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Elendor - Thursday, March 02, 2006, 9:02 PM
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.
The dinner hour has come, and the hall of Elrond is filled with revelry and the scents of food carefully prepared. At one table, not quite central to the room, but off to one side, is a strange sight: Aragorn, Chieftan of the Dunedain, sits surrounded by children. One pudgy little specimin is even perched on his knee, grey eyes wide as he munches away at whatever his little fingers can reach.
Aragorn himself is brandishing a carrot, his voice rising and fall in a fantastical tale of trolls and swordplay. The man is most animated, now shrinking into his broad shoulders with a tiny voice, now lunging across the board with a ferocious roar. The children around him are his own; that is to say, of the small Dunedain community harbored by Elrond. Then, suddenly, he drops the carrot and claps a hand to his chest with a theatrical groan, and topples backward off the bench to crows of delight. The tot, who was carried along for the ride, sits on his abdomen shrieking with laughter.
Into this lively scene enters one of the Firstborn residents of Elrond's valley. With a merry smile he had followed the Chieftain's performance from the doorway and eventually he cannot help but join the children's laughter. Sidhel's own laughter, though, fades quickly as he approaches Isildur's Heir and he bows formally. "Mae govannen, Estel," he greets. "A wondrous story, I daresay, and I hate to bother you with less pleasant matters. Yet there are events unfolding that touch the secret of Arnor. I assume you have already heard of it?"
With a heave of his feet and a tight grip on the little boy, Aragorn comes to his feet. "Maerwyn, be a pet and take this lot off to sleep?" he asks, handing the boy off to a sober-looking girl, nearly a woman. As she herds the children, protesting all but mindful of who it is bids them to bed, he touches her face with his hand, as a father. "Are you well, Maerwyn?" he asks softly.
The girl nods, and smiles a brave, sad sort of smile, then is gone with her charges. Aragorn watches her go, then turns with a sigh. "Hers is ever the lot of the women of the Dunedain," he says to Sidhel, not answering his query yet. "To wait and hope and in the end come to grief when the father or brother or son falls."
Merry before, but grave now, he nods at last. "Yes, I have heard. If we speak of the man from Gondor." With his hand he gestures twoard the doors. "Let us speak of it in the gardens. It is too merry here for hard things."
The elf nods briefly. "The garden will be a good place for such a conversation. It is indeed the man from Gondor, and since I have met him I cannot help but wonder about him." He gestures towards the door and asks: "Shall we go then?" The hint of a smile returns to his face as he watches the children leave the hall.
Without speaking further, the Chieftan leads the way out of the crowded hall.
Garden
You stand in the wondrous gardens of Imladris. The whole area is beautifully terraced, and it seems to spread on forever. Though dark, you can still make out the rows of flowers stretching all over the gardens. The scents of thousands of flowers assail you, and you can see the rows of flowers and clusters of bushes all around. Overhead, the clear, nighttime sky bathes all in pale starlight. A path leads away West, toward the House of Elrond. It glows slightly, dim yet luminous white, while another leads away South to a more secluded looking area of the garden.
A few open spaces are seen to one side of the path, grassy lawns flanked by bushes exuding the sweet scent of lilac. Past some slender, leafy trees, clusters of rosebushes offer their large, beautiful blooms. The soft chirps of crickets can be heard, and here and there among the flowers can be seen the glowing flashes of fireflies.
And soon the scent of roses and a multitude of birdsong embraces the two, man and elf, as they enter the gardens of Imladris. A few elves work in the distance, carefully aiding the numerous plants to enhance their natural beauty. The surrounding was chosen wisely, for the matter that these two will discuss is of a dire importance. So this lovely place might lift the pressure and tension such grave thoughts would normally cause.
"So you have heard about this man, Imladech," inquires Sidhel. "What a lucky coincidence that you came to visit Imladris, we thought you far away in Rhovanion."
"I never made it so far as Rhovanion; our search doubled us back northward, then ended in vain." Aragorn sighs heavily; here, in the garden where he played as a child, he lets the weight of his responsibilities fall off. "Rhingon has moved on to Mirkwood, to lend aid to Thranduil, and I came here to see what else was afoot."
He has been walking; he pauses now at a particular bench, worn and mossy about the feet. It rests beneath a willow and is flanked on either side by rose bushes. He brushes the seat with his fingertips, then settles onto it. "So. A man of Gondor has wandered into our midst, and may know much of our purpose. What did you glean from him in your time with him?"
Sidhel samples the scent of a rose blossom and after doing so he sits next to Aragorn and begins a report of what he has learned about the mysterious stranger from Gondor: "He would not speak openly about his past, but his feelings betrayed a lot that he would not tell. He hails from Belfalas, that I am most convinced of. He admitted though that Imladech was not his real name. He has taken it, as he has chosen the life of a wanderer. All who met him at the ford and who know of Gondor's customs agree that he must in fact have commited a vile deed to be expelled from Anarion's land, for it is clear that he did not leave on his own free will. A guilt eats on him that is very strong and lasting."
"It would, yes, for no less than Oathbreaking would cause Denethor to cast him forth," replies Aragorn musingly. "A stronger man would have chosen to fly from Mindolluin."
He is silent a long while before speaking again. "You found him in the Yfel? That he has gone there, and not to some other place such as Bree, where he might have had a chance to rectify his ills speaks much. I fear we will not find him an easy man with whom to treat."
"Eithaforn fears that, while Imladech would apparently not initially cast himself down from a peak, he has yet lost his lust for life. He fears this man seeks death from the hands of any stranger, be it a robber or a troll. We learned that Imladech planned to cross the Hithaeglir - apparently he hoped to die in the attempt. In the Yfelwyd though he found a lost girl from Bree, and together they fled to our side of the river."
Sidhel pauses for a moment, then he resumes his tale: "While he will now try to return his new found companion to Bree, he might afterwards pursue his old wish again, to die somewhere in the wilderness. And if he indeed has guessed that much about your kin, Estel, he may not be captured by any of the numerous dark forces that surround the Breeland."
Aragorn rubs his jaw slowly. "He is a coward, and cowards tend to be desperate men," he says eventually, letting his hand fall. "We must find him. We have all of us done too much to protect what must be protected for a craven Gondorian to come along and foil it now."
"I know not if he is a coward," replies the elf. "He showed no fear of entering the Pinnath Tereg once more, unlike his female companion. Yet he knows how to avoid the creatures of darkness, now that he knows they exist in this part of Arnor." He frowns visibly and sighs a little. "What if you find him? Will you force him to tell his secret?"
With a small knife from his belt, Aragorn cuts a perfect bloom from the rose bush at his elbow. "He fears to die, no matter how he seeks it. He runs from his guilt and seeks to force another to end it for him. He is a coward." As he speaks, his voice even, he carefully trims each thorn from the stem of the rose.
"As for what I will do with him... I do not know. I would speak first with Master Elrond ere I make that choice." He lays the knife aside, and runs his finger down the length of the stem, seeking each rough spot or missed thorn.
Sidhel nods merely and says naught for a long while. Then he speaks: "Elrond will know what to do. Though it might well happen that you or your men will be those who fulfill Imladech desire to leave this world. He will not let you detain him, I assume."
With another sigh he shakes his raven head. "Your kin is still wondrous and full of riddles to me, Estel. Although I have delved into the past of the Edain and have stood side by side with Arvedui's men at Fornost, although I see the future of the Dunedain grow up in this vale I have not yet understood them," he explains with a thoughtful mien.
"No more than we understand you," Aragorn says with a gentle laugh, taking up his knife again to smooth the rose's stem. "Can the Eternal and the Doomed ever come to full understanding of one another? I suspect not, though we try. Perhaps if Men lived as long as Elves, we might come close, but Men are full of imperfection and indecision. We are flawed, mellon."
He looks at the rose in his hand, his thumb moving over the carefully smoothed section. "Like this rose. I would send it to my Lady without thorns, but have I not damaged it irreparably? Perhaps I will only grieve her, for I have cut it from the vine and made it a dead thing, though my intent is only kindness and affection, to send her some little thing that will not prick her fingers."
He beckons a maiden to him, one of those working the gardens in the starlight. "Lay this upon your Lady's pillow, and beg her pardon on my behalf, for I must away again at first light, and cannot see her." When the maiden is gone, he turns to Sidhel. "And still, knowing even now what she might think of my gift, I send it. This Imladech will act rashly, and we must do what we can to prevent him carrying his knowledge back to Gondor. Even if it results in something unforeseen."
"And yet, are we not both children of the One, mellon? Is not your love proof enough of it," Sidhel asks with a smile. "The Heryn will understand your need to go, as she has before. Seek out this man, Estel, and try to learn of his secret, that is my advice on this matter. Yet Elrond will have more to say you."
"I mean to leave at once, as I said. It is my intent that he be taken alive; I will bring him back to the Ford, and detain him there until Elrond has spoken his will." Aragorn plucks a thorn from the hem of his tunic, and bends sideways to bury it in the earth. When he straightens, he tucks the little knife away in his belt.
"Is my love proof of our kinship? Or is it only further proof of the folly to which Men are prone?" He smiles wryly at his companion. "At my age, I should already have an heir toddling about these gardens, but I wait for one I may never have. What then of Isildur's line?"
If one was to turn their head towards the entryway to the garden one would see the bright blue tunic and midnight hair of the Rochdur Istafalas catching the morning light as she approaches the garden. In her slender hand is a frayed lead, presumably one she is working on repairing. Her eyes watch her feet and her walk seems of the meandering kind. Raising her head at the sound of familiar voices, she sees Sidhel sitting near by. She strolls towards him, a smile crawling across her lips as she approaches him.
"The Eldar have no answer on this question," says Sidhel. "What may become of Isildur's heir may have been sung in the One Song, but we all do not know it's tune. Only time will tell, mellon and only the wise ones like Elrond might have brief visions of what may happen, under certain circumstances." His musings are intterupted though as the elleth approaches. Sidhel rises and bows briefly to her. "Greetings, Istafalas."
"My point, mellon, is that one never knows what our choices will lead to. That is what makes this man dangerous, for his choices have thus far been poor ones." Aragorn nods his head to Istafalas, still rather distracted. "We men like not looking too far forward, though some of us are able, in our small ways. Denethor is one such--perhaps that is the problem."
This last is said lightly as the Chieftan rises. "If you wish to accompany me, I leave at dawn," he says to Sidhel, stifling a yawn. "Of all your gifts, Sidhel, the ability to function without sleep is the one I envy you the most."
Sidhel chuckles softly. "There are times when even we need rest. I have duties to fulfill here, so I cannot go with you, mellon. May Earendil's light shine upon you and guide you safely through all perils." With that he bows to the Dunadan.
"And upon you, mellon." Aragorn, hand on heart, bows to Sidhel in return. He bows as well to
Istafalas. "Good even, Lady. Forgive my departure. Sidhel, give my greetings to the Master, and to his sons. I will see them all upon my return." With that, he is gone.
Istafalas raises her hand in greeting to Sidhel and farewell his companion. Realizing who the companion is, the elleth's eyes open wide for a moment. She sit down upon the ground rather awkwardly and remains silent, watching the man as he leaves. Turning back to Sidhel, her thoughts seemingly cleared, she plays with a blade of grass, and asks, "It is a fine morning, is not mellon?"
"A fine evening, indeed," answers Sidhel. "Although we have spoken of matters that are not as pleasant as this place is. How fare the horses, mellon? The journey to Lothlorien and back left us with fewer steeds than we had before." He settles again on the bench and offer a place to the elleth. "Come, sit with me if you will."
Istafalas rises and sits beside the ellon. The smile that had been present quickly disappeared at the mention of the horses. Leaning over a bit, her elbows on her kneess, she drops the grass in her hand, she sighs, "We lost some fine horses. I am amazed and so ever grateful that Dollcenedril and I came back with only scratches." Looking out into the garden, she continues softly, " so grateful indeed."
"I have not yet found a proper steed after I lost Sadoron. Recently I rode on Naurroch, whose name is quite well chosen. A fiery mare is she, I daresay, and that served me well, for I was in a hurry. Would you say that this one is reliable horse for a Celdir?" His gaze settles on one of the rose bushes as he speaks.
A faint warm breeze that moving through the garden pushes a strand of hair over her green-grey eyes looking off into a further distance than the garden holds. Her fingers play with the lead, stroking the frayed cords. Tilting her head towards Sidhel, she answers, "Naurroch? Oh, she is fine mare indeed, but strong willed. Keep a steady hand with her and make sure she knows you are boss and she'll mind alright. She wills serve you well". Sitting up a bit, she asks, "How are you fairing these days, mellon? I have been absent from the house much since we returned, as work was doubled with injured horses to tend to." She manages an encouraging smile as she turns her face to him.
Sidhel shrugs lightly. "I have seen work on various fields, such as teaching the younger Istfariath and delivering messages to the ford of the Bruinen, and back here. The latter turned out to be quite important for our mortal allies. Therefore Estel had to leave us so quickly as he just did. And soon we shall celebrate the Toled Eluchil, so I will have to work on poetry and song once more. As you can see I have not been idle either," he concludes with a smile.
Looking down at the lead again, she smiles warmly, answering, "It is good to hear that you have been busy." Pausing, she adds in a more serious tone, "Yes, I am always busy in the stables it seems, but it is happy work. It keeps the mind occupied and the body strong."
The ellleth sits up again, tightening and releasing the muscles in her shoulders. Her eyes look around the garden, almost searching, but not finding what they seek. Her face darkens once again. She goes to speak, her lips parting, but no sound escapes yet. Her brow furrows, but she speaks this time. " I must be honest, mellon, I feel quite changed from the journey." Having said it, relief releases her furrowed brow. "I do not know quite how to explain" she stops with those words, searching her thoughts quietly.
"A good work, indeed," declares Sidhel. "I shall visit the stables more often and work with that mare, Naurroch." The rose bush draws his attention again and this time he rises to inspect the plants. A sniffing sound, a light coughing and out of the bush comes a hedgehog, apparently disturbed by Sidhel's inspection of the bush. The little animal glances at the two elves for a second, then it trips across a lawn and disappears in a thicket of oleander.
Sidhel laughs merrily at his discovery and returns to the bench. He looks at Istafalas with a knowing smile and says: "The Golden Wood leaves none unchanged who visit it. I experienced the same feeling when I first went there, mellon."
The elleth's brow furrows again. "I...well, yes, the Golden Wood changed me in a way...and positive," she pauses for a few heartbeats, searching for the words, then continues " It was the road to it and back that changed me the most though...I believe...perhaps not so positive." With this she shakes her head, frowning, "Never mind, forgive me, I do not know my heart too well these days. I am just thinking out loud." With this she sets her elbows on her knees again, playing with the frayed lead again.
"Nay, you need not excuse your thoughts," says the other. "Such thoughts must be expressed, mellon. I know what you speak, and you might not be alone with these feelings. Many of the younger singers and poets who attented their first Bardic Congress were scared by the happenings, some wish even not to travel ever again. But such is the world outside Imladris, danger awaits those who leave the safe haven. Yet one can learn to cope with it."
Sighing and turning to Sidhel, her eyes search for comfort from his face. "Mellon, it is the fact that it did not frighten me so much that weighs on me. On that road...thoughts and memories I had pushed away returned...memories of my father." She stops, turning her eyes once again to the garden. "My father would have preferred I joined the Tirith, but I chose the safe path...working in the stables...safe. Seeing so many hurt, it made that fighting spirit come back, but I remained still, frozen between my two selves." She sighs again, looking at the ground, adding, "I have been so careful in all I do, say and feel. Yes, we Sinda are a wary people, but I wonder now if I have been too cautious in my life."
Sidhel smiles warmly at the younger elleth. "And what would the Tirith be without the Rochdurath who care for the horses? Would the proud riders of Nevrast be able to hunt their foes in time if they had not the help of those who run the stables? If you feel the need though to contribute more actively to the valley's protection, go and seek out Paithel, mellon. She has gone through much the same process as you, I assume. And eventually she joined the Tirith, additionally to working in the stables and in the vineyards. She might best be able to counsel you."
The Rochdur finally allows a smile to return to her face as she turns to the ellon, " Indeed mellon, she and I have similar paths it would seem. I have used her counsel before, but your words have provided the comfort I needed this evening." She lays the lead down on the bench, brings her knees up to her chest, hugging her legs to her. " How long are our lives here in comparison to others in middle earth, but they are only worth it if lived well and full." Sincerely she adds, "Thank you mellon for listening...I reveal my deeper thoughts to so few, but sometimes one must let it all go and tonight was that time for me."
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