Chapter 23, cont.
Maegdin barely has to direct Randir as they climb the hill and make their way over the moors. He hums softly to himself as the hours pass and their shadows stretch out before them. Finally, as the Sun touches the distant hills behind them, the company suddenly comes to the brink of a steep fall in the ground. Matt draws rein and calls to the others, 'Here we are at last!'
Far below them, they see a valley falling into shadow as the sun sets. The sound of rushing water comes up to them, as well as a dim gleam of foam and spume. As they look, lights are kindled on the far side of the valley.
Bialver looks curiously at the ranger "the Afdalrálfar..whose leader is called Half-Elven?", he asks
Eskild takes a deep breath. He tries to commit the scene to memory and thinks that no one in Trestlebridge will believe him about this land.
Turodhor lets out a long breath of relief, "I would not have made the journey without you. My thanks."
Ortrun glances to Matt with a sharply curious expression. "Where is 'here'? What is so special about..." Her voice trails off as she edges her mare a bit closer, trying to see for herself. She blinks once at the odd sight of...lights?
Trumodir now is smiling broadly as she looks out over the forested area below and hears the sound of rushing water and smells the scent of woodland plants.
Greenstand gazes into the valley, but find his eyes pulled upwards. "I thought the Weather Hills were quite large, but surely these are mountains indeed! What is this place, so close to their foot?"
Miriaden breaks into a wide grin as she sees the Vale laid out before them. As the setting sun cast a golden glow through the vale, the autumn colored trees nearly seemed ablaze. "Rivendell..."
Minabel breaks out in a wide grin for the first time since the group left the Prancing Pony to see lights in the valley below.
Maegdin looks at the others and nods at Bialver. 'Welcome, friends, to the valley of Imladris. In the Common Tongue, Rivendell. Home of Elrond Halfelven. Here we can set aside our cares and worries for a time. Come, follow me!' With that, he turns his horse along the brink of the valley until he comes to a steep path which winds its way down the slope.
Bialver knees his horse alongside Trumodir’s, watching her face as they ride down the road
Greenstand follows and relaxes even more as the feeling he sensed at the Ford returns stronger and more certain.
Turodhor pulls on his horse's reins as he ges a clearer view of the valley below. "Imladris," he says, and grows quiet.
Minabel is stricken with awe to see the elven buildings below them. "So beautiful," she coos.
Maegdin leads the company down the steep path. As he does, he takes a deep breath and sighs. The scent that comes wafting up to them is like none of them have ever smelt before, but the very touch of it seems to make their weariness fall away. Even their horses seem to step easier.
Bialver says to Trumodir, <V>"Whatever troubles your heart may find healing here, Kinswoman"
Eskild nearly falls off Lark and grabs at her mane to right himself. He's utterly speechless, and the very atmosphere makes his heart feel lighter than it has since his father's body was returned to him.
Turodhor rides in silence behind the others, with concern evident on his face
Ortrun glances around, awe stripping away the usually harsh and curt lines on the woman's face. "Rivendell..." she nearly whispers, craning her neck to get a better look. Harris screeches in delight, spiraling up from his mistress's shoulder to soar above the Valley.
Greenstand smokes contentedly as he rides. "To think, there is still such peace in the world..."
Trumodir smiles at her kinsman and resolves to follow his advice
Turodhor slips off his horse once they stop moving, but stays close to its side as he gazes around
Maegdin makes his way down to the bottom of the path. There, a bridge of stone without kerb or rail leaps across the stream in a single span. Matt climbs down from his horse and waits for the others to dismount as well before making his way towards the bridge.
Trumodir takes a deep breath and as she does, her troubled thoughts seem to fly away. The sound of water, the gentle breeze, produce a sense of deep contentment in her.
Minabel looks in wonder at her surroundings. "It is so beautiful," she says to no one in particular.
Greenstand absentmindedly hums a tune around the end of his pipe.
Ortrun turns in a slow circle, her usually dour expression stripped away by wonder. “So different…” she breathed, looking at the deluge of water thundering past, to the lush growth it allowed.
Bialver, trusting Utsending, rides across in a leisurely fashion. looking around in delight
Eskild dismounts on the near side of the bridge and leads Lark across. The place feels surreal and otherworldly as though this place doesn't exist in the realm of Middle-earth. Even his horse seems more relaxed by the atmosphere.
Bialver dismounts at the end of the bridge, but keeps his mare close. They exchange a silent look and the Beorning shrugs. The steed delicately paws the ground, but does not graze.
Greenstand says, "It's odd. We're so far from Bree, yet this feels so much more like coming home than the roads in Archet or Combe ever did."
Turodhor says, 'It seems to me as if we have stepped into a tale told of times long ago'
Trumodir asks Bialver in a low voice, "Did you cross the mountains here? I did, and the memory of it has strengthened me when things seemed dark."
Maegdin leads his horse carefully across the bridge, which is wet with spray from the river. As he sets foot on the other shore, several bonfires suddenly flare up among the trees and along the paths. At the same moment, the company hears a ringing sound of laughter come from the trees, which flows into a song:
'The Riders are scattered,
Their terror is broken!
Their pride has been shattered;
The Blade has awoken!
Though long under ashes
The fire has slumbered,
Forth it now flashes,
No more to be humbled!
'How come you now riding
So late in the gloaming?
You say, bearing tidings,
And long been a-roaming!
O! End now your travels
And cease from your weeping!
Your cares now unravel
And then come a-leaping
To tra-la-la-lally
Here down in the Valley!
‘O! Where are you going,
So late in returning?
The river is flowing,
The stars are all burning!
O! Whither so laden,
So sad and so dreary?
Here elf and elf-maiden
Now welcome the weary
With tra-la-la-lally
Here down in the Valley! Ha-ha!'
Bialver speaks quietly to his kinswoman. <V> ''There is no such mead here as we have by the Llangrfljót, but the wine of the Álfar is almost as good'. I tried it when I came through, following the same path from the Vales.''
Greenstand laughs, "Such voices! Could it be anything but elves?"
Turodhor shifts uneasily at the mention of the sword, but smiles beneath his beard
Eskild listens in awe and leans against his mare's neck for support. He moves to stand closer to Bialver.
Maegdin smiles broadly as with that last 'ha-ha!' a company of Elves step onto the path, some walking, some dancing, some leaping down from the trees. One of them, a tall elf with braids in his long black hair and a sapphire bound upon his brow, steps forward and spreads his hands in greeting. 'Welcome, weary wanderers, to Rivendell!' he says with a laugh and a bow. 'We've expected you for some days, and now, as fortune would have it, you come on Mereth en Iavas, the feast of the harvest. Come! Join the dancing and the feasting! I see care and worry graven on your faces, but leave them go and make merry with us!' He laughs brightly as he steps towards the company.
Minabel looks their host up and down and frowns. "His dress is nicer than mine," she whispers to Trumodir.
Trumodir smiles at Minabel and nods. "’Tis true", she agrees.
Bialver steps a careful half-pace behind the Trestlebridger, and puts one hand on his shoulder
Ortrun grips her staff out of instinct when the fires erupt all around them, followed by the singing that curled up into the night. She fixes the approaching party of elves with some disbelief, as if they were something out a fairy-tale.
Minabel admires an elven maid who stands near the elf who spoke. "They all have such lovely clothes. What civilization!"
Bialver looks gravely at the tall elf, then bows and names himself "Bialver Hunnangsbjorn of the Langelfrsdalr thanks you for your welcome''
Eskild stares wide eyed and dumb-founded. He's never seen an elf before, and the stories he's heard hardly do the creatures justice.
Taylarin smiles and makes her way towards the group, eyes shadowed by her hood. "Welcome to Imladris, mellyn. I am Taylarin." She dips her head lightly to the group, then smiles a little wider upon seeing a familiar face. <S> "Welcome back, Maegdin."
Greenstand examines the tall elf. "So youthful, and yet there's a depth in those eyes. I would love to hear such tales as he has undoubtedly been in!" he says under his breath. Aloud, he says, "Are you our host? You honor us greatly, my lord!"
Turodhor gives a partial bow, "Turdhor, son of Turodhan." He pauses for a moment and wrinkles his brow before speaking again in somewhat accented and stiff Sindarin. "<S> May the stars shine on our meeting."
Bialver pushes Eskild slightly forward and continues "This warrior is Eskild Orc-Slayer, son of Egon"
Maegdin smiles broadly as he lowers his hood. He steps forward and takes the hands of the elf. The two embrace and exchange kisses on the cheek. Matt steps back and says 'Nothing would please me more, Gilglir. The thought of the house of Elrond has buoyed my spirits for these long miles. But first, tell me: is Aragorn here?' He nods his head to Taylarin as she speaks to him.
Eryniell steps out from the party of elves, coming to a stop in front of the Company as her cobalt eyes glitter shrewdly. She dips her head to the group of beleaguered wanderers with barest hint of a smile. “I am Eryniell. Lay aside your cares a time, for it appears there have been many to plague your road.”
Gilglir nods at Maegdin's words, his face growing somewhat more grave. 'Yes, he is, but let us not speak of his errand, nor yours, for now.' Turning to the others, he gives them all a broad smile. 'Nay, nay, friends! We know all of your names! You have been watched since ever you crossed the Last Bridge, and your coming has been expected.'
Eskild makes an awkward bow and a sort of fishy expression
Ortrun blinks a few times, still held in some sort of rapture as she shakes her head in wonderment. Harris flies down, perching on her shoulder with a scree.
Bialver nods "We will welcome knowledge of our hosts names when they are pleased to say them"
Trumodir finds herself tongue-tied, as usual when she meets with an elf; she is happy to know that the elves already know of them all and she needn't say more.
Taylarin turns to regard Turodhor with a smile, then chuckles softly at Eskild. Her storm grey eyes fix on him for a moment before she comments softly and looks around at them all. "Find rest while you are able. Eat, drink, and sleep. You road only grows longer, I fear." She glances up to Gilglir for a moment, giving him a smile.
Minabel looks at Taylarin suspiciously, but then decides politeness is the best policy. "Minabel of Bree," she says pleasantly and gives a brief curtsy.
Maegdin noticeably relaxes at the confirmation that his chieftain is in the valley. He smiles back at the elf. 'Well, then, if someone will tend to our weary beasts, I, for one, would be more than glad to join you. For a time, at least. Elves may survive on song and laughter alone, but Men such as I must needs rest after such a journey as this.'
Bialver looks distinctly hopeful at the mention of sleep
Eryniell replies, "You shall all be safe within our borders. We will care for your horses, and rest will ease your spirits."
Greenstand laughs lightly, "This Man will try surviving on pipeweed and elven merriment for a while; and let sleep come take me if it can!"
Trumodir looks over at Eskild standing by Bialver and notes with satisfaction that he seems to have regained his color and even strength since they entered the valley.
The elf laughs again as several others come forward and take the horses' reins. 'They will be well-cared-for, have no fear! Now, come, friends!' With that, he heads off into the trees towards one of the fires.
Turodhor lets go of the horse and follows after the others, almost reluctantly, but wide eyed in awe
Ortrun straightens up a bit, unslinging her staff and allowing it to bear a little of her weight. She seemed distinctly uncomfortable with speaking as she lingered close to the others, unable to take her eyes off the elves.
Maegdin follows the Elves through the trees to the shores of a pond, where a bonfire blazes brightly, while scattered through the trees are a number of cook-fires, as well as trestle tables laden with roasted meats, grilled fish, cheeses, breads, and vegetables of all kinds, as well as wines and drink of every description.
Bialver looks longingly, and with some indecision between the food and the pond
Turodhor follows the others and pauses in surprise as they reach the bonfire glade, with its food and delights. He pauses, and after adjusting his sword, sits at a table near a small group of feasting elves
Trumodir sets herself down near one of the fires and signals to Eskild to join her.
Minabel looks at all of the fine food and her mouth begins to water. "My, these elves do set a lovely table."
Ortrun gasps at the sight of the tables simply overflowing with food, some of types she had never seen before. "Elves must be rich indeed..." she murmurs, walking over to a table. She seems almost unsure to take something, not knowing the etiquette of these folk.
Greenstand claps Bialver on the shoulder. "Why so hesitant, my friend? Our hosts have laid such a marvelous table, it would be the height of rudeness not to partake!" He laughs.
Eskild nods appreciatively to Trumodir and joins her, feeling still a bit wobbly on his feet.
Bialver seeing his kinswoman and their charge well settled, climbs a boulder overlooking the water, some distance from the tables.
Trumodir murmurs to Eskild, "Get yourself comfortable - I'll bring you some food." She rises and makes her way to the nearest table to fill up a plate for him.
Taylarin approached the group and spoke softly, giving them a gentle smile. "Please, take what you like. You must be hungry." She adds, "The grilled fish is particularly tasty."
Greenstand stops dancing to join the others at the table. "Do you think there will be songs about the Old Days?"
Bialver carefully folds his mail, and every stitch of clothing. A moment later his companions hear a loud whoop, and a giant splash as he cannonballs into the water
The elf turns to the travelers and, seeing their confusion and hesitation, laughs and gestures towards the tables. 'Come, friends! Be not shy! There is enough and to spare!' With that, he makes his own way to the tables and pours himself a goblet of wine and takes a slice of roast. Hearing the splash, he looks towards the pond and laughs once again.
Ortrun blinks lightly at Taylarin, then takes a plate and begins to heap food on it. Specifically the fresh fruits and vegetables; the Eglan was used to life in a dry, barren region. Fresh of anything was difficult to come by, and for the moment, she was in heaven.
Turodhor pours a goblet of wine and one for a neighbor before filling his plate with food. He still smiles and laughs at a nearby jest
Taylarin gives Ortrun a wide smile and an approving nod, then helps herself to a goblet of wine as she looks around to the others, ensuring they were also partaking.
Eryniell walks around the edge of the feasting, filling a goblet of wine for herself. The elleth soon moves to stand near a tree, firelight blurring her form into flickering shadow as she quietly watches the group, sipping from her goblet with a light smile.
Maegdin smiles and helps himself to the banquet, setting himself on the grass and watching the Elves as they dance and sing and speak, laughing with voices gay and young.
Trumodir brings a plate full of vegetables and fruit back to Eskild, but noticing the disappointed look on his face, she says, "I'll bring you some meat'. Going back to the table, she watches to see what meat the elves are eating and puts some on a smaller plate for Eskild. She brings that back, along with a goblet of wine, and his face breaks out in a broad grin.
Greenstand grumbles contentedly. "I thought the Bree-lands had claim on the best boar anywhere, but this far surpasses anything I've ever tasted!"
Bialver sets his mail by the firs, and barefoot and coatless joins the others at the table. With his long reach, he has soon filled his plate with bread, mushrooms, berries and cheeses, and tucks in with a will
Ortrun takes a tentative bite out of each piece of food on her plate, although every time, she smiled with delight and wolfed it down. "It is all so fresh and alive here."
Trumodir was satisfied that Eskild was well content and gave her attention to making up a plate of food for herself, with special attention to the variety of berries on offer. She added a goodly amount of bread and sweet butter to go with them, and was delighted to find mead as one of the drinks available, so she helped herself to a large mug of that as well.
Bialver's nose twitches as Trumodir pours. "Mjød!" he exclaims
The tall elf who had first spoken to them makes his way over to the company, plate and goblet in hand. He sits down among them with a smile. 'One of you,' he nods to Bialver, 'reminded me that I have been uncivil. I know all of your names, but not all of you know mine!' He laughs lightly and bows his head towards the company. 'Gilglir Turhondion of the House of Finrod am I,' he says, laying a slender hand on his chest as he does. He gestures to some of the others around them. 'This is Taylarin Tirisindë, and Eryniel Celeblas, and Rombrennil, and Anhebir, and Glorielhen, and more beside.' The Elves bow their heads as they are named. 'It gives us great joy to welcome you to Imladris. It has been many a year since we welcomed so many strangers to Mereth en Iavas. Not since the days of Valandur can I remember a company such as yours.'
Bialver drains his goblet to their host "A fine table you set, Gilglir of the Afdalrálfar"
Turodhor says, 'Indeed, fairer than the fairest feast tables of the Prince are the tables of the Elves!' He pauses for a moment as if he might say something, but stops
Eskild begins to nod and rest his head on Trumodir's shoulder, being very full from all the food. Trumodir asks Gilglir, "Where are we to sleep? This young one needs a soft, warm bed, if one is available."
Bialver has just refilled his plate with food, and his goblet with mead, but he begins to stand at his Kinswoman's question
Greenstand perks up at "the days of Valandur." "What can you tell us of those days, Lord Gilglir?" he asks.
Maegdin looks up from his food as Trumodir speaks. He nods in agreement. 'I thank you for your welcome, old friend, but the lad isn't the only one in need of rest.' Gilglir smiles and nods as an elf-maiden comes over to the company. 'Please, any who wish for rest, follow Gilfiniel. She will show you to the rooms we have prepared for you.'
Minabel perks up at the mention of "rooms". It has been a long time since the company has seen proper accommodations.
Maegdin stands up and bows low to the Elves. 'I thank you, once again, for your hospitality. Till the morrow.' With that, he helps Eskild to his feet and the two follow the elleth as she leads them towards the House.
Taylarin smiles and dips her head to Maegdin. "Navaer," she says in her usual soft voice.
Bialver has not yet so much as slackened his pace as he fills his plate for the third...or is it fourth?...time. Some of the elves notice and laugh, but their laughter is so merry and kind that he drains his goblet to them before he digs in
Gilglir glances over at Turodhor as the others go to their rest. 'Please, friend, no lord am I. I am but a maker, nothing more. But what would you know of the days of Valandur?'
Taylarin takes a seat next to Gilglir, smiling as she silently drinks her wine.
Bialver rumbles contentedly "The Hvítaálfar of Gjádalr are things kind… but their cooks… their cooks are magnificent"
Greenstand laughs. "I have heard the name, but little more. What can you tell me of him and his time?"
Bialver slowly realizes the conversation has turned to something besides food and rest, and cocks an ear while he silently continues to feast
Gilglir smiles and takes a drink from his goblet. 'He was a wise king, and a just. Indeed, he put me in mind of Elendil, more than many of his kin have. He was well-spoken and fair of face and of spirit. We were grieved to hear that he fell in battle. His guard was assailed by Orcs down from the Hithaeglir as they rode south to the marriage of Atanatar, and he was struck down by a poisoned arrow.' The elf sighs and shakes his head, falling silent for a moment. 'But let us leave off such thoughts!' he says with a smile. 'Tell us of yourself! How comes a Gondorian so far from his home? One was a marvel, but two?' He laughs.
Turodhor pauses mid-bite as he hears word of Elendil. He tilts his head to listen more carefully, but then sets down the goblet and pauses. "Two, you say? Has the lord Boromir found his way here?" He straightens. "I set forth on quest with the leave of my liege, Prince Imrahil, but my quest is grim enough in daylight, and has no place in such joyous company and fine feasting."
Greenstand turns toward Turodhor with interest at mention of his mission.
Bialver hides his curiosity by ducking his head over his plate, but anyone who knew Beorning ways would notice the pricking up of his ears
Gilglir nods. 'Yes, he is here also,' he says simply. Glancing around at the others, he shakes his head. 'Why so dour, friends? Come, this is a time of gladness!' With that, he begins to sing, his rich voice forming a counterpoint to the pipes and harps playing at the other fires.
Turodhor sags back into the bench as if a great weight were lifted from his shoulders. "Aye, that is best news one could hear." He rolls his shoulders and drains the wine, turning to heed the music
As the Elf sings, even those who have no knowledge of Elvish feel themselves stirred by thoughts of the waves crashing on the sands beneath the stars. A keen longing for the Sea pulls at their hearts until the song ends.
'A Falas athan Gaer ‘Wathui!
A Dor ias Edhil dhorthar hi!
A Círbann - bar guren velui!
In felf na-falas dringar hi,
i mŷl ‘lain horthar; Orn lothui!
Adui hain palan-diron im
ir cenin Vengîl eriol
or gardh od Annûn annui,
fael or Eldamar-naur lachol,
a laeg or di, buig ar arui.
A Gîl i ‘wath no vroniol
úmarad fired le vi fuin!
Turodhor lets his gaze wander away as the song winds through his heart, yearning for the Sea, yet he knew the sea, and it meant many things to him, things of home and love, and sorrow
Ortrun frohttps://forums.signumuniversity.org/index.php?threads/mythgard-rp.419/page-2wns a bit at Gilglir's song. She had heard tales of the Sea, but just like she had with the Elves, she didn't even know it existed. It was a far-off concept to her. But as Gilglir sang, she felt an odd yearning for it nonetheless.
Eryniell leans against the tree, eyes fixed on Gilglir as he sang. Her eyes closed for a moment as the Sea-longing called to her.
Bialver sated at last, leans back and lights his pipe.
Greenstand had never seen the sea before, but his mind was filled with images of endless waves with great boats upon them. He imagined them as something like rowboats, but with several decks and dozens or hundreds of oars.
Trumodir lets out a loud yawn and says, "I cannot keep my eyes open, and the stories you are singing are not part of my people's story. I must find a bed before I fall asleep right here." And with that she wanders off in the direction that Eskild had been led earlier.
Taylarin closed her eyes as Gilglir sang, letting the words wash over her as she thought of home and the sea. "It has been too long since I have been home."
Bialver listens to the two waterfalls, and seems to hear another sound… still a roar of water, but more rhythmic and somehow both wild and profound
Gilglir smiles again as he ends his song. 'Of course, friends! Come and go as you please!' He stands and goes to get more food and drink.
Greenstand is so enthralled by his surroundings that when weariness finally overtakes him, he passes seamlessly from waking to sleeping. For the rest of his life, he never could figure out how much of that night had been real and how much dream.
Gilglir looks over as he comes back to the company. A group of pipers are striking up a tune which stirs the blood and sets the limbs a-leaping. Laughing, he sets aside his food and drink and pulls Taylarin to her feet, leading her over to the ring of dancers which is beginning to form.
Turodhor considers for a moment and then drains his goblet, unbuckling helm and sword to lay them on the table, and moved to join the dance
Taylarin 's slender frame is lifted easily and she laughs, letting Gilglir lead her to the dance ring where she begins to spin and clap along with the music.
Ortrun glances up sharply, scooting a bit out of the way with plate balanced on her lap. She watches with a little smile as the elves begin dancing.
Eryniell chuckles, raising her goblet to the couple as she continues to watch the happy celebration of Mereth en Iavas. No doubt it would continue long into the night.