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Arrival at Rivendell (Three Horses and an Ass TP)

Tags: Elladan,  Meliorven,  Nurenhir,  Menelglir,  Sulgirion,  Gwendion

Short Summary: The Gondorian camp arrives safely in the Valley, leaving the danger of the Shaws behind.
Date (real-life): 2009-12-28
Scene Location: Imladris, Front Yard
============== Lord of the Rings Calendar <in English> ==============
IC time is:    Nighttime < About 11:27 PM >
IC day is:     Wednesday
IC date is:    October 19
Moon phase:    Last Quarter <VISIBLE>
Earendil:      Gil-Estel is not visible.
IC year is:    Third Age 3048
RL time:        Mon Dec 28 14:29:12 2009

Front Yard
A few trees stand here, just in front of the Last Homely House. An open meadow stretches off to the north and west. The seed heads of many grasses and flowers are visible all about, spreading the next year's generation of their kinds. Not far behind the house the trees close in to form a pleasant wood. The grass near the house is not very high, perhaps because of being trodden on so often, but some higher tufts grow around the nearby trees. Leaves of many sorts can be dimly made out, though their colors are muted in the half-light. Two paths lead away from the house, one southwest and one north. Down the steep bank to the south is the shore of the Bruinen.

Obvious exits:
North leads to Open Meadow - Crossroads.
Front Porch leads to Front Porch.
Southwest leads to The Valley Shore.

Here, in the sheltered valley nigh the Hithaeglir, the dark gloom of night is not as pronounced as the shadows cast by the looming mountain peaks should make it. There is a perculiar feeling, almost magical to those of mortal race, that lingers in this place where the folk of Elrond dwell. Melodious voices ring in mirth, rich and yet gentle, not heeding the veil of night. On the yard in front of the Last House, the welcoming lights from its windows are cast out upon the grass, and the sense of gaiety is strong.

There, perched in the grasses of the front yard, is an enormous shape, sticking up oddly from the flat land around it. The giant form of the Eagle stands still, and only the head moves now and again to peer toward the singing and dancing elves nearby. The amber gaze seems relaxed at the noises and sights of this place. Long has Sulgirion been away from the Valley, and it seems an especially fantastic haven to be in after the danger of the Shaws.

Upon the porch sits Nurenhir, balancing a cup of tea upon the rail as he glances out at the peaceful, wind-stirred lawn.

And the giant shadowed shape sticking from it.

The steward's eyes widen, and he pauses (serenely) to place his tea upon a table before he hurries down the stairs, sparing but a backward glance to the safety of the lighted interior of the House.

[Elladan(#27059)] And while song and laughter come from the meadows to the north, there comes one out of the house and stands next to Nurenhir. "Good evenh," he says in the tongue of the elves. "I hear songs of joy and merriment but I am more concerned about our great suprise for the spirit of the Yfelwyd. Has the Guild been successful in making a song of power while I was gone? I am afraid, the only music I heard on my journey was the ringing of blades and the roar of dark beasts."

Only then does he regard the great eagle and he bows politely.


Slowly lumbering towards the front yard of the House, a man from the party brought by Elladan comes finally towards his destination. Though his face is still bruised, his garments have been replaced with some from the valley, and his manner is one of awe. His eyes flit over every object of wonder he passes, a relaxed smile sitting on his lips, until he is within a few steps of the porch when his pace slows and he finds his voice, "Good evening," he says with a bow of his head to Elladan and Nurehir, seemingly not have noticed their conversation, "I apologize for I know not the etiquette of such occasions in your land and can firstly only offer my thanks for your aid thus far and your hospitality. It is warmly welcomed and unexpected."

With quicker steps does another man follow behind Gwendion, a younger man of some 16 summers, clad in a much mended and washed white tunic emblazoned with the Swan that marks the clothing of this group of travelers. Menelglir it is, even more awestruck than the Knight, so that every new thing seems to slow his step and now he hastens to catch up. And in doing so, though, he again slows his pace to stare in awe, this time at the two elves on the porch before he remembers his manners, bows low and colors red. Tongue-tied, he seems to be, as well.

"No indication was given to me," replies Nurenhir quietly, looking to the son of Elrond, "although they are still studying the tomes. We had heard no news from the west, either, until you came."

"You are welcome," says the steward warmly, raising his voice as he steps forward. "We have prepared rest and lodging for you and your party, to last until you would find that which you seek in Rivendell."

As each of the elves descend closer, the large bird returns greetings with a dip of his golden head, which immediately cocks sideways again afterward as Sulgirion watches for a moment in silent regard, the eagle's eyes holding signs of curiousity. "A song of power?" the creature remarks, and the same gaze blinks as if in amusement. "Music to strike fear and doubt into the hearts of the Yfelwyd monsters? I have never tried thus, normally battling them with beak and claw." Another blink. "It is a pity I have not a pleasant singing voice; there would be no discernment between song and angry avian shrieks to the ears of the yrch and olog.

"But for your voices, my friends," says Sulgirion, again nodding his head toward Nurenhir and Elladan, "it is a most clever plan. I wish you luck in carrying it out." He falls quiet then, letting the Gondorians converse with the Quendi.


"Ah yes," Gwendion says, motioning to Sulgirion as he finishes, "Elladan mentioned using songs for war. Though our skills lie more with the blade than with voice, we have pledged ourselves as we can to your cause until our oath and mission take precedence."

He waves off his words just as he says them, "But, I get ahead of myself. I am Gwendion Bragollach, Swan-Knight of Dol Amroth and leader of our fellowship."

He glances back to the young boy, "This is my Squire, Menelglir. With us come a ranger that is apparently familiar with this place, Bunny, and another Squire, tending to his duties, Findon."

[Meliorven(#16423)] Through the front yard, from the direction of the porch, walks an elleth with a swing in her walk. She is holding a brown, ashwood clay tablet, and holds a thin, wooden stick of wood. It's delicate features and pointy end signifies that it is used as a stylus for that very same clay tablet. Walking down the main path, she breathes in the air of the valley. She closes her eyes, while walking, she slightly trips forward, making her drop the stylus. The stylus swiftly starts rolling on the path way, making "Klip, klip, klip" sound as it passes from one stone to next. She does not chase after it, she only keeps her two jewel-like eyes upon it, and follows it. The mommentum of the stylus soon ends, and it stops on the pathway. She takes a few steps forward, and bends her knees - crouching, to pick up the stylus. Half way through the standing up, she notices that quite close to her now is a rather interesting gathering. Elves, men and an eagle of the north. She already lets out a smile towards them, but when she stands tall, her steps slowly start moving her towards the very same group she found so interesting. The two men, one of them not even being a full-grown man, as far as she remembered, were not in her memory

A yawn fights with the Squire's need to offer another small bow as he is introduced, bow executed, but yawn tended to with a hand to try to quickly hide it. "Sir," he manages to the Steward, glancing to the side, then, at Gwendion's gesture and noticing first the elleth and then the eagle.

To the eagle he speaks in a low voice, as if not wanting to disturb the others. "Sulgirion..you are well? Mended? Will the feathers you lost grow back?"

[Elladan(#27059)] "Perhaps your voice can be of use in the end," replies Elladan to the eagle. "I shall suggest it to our singers." Turning to the emissaries from the South, he says: "Prince Imrahil's men have been here before but that was long ago by your standards and even I can only faintly remember the event. I have spoken with my father and he will hear you. But as of now he is still working on the song of power with our scholars. In the meantime you may roam this valley and discover its beauty."

Nurenhir stands by quietly, dark eyes regarding Men and Eagle. "If any of you is wounded," he says, "there are healers ready to aid you, body and soul. Were the Trollshaws still as dangerous as our last scouts report?"

[Meliorven(#16423)] When the young elleth, who the folk of the Last Homely House would recognize as Meliorven, reached the group - she bowed two times. One, towards the direction of the steward and the avian visitor from the north, and the other bow went towards the men. She let out a smile, and in a musical and soft voice spoke, "It is not everyday that such variety of visitors come to Imladris. Quite a sight to behold. It is also an event of much joy, I must say. Much joy indeed." She moved her hand gracefuly towards her chin, as she placed two of her fingers, her index and middle finger, on it. She simpily strays her eyes across every single person near her. She went silent, but one could quite obviously notice she was thinking, pondering, wondering.


Nurenhir's question is unheard as the Knight quickly repeats, quietly to himself as other's speak, "They came before..." a quick glance of confusion is sent to the Squire, "But why? I have never heard of such a thing," he mulls over his words for a breath, "Though I suppose our trip has been made in confidence of only a few, perhaps such things have been done in the past."

"I appreciate your father's time and responsibilities. Out of selfishness I must ask for haste, but in understanding we shall wait patiently and without complaint."

He hesitates for a moment, then speaks again, now addressing Nurenhir, "The Trollshaws reputation is well deserved and with it I would add a request for your scouts. Our Knight-Herald, Lord Arathis, was lost behind us. Though chances are slim for him, I against quite selfishly ask an eye be sparred for another of our company, alone in the Shaws. He is alone and..." now the sight of the elf Maiden is caught at the edge of his vision and he's words drift into silence for a moment, he can do but nod at her arrival and greeting.

"And..and," he says, regaining his composure, "If anything could be done, even a..." another pause, "A body would do much for his family."

"I thank you, Master Elf," replies the raptor to the half-elven. "You may call me Sulgirion,and I thank you also for you and your peoples' hospitable welcome; too long have I been gone from this place, and I am glad to find that it is no less lovely then I remember it to be." The hooked beak would seem to almost smile. "Then, I shall make certain that I do not shatter Hir Elrond's windows with my music, should you call upon me to use it. But I fear I cannot stay in Imladris for long. I remained with this company to see them past the Shaws, and now my kin await my return in the peaks."

Sulgirion looks to Menelglir, the amber eyes shifting downward. "I am much better, youngling. I did not lose many tail feathers to the menace, and they should replace themselves within time. For now, their absence does not bother me." A bright inclination of his head is given to the elleth who joins them.

"Soul too...?" Menelglir repeats the words of Nurenhir, but only as a whisper to himself. Still, he stares wide-eyed at the elf until Gwendion looks at him in confusion--at which point the young Squire simply presses his lips together and looks even wider-eyed at the Knight. "Only great need drove us here," he answers, still quiet in his voice. "And...through great peril, as well. It must have been important, but I cannot imagine what."

A touch of a smile then comes to the youth at the Eagle's answer, but this fades rather too quickly at the mention of Arathis--a dark expression instead now on Menelglir's mien.

[Elladan(#27059)] As he hears the news of yet another lost traveller in the Shaws, Elladan's mien darkens but he nods at Gwendion. "We will look out for your companion but do not expect too much. The Trollshaws are unforgiving." A brief pause, then he asks, "You speak of great need that brought you here. Your mere presence confirms this but can you tells us more about your quest? My father is wise but his councellors would certainly like to hear about your need as well - and so do I."


"I would speak much on the topic but some rest and care sounds well. In fact, already I grow tired and soon will have no choice but to rest for the evening. My squire will be at your service for whatever is needed," Gwendion too now stifles a yawn, "A troll's work is a difficult thing to recover from and I apologize for our short meeting and not being able to give you the answers you need, but another meeting will come in short and then things beyond simple greetings can be discussed in more detail."

"So, I bid good eve to you all once more and again, my thanks."

The Knight bows and then turns with a look to the squire, "Be good," is all he commands before taking his leave of the party, yawning once more.

"Have you never heard the songs of the Elves?" asks Nurenhir with a smile, hearing the squire's question. "Come, sir. I will lead you to your quarters."

"Sir," Menelglir replies dutifully to the Knight, though his cheeks burn red once more. He mutely shakes his head to Nurenhir, though adds at the last, "I am awake still...perhaps I could hear some after you tend to Sir Gwendion?"

Meliorven raises her index finger in the air and, breaking her rather lengthy self-inflicted silence, softly says, "Songs! Indeed. But what is a song without a meaning to it? Without poetry?"

[Elladan(#27059)] "Indeed," says Elladan. "There is a meaning in every song we sing, even when there are no words. And after all, Arda itself is but a song. Rest you, Master Gwendion, and I will go the singers out there and join their merriment. Too long have I missed this." Said that, he bows to the Gondorians.

Back and forth, back and forth, flickers the eagle's sight as he listens to the others speak; though he journeyed with them he knows not of the purpose that has called the humans hither.

At the mention of rest, Sulgirion speaks anew. "Sleep indeed sounds good. I think I shall succumb to its call." The eyes gleam kindly toward the elf-maid and steward. "I should very much like to hear some music ere I leave the Valley. But for now, I wish you a good night." With a short flap, the eagle moves toward one of the nearby trees, coming to a stop to rest under its shading canopy. The large gold head is tucked under one wing, and the creature stands stonily still beneath the swaying boughs.

Only Menelglir, it seems, then, remains awake from the group of travelers, and, after bowing as Elladan and then the eagle take their leave, he climbs the porch steps to enter the house, where he might be heard enquiring after food--surely the appetite of a teenage Squire who has spent months on the road on meager rations will tax even Hir Elrond's stores?

Date added: 2010-01-01 13:36:14    Hits: 90
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