she inquires, settling a smile upon the flower-clad elleth as she sees her enjoying a drink of her own.

Nimrhofel is glad she is not holding a glass or flask yet, as she nearly doubles over with laughter at the dwarf. She pours a glass, carefully, once she recovers herself, and makes her way to the dwarf. "Oh, my good dwarf, you are a splendid companion indeed. But you surely have not tried some of our strongest...eh, grape-water, else you would not disdain it so much? I have not met a dwarf to turn down our strongest wine, even though it may not approach a watery ale. You must concede that we at least do a decent job of making our spirits?

Mandoline is unable to sit with her rigid costume. She moves toward the cart again to grab some drink that may make her merrier if Winter decide it is time for her to brake the ice.

The deep green eyes of Rake glimmer through the openings of her mask, as she still gazes at the dwarf, his hilarious display and his single mug of ale. "Truly, if you find it so important, perhaps I should go search for some more ale. I'm certain we have some. This dull grape-water of ours is clearly not sufficient for your fine tastes," she declares, casting a glance at Sunset as well.

The flowered elleth smiles back at Sunset, peering at her glass for a moment before raising it a bit, "Enjoyable indeed," she states with smile, curiously wondering who might be the quende beneath the offer.

Winter searches for a goblet of wine, finds, and then raises it to her lips, a slot in her mask making it possible for a drink to be drunk without removing the fine silvery-thing. Hazel eyes, warm despite the rest of her appearance, find the musical instrument again and she nods but wanders across to Sunset. In a musical tone she asks "Would some poetry be in order soon maybe?"

Celemar - Night, by another name - finds herself a tall, graceful goblet and looks among the liquors for a clear one. Finding one, she pours herself a glass, and holds it close so that the lights of her veil refract through it. "Aye, we should stand together. Day will come. He always has." Nevertheless, she scours the area. At the accusation of Wraith, Celemar laughs. "Indeed! Is the greatest gesture of defiance against the Shadow a creature of the shadow in your lore?" she cries in mock reprimand. "Or is the ale talking?"

"High spirits, indeed." mutters the dove, more or less to herself. She approaches the cart in silence, and remains there alone for a few moments after pouring herself a glass of crimson wine. Her head is bent as if in thought; perhaps this is a hint to her identity. But not even the most melancholic being could remain so long in this gathering, and this elleth certainly is not the mistress of undue sadness. A soft laugh comes from behind her mask at the exchange between night and dwarf, before she delicately raises her glass to just beneath her beak.

The sea-elleth has been following the conversation of wine with apparent interest, yet remains silent on that topic. At a call for poetry, however, she chimes in. "Aye, let the Glirieth at least identify themselves on this occasion, by their skill if not in name!"

"AaaHAHAhaha!" bellows Groin, and for the first time he takes a few steps--waddles really--toward Nimrhofel. "Aye! I shall drink through all ya stores 'fore I feel a thing." Slipping his axe to his belt, he offers up a long-but-stocky arm to receive the offered wine. Then, he tilts his head back and chugs down the whole glass--then the same with his own mug of ale. "Brrrrehhph!" The sound, whatever it was meant to be, is filtered through his beard, and he shakes his head. "Gra--*hiccup*--pe-water, likahsed!"

Nimrhofel laughs and pretends to be shocked at the "dwarf". "Well, perhaps if you did not mix it with your ale, you might appreciate the taste of the wine. But one cannot expect you to change...your...nature..." The swan cannot keep up the seriousness, and breaks down into laughter.

"So it would seem indeed," Sunset adds to Rake's assessment, a wink to the lady behind the rusted mask before her silvered gaze flickers back to the flowered maiden. If the Lady Sunset has seen the curiosity in this elleth's gaze, it is met with no more than an enigmatic smile barely seen beneath her veil. To Winter's inquiry new enthusiasm is met, both in countenance and in voice as she speaks anew. "I would very much enjoy a recitation. In fact, I mean to join in providing such festivities later on in the evening." These last words are uttered more quietly, such that few might here that do not stand close.

"Do you indeed," says Night, pitched so that anyone can hear. Her grin can be heard in her voice, even as her solemn mask conceals it. "I imagine your performance will be fleeting, but lovely, as is your wont." She smells her miruvor before raising it to her lips, looking at Sunset. And somehow - perhaps in the body language that the veil of stars cannot completely hide - it's clear that she's smiling.

The Lady River ambles lazily into the gathered Quendi, plucking a glass of pale wine from the cart. "Is someone reciting?" she asks softly, voice melodic. Ember eyes flicker from Sunset to Night.

Quick steps, nearly running, and quite loudly add another one to the company in the theatre. Yet, this haste should be strange to this creature! A running ent, who could've thought? Yet the moment he has reached the ball, his pace slows, and the creature with the seven tows casually steps in. His hands are clashed behind his back, as he strides forth, seemingly admiring all the costumes.

"Good, there! It is good grapewater, made with care and matured for years. You shall learn to like it, and I will not get any more ale for you," Rake yells to Groin, trying to raise her voice over the chattering quendi. "Yet indeed, I would love to hear some poetry, but I certainly will not utter any. Who would want to hear poems from a piece of wood and steel?" she chuckles.

Nimrhofel's mouth makes an 'o' as she beholds the ent. "Hrmm, hoom, friend ent!" She waves, then turns once more to observe the dwarf and bows. "I believe I shall find myself some grape-water, however."

Winter nods delightedly to Sunset's reply and stalks back across to the Mandolin and whispers "I shall announce your intent to recite.." And without further a do she moves to a space amidst the gathered quendi and calls, in a tone that commands attention "Mellyn, some quiet for mellon-Mandolin, who shall entertain us with a verse!. Mandolin, would you.." Stepping out of the space she makes room for the Musically-attired elleth.

The Lord Dwarf shouts, "Aye! Ah be recitin'! Elves may be thin, and elves may be quick, but dwarves ale wins, cuz elf wine makes meh sick!"

Calasil has a quiet personality, and though she may be surrounded by others, there is a feeling that she stands alone. She projects an aura of competence, but she always welcomes any advice given. Very few know her well, for though she is polite, she rarely speaks more than is needful, but when given a cause can seem compelling. She is grave, and a true smile is rare to find on her lips. Riding and music are her two great loves, and she will often spend time in the forest, or listening to music.

The flowered elleth smiles and laughs hearing the sound of the Dwarf's voice drift in rhythms.

The lute was drinking when the call from Lady Winter came. She chokes a bit, puts the glass back on the cart, and she moves toward the place Winter gave her, clearing her throat. She begins with a strong voice:

The wind is whining in branch of oak,

Lighting your path, mellon

Whispering song as your soul awoke.

Don't you hear that, mellon?

His song about Imladris evoke

memories of life in a warm womb.

May that song reach your heart broke.

No dawn of evil upon you, mellon.

But end it trembling, so she bows and goes.

Joy and merriment her very essence of manner, Sunset subsides in laughter and chatter to acknowledge Winter's announcement with burst of applause. This recognition is followed by appropriate silence as Mandoline begins her recitation.

Celemar laughs freely. "We may yet see a dwarf at the next Bardic Congress!" she exclaims. She quiets herself as the music strikes up for Winter's more earnest recital, then applauds.

Taking another sip from her glass, the dove tilts her head at the dwarvish recital, seeming to think it over. "Very lovely, dear dwarf." she says, loudly enough to be heard. "I am sure whoever else wants to recite will have difficulty outrhyming y..." She breaks off into silence as the instrumentally clad elleth recites, however, and remains such even after she is finished, both hands cupping her goblet.

"Hrum?" A low voice, indeed like one of an ent answers. "A good evening." The words come a bit slow. His head turns to the dwarf, and a sudden shout, just as low, emerges from the tree-like man. "An axe-bearer!" Though it is muffled at the anouncement for a poem. Silently now, he turns slowly to the reciter, and listens politely.

As the recitation begins, the 'sea' moves back into the shadows and finds a seat so as to listen and observe the merry gathering. She reacts to the offered poetry with a subdued but sincere applause, and a call for more.

Finding her way back to the cart, Mandoline takes back her glass and drinks from it. Looking at her covered wooden feet.

Rake claps her hands cheerfully. "And this is for the both of you - the dwarf and the lute. I would not expect the former to sound as good as the latter, but both certainly made me smile." She makes her way to the wine table to fill her goblet again, and then approaches the ent. "Worry not. We who come from the garden will keep you safe," Rake offers.

An elleth wearing shimmering black joins the audience and sits down at the edge of the crowd.

"Most delightful, mellon," Sunset lilts brightly to Mandoline above renewed applause. "Such fine flowing words from so...mellifluous an entity," she chuckles, "I should now have a mind for music to follow! Will any sing or perform as good Mandoline so has graced us?"

"That was beautiful indeed, mellon." The dove says in a very soft voice, reaching out to place one hand on Mandoline’s costume as she stands by the cart once more. She seems strangely subdued now, though, and after saying her bit retreats slightly.

Stars drift and shimmer as Night greets the Ent with a slow curtsy. "Worry not about the axe wielder. He is full of his ale, and our liquor, and were he to swing his axe he would only cut his own foot off." She looks around for someone to answer Sunset's challenge.

Bruinen +whispers to Mandoline, "... ... ... ...,mellon. ..., don't ... .... ... ... ... ...!"

"Hoom, hoom. Very nice." The ent comments softly, though it seems unlikely he has been heard, except by those beside him. He turns to the rake then and shakes his head. "No, no, he must lay away his axe! I am not afraid of him, but he might hurt one of my friends. Hrum hoom." Seven-toes turns to face the dwarf then, and takes a few steps in his direction. "Away with your axe, treekiller." He says in his low voice.

Winter applauds Mandoline "As wonderful as expected mellon.." A sigh passes the her lips "Though I had intended to perform, I shall have to give you a modified version, in the absence of the other half of my duet that is..Maybe in a little while." The dark-haired elleth drifts into the crowd, finding the Ent-Elf of particular interest.

"Hohoho! A fine reciting..." mutters Groin, a bit of a slur sneaking into his voice. Spying the ent brings new life to the Dwarf however. "Ah! I spies me a tree! Where be the hearth? We needs a fire!" A hand brings out his battlehatchet. "What say you, big tree? Will you make good kindling?"

Watching the argument between ent and dwarf, Tinnufuin shakes her head. "Some things just never change," she says in a low voice, heard only by those near her.

Mandoline smiles to all those comments she can hear. Butterflies she had in her stomach now gone. "Sorry to not have think about a place you can touch me with that costum mellon!" She quietly nods at the White dove’s attention. Turning to Bruinen, she pours wine in a glass and offers it to her.

Instead of standing out to defend the Ent, Rake backs away a few steps to wait for him to reply to the dwarf. "I do hope you will perform!" she utters to Winter. "Even a part of the whole would be much better than none of it. Although I believe we may expect words expressive and colourful enough to be poetry from these two," she nods towards the ent and the dwarf.

The attention of Lady River is drawn to the Edhel Tree and good master Dwarf, and the smile fades from her face. She watches tensely as the axe makes a reappearance, focus and readiness evident in her stance. "That they do not," she replies wrily at Tinnufuin's words.

Mandoline ups her voice: "Does anyone have remark the gift I left her for all of you?" And she pointed to a cart covered with a red satin just aside the other one.

"Hoom, hoom! Hrum hoom!" Seven-toes' answer sounds. "I've never burned myself, but what about yourself?" He asks the axe-wielder. "Would you burn well?" His hand reaches up to his chin for a moment, and a moment passes ere he shakes his head, drawing his own conclusion. "Nay, you will not, would you?" He turns to the rake than and throws his hands in the air. "Well, would you not defend me?" He faces the dwarf again and he raises his arms. "Should we see what lands harder? Wood, or steal?"

Mild concern touches Sunset's fair face at Winter's mention of a missing partner, though it is fleeting in the company of such merrymaking. "If you will, then we will all smile the wider for it," she reassures the ice-clad elleth.

From over the rim of her wineglass, the lady smiles, then continues along her whirlwind path through the many quendi to the stage. After a few words of whispered discourse with a trio of musicians, the broad clearing slowly fills with enchanting music beneath the murmur of conversation. Shortly thereafter, Lady Sunset whisks to the side of Mandoline. "I knew not of any gifts. Dare I say, you are too kind," she remarks delightedly, though her eyes linger not long upon the indicated cart ere they slip nervously...and amusedly... to the Dwarf and Ent.

Leaving the Ent and the Dwarf to their banter, Celemar finds herself drawn toward Mandoline. "A gift, mellon? Truly, I had not remarked it." She follows Mandoline's finger toward the red satin on the cart. "What could it be?" She looks at Mandoline. "Strings?"

"But you have touched me with your song, musical friend." The dove answers to Mandoline, "And such a touch is often intercepted by less solid things than a costume." Her voice hides a small smile, but nevertheless, she sets her goblet down, and with a slight nod slides off into the crowd, perhaps searching for more companions, white-clad or no.

Mandoline says, "Go ahead, someone can remove that satin!" laughs Mandoline! "If you recognize who is behind the mask, you may already smells what gift I bring!"

Winter begins to hum a tune, seemingly to herself but soon the humming slips into ice touched words, a voice of pure chill;

"Arda is mine!

Summer, your sunshine is brash display,

I am snow, I am Ice.

With treacherous beauty I entice..

Arda is Mine!"

The distinctive alto voice returns to humming as the Linnor thinks how to adapt her next verse.

Aeariell, 'daughter of the sea', steps forward to the center of the activity as her curiosity is piqued by the satin-covered surprise. She waits among the crowd for the unveiling, swaying ever so lightly in subtle acknowledgement of the music in the background, the torches catching the light of the pearls on her veil.

Groin blinks at the Ent and then bellows, "Ha ha! Perhaps it is the grape-water, but I'm feelin' a bit o' mercy for yeh, tree!" The Dwarf slips his axe back to his belt and then offers the Ent a light punch to the leg.

Nimrhofel with a smile and a whisper of wings and fabric, Nimrhofel gives bow to those around her and slips from the clearing, unable to wait for the unveiling.

Mandoline is impressed by the taste and sound of the talent from Winter. She claps her hands to applaud her rather then take attention.

When the clear, cold voice of Winter cuts the air, Rake stops chatting and turns to look straight at the Linnor, now ignoring the dwarf and the ent. Her nod and the look in her green eyes carry both approval and admiration.

With an eager smile and nearly youthful curiosity, the elleth clad both of night and day lifts a corner of the satin to peer beneath it's cover. Any exclamation she might call out is stifled, however, as a song begins. Captured by this new melody hanging upon the breath of spring breeze, Sunset inclines her head thoughtfully to winter as keen ears capture the icy timbre of her song.

"Hrum hoom!" The low voice answers the dwarf. "But of course, you fear me." He turns away from the Axe-wielder then, and steps closer to winter and the performance, until he stands beside the rake.

The words of ice run a shiver through the Ent. "Hoom?" He mutters at winter’s preformance when she has returned to humming. "I wish for my treefriends to keep their leaves still a while." Seven-toes glances aside to Rake. "Then you would be free of use longer as well, hrumm."

Bruinen smirks at the dwarf, but releases a small breath, relieved that Master Harchdolas would need not be disturbed. Winter's voice does indeed send a chill through her mind, and she turns a contemplative face to the Linnor, although the warm smells beckoning from beneath the Mandolin's cart competes with her attention.

Aeariell turns, as well, catching the sound of a recitation. Stepping forward to cart, she gestures to the Linnor and whispers something to Sunset with a mischievous smile. She is likely trying to guess the identity of the poet, perhaps recognizing the voice in reading that she did not in simpler conversation.

As Sunset removes the satin cloth over the cart, you can now see where came from all those odorous smells. Tea, brews and coffee are set aside from each other. A flask away from the other smells like peach.

Celemar has only taken in Sunset's reaction to the gift inside when all attention turns to the chill words and bold claims of Winter. Her pose is... smug, perhaps? and she walks slowly toward Winter. Crystal-clear liquor swirls lazily in her clear crystal goblet, as willed by her black-clad hand.

Winter strides amongst the crowd, proud and elegant seeming..the beauty of her costume paired oddly with the sword on her back, the treachery of which she spoke. Again the soft but crisp melody merges into words;

"Arda is mine!

I am anaesthesia, crystaline chill,

I spread a coverlet of barren snow

Over all the blossoms that Summer shall bestow.

Arda is mine!"

Momentarily the Linnor pauses and frowns beneath her mask, contemplating how to alter the last verse, making three out of the planned six.

"Ah, coffee," says the River, pleased. And with an arch pause-- "Someone pour the dwarf a cup."

Sunset's gaze falls fully upon Mandoline's gift at last, bringing a subdued yet ever present light of recognition into the lady's eyes. But ought that might be spoken to the instrument is favored second to silence as Winter continues her song. Though attentive and appreciative, Sunset too begins to drift through the crowd...towards the stage once more.

Listening to Winter's performance, Tinnufuin walks over to the cart and views the drinks. Pouring two cups of coffee, she offers one to the dwarf.

The stringed instrument groans: "I cannot help you with that costume, I fear!", then she giggles "Hopefully I think to identify the drink. You may sample the meilcordof. It is a cool drink, that is why I set it apart from the other."

A sharp but pleasing fragrance draws the sea-elleth's attention to the cart, and she is about to replace her wine glass with a coffee cup when she hears the 'mandoline's' recommendation. "Meilcordof, a good choice for a fine spring night! Did you make it yourself?" With one ear she is still listening for the completion of Winter's verses.

Groin_the_Dwarf raises his mug then, at the prospect of coffee. "Aye! I need some of that! I say... if you can see through a drink, it ain't strong enough!" He does manage to keep his voice a bit quieter this time, to respect Winter's verse. He hobbles toward the cart.

Mandoline is so deeply in admiration by the song of Winter that she only answer with a nod to the sea-elleth.

Winter's hands clasp behind her back as she paces before her eyes sparkle "Ah I have it" she interjects before continuing;

"Arda is mine!

Frozen lake, frozen earth,

but Summer, birds sing at your behest

and your warmth to love gives birth.."

A sudden stop as the linnor giggles and hastily adds, unable to think of a fitting line "Arda is ours by turn, Summer and mine?!"

Stars smiles at the hastily added line.

"I have been waiting for you to come to your senses," laughs Celemar, as Winter finds herself countering her own claim.

Mandoline is thinking to make a suggestion at first but restrains herself. "I cannot pretend to be better!" she mumbling softly to herself. "No. It is lovely in essence!"

Rake frowns slightly at the hasty ending of Winter's poem, but then her lips turn to a wide smile, and she claps. "Wonderful, mellon! And no matter the words, the feeling in it was very good. Very much like winter. Although it truly is a pity that we did not have Summer here among us," she utters to the Linnor. "I do hope it did not make you freeze," she adds with a wink to the Ent.

Stars agrees with Rake.

The wintry Linnor's charming performance brings Lady Sunset to applause once again, now from her stance at the fore of the Theatre stage. Above the crowds she stands, bright against the starry skies in her raiment of Anor's fading at dusk. Likewise clear and far-reaching is her voice in the coming proclamation. "A chilling performance, Lady Winter, yet one that melts into such pleasantry near the end!" she chuckles. "Now will all tolerate the performance of one who masquerades not only as a Sunset, but also as a Glirieth?" An invitation for all to offer their attention to the stage, Sunset lingers there in proud anticipation not untouched by nervousness.

Aeariell pours herself a glass of peach-scented drink and joins the chorus of many voices lauding Winter's continuation. Turning to a flower-strewn elleth near her she says, "Will you also have a glass? Song and sweetness under the stars...," she laughs in simple merriment.

The flower laden elleth smiles, turning to Aeariell, "Indeed I shall" she responds, glancing into the emptiness of her own. "I must have finished this without noticing it..the enjoyment here is overwhelming I must admit."

"Hoom hoom! Well done." The ent admits to winter. With a glance to the rake beside him he starts to move his limps, like he has just woken up from a deep long sleep. At the announcement of another performance, Seven-toes turns to the stage. "My, hoom, there seems hardly time for a dance." Though there is no sign in his voice that tells that he finds the listening to poems and songs joyless.

Mandoline asks: "Can someone brings me a cup of my Doron coffee please?" the elleth looks like she blushed under her mask: "I am stuck here..."

Pouring her companion a glass, the sea-elleth then turns back to the stage as another Glirieth has stepped forward. "More! More indeed, tonight we are all poets, in our hearts at least," she smiles and raises her glass in a toast to the flower-clad figure next to her.

Celemar makes her way back to the table to get the poor musical instrument a cup of coffee, as requested. She looks to see how Mandoline is trapped; amused perhaps, but still looking to help. "An Ent Dance," she calls over her shoulder! "Did I hear that the Ent will dance?!"

As discourse falls to whispers, the Sunset clears her throat in passing. "Indeed I had hoped to find this decision easy, mellyn," she intones to the gathered quendi, argent eyes sweeping over the entire gathering. "Yet alas! So many have come dressed so finely that it is hardly simple to choose a favorite. Your punishment for such is to endure the poetry of one not so inclined on any other night!" Lady Sunset laughs in gentle flow before her words fall into a meter and verse:

                Of peoples all, it is our plight
                To never shut an eye to night,
                Though lands of Elves' awakening
                In water's song fond memories bring.

                                As moonlight is its melody,
                                I sing this grand soliloquy.
                                When mortals sleep as daylight dies,
                                Come dream with me of starry skies!

Her last chanted words are lifted in a joyous lilt, now marked in sincerity by a growing smile on lips nearly hidden beneath silver veil. She floats from the stage as a falling Autumn leaf, the momentary pause finding Sunset now amongst the gathered quendi.

Winter folds her arms across her chest and laughs "My thanks for your compliments mellyn, on a piece that was so hastly adapted.." She falls silent then paying Sunset the attention that is due, mometary glances to the Mandolin and the Ent who would dance. As Sunset begins the elleth nods in appreciation of the verses.

"Ah Celemar! Thanks for the coffee!" The performance of Sunset seems momentary to make her forget her curse. Although she really senses something pulling on her strings-hairs!

Groin_the_Dwarf falls finally quiet now, having acquired some coffee for himself. The dark droplets cling to his beard as he now watches Eryndae.

Only a few steps of silence passes before next the maiden garbed in sunset hues speaks in rhyme. This, the second verse, finds her enthusiasm further renewed:

                In dreams are honored feathers, fins,
                And heroes' deeds, and seasons' ends.
                Let praises sung in revelry
                Be born to splend'rous pageantry!

                                Thus favored tales in fables found
                                To dreams kept not, but walk the ground.
                                As bird or beast in glorious guise,
                                Come dressed in mask 'neath starry skies!

Still among the other partygoers on the lawn, Sunset now whirls around gracefully to head back towards the theatre stage... but not before beckoning with a quick flicker of her wrist to Aeariell, Mandoline, and Cranebill in a not-too-subtle invitation to follow.

Falling silent, the 'daughter of the sea' Aeariell listens raptly to the verses of the Quendi's joy and sorrow-ridden fate. Her eyes sparkle with intensity as the poem unfolds, following Sunset's movements among the crowd. Seeing the elleth beckon her and others, she hesitates but steps forward, unable to resist the summons.

Mandoline pulls harder to free herself.

Celemar busies herself freeing Mandoline's hair from the cart, taking care not to upset the cart's offerings - which now include her own goblet, perched precariously near one edge. "I believe that I almost have it," she says quietly, glancing over her shoulder toward the stage to see what is happening.

Seven-toes holds his silence as Sunset speaks of nighttimes and starlight. Though when asked he answers in a whisper. "Hoom, Dance? Hrum! I would not know what you find amusing in it..." The ent lifts his left knee up, the leg vertically underneath it, as high as he can, and then, simply drops it. The right leg follows, and then the left leg again. In the meantime, his hands wave in the air to keep his balance. Though after not to long he stops again, directing his attention back to the stage.

"Ouch!" Then the elleth thanks Celemar. She moves toward the stage, as fast as she can.

A look of hesitancy flushes the features of the flowered elleth, now beckoned to follow to the stage. Slowly her feet move forward, bringing her to the stage, accompanied by a pale look of anxiety. Though the company of the quendi about her helps bring peace and slowly a graceful smile appears.

The River turns languid, laughing eyes to the Sunset, her candle beginning to sputter in its leaf. She seats herself along the edge of the gathering with a tinkling of metal and beads, smiling her approval of the verses and of the Quendi now arrayed shyly on stage.

Mandoline is now near Sunset, wondering what she is doing here.

Tinnufuin sets aside her empty cup, clearly amused by the Ent's dance. Turning her attention back to the stage, she waits for the announcement.

A wink is afforded to the Ent from Sunset in a moment's pause. When at last the three others have joined her on the stage, Lady Sunset continues her poem with vigor. Her words tumble forth smoothly despite the excitement:

                When spirit thirsts for ought denied
                That by such grandeur is supplied,
                May every chalice now be filled
                By hospitality's good will.

                                Thereafter, smiles may touch your lips
                                And fruit of vine, your fingertips.
                                Before the fount's libation dries,
                                Come drink fine wine 'neath starry skies!

Lightly, yet with inherent grace, the elleth skips across the wooden stage, pausing her cantering step before each of the three quendi. Then with a subtle wink above the cover of her veil, she guides Cranebill by the shoulders to the rightmost chair of the three before dancing back towards the other two.

"There, you are free!" claims the star-girt Night as she falls backward in her last effort to free Mandoline. "Now, hie yourself toward the stage. I see you are being summoned. And who can resist the summons of a sunset?"

Aeariell watches the activity near her on the stage as if in a dream, lulled both by the verses and the atmosphere of the scene. Just underneath her half-mask, a blush of the evening's merriment can be seen coloring her pale cheek. She observes Sunset's actions intently but with some confusion.

Rake has taken a seat nearby the wine cart to follow Sunset's ceremony. Again, one hand is holding a glass of red wine that reflects all the colours of the candles and the stars above, as the lady silently watches the gathered quendi - but now, there is no hint of nervousness, only a wide smile on her lips.

Winter half twists around to scrutinize how an Ent shall dance, the spied result is enough to make her laugh and pale hands brush back almost black hair from the reflectively shimmer of her mask. Silent steps take her to the Ent's side and to him she softly murmers "Quite a guise mellon..for someone who know little of trees?" The last line she almost silently mouths, hazarding a guess at the Ent-Elf's identity. "Though very..fitting.."

Realizing what is happening, Mandoline butterflies begin to move in her stomach again. "Oh dear!" she whispers to herself.

Extending a delicate hand out to each of those left standing, the vibrantly clad lady settles into a light dancing step as her chant resumes:

                Once set aside is vintage sweet,
                I pray its warmth inspire thy feet,
                That Firstborn steps on yonder grass
                Will be in dance, the time to pass

                                In windswept whirls of laughter bright,
                                With music we embrace the night.
                                As argent rays of Ithil rise,
                                Come dance with me 'neath starry skies!

Each verse finds its end in a louder cry, it would seem, for the flush of Sunset's cheeks show even above her veil. Still she dances on, pausing only to whirl Mandoline towards the chair furthest from Cranebill, to the left of the stage. Thus she finds herself standing alone with Aeariell.

Celemar raises her glass as Sunset swoops by to scoop up Mandoline, and moves up closer to the stage. The dance seems to have found a home in her as well, and the stars shimmer and twirl slowly around her as she moves.

Mandoline is relieved when she knew she is not the winner.

Watching her companions be delivered to chairs, Aeariell waits for her turn with a wide smile. Underneath the mask her expression betrays only the merriment of celebration and song.

As the quendi enjoy themselves, listening to poems and singing, while drinking wine, a figure comes from the Valley. "Mae Govannen mellyn", he greets the others, "I am Hail, the warrior of Winter", he adds as he get closer to the theatre.

From underneath the mask a bit of laughter sounds, the ents concentration broken from the dance and poem, laughter, though still in the low ent-voice. "I am learning, I am learning." He answers Winter sounding mirthful. "I do find Ents are quite interesting to play. Hoom Hrum." He adds quickly after. His attention floats back to the dancing and music and the eyes, nearfully hidden underneath his mask, show interest.

Thus in tribute to Aeariell, Sunset sounds a few quick rhythmic claps above her head an indication of... perhaps congratulations, if not part of the performance itself. On she reads:

                May longer lived such gaiety be
                Than worn each new identity,
                And merriment continue on
                Unfettered 'til the break of dawn.

                                Although the rise of Anor's flame
                                Shall call us each again by name,
                                Let all proclaim what all do try,
                                And show thine face to starry skies! 

With this final shout a request of all rather than only the winner herself, the lady casts aside her argent veil, thus revealed to be none other than the Miruvorthaer Eryndae. Though the joyful flush of her fair cheeks is unusual to see, celebration indeed seems to have brought much to life in the aged elleth's spirit. When last the elder vintner has danced, few know indeed!

The elisthir sighs and enjoy the view and begin to laugh as she looks the manners Sunset takes to assign those place. Mandoline send a little discrete wave to Hail and point toward the smoking cart at the left of the stage to make Hail understand.

Olathlinn removes slowly the half-mask, although her down part of her face stay woody brown, you can now easily recognize her.

Groin_the_Dwarf raises both of his puffy eyebrows now and cries out, "Eh? This was a costume party?! Beh! I would not been seen dead amongst such silliness!" With that, he makes a move toward the door. "Back to the mountains with me!"

Almost in an uproar of relief, the flowered elleth's anxiety dissipates, an undaunted smile charges her lips, followed by an undying look of peace "Thank you all", she states in admiration and humility. In that moment she pulls the flowers that rest neigh her face and features, holding them in hand. The all too common timid look crosses Maegiaracha's face, now revealed. She slightly bows, and gazes upon those around her on the stage, watching to see how her assumptions turned out.

The dark-blue mask, the color of deepest waters of the ocean, is pulled aside to reveal the Idherveld Tatharwen in the figure of the sea-elleth Aeariell. She places a hand of congratulations on the shoulder of the other ellith seated on the stage, then joins the Miruvorthaer in clapping and waving for the other Quendi to carry on their merrymaking.

Celemar walks up to Hail. "The warrior has missed the battle," she intones, attempting a solemnity that matches her mask. "Winter fought hard for control of Arda, and accepted a draw with Summer. Even though," she adds, mirth breaking into her voice, "Summer had not even shown to challenge her!"

"Mae Govannen my companion in Ice!" Calls Winter to Hail "And wonderful costumes Mellyn" she adds to the winners "And poetry too" The Linnor laughs delightedly and picks up her glass again, it had earlier been set aside. Returning to the Ent's side she grins from behind her silver mask "Though Ents and Trees are very different.."

Olathlinn is removing her costume right on the spot. "Enough!" She said. She removes the garnment, then one by one all the 21 strings-hair.

Cheering brightly for the three that share the stage, Eryndae steps back with an indication for them to move forward. "All are commended for such marvelous attire. Surely you all will join me in congratulating these three ellith, as representative among us!" Mask now removed, faint traces of the Miruvorthaer's inherent serenity return beneath her joy and spirit. Thus with breathless excitement now fading to peace in her manner, the lady descends the stage and disappears into the crowd, calling over her shoulder one final sentiment, "Dance on, mellyn all! The night is young!"

Hail claps his hands and congratulates the poet on the verses. The turning to Celemar he giggles and answers, "Summer would not have dared to...", he smiles, "to challenge her, for I would have fought till the end mellon"

"Now I sure can dance!" She tosses her mandoline costume in a corner of the stage and pass her hand on her hair root.

Celemar laughs as she applauds the winners, and the runners-up. "Would does not win battles, mellon," she counters, elbowing him lightly. "Since there is no battle, do you dance?"

As stealthily as a half-drunken, waddling dwarf can manage, Groin makes a break for the exit!

Maegiaracha smiles, transfixed in calmness, then widening her smile she descends from the stage, hoping to quickly be drowned out from notice within the crowd.

With a laugh, Tatharwen-Aeariell helps Olathlinn with her costume and smiles appreciatively at the Miruvorthaer's commendation. "Indeed, you will no doubt enjoy the dancing more now, mellon," she says to Olathlinn. Her laughing eyes take in Maegiaracha as well. "Perhaps we all will, without our masks." She then follows the other elleth off the stage.

Tinnufuin unfastens her veil. Pulling it off, she reveals her face...who other but Calasil! Congratulating the winner, she sets the veil aside.

Elwhen walks along the trail into the Theatre, her dress waving around her slender elven figure.. Newly into Imladris, she nods nonchalantly to the guests, "Mae Govannen." Figuring she is new to the Imladhrim here, she bows in introduction, "I am Elwhen, Flautist a Glirieth o Imladris, may I be of any assistance this eve?"

Winter does dance but it is a graceful and regal dance, not nearly as amusing as the dancing ent but after a moment she stops and rubs around the edge of her mask, the silver warm to wear and swiftly she unfastens the silver strings that tie it to her..the mask removed, the wintry elleth is revealed to be Faerlin, of course.

"Hoom, hrum. I must say you are the coldest start of winter I've known." The ent grins to the Elleth dressed like winter. "Hoom!" Low and loud it sounds. "A tree-tall congratulations!" He shouts after it. "Dancing? Hrum, but of course." Again the ent lifts his feet simultaneously, and repeats the dance he did before. Yet somewhat of a verse joins the beat of his steps.

"Hoom, hoom, my feet go kaboom!

Hear the steps of forests drum,

Hoom, hoom, my feet go kaboom!"

The dance and little song and with clear laughter, the Quende underneath finally dropping out of his role.

Celemar unfastens her black mask to reveal the face of Elethin, glowing white against the black of her costume, and lit by the "stars" around her. She smiles warmly.

Linnor Faerlin raises a brow at the recently appeared Timmeth Elwhen "mellon, musicians are always welcome, especially at such a gathering, come play for us and maybe we can convince our Entish friend to dance more for us?" She grins at the dancing Ent's comments too.

Olathlinn puts her cloak over her shoulder. She gets off the stage, dancing. Suddenly she remembers that she forgot something important. She did not stop dancing, but each step she makes leads her further of her friend. "I hope I can get back before they notice I am gone!", she whisper to herself.

"I would certainly like to dance, being in such a good mood", Hail answers to Celemar, "but first...", he takes off his hood, "...it's better now, and I am Helegrhofel", he adds as he smiles at Celemar and takes her into a wild dance.

Elwhen smiles, "I would be most happy to play something for you. I have my best flute with me! Dance on mellyns! I shall play for you shortly."

The River chuckles to herself and with a small sigh draws her silvery mask away, for any nearby to see the Idherveld Ailiell hidden beneath. The softly wry tilt of her smile suggests she knows an unmasking has not made her identity clearer to her fellows. She snuffs out her faltering candle and abandons herself instead to the firelight and festivity of the crowd. Raising her arms with a laugh she spins amongst the dancers, for a time at least.

Celemar claps. "Yes, do!" she says, turning to Elwhen. "A lively tune, if you would." She curtsies to Helegrhofel. "I would never have guessed."

Silk skirts rustling, Calasil steps into the dance, her graceful twirling making her costume shimmer, catching the moonlight.

A glimmering silver flute is unwrapped from its' soft pouch of velvet. She tunes it just right and whistles a soft but merry first note. The sounds that come next are as rapid as the newest flowing river over rocks.. the tune is high and paced. Elwhen's toes tap to the quick melody of the song.

Tatharwen claps as each of the Quende remove their masks, and as she moves towards the crowd she sways in rhythm of the dance. She stops to watch the ent, however, laughing merrily at both his dance and song.

"Hrum, hoom, dance more?" The end shakes his head. "I could use some breath first." Seven-toes moves his hands to his mask then as well, and slowly removes it, revealing a wide grin. Though hair now colored green, 'tis indeed Orostur; who else might it have been?

"Your song is hasty mellon!" He comments, though in his usual voice now, no trace left of the low entvoice.

Elwhen nods to the exiting elven folk as she carries on her brisk tune. Her smile gathers through the shape of her flute as she plays. The notes seem to rise and fall quickly with a few quivers of the new flute. A vision of sunlight and merriment plays on.

Maegiaracha quietly slips from the presence of the joyous group, easing quietly away.

"Orostur, well done!" says Tatharwen, laughing. "You would be the very figure of an ent, were you a bit taller." With another laugh and a rustle of gauze, softer than any ocean wave, Tatharwen-Aeariell moves out of the clearing into the forest shadows.

Elwhen's toes dance merrily to the upbeat tone of the merry song she composes. Her feathery mask of purple, blue, and green wave in the air as her fingers float along the presses of her instrument.

Swaying along with the tempo of the music, Elwhen turns and twirls about with her flute as if it were her dance partner. The song ripens and falls as she bows in conclusion of her merry song. "Thank you."

Elwhen twirls her flute between her fingers as she bows out. "As soon as I arrive, I now must depart. Time is a sad thing, I am just glad you all enjoyed my small performance. Maybe I shall recite something next time."

Elwhen turns to Faerlin, "I also have news of your friend Chaelei, we may be able to speak of my knowledge some other time." She smiles and bows to the gathered elves. "Namarie."

Elethin unwinds from a spin to end the dance, posing gracefully atiptoe with her arms outstretched, facing Helegrhofal. "Well played, Elwhen! A pity you cannot stay longer! And," she looks at Helegrhofal, "a pleasure dancing with you. You lead confidently!"

Hail bids farewell to the departing elves and continues with his dance. "It is indeed a very nice dance in a very nice night", he adds with a smile.

Elwhen nods a graceful thanks to all the participating dancers and minstrels. "A pleasure to see you all, and a merry goodnight to you all as well."

Faerlin looks a little puzzled as to what this knews of Chaelei might be but nods, the lively atmosphere of the party suddenly seeming quite more than she wishes for, in the absence of her intended partner of the duet. The Tracker stalks away too, looking back over her shoulder.

Elwhen nods and walks back to the house.

"'t Is what I do, mellon!" Orostur says after Tatharwen. "Though I should think of a story with an ent." His head turns to his feet. "Hoom, hoom, my feet go kaboom." He grins, and then carefully takes off the seven-toed feetwear. "That, I believe, has been enough ents in Imladris. I think I shall seek out Maltuilin now..." He mutters to himself and turns to the terraces. A bit of a glimpse enters his eyes then, and suddenly he returns his seven-toes to his feet and replaces his mask. Then the reborn ent walks of to the terraces singing loudly.

"Hoom, hoom, my feet go Kaboom!

Now I'll leave you all alone,

Hoom, Hoom, my feet go kaboom!"

And it is not long until he is out of sigh, only the traces of his melody remaining behind, until they as well fade.

The Participants:

Bruinen - Ailiell

White_Dove - Arwen

Stars - Brilethiriel

Tinnufuin - Calasil

Sunset - Eryndae

Winter - Fearlin

Hail - Helegrhofel

Groin_the_Dwarf - Linnuial

Cranebill - Maegiaracha

Rake - Neltilwen

Mandoline - Olathlinn

Ent - Orostur

Nimrhofel - Rinthonwen

Aeariell - Tatharwen