Front Porch
The porch runs the whole breadth of the house and is a good 20 feet wide. Graceful white marble columns support the roof. The floor of the porch is built from large slabs of the same marble, while the walls of the house itself are of more ordinary granite. An intricately forged railing about three feet high runs between the columns, except where a broad stair leads down to the front yard. A few chairs and benches are scattered about, though they have no cushions. The light from the hearth in the Hall of Fire flickers in the doorway. The great double doors of the house stand open, and from within can be heard the strains of song, or the music of elven voices speaking. Overhead, beyond the sheltering roof of the porch, the skies are crystalline clear.]
Contents:
Arwen
Obvious exits:
Yard leads to Front Yard.
House leads to Entrance Hall, West.
The starry pre-dawn sky above the cliffs is clear except for a few thin wisps of high clouds. The Misty Mountains loom against the clear sky in the east, shadows against the stars.
The speckled sky, still dark in the wee hours of the morning, do not stay the wanderings of Imladris' fair inhabitants. Many are those who walk the length of the porch, enjoying the clear weather and the cool caress of a morning breeze.
Alone but sufficiently contented, Awarthnur appears to be comfortably settled in one of the sturdy chairs constructed at intervals along the deck, made by elven hands to withstand time and weather. In her left hand propped up on a thin slab of balsa wood is a length of parchment; in the left, a long grey quill. From the ink stains dotting her fingers and palms it would be meet to assume that she has been at her task for some time.
From across the yard a cloaked figure approaches her bright eyes shining from beneath the garments hood; indeed they twinkle as merrily as the stars above.
Within the Heryn's right hand is grasped a broom and the elleth seems rather pleased with herself, or at least judging from her smile that seems to be the case. As she alights the porch of the house her hand rises in greeting to the busy Awarthnur.
Though her eyes were, at the time, averted, Awarthnur's gaze rises in the wake of the Heryn's greeting. With a final, cursory glance at her parchment she is satisfied and, in turn, folds it so that it fits quaintly into the pocket of her apron. Rising, she clasps her hands and inclines her head in a greeting of her own. Her face, though slightly downturned, is aglow.
"Good even' Awarthur," chimes the Evenstar in her clarion tones; adding a wave of the broom for good measure as she glances along the length of the porch and finds it empty.
"Sitting out by yourself?"
"Indeed, lady!" Awarthnur exclaims in merry tones, quite pleased to have a companion at length. "I have been writing to my son these past few hours, and have only now put closure to the letter. Pray, walk with me a while," she urges, her smile warm and congenial. "That is, if you are so obliged and have no other occupation." These last words seem aimed downward at the broom that has accompanied the Heryn onto the porch.
The sun peeks over the Misty Mountains and illuminates the valley again.
Catching the elleth's glance Arwen smiles and leans the broom against the wall of the house, "Worry not Awarthnur I have no desire to be sweeping at this hour -- Indeed the broom is for something else entirely."
"My occupations for this night are complete! But tell me rather, how is your son? It seems a while since last he visited."
"I shall oblige," Awarthnur replies, her tone playfully begrudging. "But do not think that your broom has escaped inquiry so easily. As for my son..."
The light of Elbereth's celestial sentenels is reflected with a keen accuracy in the now-silvery depths of the elleth's eyes. A mother's love, fear and pride are together mingled in her response:
"He travels now about the Troll Shaws with a small host of your father's men," a brief nod of acknowledgment here given, "and sends word when he can. For me, at least, it is not often enough, but his reports are always encouraging and I know that he does travels with a worthy troop."
The Evenstar's grey eyes glint prettily in the twilight as she poses her reply, "This broom is on its way to join its brethren... I now have forty-nine brooms and need but one more... the rest you will have to wait and see."
This said Arwen turns her attention back towards the subject of Awarhnur's son. "All the members of the Tirith are most worthy," is the Heryn's comment, "It is due to them largely that we have such peace here in Imladris. I do not need tell you to be proudful of your son, for I can see it already in your eyes."
"That you do not," Awarthnur replies gratefully, her smile widening. "And though he is at not here tonight to vow likewise, I know that his father could not have asked for a more constant son."
A brief glance towards the first tint of gold edging its narrow fingers of light onto an otherwise ebon horizon is accorded. "Since you will maintain your secrecy, my lady, I will allow the subject to be thus avoided. But tell me if you will, have you any word from your relations in the Golden Wood?"
A smile tips about the corners of Arwen's mouth for the Parvasson's first words but no more on the subject is offered by the Lady of Imladris for the present.
"My Grandmother sent word a week or so ago, it seems that all is quiet in the wood -- though that is the nature of Lorien I suppose, it does not change much and so there is little news to be brought forth. Time moves differently there, here we sit upon the pulse of Arda and feel its beat more strongly."
"How very strange to imagine two elven homes so at odds, yet not so very far asunder." Drumming her fingernails on the polished wooden rail bordering the House porch, Awarthnur considers again the horizon. Squinting into the morning rays, she seems almost intent upon perceiving Lorien, even from this distance.
"Apart in someways, but close in others," smiles Arwen softly; her own gaze also turning towards horizon and watching the turning of night to day for a few quiet moments.
"And now that you remind me, I should write back to my Grandmother lest she tires of writting to me first!" chuckles the elleth as she makes towards the door, her hand claiming the broom as she passes.
"Good morning!"
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