Beneath the Great Oak
Open Meadow
This is a broad meadow, carpeted with grass. A huge oak stands in the midst of the meadow, a path passing close under its branches. The old oak looks like a pleasant place to pause and rest. The path itself is hard packed earth, clear of stones. Off to the north, trees grow more thickly as the meadow merges into forest. You can see where another path intersects the east-west one, heading off to the northeast, where through some trees you can see several low buildings. To the south is the House, and southwest is the bridge. In the west a stand of birches grow on the slopes before the cliffs. The meadow is beginning to show signs of life again after winter's passage. Buds are beginning to form on the huge oak, and the grass, once brown, is now showing the bright green of new growth after a winter's rest. Early wildflowers have begun to sprout, daffodils and crocuses, adding brilliant splashes of colour to the meadow, and the clearings of the woods surrounding it.
As the midday sun hides behind the clouds and the overhead, grey clouds cast a dull gloom on the Valley, a willowy elleth walks towards the meadow. She walks with light, lissom strides and upon coming to the ancient Oak, she flops down on the ground and crossing her legs over one another she takes a seat.
The sweet and cheerful song of a swallow is heard from above, as the birds and bees have returned to the Valley to welcome the coming of Spring and the awakening of the flowers from their long and restful sleep. Naurelin plucks a few strands of grass and idly plays with them, nimble finger knotting the long blades.
Perhaps it is the trilling of song birds that draws this spectral figure nigh, or mayhap it is the giant tree - a reminder, however unfamiliar it might be, of distant places and far more ancient things. With his cowl drawn up over his face, lending thick shadows to the pallour of his face, and with his floor sweeping cloak shimmering faintly in the grey light afforded and drawn tightly about his slender form, the edhel strides with a swift gait along the path from the north.
Rounding the tree, he pauses slightly, for the misty rains no longer wet his cowl, and with a faint grin and a relaxing form, he leans against the wide trunk of the tree. Peering towards the black gowned elleth, his smile widens and a queer light is kindled in his eyes as he cries, "Aiya Nethodur Naurelin ... I am glad to have seen you again, and so soon! How fares the day?" Slipping his cowl off from about his face as he slides down the smooth trunk of the oak tree, his mirthful gaze rests intently upon Naurelin.
Rain finds the fields still marked by a few patches of melting snow, its dampness draping a veil of subtle iridescence over each new blade of meadow grass as they sway languidly in the breeze quietly whispering of the coming spring. Yet now even the curtain falls on winter's silent ballet, an arrival from the southwest chases the chill from both spirit and mind with her softly-hummed tune.
A cascade of earthen brown waves glistens black with rainwater, crowned by a halo of what little sunlight finds its way through the clouds. Despite the gloomy gray hanging heavily over the afternoon, the young maiden's steps are quick and light, matched in spirit by the warmth of her smile as it finds two elves beneath the broad and ancient oak. "A good day to you," is Amarelei's greeting to both elleth and edhel, kept gentle and soft so as not to detract from what discourse they may hold.
Humming to herself a merry tune, an elleth steps onto the carpeted grass already ladened with the rain that is sprinkling lightly. This meadow is already becoming a temporal home for her, and the view of its beauty surrounding the majestic oak brings a diminutive delight to her fair face. Careless locks of fiery chestnut peek from within the bounds of her grey hood; her cloak pulled about her to shield her cerulean gown from the drizzle. As she walks, her cloth slippers have become quite damp; the hem of her garments sweeping the grass are moist. Raising a pale hand at her brow, shielding her turquoise orbs from the fleeting sprinkling, Brinelian espies two in the near distance at the base of the glorious oak, blacks and greys mingling. Quickening her steps as company appeals to her, the Laiquendi Knight-Bachelor draws nigh, and whilst she strolls, her mien becomes all the more radiant. "Aiya! Naurelin and meldanyan, the great oak does indeed shield the elements, well." Another elleth approaches as she draws closer, and Brinelian curtseys while winking to the ebon-haired, "Mae govannen, mellyn."
Naurelin looks up to both Amarelia and the Knight bachelor but, the melodious and enchanting tune coming from the direction of Brinelain directs her attention in towards her. A vivacious smile, graces her lips and she gleefully jumps to her feet and says, "Mae Govannen mellyn, how good to see you all here!" Her sea green eyes twinkle with mischief - characteristic of the Nethordur and she looks at Dangeldhyn questioningly, "Now mellon, if I may ask for my pet back." She a cruel grin creeps up on her face and she says, "Unless of course you plan to keep him all to yourself!"
Glancing down the path as he speaks in reply to Naurelin, the edhel's speech is woven of mirth and laughter, "It is fair that I have come across you mellon, for I have had reason enough to seek you. You name my reason with your query, but . . . " But such words cease as his tongue is stopped by a voice rising in greeting at his back. Peering over his shoulder towards the unfamiliar face, the Knight-Bachelor nods his head cordially towards her, and again, his tongue weaves light words, and he raises his hand to slip a moistened lock of clinging raven hair behind his ear.
"Well met mellon, or perhaps I am too forward in calling you so - as yet I do not know your name." A smile that is, seemingly, habitual and natural to Dangelydh now twitches at the corners of his mouth.
Eyes rich with verdant light widen and drift then towards the graceful step of another elleth, and the Galadhrim Bachelor cries out gleefully, rounding the tree and brushing Naurelin's legs with the wettened hem of his grey cloak - "Vanimelda! I am thrice blessed this day ... perhaps my qualms about the lack of Anor's light here might now go unvoiced ... or at the least voice less. How has the Valley treated you since we met at the Hall of Fire Turamore?" Were his grin wide afore, it is even greater now, and sliding his arm around her waist, he presses his lips to her cheek softly.
A gentle smile blooms wider still upon Amarelei's lips, their blushing hue returning with the promise of longer and warmer days. "Well met, indeed!" Amarelei lilts in reply to both Brinelian and Dangelydh. "Amarelei I am called by my kinfolk and mellyn, and by you as well, should indeed you give me your names as well...as I hope you will." Though shyness remains close in her manner, the young forester's voice lifts in both spirit and volume at the other maiden's greeting.
Towards the end of her sentiment, the warmth of her address is turned to the elleth seated beneath the great oak. The bright gilded green of her irises reflect the sparkle of Naurelin's mischief in part as her gaze alights upon the Nethordur. "Your pet?" she inquires with a raised eyebrow.
Brinelian's eyes are aflame as his lips touch her cheek while she slips an arm about his waist to embrace him. She whispers languishly, "I have missed you so, mel." Lifting her head from his shoulder, she relaxes a bit and smiles at Amarelei while answering, "I have spent most of my time wandering about within the house, room-to-room in fact." A brighter smile in meeting another of the Valley, the elleth greets, "I believe I espied thee within the Hall not too many days ago where we, the Galadhrim, were being quite welcomed with elvensong." She pauses and adds, "I am Brinelian Karbrennil, and I appreciate the hospitality here."
Truly honest with a trace of jest, Brinelian gazes at Naurelin with doe-like eyes, "Aye, your pet still hasn't been returned?" She lowers her gaze to Dangelydh and winks at him knowingly, "I thought that you said the little rabbit was trained to return to the stables as I have have not seen the Knight-Bachelor carrying the pet afore."
Blue gaze flits between the Knight-Bachelor and Brinelain as the Nethordur's as the dark gloom of the clouds above appears in her eyes. For sometime, Naurelin stands frozen in her spot, like a snowdrop touched by winters kiss. Finally, her expression thaws and in a hesitant voice she asks, "He has not returned back to my alcove. But.." she pauses before questioning, "..wasn't Annlhewig with you when I saw you last? Didn't you walk away with him as he slipped from my arms?"
"It is of that which I would speak," Dangelydh's voice is lower now, not quite so clear and lacking its mirth, though the accent of those who hail from the Golden Wood in the south is still thickly upon each word - "Though I would that I might return your Annlhewig to you, as he bounded into my arms when last we met, I fear that he is far too elusive for those who most often hunt their prey with bent bow and sharpened shaft. I strolled to the Hall of Fire to ward away the damp that chills me to my very bones and seems so thick about the Valley of the Half Elven. When I returned, my fellows of the Gweth Tarn with whom I bunk told me that it bounded away - they laughed heartily at my concern!"
With a hand raised to his crown, parting the jet tresses as he nervously scratches at his head in thought, he seems overly acceptant at the shy elleth and her introduction. Nodding as Brinelian introduces herself to Amarelei as well, the Knight Bachelor's face loses its anxious blush and he too speaks ...
"And I am most often called Dangelydh, Knight-Bachelor of the Gweth Tarn as is meldanyan." Gently tightening his embrace about Brinelian's waist as the melodical sound of his voice ceases, lingering upon the slight breeze, the edhel seems loathe to answer Amarelei's last query. Instead, he heaves in a draught of the moist air and whispers, perhaps in an attempt at a seguay, "The wind even differs here to the gales that wend about Lindorinand; it seems fragrant with scents of rain and blossom, or far distant icey peaks of stone ..."
"Ah yes!" Amarelei bubbles as realization dawns upon her fine features. "The faces of visitors are many, and thusly they slip from mind at moments inopportune. But a song so heartfelt leaves its print not only upon the mind, but on the heart as well! Your words ring true in the halls still, Brinelian Karbrennil. And pleased I am to make your acquaintance as well, Dangelydh."
Notes of birdsong and springtime interweave with the gentle melody of her flowing alto, though this warmth too finds reason to fade as Naurelin's troubles grow in presence. Quiet concern lines Amarelei's fair face as she looks upon the Nethordur with a caring attentiveness.
Athanath walks into the Open Meadow. He notes the group of elves conversing and slowly approaches them, not wanting to intrude and hoping for an invitation.
Raising an eyebrow at Dangelydh while crossing her arms, a tiny smile plays itself upon the corners of her pale lips. "Perhaps then little Annlhewig is back at the stables, then Naurelin. He is trained as you say, or were you jesting?" She leans into Dangelydh's embrace breathing deeply the scent of his dampened hair that falls upon his shoulders.
"Indeed, it is so, as several songs from that eve were all too truthful and hinted of the doom that is present outside both of our borders. I hope that this trip binds all of our hearts together, for we both have common dreams and wishes for the Firstborn." Brinelian smiles wistfully at Amarelei.
Turning as another's steps are heard falling upon the wet grass, the elleth nods and smiles sweetly at him, "Prithee, will you join us here beneath the grand oak tree?"
Athanath smiles broadly at the generous invitation. "Thank you, I would be delighted to join you beneath this great tree." Athanath steps under the massive branches and takes time to admire the massive and sturdy tree. Finallly, "Mae govannen."
When the Knight-Bachelor tells her about her rabbit, her beloved pet bounding away as silent squeal escapes her lips. The sea green orbs lose their sparkle and a faint glisten of tears appear on their rim and her winsome luster of her face is now steeped to the lips in misery. She looks very distressed and vexation of her spirit reflects in her tone when she says, "But..but..how could this happen??" She is speechless and her blue gaze wanders across the meadow looking, frantically searching for a white bundle of fur!
With a darkening mien, the warm glow that once was upon it seemingly all but vanished, Dangelydh listens attentively to both Amarelei's accolades of Brinelian, and her own acceptance of them. Another's arrival along the wettened path attracts his gleaming gaze.
"Mae govannen." So swiftly do the words fall from his lips, and so brief is his speech in addressing the newly arrived edhel that perhaps those who know him well might wonder at his change of mood ...
But a smile finds its way to his lips all the same, albeit wane and not quite as feature brightening as afore. At Brinelian's touch the grin appears, and with a furrowing brow he musters the words in a near whisper, "Aye, though her voice is uncommonly comely, and who might match her radiance, Turamore's lay spoke of a great loss ... mayhap all is well that this journey will strength the watch upon the borders of both realms. Both of those valiant Knights and fair Laiquendi lovers shall be a lament not easily forgotten though, and it bodes well with me that such a charming voice brought the tale to our Imladhrim cousins. Letting his hand find Brinelian's within the folds of her cloak, the edhel peers towards Naurelin as her voice rises against him.
"Mellon Nethordur! I am frightfully sorry ... but perhaps the kelvar, gifts of Kementari were not meant to be horded in stables or alcoves! Be content that Annlhewig is now free amongst the foliage of the Valley ...."
Athanath begins coughing uncontrollably for a few moments. His face turns red and he clutches his hands over his mouth. When there he has a slight respite from the cough he looks up at the group. "Excuse me friends. I must have some water." The coughing begins again and Athanath makes his way towards the house.
Empathy flows in a river deep and strong through Amarelei's heart, and thus none of Naurelin's distress escapes the Lhimbadhril's keen senses. What little chill of winter's reign still rests upon the lissome maiden's countenance now melts to a softness rich with compassion. Though her heart knoweth much of the Nethordur's pain, very little does she know of the circumstances discussed. Thus her silence continues, broken only by the soft lifting of her voice in both greeting and farewell to the fleeting visitor to their company.
Brinelian steps from Dangelydh's side and places a pallid hand upon Naurelin's shoulder while whispering, "I had thought you said your little furry one was trained to dash back to the stables..." She attempts to meet the sad green eyes of the forlorn elleth, but she eludes her glance.
Long lashes sweeping across the now pale cheeks, Brinelian closes her eyes while the familiar warmth of his hand reminds her of home and all her glories. Turning toward Amarelei, Brinelian asks kindly, "Have you ever visited Lothlorien?" The question simply spoken softly yet the blues and greens of her eyes speak all the more.
Peering towards yet another edhel, who had seemingly arrived undetected by any amongst the small group, Dangelydh's lips part as if he gathered words, yet the confusion upon his face seemingly stifles his tongue. Upon Brinelian his gaze finally lies, and he whispers in the tongue of his kinsmen, "<Bethteur> The stranger must not have ever drawn within the realm of the Hiril Galadriel ... the tongue of the Deep Elves is frowned up - is it not so in Imladris?"
Glancing towards Amarelei, and then letting his eyes stray cautiously towards Naurelin, the edhel seems confident that they will understand the rustic speech of the Nandor.
A smile new in nature lifts Amarelei's lips in an expression suffused with wistful reverie. "That I have, Brinelian. The pictures painted upon my thoughts of silver talans and a canopy of leaves kissed with gold remain fresh, for the days of my journey to the Wood of your Lord and Lady are not long past...nor are the troubles." Here the elleth's voice whispers away upon the breeze now sweetened by the fresh scents of the coming green. She shakes her head lightly, the bright forest of her eyes blinking twice in dissmissal of lingering darkness.
"But for another time shall such tidings be saved, for I much prefer to reflect upon beauty and companionship than matters of ill detail." Ere the last words slip past her lips, Dangelydh's quiet aside lifts Amarelei's eyebrow in curiosity. Though little does she offer to the whispered discourse beyond the attuning of her ears to the words.
Nodding to Dangelydh and smiling at the native tongue, she whispers to him, "Shall I or thee be the one to inform him?" Her hand disappears beneath the folds of his cloak as she jests. Laughing merrily she leans her head back peering /way/ up the oak tree.
The drizzling sprinkling coats Brinelian's cloak, and it grows heavy and clammy. She nonetheless draws it tighter about her frame with her free hand, though the moisture soaks through to her cerulean gown. "I have not grown accustomed to this weather, either, mellon, although I attempt wholeheartedly." She smiles and huddles closer to Dangelydh. As Amarelei's words weave about Brinelian's leaf-shaped ears, she begins to nod and her eyes grow misty, "Aye, just the words you choose to speak of the fair Golden Wood brings her to life here within the Valley. I would not want to disrespect thee, for Imladris is fair indeed, but was it difficult to cross the Celebrant's merriment to depart from Lorien to return?"
"When in Imladris, do as the Imladhrim do melda! I shan't impose the wishes of Hir Celeborn upon those who have not sworn ore, fea, i rhaw - heart, soul, and flesh to his service as have we of the Gweth Tarn." Again, Dangelydh whispers words to Brinelian, though he reverts, mayhap of habit, back to the tongue of the Eglath.
The subtle gloom that wreathed his features as he spoke of the loss Lothlorien bore which Brinelian sang of in the Hall of Song now seems diminished, fleeing his features in the wake of a bright and merry warmth. His smile grows intensely at Brinelian's touch, and clouded orbs of an intense verdure reflect her porcelain features as he shifts his gaze to look upon her. With his head inclined to rest against hers he speaks, "Aye, the dampening of my mood when first I came here I might attribute to the rains that seem unceasing in this place ... but the gardens, you shall have to speak with Edengail about these splendid gardens!"
Peering back towards Amarelei with an amicable grin now set upon his lips, the Knight-Bachelor says in a slightly clearer tone, "I must apologize for my quiet speech with Brinelian, Amarelei. I have no need for secrets, but I fear that I might be found rude." Peering down towards his feet as the water that gathers upon the grass darkens the cloth boots, the edhel's lips open with words, though he refrains.
Gentleness touches Amarelei's features, spreading then to the timbre of her voice. "The departure from Lothlorien brought sorrow and joy alike, mellyn, both unforetold in the toll they have taken upon my heart since then. Yet here in the Valley of Elrond lies that which is most familiar to me. Though not golden in hue, the great halls of the forests of Imladris still hold a claim upon my spirit's song."
Here the maiden's gaze drifts to the sky choked with gray clouds, their gentle rainfail casting a sparkling veil of droplets over the valley. "Indeed I hope this gloom will vanish ere you must leave our valley with little more to tell than of the weather's ill temper." She chuckles apologetically to the pair of Galadhrim. "And now, mellyn, 'tis that very temper that must draw me away from your pleasant company. I had left the Bruinen's shores to escape the coming rain, but it has found me alas!" With a wave and smile broad and disarming, the Lhimbadhril turns to depart for the Last Homely House, turning once to call a fond "Namarie" over her shoulder.