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Quenya 101

Tags: Thorhur,  Methenauth

Short Summary: Thorhur receives a lesson in the High Tongue from Methenauth.
Date (real-life): 2008-07-30
Scene Location: Galadhrim Camp
Date (in-game): 53 Laer
Time of Day: Late Night
Weather: Clear
The night, once deep, now begins to wane; the stars, once bright points of light in a sea of ebony, begin to fade: dawn draws near, and soon the horizon will glow with the first rays of the new day. But, for now, the night yet reigns. A cool breeze wafts through the camp of the Galadhrim amidst the Emyn Beraid, bringing with it perhaps the very faintest of whispers of the Sea to the west. The wind breathes its secrets in time with the laughter of the little spring, a music that is little disturbed.
Toward the farthest edge of the meadow-clearing, beside one of the yew trees, sits one who perhaps might seem a touch out of place in this camp. He is Methenauth, and the yet-wordless minstrel gently plucks one of the little white flowers from the meadow grasses, considering it thoughtfully.

Thorhur sits nearby Methenauth. He does not notice the ellon at first, for he has a book on his lap. He blinks, then looks up. Happy to see his old friend, he waves to the former Laiquendi house head. "Good eve Hiril Methenauth!" Walking forward, the Knight sinks next to the ellon and holds out his book. "Say, do you know what this word is..." he points to a word in the High Speech.

The little flower is twirled slowly between the fingers of the elder of the Laiquendi minstrels, but as Thorhur nears and holds out the tome toward him, Methenauth tucks the flower behind his ear, as if he wishes to keep it safe from being crushed.
"That title is no longer mine, Thorhur..." The words are quieted, yet their melody is plain, mingling with that of the wind and water. Slender hands take the book from the Knight, azure eyes glimpse the page and the words scripted there before they return toward Thorhur, a touch widened. "You are studying this?" he queries.

"Yes," the Knight replies, "Aluirwen has been teaching me. I found his tome and have been studying it. It's pretty basic, but I just don't know that word." He points to the word again and nods. "Forgive me Methenauth. I...you're right, that is no longer your title. I will just call you Methenauth then?" he smiles softly, as if trying to brush the incident away.

The healer nods toward the Knight, and he shifts the tome to one hand; with the other, he fiddles a touch with the flower of late placed behind his ear, as if he fears it might come loose. "Aye, my name alone is enough. There are no honours of the Golden Wood that should yet remain attached to it." The latter of these words are more quieted than his previous, and yet Methenauth shakes his head a touch, his attention remaining upon Thorhur and not yet returned to the tome in his hands.
"Perhaps basic, but 'tis not the study of one who but dabbles, that much I can see. You are a Learner, then?" asks the elder Laiquende, guessing at the Knight's station within the Glirdain.

Thorhur laughs. "You are close, but alas...I fear I am only a simple Minstrel studying to one day become a Scholar. I study music and languages...alas though, that word in Quenya has stumped me."
He pauses, then smiles again. "The text is quite remarkable. It is from the First Age, written in Amon Ereb I believe, during the time of the Siege of Angband. It is truly remarkable that it has survived these long years..."

"A minstrel?" Not truly a query, but rather a statement of his surprise, for again the azure eyes of Methenauth grow a touch round. "Then you must be diligent in your studies, indeed," he continues, gaze turning downward, toward the book.
"'Twould seem that the saddest tales are those which survive to the next age," notes the healer softly, skimming over the words on the page with his index finger; it would seem that he skims the text up to the point where appears the word that Thorhur had indicated, for his finger stops there. "Curious that you would ask of this word, for it is the same as 'seige' in our own tongue."

Thorhur widens his eyes, squints at the word, then shakes his head. "Siege...really? That was one of the first Quenya words I learned. The spelling is different though. Why is that?" he asks softly.
The tome is presented toward Thorhur once more, after the healer has taken another quick glance at the words written upon the page. And, he shrugs his shoulders a touch, after which he prods at his flower a bit, as if to ensure it is safely in its place.

"There are many possibilities... Perhaps the writer was unsure of the spelling," begins Methenauth, clear blue eyes straying upward as in thought. "Or perhaps the way that the writer pronounced the word had deviated from the shape of the written word and he spelled it after the manner in which he pronounced it..."

Thorhur smiles and stands. "You were very much of help Methenauth. It was good to see you again, and I thank you for you wisdom. Perhaps we may yet meet again before I return to the Golden Wood."
A small bow, and the Knight disappears into the Elven Camp with a smile on his face.

Date added: 2008-08-06 13:39:25    Hits: 72
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