Elendor - Wednesday, July 19, 2006, 1:06 AM
Elrond's Hall
This is a large hall, filled with many broad tables and plenty of seats for each. The fine woodwork of the tables, chairs, and beams of the ceiling is elegantly carven with scrollwork and flourishes. Against a wall, at the end of one of the larger tables, is a dais with three especially large chairs slightly raised above the others. The central one is presumably for Elrond, and the other two for other dignitaries. Several other smaller dais are placed around the hall. Intricate tapestries woven with elven calligraphy hang on the walls and dais platforms. In the south wall is a large window overlooking the gardens and the Bruinen river beyond.
Outside the stars of Elbereth and Isil's vessel light the night. Inside this hall there are finely wrought lamps that shed a warm light on empty tables and chairs. Yet the scrolls of parchment, the pens and inkpots that have been placed on the central table suggest that Elrond's Hall will soon be filled with life. And indeed, the door swings open.
Ending the hall first of all is Talroch, Lord of Narthanaer and ally of Master Elrond. Dressed in the robes and a circlet that befit his noble birth, the dark-haired Elf is followed by others of his house as well who have come along to view the proceedings. Lord Talroch sedately walks to the usual place where his people sit during such events.
Ainessandil, unusually neat, unusually attentive, enters the Hall and glances round it, seeing that few have yet arrived. Quietly he takes a seat at the table reserved for guests.
A clear, silvery chime is heard throughout the valley, issuing from the tower. It peals again, summoning all to assemble for the Council of Elrond.
Following is the Hirnethril Lossmeril, Saelvadhor of Nos Tulcarilma. Unaccompanied by her Lady, she makes her way gracefully to the place reserved for those of her house, taking a seat and turning her eyes to the front attentively.
Among Talroch's followers is his herald, Sidhel. Robed in grey he walks closely behind the elflord and takes a seat next to Talroch. Stern is his look tonight, yet as Ainessandil enters the hall, Sidhel greets him with a polite nod.
The Hirlin Taliron walks through the doors with a swift step, his bright-shadowed gaze assessing the hall before he crosses to a seat by a window and there sits with his reflection.
The various members of Narthaner filter into the Hall of Elrond and not least among them is Thileithel. The bright-eyed commander walks firmly towards where his master sits and takes a place behind Talroch and Sidhel.
Now Rhunedhel, Hir nos Fithurin, and Elrond's Arphedor, enters, accompanied by others of his house: Paradoxical Oremir, his wife; Martion, his cousin and champion, striding like a panther, and others too with him. A small table is reserved for them, and they seat themselves there, though Rhunedhel proceeds toward the front of the hall, where he will be on the dais in his role as Elrond's Herald.
Galrohad enters having had time to clean up having just come off the road. He still has his pipe in his mouth but it is unlit. He walks in and looks around and takes a seat in the back by the door. He reaches up and takes his pipe from his mouth and puts it into his pouch as he sits down.
Among the group hailing from Nos Fithruin walks Eleniell, Silivriel to Oremir. Quietly she walks, nodding to Lossmeril in passing. The Nethordur takes a seat next to Oremir, near Martion at the table reserved for those of her House. Silently she sits, giving her attention to those around her.
Shuffling in with the rest of the bunch is Talbinor, eyes flickering from side to side between the elves and men, tongue stuck in his cheek. He's cleaned up for the occasion: he doesn't look like he's spent the last few decades living in the mud of Eriador anymore, although his somewhat tattered garb and mildly unkempt appearance mark him out in a crowd of tall and noble Eldar. Fixing his eyes firmly in front of him, he walks to an out-of-the-way seat near his fellow Ranger, and sits down.
Now one comes whose legs make long strides, whose name and face are not unknown here. As he enters, he looks neither right nor left, but beckons to those of his kin who already arrived to attend him at a simple table placed back from the main circle; near enough to the dais, but unremarkable in its appointments.
Aragorn son of Arathorn sits at this table, deliberately cast in shadow against the splendor of the Firstborn. He sits, upright, and folds his hands on the table, eyes on the dais and no where else.
Among the last to enter the Hall of Elrond is perhaps the herdir's closest ally, the Golden Flower of Gondolin, Laurefinde in the Quenya, Glorfindel in the Sindarin. Tresses of that most august of colors are plaited and dressed to catch the luster of the light. His clothing is well tailored and bears a martial quality as befits his place as the Champion of the House of Earendil. Walking through the hall, Glorfindel proceeds up to where Rhunedhel stands and he takes his own place beside the chair of Elrond.
And now a figure appears at the back of the hall and strides to the front, a figure neither old nor young, hale and strong: a man in appearance, and yet not, an elf in seeming, yet in appearance more like one of the Rangers of the North. He wears a circlet, but no other adornment, and without ado, he strides up to the dais and stands before the central chair. It is Elrond, of course, Master of the Valley of Imladris, and once upon a time Gil-Galad's viceroy in Eregion.
Rhunedhel stands as Elrond comes onto the dais, and now he calls out in a clear voice,
"Welcome all who are within this vale, welcome and greeting to the council chamber of Elrond, Master of this Valley. If anyone has matters he would bring before this assembly, now is the time for them to be heard, matters small or large, grave or trifling though they seem."
Harchdolas unnoticed amid the bustle of those entering, Harchdolas, the well-known (or is it infamous) Healer has also entered the hall, and he now rises. "I have somewhat I would bring before you, Master."
Some distance behind the Hirnethron, Lossmeril smiles knowingly.
Ainessandil's eyes are locked onto the regal figure of Elrond as he enters, nor is he alone in this. But once the Herdir has spoken, he glances to Sidhel and nods.
As Elrond reaches the dais, Aragorn stands, places his hand upon his breast near the Star of Elendil, and bends deeply at the waist in respect and greeting.
Sidhel returns Ainessandil's nod and he is about to rise as another claims the word before him and so the Arphedor Nos Narthanaer settles back in his seat.
"What is your business, Master Harchdolas?" Elrond enquires, "some matter of the Healer's Guild, I assume?" If he has been told what this business is about, his face reveals nothing.
Lord Talroch looks at the lord-healer with something akin to condescension as if this matter of Harchdolas fits in with the 'trifles' mentioned by Rhunedhel and nowhere else.
Harchdolas gives Elrond a bow, then turns toward the Nos Fithurin table. "Eleniell," he says mildly, "if you would mind standing?"
Eleniell looks startled and glances at Harchdolas with question as she stands. "Yes?"
Harchdolas takes a deep breath, looking his usually self-important self, and clears his throat. "My lord Elrond," he says then, "The Nethordur Eleniell, having been examined by Master Healers, and having served faithfully in the Infirmary without once damaging or losing a towel, has been recommended to me, and through me by all the Hirnethril, for advancement to the role of Nethril. If this is my lord's will?"
Elrond nods. "So be it. Nethril Eleniell, my congratulations.
Ainessandil is silent in the formal Hall, but he looks at the new Nethril and smiles.
A wide smile sweeps across the new Nethril's face. "Many thanks, my Lord. I will put all of my knowledge to the healing of all." Her eyes glitter and twinkle with happiness as she struggles to find words.
"Very well then," Rhunedhel continues at a nod from Elrond, "Are there other matters to be brought before full Council?
Thileithel silently mouths 'no' while trying not to grin too much. But he grows serious once more as he waits for the two with business to speak.
Galrohad waits for a lul in the activity and stands and moves to Aragorn's table as beckoned.
Alone yet at the table set aside for the Secondborn, Aragorn sits in silence and dignity. When at last his summons is heeded, he has only a since cool glance for Galrohad before turning his attention back to the proceedings, his face unreadable.
Eleniell, still smiling, returns to her seat. Now her gaze examines the others, having regained her composure, looking and listening for others to bring their issues before Elrond.
Oremir smiles toward Eleniell, then looks back toward the dais.
Ainessandil looks expectantly toward Sidhel, the slightest of smiles upon his lips.
Now Sidhel rises again and he bows to the Master of the valley before regarding Eleniell with a smile. "I have matters to bring before this council. Not in my own name solely, but in the name of Nos Narthanaer," he speaks. "And these are grave matters. News have reached us of battle and chaos not far from Imladris. The Trollshaws are once more a stronghold of evil. It is good to see Aragorn Arathornion here today, for he may tell us more of the King of the Shaws and of others that seek to serve the Enemy."
Starting somewhat from his reverie, Talbinor glances around quickly and, noticing his Chieftain and (now) another Dunedain over at the proper table, he gets up to his feet and, quickly and subtly as he can, darts over to the appropriate table in the shadows, crouched somewhat despite the brief lull in the speech.
Pulling out the right chair, Talbinor sits down, a fair distance away from Aragorn, and he slumps down into the seat a little bit, generally looking as small as his frame will allow.
Aragorn shoots another cold glare down the table, this time at Talbinor, before hearing his name spoken, and rising. "It is a matter of gravest import, Lord, and I would ensure that all smaller matters are dispensed with ere proceeding."
Elrond inclines his head toward Sidhel, then to Aragorn. "It is a grave matter indeed," he replies, "and the number of your folk our healers have had to treat of late underscores the matter most forcefully. But you are right. If there are other matters, they should be heard first."
Rhunedhel nods, writing something down on a small sheet of paper. "Item, the troll activities west of the Bruinen," he notes. "Are there other matters to be brought before this council?"
A slight form clad in neat woollen layers enters, clasped in slight, pale hands a pile of parchment, coiled and tied with twine. Her features are pale and pink with scarring, revealed by the hair that was tied off her cheeks by a leather queue. Her eyes fall upon her Captain and she steps forth, silent in her stride, to lay the papers before him.
Ainessandil now stands, and addresses Elrond. "Herdir, in the name of Nos Maglor I too would bring a matter to your attention. But since it is affected by the matter the Gobennasdir Sidhel raises, I believe that should be addressed first."
Galrohad takes his pouch and opens it and rumages in it for a moment until finding what he is looking for he removes his pipe. He takes out his pouch of leaf and slowly and carefully begins packing it full. He then sticks it into his mouth looking for a light source.
Oremir frowns. "Shall we have no discussion at all, while the matters in question politely request the other one go first through the door? Come now, Ainessandil, at least give me the substance of your concern, and I shall judge the order."
Looking from Sidhel to Ainessandil, Thileithel follows along as they bounce who will go first between then. Then Elrond takes matters in hand and the gweithir grins.
And Sidhel nods assuringly towards Ainessandil, signalling that he will waive his right to speak for now.
Coming in late from duty, Gilaearon enters the Hall of Elrond and quickly makes his way to where the others of Narthanaer sit. Once he has a chair, the Elf sits quietly and listens.
Before regaining his seat, Ainessandil stands again. "Yes, Herdir. I believe there is strong need of communication with the other forces who would be opposed to the Enemy. Since returning to active service within the Valley, I find that not only is there little contact with those to our East, but even, in more than one case, bad relations. I recommend, then, that you choose a small contingent of ambassadors and guards to travel to the Beornings, the Ndaedeldhrim, and those in Erebor, for sharing of knowledge, improvement of relations, and better preparation against the evils arising, as the affairs in the Shaws are symptomatic of."
Ainessandil takes a deep breath, and sits down.
He leans over and takes the candle from his table and sets it's flame to the leaf. He puffs slowly and draws air and fire through the leaf until it is sufficiently aglow, replaces the candle and leans back in his chair, long legs stretched out before him, observing the Council.
He leans over and takes the candle from his table and sets it's flame to the leaf. Galrohad puffs slowly and draws air and fire through the leaf until it is sufficiently aglow, replaces the candle and leans back in his chair, long legs stretched out before him, observing the Council.
Glorfindel stands serenely beside Elrond's chair, waiting with a patience borne from experience few others in Middle-earth can claim to have shared. Listening carefully to Ainessandil, the Elf-lord's serenity morphs into careful pondering of the words just spoken.
Merely glancing between the icy Aragorn and the speakers, Talbinor regards Ainessandil's words thoughtfully, resting his left hand on the table and drumming his fingers silently. The Dunedain stays silent, merely pondering the Elf's words, his tongue scraping across the inside of his teeth slowly as he considers the words.
The Saelvadhor Lossmeril listens in silence, though her lips tighten slightly at this. Still, she remains politely silent, steepling her fingers as she listens to the conversation.
Lord Talroch solemnly gets to his feet, his hands clasped across his chest as he nods to Ainessandil and waits to be recognized so that he might address the council.
Elrond takes in the faintest of breaths, and a smile plays across his lips. "Lord Talroch," he says, "and I am sure that after you, Lord Rhunedhel shall wish to speak."
Thileithel looks across the hall to where Galrohad sits. The gweithir lifts a brow as he starts to feel around his belt for a pouch.
Eleniell's gaze wanders knowingly in Ainessandil's direction, waiting. Silently she observes the reaction of the others before turning towards Lord Talroch, listening.
Coming in late from duty, Gilaearon enters the Hall of Elrond and quickly makes his way to where the others of Narthanaer sit. Once he has a chair, the Elf sits quietly and listens.
Sidhel eyes his Lord as Talroch rises to speak. Ainessandil's request is not new to him, so there had been no sign of surprise on this elf's features when the Steward of Nos Maglor spoke to the Council.
Looking first to Elrond and nodding in thanks, Lord Talroch quickly surveys his audience as he musters his thoughts. "My lord, friends and allies of Elrond, I rise today to support the words of Ainessandil in theory. Since the last Bardic Congress, our knowledge of events east of the Misties has declined. Even while we visited last time, there was much afoot; the Middle-earth quickens beneath our feet as the end of this age looms for better or for worse. At the very least, Ainessandil's words should be heeded and a party dispatched with due haste to learn of the goings-on of the East and of our kindred in Mirkwood and Lorien and our sometime-allies the Beornings." The Elf-lord dips his head as he finishes.
The sun peeks over the Misty Mountains and illuminates the valley again.
Taliron sits in silence. His dark head is tilted so that he looks out of the window, though, by the flicker of his gaze to the reflected papers placed before Aragorn he is observing the council closely.
Another latecomer to the Council is the Dunadan Nauthcel in a garb rarely worn. Quietly he enters the hall, his ashen gaze passing over those present before setting upon his kin. Towards the Dunedain table he strides, taking a seat partly in the shadow. Upon the current speaker his eyes set with his visage showing attentive listening.
Gilaearon sits silently with his others; the words of the Council seemingly have no sway over the Elf. His eyelids droop from time to time and every once in awhile his lips form words, but no sound comes.
Ainessandil's gaze remains steadily on the Lord of Nos Narthanaer as he speaks. He works to maintain a passive appearance, but a trace of a smile forces its way forth. When Lord Talroch has finished, he bows his head to him.
Elrond nods, looking now to Rhunedhel, who takes on a somewhat bemused expression.
"My lord, friends and allies, I agree that we need tidings from the East, and have had little since I returned, bearing news that Beorning was grown much less helpful than they had been while Brynjolf Orcsbane lived. Yet I must urge caution. We cannot afford to lose more folk to the nets of the Misty Mountains."
If the Chieftain of the Dunedain was cold to Galrohad before, his eyes blaze with fire now as he leans over to the smoking man. "... ... ... ... ... ... ..., ... befits ... assembly, then ... ... .... Otherwise, ... out ... ... ... ... ... .... ... should ... ... ... ... you ... ... ... ... child."
He sits up then, the irate Aragorn, face flaming with anger and embarrasment, to mind again what is spoken around him.
Elrond looks again toward Ainessandil. "There is, it seems, consensus that we need news of events to the east, yet warning of a need for caution. Have you more to add to your request, Ainessandil?"
Tinduial, Ranger of the North, takes a seat not over far from the Captain, her silvery grey gaze upon the exchange betwixt Aragorn and Galrohad. She purses her lips faintly as her gaze flickers over all those present and her fingertips touch her cheek lightly, brushing over the ridged scarring.
Ainessandil stands again as he is addressed by Elrond. "Only, Herdir, that the dangers Lord Rhunedhel rightly speak of are themselves proof of the danger in these times and the need for action."
Sidhel, still standing, looks at the Master now. It seems he would like to add to Talroch's statement.
Elrond pauses, about to look to Aragorn, but stopping at the last minute when Sidhel looks at him. "Sidhel? Have you more to say? Then I think we must discuss matters closer to home."
Galrohad looks over to his Lord and frowns. He looks at the pipe and then at the Dias and stands. Being over 80 years old he does not take well to being scolded in front of so many people, "As you wish m'Lord. I will leave."
Realizing he is still standing, Ainessandil again takes his seat, awaiting the responses of others.
Overhearing some of Aragorn's words to Galrohad and, as he glances in their direction, seeing the tone of the Chieftain's conversation, Talbinor presses his lips together and squeezes himself into his chair, almost stock still, as though he were trying to make himself as unobtrusive as possible. He watches the speakers, but Talbinor's gaze spends a bit more time on his departing kinsman than on the conversation.
As Aragorn is addressed by Elrond, Talbinor sits up more straightly with a start, leaning forward in his chair and resting his elbows on the table. He looks at Elrond and then at his Chieftain, a level but expectant expression screwed onto his face.
"Why do we speak of haste?" asks Taliron, his trained voice pitched to every weft and resonance of the hall so that while he speaks softly he is heard clearly in every part. "Is there news, my lords, that I have not heard which demands speed rather than measured counsel if we seek to the East?"
"Herdir, I agree with all of the aforementioned facts, but I would advise not to extend such a mission as far as Erebor. Let us instead concentrate on knitting closer ties between the elven realms east of the mountains ere we take the perils of a journey to the Lonely Mountain." Sidhel nods his thanks to Elrond and then he speaks, too.
He pauses, putting his hands in his lap, and looking toward Aragorn. "My lord Estel, tell us of events west of the Bruinen."
Elrond nods gravely, and finally takes his seat. "This is a matter I shall take under advisement for now. I see no need for haste, Lord Taliron, yet we should decide if anyone shall travel East before the snows close the pass, or else wait until after spring opens them again.
He pauses, putting his hands in his lap, and looking toward Aragorn. "My lord Estel, tell us of events west of the Bruinen."
As the words are exchanged between the Chieftain and the Ranger, Nauthcel only gives a fleeting glance before returning his focus to Sidhel. Yet, as the ellon finishes speaking, straighter the Dunadan sits in his chair as Aragorn is addressed, grey eyes turning to the Lord.
From his seat, Lord Talroch looks towards Taliron, looking quite unimpressed with counsel offered out-of-turn. Looking back to Elrond, he nods slowly as the herdir makes his decision to table the matter for now.
"Forgive my brother, my Lord," Aragorn says with stiff dignity, standing when addressed. "He has been too long alone, and has forgotten what it is to be in gentle company. As to the matters at hand, allow me to speak a moment of the East."
He is silent a moment, leaning on his hands against the table to gather his thoughts. "As Winter set in, I had occasion to guide some of Dain's folk across the Misty Mountains. We found all the passes held against us by a multitude of yrch, by Wargs and Trolls. It is not likely that we shall find a felicitous passage now, though a scouting may prove otherwise."
Rhunedhel also now resumes his seat, shooting a sharp glance Taliron's way.
As his petition is completed for this night, Ainessandil's tension eases, but he turns toward Aragorn to listen attentively to his words.
Elrond steeples his fingers, looking at Aragorn and listening.
The Hirlin inclines his head to Elrond, though by the slight smile upon Taliron's lips it is not clear if he is satisfied or not. Neither Talroch nor Rhunedhel's stares he pays no heed.
Noticing Talroch's displeasure, Gilaearon follow's his Lord's gaze to Taliron. The Elf's expression changes as well and matches Talroch's.
Sidhel settles down again and the view given to Ainessandil is one of content. Yet Sidhel's attention quickly shifts to the Chieftain as the latter speaks and tells of the recent events.
Thileithel is just pulling out his newly-acquired pipe as Aragorn speaks. The Elf is somewhat amused by this apology as he holds his new possession in his hands, noting its workmanship.
Galrohad slips in the door and stands by the back. He waits for a lul in the activity and then makes his way to Aragorn's table and sits down beside him. He leans over and says softly, "I am deeply sorry m'Lord if I have brought any reproach on our kindred."
"As to matters West..." Estel spreads his hands helplessly. "In my absence on this journey, things have rapidly spun out of control," he says, nodding to Galrohad on an intaken breath. He indicates the Ranger's abandoned chair and continues.
"A pair of Trolls in the Yfelwyd have named themselves King and Queen--in itself, not terribly distressing. However, they have shown themselves to be most aggressive in the waylaying of the unwary, and many heads decorate spears along the Road."
Elrond nods, and gestures for Aragorn to continue. It is clear that he already knows much of the news from the West, but not all ... and wishes to be certain that his knowledge and that of his councillors is complete.
Galrohad moves to the chair and sits down, his head bowed. He runs his fingers through his hair once and then sits still listening to his Lord.
Tinduial Angrenin's expression grows bitter at the news of Yfel and her arms fold before her as her gaze rests lightly on Aragorn, then flitting to the Elf Lord for response.
Talbinor nods politely at Galrohad as the other Ranger returns, but for the most part his gaze is focused on Aragorn and his speech. His expression shows no real surprise at any of the news the Chieftain has, merely a slight nod here and there, a level expression, and a vaguely interested gaze.
The mention of the King and Queen of the Trollshaws bring a little grimace from Talbinor, and a seemingly unconcious rubbing of the back of his head. But he continues to sit up and pay attention, although his expression is now far tighter and more grim.
At the mention of the King and Queen, the faintest of a weary sigh escapes the lips of Nauthcel. Clear does he appear to know the news of Yfel as his gaze remains more upon the Lord of the Valley than the Chieftain.
"As you may know, I and my kinsmen have twice crossed blades with this 'King.' When last I saw him, he lay as if dead, but the presence of another and larger Troll prevented my assuring it was so. But his mate yet walks the wildwood, and this other... I swear on my father's name that he was larger, of a kind with those fell creatures out of Angmar which plagued us not long ago." Aragorn pauses, bringing his hand up to run his fingers through his tidy hair, and stopping as they touch the circlet on his brow.
"But there is another danger, a worse one in my estimation. One of my own kinsmen has gone rogue, to my shame, and plies the roads with a ready blade. Already he has killed a brother, his dearest friend, and has sworn himself to the eradication of the Dunedain. He is dangerous, trained by my own hand, and wily; worse still, he has managed to ally himself with those same Trolls."
Elrond frowns deeply at this news. "Clearly we must take steps to deal with these menaces," he answers, "Glorfindel, what say you?"
At these news Sidhel sits up straight in his chair. An expression of disbelief is set on his face as he listen to Aragorn's tale. While he heard news about the traitor and about the trolls, the message that this man, once a Ranger of the North, has now sided with Morgoth's creation has clearly taken him off guard.
Looking at Elrond, Glorfindel speaks firmly, "These dangers can be removed certainly with time and effort on the part of the Tirith. The fords are held and the Valley is unassailable, but we will keep the West-road open. As for the last..." The Golden Flower puts it delicately, "Such matters of oaths broken are left to the liege-lord to decide."
Ainessandil, too, is very attentive to the description by Aragorn of a 'rogue' Dunedan. Sitting by himself he ponders a moment, then looks up, beckons a page from the back of the Hall, and scribbling a note, gives it to the page and whispers in his ear. The page takes the note, and walks to the table of Nos Narthanaer, handing it to Sidhel.
Ainessandil pages: the note says, "Might your Lord ask of Aragorn how this change in the Dunedan came about? I fear the influence of the Enemy. --Ain"
Elrond looks to Aragorn now.
Aragorn bows to Glorfindel. "It is so," he says, rising. "I speak of Erathir Half-Blood in warning only. Any of our folk who go down that road must know of the danger he poses. As for the trolls, my kin and I would welcome your assistance most heartily, and do all in our power to aid your efforts. We cannot contain these beasts alone."
And what it costs the proud Chieftain to admit this is writ on his face, though he neither blinks nor looks away from Elrond.
Slightly surprised, Sidhel accepts the note, unfolds it and reads. Then he bows close to Talroch and whispers a few words, while placing the sheet on the table before him.
The words 'we cannot' from Aragorn brings Talbinor a strange sort of peace, a little smile creeping across his face as he leans back in his chair. His fingers wrap up, forming a tent which rests on his chest, and the Ranger contentedly continues to watch his lord speak, his expression one of complete calm despite the grave talk of treason and danger.
A slow nod is given by Nauthcel in agreement with the words of his Lord. The gaze of the Ranger passes over his kin before returning to Aragorn. In his grey eyes, there is the faintest sign of sadness due to an unspoken truth.
Elrond nods slowly. "Glorfindel," he says, "if Elladan and Elrohir are within reach of messengers, take them, and any others you judge may help in this matter without weakening the borders, and put them at Estel's disposal. It is bad enough that there are too many trolls north of here, in the Coldfells, that we cannot hope to dislodge them. They must be discouraged from passing west and south, and if the Dunedain require our aid, we shall provide it."
Taking up the note, Talroch shrugs and scribbles something back in clear fluid script. He hands it back to Sidhel for the herald to read and then hand off to a page to take to Ainessandil.
He pauses then, looking around. "As for the other matter, I shall have an inner council meeting in six days time, of those who are available, to discuss what can be done about gathering news from the East." He looks then to Rhunedhel, nodding to him.
Rhunedhel rises, saying quietly but clearly, "This is our lord's decision in these matters. Are there other matters to be discussed?"
He pauses then, looking around. "As for the other matter, I shall have an inner council meeting in six days time, of those who are available, to discuss what can be done about gathering news from the East." He looks then to Rhunedhel, nodding to him.
Rhunedhel rises, saying quietly but clearly, "This is our lord's decision in these matters. Are there other matters to be discussed?"
Aragorn resumes his seat, his face impassive. But when Rhunedhel speaks, he takes advantage of the moment and turns to smile at his kinsmen. "All will be well," he murmurs, almost to himself, before taking up an untouched quill from the table and turning it in his hands pensively.
Glorfindel nods slowly, accepting the orders without further comment though the Elf-lord looks ready to speak further to Elrond in private.
Aragorn rises, casting his gaze on Elrond for a long moment, then turning away. "Come," he says in a low voice to his kinsmen, then leads the way out of the Hall.
Tinduial stands silently, bowing her head to those still present and departs to follow her Captain without as bid.
Galrohad stands and waits for Aragorn to leave first so he can follow.
As the Chieftain departs, so does Nauthcel. A small nod of respect is given to Elrond before his gaze turns to the Lord.
With a nod, Talbinor gets to his feet, stretching languidly as he rises and, pushing his chair in, makes good his escape.
Sidhel exchanges a meaningful look with Talroch after skimming over the edited note. And he nods once at Ainessandil as the page delivers Talroch's answer to him. Then he rises from his chair.
Gilaearon finally sits up straight in his chair as his betters leave the Hall. The Echdir straightens his tunic and watches as others depart.
Ainessandil nods in response to Sidhel, then stands and exits the Hall, now the Council is over.
Talroch rises as well. He looks to Sidhel and Thileithel, meaning for them to follow. "Let's go speak to the steward further." A glance is also given to Gilaearon, inviting the retainer to come along and be useful.
Talroch's retainer rises from his chair and follows.
And with that, Lossmeril too rises, trailing out of the room silently.
Glorfindel bends close to Elrond and speaks to him alone in quick Sindarin. Dipping his head in final homage, the Noldo turns and slips out of the hall to go about the business Elrond has given him this day.
Elrond rises then, and flanked by Rhunedhel and some other of his advisers, he slowly leaves the room, his face dark with thought.
Taliron takes his leave with the others leaving the hall.
Falling in beside Taliron as they make their way towards the door, Thileithel smiles slightly. "I just received a pipe today. I wonder what's worse in the scheme of 'etiquette', all that frowning at your words or the apology over indulging in the pipeweed?"
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