|
Elendor - Friday, January 19, 2007, 8:45 PM
Imladris Greenhouse
A wondrous sight greets your eyes as you step inside this long glass structure. Though it is winter outside, within the season is full spring, or summer, and it is quite hot. Plants of every variety grow here, most in full flower, and there are even a few small trees; flowering cherry trees and apple blossoms fill the air with their scent. There is some kind of shelving or tablework here, for the plants grow not only on the floor but are somehow worked into layers, each spilling down toward the next in a green curtain. Rosebushes fill one corner of the structure, and their great blooms form an eye-dazzling rainbow of every colour.
Further on, past the splendour of the flowers and plants, is a small work area. There, shallow wooden trays of seedlings lie on flat tables, and rough benches and worktables are available for use by the gardeners. There are also racks filled with small ceramic jars, built along and above the benches. Closer inspection would reveal that these are filled with seeds for the spring replanting. The sunlight streams through the clear glass roof, bathing everything in a golden light. There are even a few songbirds here, robins filling the air with their sweet and joyous song. All is well, here within the greenhouse, on this day.
Winter has no power inside this structure. Artificial warmth makes for everlasting summer in the greenhouse of Imladris. Moist and hot, this is the refuge of rare plants and even animals. Butterflies flutter around under the protective glass and exotic bugs crawl on the leaves. Among this green miracle stand two elves before a certain plant. "Look, Galthor, this it," says Sidhel and he points at the Moon Tear. Greyish-green leaves shaped like giant teardrops adorn this one, but they hang weakly down from the stems. "All have the gardeners tried with it, but it seems neither water nor fertiliser is the key to bring this plant the joy it deserves. It does enjoy song, though," he notes.
Eyes narrowing as she gazes at the plant, the old gardener purses her lips in thought, sinking to her knees in a dainty crouch not far away. "Well, it would like song," she observes drily. "Even thistles and ragweed like Elven song... But few indeed are the fickle plants which require it to survive. If it is sickly, there are other causes. I admit, I do not think I have seen this one before, even in Lindon. Is this the only one that has been coaxed to grow?"
Sidhel nods thoughtfully. "We have three seeds left and did not dare to plant them as well, but from those we tried to grow, this is the only success. We have sung to it every night now, but it seems there is a sickness within it, that even elvensong cannot heal. Could it be that it craves for company of its kin?"
Dinaloss shrugs a shoulder dubiously. "I suppose it is possible, but I doubt it. You would expect it to flourish for a while, before 'loneliness' began to wilt it. If, indeed, we do not ascribe Elven feelings needlessly to a plant. No, I prefer to think of more mundane solutions first."
The gardener pauses, closing her eyes and breathing deeply, perhaps considering the environment in which the plant is grown. "This plant... Has never felt the cold?"
"And what would those solitions be?" Sidhel looks at the old gardener as if to soak up as much wisdom from her lips as possible. "But maybe a mundane solution is just what we did not consider. Simple plans are oft the better ones."
"Simplicity is how Elrond's Gardens came to be so wonderous, as contradictory as that may seem," says Dinaloss primly, opening her eyes. "You didn't see me up on a pillar in the Garden, singing the grass green and humming to make the flowers bloom. Such things are accomplished with hard work, not exertions of power."
Frowning again at the visibly wilted plant, however, the old Gardener looks uncertain. "And yet... I fear for the continued health of this plant. I have a suspicion, but..." Trailing off, Dinaloss reluctantly extends her hand toward the stem of the plant. "While I consider the health of the Moon Tear, it strikes me as just contrary enough to wilt away and die before I am certain enough to recommend a solution. I suppose we ought to take steps, to prevent that, mmm?"
"The cold... Why of course!" Sidhel closes his eyes as if ashamed. "This plant was created within the Encircling Mountains of Dorthonion, not in the warm woods of Harad! Why did we not think of that? Would you say that we set it out into the cold for a while? Perhaps not into the snow at once, but to the door where it is cooler than in here."
Dinaloss smiles at Sidhel's revelation, yet says in reply only, "With care, the Gardeners can arrange for a small shelter for this plant... Cooler, and not as protected, while still affording it some defense against the full depths of winter. Assuming that is the problem; I certainly suspect it is." Her attention, however, remains primarily on the plant itself.
Gently, ever so lightly, her fingertips begin to trace their way slowly up the stem of the plant. A faint glow seems to infuse her fingers; or perhaps it is a mere trick of light. "Come now," she murmurs softly, almost chidingly, apparently addressing the plant itself. "No slouching, no drooping... Stand tall when in the presence of a lady..."
She draws her fingers up along the stem, brushing out along the leaves of the plant as though gently lifting each one; and indeed, they do seem fuller and less frail.
Fascinated, Sidhel looks at the doings of Dinaloss. "I shall speak with the gardeners and the artisans. A protected shelter, maybe at the grove of Tumladen, would be a good place for this reminiscence of Gondolin."
| |