Not a Creature was Stirring...

Hall of Fire

The flickering light of the fire illuminates the room in a warm glow. The firelight plays along the polished wood of the walls, picking out highlights of the carvings of vines and flowers that decorate the Hall, and lining the many comfortable chairs in changing light. The fire burns always in this Hall, crackling from within a large hearth of marble at one end of the room. Songs in this Hall come to life, and dreams seem more real than the waking world.

The firelight gleams from the polished stone of the hearth, and glints of the metallic flecks running through the marble. Wide enough that a tall man couldn't span it with his arms outstretched, and tall enough that he could walk into it without bending. Wood, large and small, is stacked near at hand to feed the flames should the fire grow too low. Fire tools, cunningly wrought by the elven smiths in patterns of vines, are racked on the other side of the hearth. Among the tools are a number of iron mulling rods, meant for heating in the fire and then dunking into one's drink to heat it.

Flanking the great hearth are two pillars, one on either side of the fireplace. Made of the same marble as the fireplace the pillars are carved from base to crown with interlocking patterns of leaves, vines and flowers. Lit by the fire's living light, the flowers reflect back gold and orange and red. Even in deepest winter, the stone flowers bloom like living blossoms.

Faidweniell stands before the service cart, peering down at the selection in front of her. Her crystalline eyes shift from item to item indecisively. With slight hesitation, she draws in a breath and takes up a small peach and holds it close to her. After she stared for another moment, she turned away and moved towards a seat with her prize.

Sitting all ready in a chair by the fire, Sadron is reading in a little green old book. The pages are yellow from age, and the cover is so old that you are almost not able to read the letters on the front. But if you look carefully, you can make the letters "H alin an he lth of elves" on the front. She seems to be absorbed by her reading, but still she nods to Faidweniell, when she sees her.

Clothed in raiment of indigo velvet hewn of the night sky is an elleth lissome and fair, whose footsteps now draw nigh to the Hall of Fire. Gilded green eyes sparkling with starlight peer out from her pale face, framed by a windswept mane of earthen-brown. A gentle smile evidences the serenity of the mood Amarelei carries about her upon entry to the fire lit den. Held close in her slender hands is a simple leather-bound book, imprinted in burnished gold...a most peculiar accessory for one so accustomed to the work of the forest.

And it was at that time Linnor Elelith arrives. Head down, she bends all her attention towards the parchment before her. The 3 quendi before her pass unnoticed.

Noticing a rather welcoming nod from the elleth by the fire, Faidweniell moves in almost liquid movements towards a seat nearby. She smiles as she lowers herself down into the comfortable cushions, resting her uneaten peach in her lap. "Mae govannen, mellyn," she says softly, her tone like a calm and slow valley rain.

The haze of Amarelei's reverie departs slowly as her gaze alights upon the other three ellith. Mild surprise seems to replace the faraway gleam fixed upon her fine features, for perhaps her wanderings through the Last Homely House were in search of solitude. The Lhimbadhril tucks her journal close to her chest, a subtle flush creeping into the fair skin of her cheeks.

"A fair afternoon to you, mellyn ellith," she intones softly to all, her steps drawing to an awkward halt not far from fireside. To Faidweniell her smile remains a picture of subtle warmth, yet a light furrow settles into her brow as she looks to Elelith. "You are busy, perhaps? Would extra company disrupt a task of great import, or merely studies for self-betterment?"

Elelith looks up startled, "Why, Amarelei and Faidweniell!" She exclaims, "This is most unexpected! Your company would be most appreciated." She smiles, stuffing the parchment into her pocket hastily.

Faidweniell nods politely. "If you will excuse me," she says timidly. "I will return later. Thank you for the offerings of your company."

Though Amarelei's smile now wider blooms, a rosy blossom against her snow-white skin, hesitance still pervades her manner. "Forgive me, Elelith, but I intended not to stay. I have....matters to attend to. But perhaps we will speak another time? I should very much like to hear of your latest songs," she chuckles soft and low, her voice a smoothly flowing brook in springtime.

Peculiar...

But alive and really there! For a grey small furry thing creeps into the Hall... Coral eyes peer curiously about, small nose sniffing, before the animal scoots forward, darting forward as it spotted the Service Cart!

A mouse squeaks!

"Namarie then, mellyn." Elelith says, relieved. For she would dearly love to be alone. Seeing the mouse, however, she gives a muffled cry, and rushes out of the room.

But the mouse understands little of such silly antics. For it is a small animal, surely no threat!

It has more interest anyways in the service cart, light feet rushing up to it as the critter climbs one of the cart's supports.

To Elelith Amarelei turns the warmth of her smile, offering a quiet "Namarie" before turning to depart the hall not far behind the Linnor. But ere her footsteps bring her nigh to the door, a small bustle of activity by the service cart draws her keen eyes. They narrow to slits, quietly studying what is quickly discerned as a small grey mouse.

Though it would not seem that she is frightened, a quick sigh escapes Amarelei's lips, and her gilded green eyes spring wide open once more. She whips around in search of....something. And finally her hands let rest her journal on a nearby chair, then clasping around the only thing she can find....a bellows from the hearth.

Oblivious of those silly elves the mouse reaches the top of the cart. And there is all the food!

Squeaking its delight the animal darts towards an apple, sniffing eagerly.

Egerus walks over to the service cart and takes a wafer of lembas and a small glass of water.

What is this? ...

One of the elves approaches the cart, not to the likings of the grey critter. With a soft sound it hides in the abundance of fruit, not waiting to be grabbed instead of any of the food.

Hesitance holds a heavy command over the Lhimbadhril's actions, for alas, she finds herself standing off against a small creature without an appropriate...weapon? Shining brown waves spill over her shoulders as she whirls around once more, the sides of the great bellows pulled apart in preparation of a "strike."

But as Amarelei's eyes resume their search of the cart, no longer can the mouse be seen. A subtle line furrows across her brow, as the flush of embarrassment returns to her cheeks. Sheepishly she smiles and shrugs to the other elves present. But not yet does she let fall the bellows from its ready position.

But this mouse is one not to be taken lightly... naught for naught it appears so bold, confident in it's behavior, apparently succeeding quite well to elude these elven hands.

For making use of the coverage of the fruit, the beast creeps down another support of the cart, dashing into the shadows, as he moves closely towards the hearth. Unintentionally the mouse then finds itself confronted with the Lhimbadril! It remains to be seen who will be more surprised...

The mouse however squeaks audibly, freezing a second...

Egerus walks over to the service cart and puts a small piece of cheese on the ground for the mouse.

A squeak indeed does ring out in the hall...two, in fact. But the second utterance is not from the throat of a creature small and grey, but rather from Amarelei herself! For once more the mouse shows itself, now skittering to a stop at her feet. "Aie!" she yelps, more out of surprise than fear, twould seem. As the mouse freezes, so does Amarelei spring into action, however. The startled young forester aims the mouth of the bellows at the ground, letting loose a soot-filled gust of air.

Egerus pulls out his flute and begins to play. As he plays, the fire seems to grow brighter.

What a vile attempt!

The mouse barely in time gathers it's wits to avoid this murderous intent of the elleth! The light pattering below the hearth betrays the grey animal escaped, still in possession of good health... There!

Its tail sweeps the floor, as the small critter comes to a halt, probably to recover from such fright. 'Tis not quite often someone tries to splatter you with a bellows.

Egerus stops playing. He wraps himself in his cloak as to make himself harder to see. Walking over to the shadows, he waits for the mouse.

Dust and soot settles in a thin layer, covering a large portion of the once shining marble floor. Amarelei's slender frame shakes in a fit of coughing, and when the air has cleared anew, dark grey smudges of soot are evident across the Lhimbadhril's cheek and nose. Frantically she searches the area for the offending mouse, but little more does she find than a chain of tiny footprints in the ashes and soot, leading away toward the hearth. Narrowing her eyes once more, the determined elleth crouches lower to the ground and tiptoes toward the flicker of firelight, beckoning Egerus to follow. "Come, mellon, and keep silent!" she whispers to the edhel.

But a mouse has ears as well, perhaps as sharp as those of elves...

A whisper is enough... for the tail moves and... in a swish and whirl of dust, it is gone... The noise of pattering feet betraying whither the mouse flees!

The door!

Surely it remembers how it entered. Not fond of murderous ellith in general the mouse skitters onwards, not paying any care to remain hidden, for now it just wants to flee! Its poor petite nose is all grey as well, due to the dust caused by the Lhimbadhril.

The door swings open slowly an elleth and edhel arm in arm enter the hall...their attention drawn by a quick and scurrying movement.

Benuial whispers something to Nenloth before hastily shutting the door... "A mouse? One mouse and it causes so much fuss?" she giggles, whilst holding Nenloth's hand in her own.

Properly daunted -- image of the elleth and her mighty bellows still fresh in mind -- the mouse darts blindly forth, not minding any elven legs in his way... He closes in on the door, only a few feet left!

But then it opens and there stands an obstacle! But the animal does not stop... running straight for the elleth who just entered, skittering across her boots.

Nenloth smiles a brief smile, which clearly shows his amusement, at Benuial, before he pulls a piece of lembas out of his pocket, placing it right at his feet. He straightens again, looking at Amarelei with a smile: "Mae govannen, mellon Amarelei! Why are you so frightened by so small a creature? Did it cause you any harm?" Awaiting Amarelei's answer, he leads Benuial over to a chair, placing his steps carefully, ever mindful of the mouse.

Keen elven ears perk up to the pattering of rodent feet, and the sharp eyes of a young forester likewise follow the path of the mouse across the room, irises a gold-sparkling green as they blaze with determination. Amarelei pays little heed to the two new arrivals, for now her prey is in sight.

With movements swift, and perhaps with deadly intent, the Lhimbadhril prepares another strike. Air breathes rapidly into the bellows, then gusting out in a fresh cloud of black soot.

Yet alas! Before young Amarelei's strike was let loose, her eyes did find the mouse nigh upon its escape. Thus now she lunges blindly toward where it was last seen, hands outstretched as she falls to the floor in a flurry of skirts and brown locks.

Amarelei tries to catch the mouse, but it bites and makes a clean getaway!

Benuial laughs "Tis but a little mouse, what harm could it do" She looks around hoping to spot the worried rodent...

Quiet peace has now replaced the clamor and clatter of the mouse hunt, and the end of the pursuit finds Amarelei sprawled awkwardly on the floor of the Hall of Fire. She lies there still for a moment, grumbling words barely audible, and yet surely unpleasant. Slowly she pulls herself up to her feet, her indigo gown rumpled and smudged thoroughly with ashes, as is the fair skin of her face.

After a quick search, the maiden finds that her prey has indeed escaped the realm of her strike. This leaves her little choice other than to return her focus to other matters....the growing audience to her antics. A sheepish smile alights lopsidedly on her rosy lips, her soot-dusted shoulders shrugging slightly to Benuial and Nenloth. "A small foe, yes, but he would have made a mess of the fine refreshments," she mutters. "No harm to me or any other quende...." The soft note of her alto whispers away into nowhere, chased by a self-deprecating chuckle as her eyes lift humbly to the others.

Benuial laughs at Amarelei's failed attempts to catch the mouse "It seems that it proved a challenging opponent, mellon, but never fear, I’m sure someone will catch it and let it go outside, where mice are supposed to belong."

But what real mouse would leave behind a piece of delicious cheese? Well this one obviously does not, as it did not flee just yet from the Hall. Making advantage of its grey color and small form it only rushed into the dark corner near the door... to find his chaser properly eluded and in dismay!

Smelling its chance the small creature scurries as across the floor, aided by the rumor that ensued due to Amarelei's display. And so the lump of cheese catches the mouse's interest, so compassionately placed by an edhel earlier.

You must admit, those elves at times can be quite nice.

Though created with the best intentions at heart, Amarelei has indeed made a mess of the regal Hall. Soot and ash blackens both the floor and the baseboards of the walls...not to mention the Lhimbadhril herself. As the extent of her predicament sets in, so does Amarelei's nose wrinkle in nervous disgust. Slender hands clasp awkwardly at her waist, her gaze there falling in her embarrassment, and so she does not yet see her returned foe. "Aye, this mouse has proven to be an opponent more challenging than I would care to admit!" she lilts in her quiet alto. "Though I suppose such admission will be in order when the house guild sees what a mess I have made." Dismay rings true in her voice, subtly interlacing with the modest embarrassment still underlying within the melody of her voice.

Standing up from her chair, Benuial looks around, as if noticing the disarray for the first time. "I am sure that all can be put right easily, tis only soot and ash..." Benuial laughs as she spots a movement in the dark corners of the hall "look Mellon....all is not lost" She points at the mouse. "Maybe together we can catch it?"

"There, yes!!" Amarelei yelps as her eyes find the object of Benuial's address: the mouse! "Aye, you speak true, for there he rests!" These further spoken sentiments fall to a hushed whisper, for surely the elleth wishes not to make the same mistake again in alerting the small furry foe to her intent. "Let us waste not a moment, mellon! I will fetch my nets!" Gathering her soot-smudged skirts about her, Amarelei darts for the door, skidding noticeably in the scattered ashes.

... and Amarelei does not in fact quite get out of the door, because suddenly there in front of her is Martion with an elleth on his arm, quite blocking her exit.

The mouse cares little for the antics of the ellith. He is far more interested in that delicious piece of cheese... Losing its shyness -- perhaps even pleased to see his earlier nemesis ready to leave -- it openly starts to nibble on the yellow treat.

Whiskers and nose move with delight.

Benuial eyes the mouse and attempts to sneak up on it, but she is not quiet enough...the mouse must surely hear her, even though her footsteps hardly make a sound...closer and closer she gets to the mouse... it seems that the cheese consuming animal will be in her grasp soon...

Right behind Martion another elleth enters the room: Maltuilin, who stops right where she is, right in front of the door, barely avoiding bumping to Martion. There she stays, looking around, trying to find out what is actually going on.

A sharp breath is drawn in by the elleth on Martion's arms, finding herself to take a greater grip on the arm she was loosely clung to before. The words, "Oh dear," are all that escapes her lips as she beholds the scene laid out in front of them. She inclines her head towards Martion curiously, wondering what to do next.

An escape thought at first to be easily made now proves problematic as Amarelei finds herself face to face with Martion and a companion. What little flush remained in her cheeks fades to pale white, and the mottled green and gold of her eyes grow wide with alarm.

Earnest is her effort to halt...but the young maiden's steps prove to have been too hurried, for she skids right into the new arrivals, managing to stop only by clamping onto the Gweithir's arm.

Amarelei's features contort more into a wince than a smile as she mumbles an apology. She releases her grasp to reveal a large black handprint on his garment, matching the soot streaked across her own fair face.

Martion steps to one side as Amarelei gets her balance. "Well!" he says, sizing up the situation. Then suddenly he sees soot all over the floor near the hearth, including quite a bit on the large harp there. All that comes from him is a strangled sound at that.

Embarrassed beyond what words can convey, the Lhimbadhril looks to the Gweithir for no more than a moment, lips parting slightly yet allowing no words. She then tucks her chin to her chest and hurries away to retrieve her nets.

Faidweniell watches in horror as the soot-clad elleth siezes Martion's arm and leaves a trail of ash and mess behind her. She looks up at her escort once more to hear the gurgle that his throat emits. She just stands quietly at his side, afraid to step out of place and offer any words.

From behind Martion comes a completely different kind of a sound: a chuckle. Maltuilin's eyes turn first towards the fleeing Amarelei, then to the mess around the hearth, and the looks on Faidweniell's and Martion's faces. Though Maltuilin tries to hold back her laughter, a hand placed over her mouth, she does not succeed. The sound of her laughter rings in the air like bird's song in spring.

Martion gives not even a glance to Amaralei's exit, and indeed seems to have forgotten Faidweniell, though it is up to her whether she keeps her grip on his arm. He begins to stride across the room with not a glance to find the cause. The ashes on the grand harp seem to have suddenly taken hold of his full attention.

Benuial turns her face to the increased gathering "shhhhsh....you'll scare the mouse...just when i think there's a chance of catching him" She points at the mouse.

Such antics... it seems a few Firstborn are not entirely pleased with the chaos that erupted in the Hall of Fire.

There seems only one being particularly pleased, and that is the mouse. For he has earned his prize, escaping a most gruesome faith, defying soot and ashes to now nibble ardently from the cheese. And it in his delight the animal utters a sound of his own.

"Squeak!"

Faidweniell released her holding on Martion's upper arm, letting him wander unhappily towards the besmirched harp. Her attention is drawn away from him as Benuial points out the small, furry creature on the floor. "All of this turmoil and chaos over such a small and almost insignificant creature?" she asks softly to no one in particular. "And certainly no amount of running or shrieking will corner this tiny beast. Much you all have to learn."

Martion reaches the harp and begins cleaning it off, blowing off what ashes and soot he can, taking a cloth to wipe it clean where he cannot. He seems to pay little attention to anything else.

Benuial slmost whispers to everyone "That is why I want you to be quiet...I think I have the mouse, if he continues eating his cheese, so blisfully unawares..."

Slowly Maltuilin's laughter fades, though a wide smile still rests on her lips. Her eyes find the mouse, and she shakes her head. "A cute little thing, isn't it?", she chuckles. "Benuial, what about just letting it be?" Maltuilin winks to Benuial, walking towards her.

Faidweniell shakes her head swiftly, pointing to the mouse. "Your silence followed by a harsh movement to catch it is most unnessacary," she says, lowering her voice to meet the volume of Benuial's. "Obviously, it is small morsel's of food that it seeks, mellyn, why not lure it somewhere with more?"

Benuial nodds "I wanted to, but Amarelei convinced me otherwise....but i think you're right" She leaves off her persuit of the furry little thing...

Faidweniell nods slowly, motioning to the small cart carrying food and wines. "We can carefully select a few pieces from there and make a trial. We can either set up a small trap, or lead it outside of the building." She shrugs her shoulders unknowingly.

Benuial laughs "I leave the hunt up to you....I have other matters that require my attention." With that she pulls open the door and steps out...

"I agree that we should try to get it outside," Maltuilin nods. "I would not wish to use a trap - that might lead into the mouse getting hurt, and I don't want to hurt it," she notes, looking at the tiny, furry animal. "Namarie, Benuial," she says to the leaving elleth.

Many plots, easily forsaken. Yet the small creature can not fathom such fussing. In bliss it finishes his meal, sniffing about as it's fragile neck cranes pointing nose into the Service Cart's general direction... Perhaps it will get more?

But nay... it seems the fearsome beast has had action for one day. Not awaiting any other attempts to end his innocent life -- such as the wielding of bellows, an attempt which went so awry to cause the mess -- it skitters off, making for the door to slip into the Hallway and find another place to roam.

Maltuilin's smile widens yet a little when the animal flees the room. "Well, that solves it then. Now this mess must be taken care of! I shall fetch someone," she decides, and heads towards the door, slipping from the room almost as quickly as the Mouse.

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