Lothlorien- Free RP

The fair valley of Rivendell, upon whose house the stars of heaven most brightly shone.
Forester of Lothlorien
Points: 164 
Posts: 89
Joined: Fri May 15, 2020 9:05 pm
Caras Galadhon
The Hollow
Image

“That is true, for Gareth’s case and for the fact she was abandoned. Dwarves have a temper and being raised by a group of them, really brought out the inner rage. Sometimes, it is appealing, to just yell and smash things but that is not something we often allow ourselves to do.” She mused. “Perhaps why they are so out and passionate, it is a good trait to have, no doubt.” Her musing paused for a moment when Tenharien asked where her attention went and she sighed, rather loudly. It wasn’t that she had any trust issues, sometimes it was better to not go into details about her ‘job’.

“My thoughts did travel that way, that is correct. They were ‘lower’ ranked then the ones I am after, more smugglers then the big guns that control the whole operation. So it is better to start at the bottom then work your way up the food chain, as they say.” Lilath continued to toy with a strand of her hair thoughtfully, her brow furrowing as her mind grew troubled. “Out of the seven, two survived initially. One I found not far out of the desert but the other one was closer to home. I lost him in the wilderlands so until I get wind or he resurfaces, I have to stay put for now.”

As he mentioned her eyes, she laughed, thankful for the change of subject and smiled brightly. “My Father had the bluest eyes, almost grey in some lights and my mothers were like a red toned brown. Kind of like copper. They used to say that when their soul combined to make me, their love shines out of my eyes” The bright smile turned into a fond one and her eyes crinkled at the memory. “Of course that was incredibly cheesy of them but that love was something i hold dear, even after losing it so many years ago”

“Hmm...what else do i love? Long walks on the beach? The sunset? Being introverted and not caring about the general population?” She whispered, as if she was sharing a great secret and smiled cheekily, winking at Tenharien. Sidra soon arrived back at the table, dragging the disheveled looking elf with her and she smiled warmly, shifting from her laid back position to reach out her hand in greeting. “Well met Rochindil, I have heard many stories of you growing up in the past from your Amal in letters but never had a chance to meet you properly except when you were very young, I barely recognized you so I am sure you wouldn’t recognize me either” Her smiling eyes shifted to her onya and she placed a knowing touch on her arm, pouring some more wine in her glass. She too had noticed the appearance, it must be worrying her. She knew that look very well. “Do not fret, The stories will continue to flow but if you wish to pass the sleeping Gareth to me Onya, you can. He must be getting a bit heavy after all this time”
Characters: Lilath(Elf) Beril(Human/Dwarf) Garreth(Dwarf) Blossom(Orc/human) Rose(Ent)

Archer of Lothlorien
Points: 128 
Posts: 43
Joined: Mon May 18, 2020 3:11 am
Caras Galadhon
The Hollow

Image
"Oh, you haven't missed much at all, do not worry. I should say, Lilath won't soon forget the tales of Gareth, so there is no need to worry." Tenharien waited for Rochindil to get a bit closer, so he could stand up and offer his hand to shake in greeting. "It is nice to meet you," he said in advance, getting ready to stand up to his feet. It seems we have a family gathering! I am the lucky one then to join you all today." Tenharien noted Sidra's words and looked at them all, searching for the resemblance in each one.

"Hmm. Stressful work then indeed. Well, do not fret over it right now. Have a drink and enjoy your free time. Catching villains can come later, I hope. I have no doubt you will do your job well and get it done. A toast to your luck and skill." Tenharien raised his glass and then drank, nearly finishing the wine, but leaving some to swirl around in his glass.

"Ah ha, see there is a smile! Blue and red will certainly do it. How lucky you are. And cheesy or not, love can be powerful. That is very special." He wondered if he knew or had heard of her parents, but did not ask, not wanting to pry or bring up anything painful. Instead he wondered what type of eyes his own future children if any might have. "I do like the beach. I can't say I enjoy walking at all, though. I've had enough of that for some time."

Galadhrim Bowmaster
Points: 216 
Posts: 50
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 8:37 am
Caras Galadhon
The Hollow

Rochindil was aimlessly staring into nothingness when he felt something touching what was left of his once golden locks and before he knew what was happening he was tightly embraced. "Mother is that really you?" He let himself fall into the warm embrace, "Many moons have passed and leaves fallen from the trees since I last saw your face" He was gently led by Sidra towards a corner of the tavern where there was already a merry gathering of sorts happening.

He could sense that his mother was both worried and angry at the same time, a good job there are no enemies nearby he thought to himself. He attempted to reassure her he was fine with a small smile and nod of the head. Rochindil bowed towards Lilath in greeting "I am sorry it has been a while and my memory is not what it once was " he paused and gazed off into the distance " I must admit the features I see in front of me are vaguely familiar..... it is a pleasure to see you again and I must apologise for my current appearance "

Remembering he still had a drink in his hand he quickly drained the glass in one quick gulp. Upon noticing Tenharien had offered his hand in greeting he attempted to grasp his hands and nearly fell over still being unsteady on his feet. "I think it best I take a seat, it is unbecoming to be so ungraceful"

Forester of Lothlorien
Points: 159 
Posts: 70
Joined: Fri May 15, 2020 6:24 pm
Caras Galadhon
The Hollow


Sidra nodded her thanks to Lilath for refilling her glass. Her nerves needed the liquid comfort, and the warmth that it sent coursing through her body. “He isn’t getting too heavy, amal, but perhaps it is better is you took Gareth back.” She said, leaning forward and gently sliding the lizard King into Lilath’s waiting arms.

She noted Tenharien looking between them, and gave a soft chuckle. “If you’re looking for family resemblance, you won’t find it I’m afraid. It is a lucky chance that both amal and I have raven hair and are shorter in height. Most people say it’s because we’re Half-Elves. But Rochindil here, he is tall and fair haired – what you’d expect from a son of the Galadhrim. We are family not by blood, but by choice.” She said, looking at Lilath and Rochindil warmly. “Do you and your siblings look alike?” She asked Tenharien.

She reached out a hand when Rochindil nearly fell over, but he righted himself quickly. Her dark brows drew together in concern. “Yonya, are you alright? When did you last eat? Shall I get you some stew?” She stopped herself from immediately rushing off to get him food. He was a grown Elf, if he needed something, he’d tell her. She took a steadying breath. “I’d be surprised if you did recognize Lilath right away, Rochindil. She travelled a lot when you were younger, and as soon as you were old enough, I believe you went off travelling yourself.” She raised an eyebrow at him. “If you don’t mind my asking, where have you been?”
Characters: Sidra (Elf), Leilani & Elva (Hobbits), Solia (Human)

Forester of Lothlorien
Points: 164 
Posts: 89
Joined: Fri May 15, 2020 9:05 pm
Caras Galadhon
The Hollow
Image

At the cue to toast that Tenharien so nicely suggested, Lilath took that opportunity to finish the last of her mead while her spare hand retrieved the sleepy reptile that was handed back to her. As she settled back down in the chair, she shifted Gareth up to her chest and smiled as he curled into a small ball, his small head resting on her shoulder. The urge to boop said noise was strong indeed but a hissy Gareth was not ideal considering she wished to remain drinking and not spending an hour or more, soothing said grumpiness. "Indeed, A good toast"

“There is no need to bow, far to formal but a fine greeting, nonetheless” She smiled warmly at Rochindil, noticing the ragged cut of his hair and unruly appearance but it wasn’t her place to question. If and when he was comfortable, he would talk if he so wished. When he seemed unstable and her onya moved to his side, Lilath reached over to grasp the glass from his hands. “Steady now.” Topping the glass with water, she placed it back on the table in front of him and smiled. “Water please and then perhaps something stronger afterwards?”

When Rochindil mentioned about being ungraceful, she snorted and grinned. “Your part of the wrong family. Unfortunately, I have always been ungraceful. I’m sure your mother can agree to that” Lilath topped up the glasses that needed to be topped up and settled back down in her chair, patting the lizard who was slumbering so peacefully. “Family by blood or by choice, it doesn’t matter. Our hearts formed a bond that is just as unbreakable. Even if i had birth children, Onya would still be my favorite” She teased, winking at Sidra in a playful manner.

It was true, those words. She had never found someone she tolerated enough to procreate with but the love she had for her Onya, was deeper then what she imagined the first time she laid eyes on the young elleth. Lilath would be forever grateful that she made that decision all those years ago. Even if she was traveling often. Knowing that someone out there was thinking of you, even briefly, was far better then not being in any thoughts to begin with.
“Your mother is correct, Rochindil, I would have been surprised also. However, the moments we met were blessed moments indeed, even if they were brief”

Lilath turned her head towards Tenharien at the question of his siblings and she raised an eyebrow curiously. "Do you have many siblings? Are they all dark haired like you also?
Last edited by Liläth on Wed Jul 22, 2020 5:04 am, edited 1 time in total.
Characters: Lilath(Elf) Beril(Human/Dwarf) Garreth(Dwarf) Blossom(Orc/human) Rose(Ent)

Archer of Lothlorien
Points: 128 
Posts: 43
Joined: Mon May 18, 2020 3:11 am
Caras Galadhon
The Hollow
Image

As Rochildil stumbled, Tenharien wondered what he had been through. He was inclined to ask for that story, but did not want to be insensitive, and just looked him over, thinking he would be alright with a little rest. Rochidil Being reunited with his mother was perhaps calming and Ten hoped it would ease his mind. "I'm sure some food and drink will have you feeling better in no time...from whatever it may be that has you feeling not yourself. "

"Ahh, I see. Well, I don't see. But yes, I understand now. Very interesting family. Family is family, though. Yes, Lilath, Sidra I have one brother by blood and we do look a like. We are twins, actually! Though he is a bit taller and older by four minutes." Tenharien smiled and watched them closely as he sat back down in his seat. "I have one sister by blood and she resembles my mother and my aunt. She is the youngest of us all and she is nothing but trouble. Her hair is as black as mine is. A bit longer. She lives in Lothlorien with my mother and father. My brother lives in Imladris."

Tenharien made a mental note to visit her sooner rather than later so he didn't incur her wrath. He knew that as soon as she got word that he was back, she would want him to come and visit the old house. He was excited to see her after so many years and looked forward to hearing all her stories.

New Soul
Points: 198 
Posts: 56
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 12:14 pm
Cerin Amroth
The Hill Beckons

Image

The night was deep and clouds slide over the sky like an old tattered shadowy grey blanket that may have been a rich navy blue in it's time. Pockets of Varda's creation peeped through the tears in the shroud as it was dragged over head by unseen hands. The winds gushed over Celebrin as he approached Amroth's hill; causing the drape of his lightweight cloak, which he wore currently only to resist the chill from the furious air of this night, to flutter violently at it's skirt; flicking at the long grass as it swayed and tugged from the same gusts. This cloak of pale blue with silver trim that he held around him composed also of a deep hood that hid his face completely on this dark night. Looking forward his elven eyes locked onto the trees of white bark and the mellyrn just beyond them and to the ascent therein. Though these moments were not altogether rare, he would do his best not to miss the opportunities to come here. Already he could hear that which he came for. For when the wind blew through these trees around Cerin Amroth, the sound of the sea and forgotten birds of a time lost to him could bring him back... back home.

Gently his right hand slid over the pale barks of the trees before the hill as he swayed between them clasping his cloak together with his left. And his black boots of soft leather glided through the shaded Niphredil and Elanor that accompanied the abundance of grass upon the hill. Before reaching the great mallorn atop the hill, he stooped low and there sat preparing for what he expected to happen like nearly every other time he did this, but it was worth it for that simple peace before war existed. Now facing into the wind, he drew back his hood with eyes closed and felt his auburn hair being pulled from it's curtain, erupting in flurries behind him. The smell of the sea was not there which he was thankful for. He would not survive as he is if he was truly near a shore of the sea. He felt his mind being pulled back, back to his forgotten youth, before the Sun, before the Moon, when all was simple and pure. He fell to his back. With the growth around him urging him to "shhh", and his arms at his sides along with his hair scattered beneath his head, he drifted...
Image

New Soul
Points: 198 
Posts: 56
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 12:14 pm
(Cerin Amroth)
Lost in a Dream

Image Image


"Celebrin..." a soft female voice whispered into his left ear, "Open your eyes." A gust swept over again and he furrowed his brow before blinking his silver eyes open. Before him lay Varda's masterpiece, no cloud, nor canopy that should have been there. Looking toward his feet, they were now bare, a beach near the city of Eglarest was only a few steps away. The vastness of the sea spread out to the edge of Varda's canvas reflecting it's brilliance with a dancing shimmer. To his right his gaze reached to the shore's point where Barad Nimras was not yet built. There always seemed a very faint glow in the sky in that direction, far off to the West.

He heard a huff to his left. "I am over here, how could you..."

He closes his eyes again before saying, "I dare not look at you. My heart prays that I do, but my mind knows well where it will lead."

"...Please."

"I cannot!" he exclaimed. His arms went rigid in defiance and his fists clenched tight. His brow tensed up over his eyes in a desperate plea for her to cease her insidious request.

He sensed her roll onto her side to face him and close the distance between them. He felt all four tips of her fingers grace his chin on the opposite side of his face. She traced his jaw line until those same finger tips grazed his ear. Her fingers fell flat to his cheek and a gentle pull was all it took to force him to turn his face towards hers.

"Edra." 'Open' she commanded calmly as if he could no longer resist her. Feeling the tears well, he set forth his gaze in her direction. Initially his gaze was a fire of fury for forcing him to look upon her, but she seemed to absorb it immediately as she lifted her head from the ground in surprise, and the tension in his brow fell away. The fire passed into her flame-like hair that danced about until she set her head back down. They locked eyes for the longest of moments; his silver rings diving into her deep green pools.

She softly bit her lower lip and released it. "Never leave me."

"You know I do." He dared not close his eyes.

"You didn't have to."

"I did. I left to protect you."

"You left to protect yourself!" He knew this to be true as this was all in his own head after all. Tears welled in her eyes, but he held her gaze for he knew what came next. She tried to turn away but he quickly rolled to his side and held her shoulder.

"Do not leave me to my regrets already I beg." His eyes pleaded. She sat up, her eyes lowered, and he followed quickly knowing he could not lose sight of her face. He held her face close to his; their temples touching. Their manes battled behind them, a wild blaze licking the meadow. "I am sorry. I would have returned sooner had I known how truly hopeless it was. I was overwhelmed with hate and a burden I placed on myself. I could not nor would I return until justice was done upon him!" He spoke of Morgoth or Melkor and the great misery he brought to the Falathrim in the First Battle. Many lives were lost around the Havens. "I would not have you involved in it. I wanted you to stay as you were. Innocent and free, for I believed I could bring these moments back to the world. I also believed you could move on. How did you cling to a future with ME for so long?"

She met his eyes once more, tears still flowing, but her look had become stern. "You took all my love with you... and I couldn't stand by any longer. Not as those creatures flooded into our own city. I feared you to be lost." She tore away from him, too suddenly to stop her and just as suddenly turned right back; face and hair soaked in blood. "You ruined me." Her penetrating glare placing immeasurable blame upon him. "You killed me." Looking down, he held a blood soaked crude knife in her abdomen that he hurriedly released and caught her as she slumped. "I would never wish this. Will you not forgive me?" Tears rolled down his face as he kindly swept the now crimson tresses from her eyes. She remained still in his arms. "Tinnuial..."
Image

New Soul
Points: 198 
Posts: 56
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 12:14 pm
(Cerin Amroth)
Niphred's Inception

Image Image

He closed his eyes and when he opened them, she was gone. Blood stained his white shirt and hands. His jaw slacked as he stood holding his ensanguined hands away from himself. "The stream is there. Don't stand around all cluelessly in shock."

"You..." Celebrin looked now upon another face he had lost long ago. He rushed to the river side. Somehow he had landed himself upstream of the Nenning river; close to where he was born. On his knees he began working the blood from his hands in the clear water.

"It's for the best. They're all witches throwing spells on us. You should have stuck with me brother." Niphred spoke confidently with a sneer as he strode back and forth in his full dark leather armour; rapier and dirk at his sides. His dark hair and pale skin made him appear as if a ghost. His hands stayed mostly on his hips though he kept gesturing as he spoke. "We fought like kings that day! Us and Aniron."

"We managed." Celebrin kept working his hands but the blood, Tinnuial's blood, would not wash away. "Curses."

"Curses indeed! My life was full of them."

"It must have been from what I pieced together, or you were just mad crazy. What flipped your switch? Was it that first Noldorin elf you killed? Was it Olórëa, whom you abandoned? I don't want to hear it, kinslayer." Celebrin stood, giving up and accepting his bloodied hands. It WAS his fault.

"Ahaha nonono," Niphred wagged his finger. "Firstly HE deserved it, ALL the elves I have killed deserved it, so they were no kin of mine. As for Olórëa, well, she never told me AND she was a witch... like I said." He stood up straight as if it was now all justified.

"Your son is a respectable elf by the way. Resides in Imladris last I heard."

"I care not. Anyway, why are you hands still bloody? Are you guilty?" Celebrin looked to his hands again as he brought them before himself. Dark crimson glistened upon them still. "I suppose I am..." He heard a swish and a sudden sting upon his chest as Niphred's rapier prodded him, and Celebrin raised his hands slowly.

"So you are the kinslayer." Niphred stated as he began to circle the stationary Celebrin; Rapier extended.

"Niphred, you know very well that I could not."

"And I would say look at your hands, kinslayer." Niphred stood before him again. "Last words?" He asked raising an eyebrow and jerking his mouth to one side. Celebrin felt the handle of a blade in his right hand over his head, how it got there was beyond him but it willed his defiance forth and he cried, "I am not!" bringing his scimitar down upon the rapier. The tip soared downward, tearing open his loose shirt. The scimitar brought the long pointed blade straight to the earth where Celebrin stomped it from Niphred's grasp. "Oh?" Niphred grinned evilly, and a spark of pure pleasure flashed in his eyes. His dirk appeared in his other hand and lunged forward with a thrust. Celebrin quickly raised his sword to catch it and forced both their arms wide to his right. Niphred however was not swayed and had actively reattained his rapier, ripping it from under Celebrin's boot. Yes, he had boots now, in fact, he was fully armoured in leather as well as if he was still under Finrod's command as an archer.

"Well look at you." Niphred thrust twice and Celebrin shifted his weight to either side, falling back and low but avoiding the rapier. He regained his footing, and brought his scimitar between them.

"You don't have to do this, brother. I know this is what you lived for but was there nothing else? Were you genuinely only happy with blood on your hands?" Niphred pondered the question, striding to the side giving the scimitar the occasional thwack with his rapier, never enough to move it much.

"There were times when I was lost but no... there was nothing more satisfying!" He swung his rapier downward a few times and Celebrin parried easily with his heavier blade. The dirk however came in low for another thrust. Celebrin shifted to his right and leaned forward to suck in his stomach but the dirk changed from a thrust to a slash and followed after him. Luckily with all his experience, Celebrin had kept his balance so he could fall backwards into a roll, coming back up in time to catch yet another downward slash from the rapier with his scimitar.

"You haven't lost your skills!"

"It just returns to me when holding a blade." Flicking their blades to the side again, Celebrin's left hand brushed up against his other weapon, a curved dagger. Drawing it from the sheath, he held it at the ready now dual wielding to match his kinsman.

They came together with many clangs and thwacks and steel running along steel. For the most part dagger met dagger and scimitar met rapier though sporadically one would disrupt the rhythm causing the other to react in a different way before returning to the wild rhythm. As they fought, visions of orcs appeared around them as they twisted and turned around in their dance. Unanticipatedly, Celebrin found himself upon a battlefield, nay, a slaughter, for the elves were unprepared. One orc rushed him, blade held high. Celebrin caught his belly with the point of his sword and thrust up under his rib cage. The orc dropped his blade falling to his knees, then transforming into Niphred before his eyes. Celebrin removed his scimitar and cast it aside along with his dagger before embracing his friend he grew up with.

"So you've killed me as well." Niphred choked.

"I suppose in a way I have. I left you to your madness. My resolve for justice outweighed any love or duty I had for others. You were crying for help but I would not listen."

"Crying for help..." Niphred spat out blood. The mockery of the sentiment was his last words, as no more air came to his lungs.

"Regardless of your faults, you are missed, my brother." Niphred went still, and Celebrin shut the sparkle from his dark eyes.

~~~~~


Celebrin's eyes shot open, returning him to Cerin Amroth. He rested his forearm on his forehead. The storm was nearly upon him. The clouds had grown thick and thunder rolled close by. "No sleep for me tonight... I need a drink."
Image

New Soul
Points: 288 
Posts: 191
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 4:30 am
Gardens of Lothlórien
Túrelia
Image

Just behind the hill that is Cerin Amroth, is a gentle path that leads to a golden arch that announces the entrance to the Gardens of Lothlorien. A place of natural beauty, with a sense of magic lingering in the air. This is a place that hints at the beauty of Valinor, among the towering mallorns, the garden contains some flora and fauna that are not found any where else in Middle Earth, as well as plants from every corner of it. An Orchard, a rose garden, a vineyard, as well as rock springs and a reflection pond can all be found in this enchanting place. The section of herb garden the healers use is also located here.

And it is at the corner of where that herb garden meets the rose garden where we find Túrelia today. She has not yet started to gather the herbs she needs to refill her personal stock. She had gotten distracted by the rose buds that had not yet opened yet. The particular ones she was looking at had lightly red lined tips , but looked like they would mostly be yellow in color. The garden filled with the sound of her voice. She reached her hand out and lightly touched the bud. However, it was her voice beckoning it to open. Her blue eyes lit with delight as the little bud responded and slowly opened it's petals to her, as if her face was the sun. "I knew you could do it." She smiled at the flower, as if it were a young child.
Last edited by Veowyn on Fri Jun 12, 2020 12:29 am, edited 1 time in total.
Veowyn, Vandani, Jakiewyn, Caddrick, Ailura, Túrelia, Vigri, Vinca
Maldir - you are missed

New Soul
Points: 198 
Posts: 56
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 12:14 pm
Gardens of Lothórien
A Voice in the Garden
Image

Step by step, he walked the path. Though he had no destination, his pace was sure and unencumbered. With left hand bracing his right elbow, he strode in thought; chin nestled between his right hand's forefinger and thumb. A sword hung at his side, the same one from a time long past, passed to him from an unlikely source. Malufael expected they had stolen it. He was draped in a scarlet cloak, a dark brown vest, boots, blue pants and a white shirt with a single button left undone at the top. He mumbled as he went saying things like, "It wasn't his fault..." or "Certainly could gave gone that way..." and he paused a moment for something had stolen his attention.

With a glance around, he discovered he had walked some distance and made it to the Gardens. A voice swept over the area like none he had heard in a long time. Powerful. Beautiful. The song was filled with grace. Stepping through the golden archway, he followed the voice though it suddenly stopped. So he stopped. The rose garden? Unsure of it's origin, he stepped lightly towards the roses. There he found the source. A fair elf maiden speaking to the rose buds. He watched her a moment before interrupting her. "You should not rush them." He paused no more than a second for her attention. "Budding is part of their life and elegance. Would you rush to the climax of your story? It's impact would feel diminished. No? Longing for the anticipated is a thrill in itself. For me, the journey always defeats the destination."

With a hand to his chest one pressed to his thigh, he leaned in her direction in a gracious bow. "My name is Malufael. How shall I call you, Blossomer of Roses?"
Image

New Soul
Points: 288 
Posts: 191
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 4:30 am
Gardens of Lothlórien
Túrelia
Image

Túrelia turned at the male voice. She'd knew others were always in the garden, though most usually just silently listened to her song, knowing she'd be on her way back to Lady Galadriel's side soon. The outcome of this song seemed to have struck a chord with someone else in the garden, though. However, it was not in tune with her own observations. He had an interesting thought. Had she been rushing the bloom? Certainly not, a little encouraging is all. And now that the one bud was opening, others all over this section of garden were following suit. Not nearly so fast, but a visible difference was made. Surely her little song could not have been able to force so much, if they were not ready.

However, his comment seemed more as a way to start conversation, than it was critical. She looked him over as he made his introduction. Malufael, fair minded. He was as handsome an ellon she'd seen. She flushed a little at the thought, and at the made up title he gave her. "Túrelia. That is what I am called by most." She dipped into a curtsey, a gesture to return his bow.

"Tell me, Malufael, what brings you to the roses today? Surely it was not to tell a healer to stop encouraging the flowers to bloom." She teased him lightly, with a wink.
Veowyn, Vandani, Jakiewyn, Caddrick, Ailura, Túrelia, Vigri, Vinca
Maldir - you are missed

New Soul
Points: 198 
Posts: 56
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 12:14 pm
Gardens of Lothórien
A Voice in the Garden
Image

Malufael raised his head and straightened as Túrelia returned his courteous introduction with esteem. She was indeed one to behold with reverence. Though her mood shifted promptly after and he could not tell for his own life whether she was teasing him or truthfully upset with him for somewhat pushing his demeanor onto her.

"Uh... no, most certainly not, my lady." Malufael stumbled to speak, needing to respond with something to assure her in case her fury was imminent. "My wandering thoughts brought me to the Gardens and a fair voice brought me hither to the roses. The voice appeared to belong to you and I simply spoke without any thought wishing to see the face of the one before me." Realizing he just rambled a full explanation, he straightened stiffly and blinked leaving his eyes slightly wider and darted his eyes from her toward the roses, then back to her and back to the roses, seemingly holding his breath.

"A healer, such as yourself, would undoubtedly know more of plants than a wandering unequivocal elf like me. Forgive my impertinence if you can find it in your kindest of hearts, Lady Túrelia." How bowed once more, even further with his eyes shut tight. He should have prepared himself mentally before approaching her. What was he thinking? Not to mention her striking beauty. Should he leave before he ruins his reputation further? He lifted his head again, opened his eyes and mouth to speak. "I --..." But he abruptly cut himself off.
Image

New Soul
Points: 288 
Posts: 191
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 4:30 am
Gardens of Lothlórien
Túrelia
Image

The elleth's eyes went wide as he stumbled over his words and tried to explain himself. She had been merely teasing, she had not meant to cause him such sudden distress. She held up her hand, and was about to stop him, when he bowed again. She admonished herself silently. It was rare that she teased any one so easily, why had she chosen to do so to this ellon?

She stepped forward, bent her knees so she could reach his bowed face. She placed her finger under his chin, and pulled him to look at her again. He tried to speak again, but stopped. She smiled gently. "Hush now. Master Malufel, I am was entirely jesting, I promise. I took no offense at your comments." Her eyes scanned his face, lingering on his eyes, the same way her hand was still resting on his cheek.

She then realized how close they were, and backed away, her hand slowly leaving his face. She looked back to the roses. "I had no idea a song would effect more than the flowers. Fate does have an interesting way of it, though. No?" She looked back at him, wondering how she could keep him from leaving. She did not know why, she wanted to linger in his presence. "Would you like to join me for a walk further into the roses?" She did not wait for him. She turned to the narrow paths that led into the roses, completely disappearing into the young blooming bushes. She wasn't sure, but was hoping he would follow.
Veowyn, Vandani, Jakiewyn, Caddrick, Ailura, Túrelia, Vigri, Vinca
Maldir - you are missed

New Soul
Points: 198 
Posts: 56
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 12:14 pm
Gardens of Lothórien
A Voice in the Garden
Image

As Malufael went to lift his head and announce his departure, a gentle touch pressed his chin and his amber eyes were swallowed in a sea of grey and blue. His eyes went wide, wide as they could ever be. He was frozen; couldn't breath; couldn't move. He could not even answer her confession which assured him of her lack of offense. 'Too close.' Túrelia's eyes took in every inch of his face before resting on his amber orbs once more. 'Too close!' As if realizing something, she backed away. Her hand upon his cheek was the last to retreat. He straightened though he could not still speak, breath, or move freely. A pounding in his ears made it difficult to understand anything she said afterwards. It was not until she disappeared into the roses that he finally took a breath and blinked his vision into proper focus. He rubbed his eyes with the whole of his right hand and captured his lower lip between his thumb and the side of his forefinger. With a soft pull, his grip on it slowly ceded as his mind wandered.

'What was that? How did he lose his cool so easily? Had she cast some spell over him? Nay, he would have noticed. Túrelia... Does he simply find her beauty that alluring?' He searched his mind for anything that could have provoked his enthrallment, but came up with nothing. He needed answers, so he trudged into the paths among the roses.

He paused when he could see down the initial path. She was gone. His step was swift and light as he rushed to the end arriving at an intersection, looking in every direction. He hoped this wasn't a maze. He would force his way out of it if he had to. Getting lost was only fun with exploring the unpredictable. Running into dead ends over and over was not appealing. He stooped to the earth trying to make out her soft footprints in the turf. Deciding on the left path, he keenly walked down it and called for her, cupping his hands to his mouth. "Túrelia!"
Image

Forester of Lothlorien
Points: 159 
Posts: 70
Joined: Fri May 15, 2020 6:24 pm
Caras Galadhon
The Hollow


Sidra smiled at Lilath’s words, returning her wink. Even though she knew her mother was teasing her, it still always lifted her spirits to hear her say that she was Lilath’s favorite. She lifted her glass in a mock toast. “You have very good taste, amal.” She said, her umber eyes twinkling with mirth.

A laugh burst from her lips at Tenharien’s words. “Yes, we are a very interesting family, Tenharien. I’m sure it keeps everyone on their toes, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.” She took a sip of her mead, a smile still on her lips. She listened as the ellon described his family. “A twin!” Sidra exclaimed, “How wonderful! Did you two get into a lot of trouble as children? Has he lived long in Imladris or did he move there more recently?” Her thoughts drifted to the Last Homely House. It was a wonderful, peaceful place. She had spent many a happy year there learning from the different folk that were guests of Lord Elrond. “Tell me, Tenharien, are you the oldest or your twin? It’s wonderful that you still have family living in Lothlorien! All this talk of siblings makes me wish we could meet them! I’m sure they could tell us some fun stories!”

Sidra glanced at Rochindil, he was being awfully quiet…but she wouldn’t press him. She knew he’d speak whenever he was ready.

Turning back to Lilath and Tenharien she asked “Have either of you spent much time in Imladris?”
Characters: Sidra (Elf), Leilani & Elva (Hobbits), Solia (Human)

New Soul
Points: 288 
Posts: 191
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 4:30 am
Gardens of Lothlórien
Túrelia
Image

What was she doing?! She should have sent the ellon on his way, and resumed her purpose. She had herbs to pick and set to dry. She had pultices and ointments to ready. She was a healer, with a job to do, she told herself. Yet, here she was, leading off into the roses. She closed her eyes as she walked, the amber color of his own filled her mind. She held her hand to her chest. She imagined a tingle in her finger where the contact with his face had been. Why did she want it to happen again?

She opened her eyes at the sound of her name. "Malufael, this way." She almost sang to him. Túrelia stopped in her tracks, but did not turn around. She took a moment to realize where she had gone. She knew this garden and all it's paths. She had been one to help it grow, after all. She had gone a little ways down the left she realized. However, she had then taken another left further down where there was a smaller, less traveled, path. Should she stay go back to the other path? She called, lightly, to him again. "Malufael, are you coming?"

She went back toward the bigger path. She assumed he would be with her again soon, and all she could think about was the fluttering feeling in her belly. This was not like her at all. Túrelia was one of Galadriel's ladies, not some love struck pup. Why was she thinking of a strange elf's eyes, instead of watching where she was going? Why was she not walking with him, if she was going to show in about the roses? She needed to regain her composure, and took took a deep breath. Straightened herself, smoothing her gown of wrinkles. She then went back to the main path, and resumed a slow, calm, pace.

Oh, she was suddenly worried that he had gotten ahead of her. Had he passed the turn she had made? The gardens had many different paths, she realized how easy it could be to get confused and turned around. She knew he was looking for her, but now she had to look for him in return. She almost laughed at herself. What a game of hide and seek this was turning out to be. "Malufael?"
Veowyn, Vandani, Jakiewyn, Caddrick, Ailura, Túrelia, Vigri, Vinca
Maldir - you are missed

Forester of Lothlorien
Points: 164 
Posts: 89
Joined: Fri May 15, 2020 9:05 pm
Caras Galadhon
The Hollow
Image


She was off in her own little world. Well, thoughts anyway. This was not uncommon for her, to stray her attention away from the bonding moment before her to some imaginary world of what ifs and what will happen. Her ada often scolded her because of this and rebuke her ability to just phase out her surroundings. “Stop day dreaming! It will come to nothing!” He would snap, usually followed with a light whack to the back of her head. Ahhh..she could almost feel the familiar sting.

Her left hand reached up behind her head and rubbed it, not that it hurt but most likely a reaction to it. Her distance gaze flickered and focused on those that surrounded her. family..and a new friend perhaps?
“Apologizes...i was lost in thought for a moment” She murmured, lowering her head with a mischievous smile before lifting the glass to her lips once more. ‘Ahhh..alcohol..how I missed thee’ She thought, swirling the glass in a slow, playful manner.

In truth, it has been quite awhile since she had time to actually enjoy a drink. Been longer still since she had done so with the company of her kin. Though nothing could compare to having a glass of spirit while looking at the desert star coated sky but this came a close second. That is for sure.
“Twins?” Her ears twitched as she snapped her attention back towards the conversation Tenharien and Sidra were having currently. “A child with siblings gets into trouble regardless and when you throw in twins, of course they would.”

“Thankfully, a blessing as my mother would say, one of me was enough. I think my mother would have left for the west if there was another child” Lilath chuckled at the image of her exhausted mother throwing up her hands in exasperation as once again, she had done something she shouldn’t have done or been involved in a situation she shouldn’t have been. “No wonder my father left for the desert often. He said work but I have a sneaky suspicion it was to avoid the trouble i brought to their peaceful lives”

Lilath leaned back slightly and shifted Gareth to curl up around her neck before she adjusted herself until she was comfortable once more. Rochindil was quiet but considering his appearance, he most likely needed the moment of peace. “Imladris?” She questioned with a snort. Those pompous, stuck up, broom sticks in arse elves and their kingdom could rot in the cells of mordor for all she cared. Not once in all her years had she met an elleth or ellon from there that changed her mind about how snooty they are. “Oh..yes...unfortunately” She muffled her words and sipped at her mead, hoping they didn’t notice the displeasure. ‘annoying...twats’
Characters: Lilath(Elf) Beril(Human/Dwarf) Garreth(Dwarf) Blossom(Orc/human) Rose(Ent)

Balrog
Points: 5 867 
Posts: 3513
Joined: Mon May 18, 2020 11:02 am
Image
Osa, the Golden Moon Bear
Northern Lothlórien

(Open RP, anyone is free to jump in)

She sniffed the air. It was getting cold outside. Osa was not a fan of the cold, but neither was she not a fan. The cold air often meant that some of her bear friends took very long naps which left her to find ways to play by herself. This was not all bad, however. There were plenty of forest animals that played during winter. She could make some new friends and play with them. She was not like most bears who liked to be by themselves most of the time. Osa loved to play and frolic with all sorts of different animals. One of her very best friends in all the world was an owl. He was a very smart bird who lived in the highest parts of the trees but would come down to the forest floor to talk and explore with Osa. But he was asleep right now and she was very hungry.

She sniffed the air again. She was sure that the yams would be around here somewhere. She could smell them, and she remembered this tree. It was bent in a funny way that helped her sit and lounge while she ate. She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to be eating the yams that grew here but they were so tasty that she couldn’t help herself. The elves that lived nearby never seemed to mind when she took one or two, but once she tried to eat a lot of them and they started getting very loud and did a roaring thing they do with their voices. Osa was so startled by this occurrence that she ran all the way back to the water! Ever since that day she’d planned on finding her way back to those yams. But she was going to have to be smart about this. As easy as it would be, she couldn’t just amble on in there and expect them to be okay with her taking all the yams (because yes, she planned on getting them all). She was going to have to get some help. This was going to be a great bear caper! She sniffed around some more then found the spot. She smelled the yams in the ground and licked her chops greedily. No, not yet. Soon though, very, very soon. Who could she ask for help? There was a large list of critters in this forest that might help her get some of those yams and who knows, there might be more wonderful and tasty things in that elven garden!
Strange Fruit got holes in the flesh but it ain't gonn' spoil cause it never was fresh

Black Númenórean
Points: 2 938 
Posts: 2854
Joined: Sat May 16, 2020 9:29 pm
Image
Seriling, a Pine Marten
Northern Lothlórien

Seriling was snoozing. Nestled in his tree hollow (packed with leaves, of course), he was warm and cozy even as the air outside grew chill. His sleek fur rippled slightly as a breeze blew in, and he curled into a tighter ball.

He was dreaming of chasing a mouse. It scurried ahead of him, zigging and zagging haphazardly in a desperate bid to escape its fate. Seriling stood momentarily on his hind legs, front paws drawn into his chest, then bounded gracefully after it, easily catching up in just a few strides. He pounced, pinning it to the dirt floor of the forest, then seized it in his teeth and shook it. His nose twitched in his sleep, and his paws kicked.

The pine marten awoke to the sounds of scuffling and sniffing outside his tree. He uncurled and stretched, finishing his waking-up-routine by shaking out his fur to lend it some volume. Above all things, Seriling prided himself on his coat, which was brown all over except for a yellow-orange bib edged with white. He pawed at his face for a few moments, giving it just the right amount of fluff. Satisfied with his coiffure, he looked out of his tree through inky eyes.

Down below, he spied a bear. She was the source of all the noise! Seriling poked his head out from his tree to get a better look. Oh! It was Osa! It had been quite a long while since Seriling had seen her. He descended from his tree hollow and came to a halt not far from the golden moon bear, offering a wave in greeting. Osa was clearly on a mission: her nose in the air, she sniffed actively after something. Seriling stood on his hind legs and sniffed in the same general direction. What was that smell? Roots? Potatoes?

“Osa,” he chirped, “What’s this you’re after? Are you tracking something?”
she/her | Esta tierra no es mía, soy de la nocheósfera.

Balrog
Points: 5 867 
Posts: 3513
Joined: Mon May 18, 2020 11:02 am
Image
Osa, the Golden Moon Bear
Northern Lothlórien

Osa stopped her snuffling and sniffing when she heard a voice. Being something of a scaredy bear, she froze and tried to blend in with her surroundings. Sadly, this was somewhat difficult. The very rare pattern of her fur and her large size made it somewhat difficult to pretend to be a pile of leaves. Did she recognize that voice? She gave the air a tentative sniff. She was too afraid to turn around and look. What if it was an elf and her caper was already doomed? Just when she could almost taste those delicious yams! But no, no the odor she smelled was not that of an elf. They smelled like a bouquet of flowers, like petrichor, like fresh apricots and butter. Great now she was even more hungry! No, this smell was different. It was earthier, peatier with a hint of lavender and lilac. The size of the smell was smaller too, very much not elf sized, unless she was very wrong about the size of elves. Osa finally turned, licking her chops (the thought of apricots and butter still in her one-track bear mind).

“Oh my goodness!” she shouted (or the bear equivalent of such a thing) “Seriling! I didn’t know you lived here now!”

It was her friend the pine marten! How had she not smelled him before? And why were pine martens called pine marten when they didn’t smell like pine? Why was she a moon bear that didn’t live on the moon? These were all serious questions, but she didn’t have time for any of them.

“As a matter of fact, I am! I am looking for yams. I think they are somewhere close, but the elves have hidden them so I’m not sure where they are. I bet they are guarding them too. I’ll need to pull off a caper to get them.” She looked at her adorably floofed friend and an idea popped into her head. “My Seriling, I think your fur looks wonderful today, you did a very good job of fluffing it. Is it more brown that usual? Have you been stealing elf perfume again?” She snickered to herself, she knew to butter up her pine marten friend if she was going to ask for something (mmmmm, butter and apricots). “You wouldn’t be busy right now would you? I could use your expertise in planning this caper.”
Strange Fruit got holes in the flesh but it ain't gonn' spoil cause it never was fresh

High Lord of Imladris
Points: 5 208 
Posts: 2755
Joined: Sat Sep 12, 2020 7:53 am
Three Brothers
Northern Lothlorien


Budum bah dum... The raccoons were humming something under their breath as they waddled back from one of their many Eastern adventures forever in the search of food. They had of course had heard there were yams to be had and they were never one, or three in this case, to skip out on a possible meal or several. Of course they had come to the conclusion that there was always some sort of catch to their possible meals it seemed. This of course was an extra catch in that they would have to contend with a bear. A very sweet bear but a bear. They liked to eat as well, and they would have to figure out a way to make off with a bunch of food themselves without the bear knowing.

Hob and Bob and Reginald the third sat back finding the very very easily spotted... "what was her name?" Hob chittered to Bob.

"Osa" Reginald said scratching his back leg as they sat further back watching the bear talking to what looked like a pine martin to them.

"Osa. Right." Hob said and the three sat waiting for her to spot them since after all if she DIDN'T invite them they could just heist the capers and make off with an entire bunch of foods after all, all they would need to do is bring an elf in to the area and they'd hopefully shoo off the bear and hopefully then their much smaller bodies would be able to sneak off with a bunch of food without the pesky elves bother them. AND if she did invite them. They would most certainly negotiate some decent eats for themselves.

Black Númenórean
Points: 2 938 
Posts: 2854
Joined: Sat May 16, 2020 9:29 pm
Image
Seriling, a Pine Marten
Northern Lothlórien

Osa seemed happy to see him. Of course she did! Really, who wouldn’t be? Seriling was as cute and good-natured as pine martens came. He licked a paw and ran it over his head, messing up his fur in a practiced and intentional way so that it stuck up in adorable little tufts.

“Yes, it’s me!” he affirmed cheerfully. “And yes, I do live here!” He waved a paw up at his tree hollow. “It’s quite a comfy little spot. I’d invite you to come up for a visit but, well. It might not be so comfortable for such a majestic bear as you!”

He listened to her describing her mission and smiled, quite pleased, at her flattery. He knew what she was doing, of course, but he also could not say no to a compliment. Plus, going on a little adventure sounded quite fun - especially if he got to bound about the woods with his old friend Osa. Yams and elves and capers! Oh my!

“Why thank you, sweet Osa. I have been eating an awful lot of eggs lately to get that special shine in my coat. Elf perfume sounds quite worldly for a little pine marten such as myself, though. But if you’ve got any, I’d love to try it!” Here, he shook out his whole body to restore the volume to his fur.

“Yams, you say?” he asked. “I don’t know that I’ve ever tasted yams. Are yams critters? I am quite good at hunting, you know. And I’d be happy to help you plan this caper of yours.”
she/her | Esta tierra no es mía, soy de la nocheósfera.

Balrog
Points: 5 867 
Posts: 3513
Joined: Mon May 18, 2020 11:02 am
Image
Osa, the Golden Moon Bear
Northern Lothlórien

Osa beamed. She knew exactly what say to Seriling and now the super fancy, perfect coiffed pine marten was on her team! The golden moon bear couldn’t be happier! Well she could, she could simply have the yams, but there was something to be said about being a sneaky bear and stealing the yams. She once heard an elf in Mirkwood say that stolen things taste at least ten times better. And he was right! She took his advice and stole an apple pie from a windowsill the very next day and it was the best tasting apple pie Osa had ever had! A week later she found a barrel of pear cider that, while it made her feel woozy and silly, was absolutely smashing! In fact, it was so smashing that she smashed the barrel into a million pieces after she finished it. “Eggs sound so nice right now. Maybe after we get our yams, we can find a chicken farmer who is too busy complaining about the chickens to notice us sneaking in and grabbing a basket full of eggs!” She licked her chops at the prospect of eggs and yams. That was half a feast!

But this was not a caper involving a simple apple pie or a barrel of pear cider though! No! This caper was going to be much, much more serious. The stakes could not be higher, unless the yams were in trees, but that would be a funny way to grow a root vegetable. Seriling would be an excellent distraction, the golden moon bear thought. “So Seriling,” she said, plopping down next to the tree (after a sniff or two to see if there was something tasty around first), “How do you feel about being the distraction? With your super fancy, coiffed look and your friendly antics, I think you’d make the perfect misdirection.”

Osa sniffed the air. There was a smell that was not yams, anything else tasty for that matter. She narrowed her eyes and rocked back into a standing position. Osa was not a very big bear, golden moon bears weren’t known to be very large and she was not even the tallest of her own kind. She ambled around the tree, her nose sniffling and snuffling until she caught the scent again and knew exactly what that smell was. Racoons! Osa had had a few encounters with the greedy fingered thieves in the past. If fact, these might even be the same three! Once when she was about to chow down on a feast of mushrooms, cashews, and blackberries, she made the mistake of inviting them over because they looked so sad and lonely. They ended up eating all her feast! Osa herself was left with a single mushroom. Speaking of mushrooms, yes, those were the same three raccoons that helped her raid a mushroom farm. She had managed to get a giant basketful of mushrooms and was on her way out when all three of them decided it was a wonderful time to have a family squabble! Again, she only made it out of that caper with a single mushroom.

“Hey!” she shouted. “Are you planning on helping me this time? You own my your weight in mushrooms!”
Strange Fruit got holes in the flesh but it ain't gonn' spoil cause it never was fresh

High Lord of Imladris
Points: 5 208 
Posts: 2755
Joined: Sat Sep 12, 2020 7:53 am
Three Raccoons

Hob and Bob had forgotten about how badly the mushroom thing had gone, and looked at each other and then Reginald who had literally eaten the majority of the mushrooms. Which is why they started to fight because quite frankly neither of them had gotten more than a mushroom each either and that was what they started arguing about during that caper. Right.

"That was Reginald." They said in unison and pushed Reginald forward knowing full well that what they were about to do wasn't that big of a risk to Reginald being that Osa was a moon bear. "We each only got one mushroom to. Feel free to eat him." Reginald for his part was in shock that his brothers would offer him to a bear. A BEAR! HE was about to be EATEN by a bear because his brothers were a bit miffed about him eating all the mushrooms from the last caper that they'd pulled with Osa. He started crying horribly and tucked his head under his hands too afraid to run away knowing full well he couldn't out run Osa.

Hob and Bob however were quite certain that he was safe and shared a happy little look between them. "Of course we'll help you we just would like a yam each, and if we can find some of the grapes that they have here perhaps we can have some of those as well? There should be enough that you'll be as stuffed as a Grizzly Bear." Hob said quite graciously knowing full well that the grape vines were full of grapes that were set to be picked in the next few days. "We'll all be stuffed like Grizzly Bears." Bob added knowingly.

Black Númenórean
Points: 2 938 
Posts: 2854
Joined: Sat May 16, 2020 9:29 pm
Image
Seriling, a Pine Marten
Northern Lothlórien

“Ohhh, that sounds like a fine mission!” Seriling agreed, mouth watering at the prospect of more eggs. A dreamy look crossed his face as he contemplated the sport of invading a chicken coop: it was always such a joy to crack open eggs and swallow them - yolk and all - in one, large gulp. Their richness afforded his brown coat a luster that he could get through no other means. Of course, he was a natural chicken killer as well. As a small predator, he couldn’t haul away an adult chicken carcass - but his fierce bite dispensed with them (and their heads) easily, and he couldn’t help but enjoy the futile, clucking struggle. He might be cute, but he was still dangerous. Perhaps he and Osa would even find some chicks! He could carry those away easily enough.

The little pine marten shook himself out of this pleasant reverie in time to catch Osa’s proposal for a stunt to capture some yams. “Me, a distraction? Oh, of course I’m a distraction. I know no one can resist looking at me once they realize I’m there, and I can do all sorts of acrobatics, when the mood strikes me. I can do flips and tumbles and rolls. Whichever you like! Oh!” he exclaimed, “Or, I could make a loud noise to distract them.” He opened his mouth and let loose a growling yowl. Birds lifted from their perches in nearby trees and scattered, fearful of the sound of a predator. Seriling grinned cheekily at his bear friend. “What do you think of that?”

The sight of three raccoons made him grimace. A raccoon - not one of these three, mind - had once taken a fierce swipe at him over a dead mouse which Seriling himself had killed. He never understood why the lazy thing couldn’t have killed its own mouse, and he bore an admittedly irrational grouchiness toward the whole species as a result. The marten licked his front paws again and began to groom his already-immaculate fur as they negotiated with Osa.
she/her | Esta tierra no es mía, soy de la nocheósfera.

Balrog
Points: 5 867 
Posts: 3513
Joined: Mon May 18, 2020 11:02 am
Image
Osa, the Golden Moon Bear
Northern Lothlórien

Raccoons. They were, well they were raccoons. Osa knew it was in their nature to bicker and fight and steal. She was especially aware of the propensity of these three to throw each other under the apple cart. Apples. Osa made a mental note to find some apples after this yam caper. Did apples go good with yams? She needed to find a chef to see if they knew anything about that and would also not have a problem cooking for a bear. She rolled her eyes and ignored them for the moment while they decide who was apparently going to be sacrificed and turned back to Seriling who, after every time she looked at him, looked more and more refined. Was there a limit to how coiffed and how prim and proper a creature could look? If Seriling was anything to go off of, the answer was now. Soon his golden fur was going to outshine the sun! She looked at her own golden fur as he cleaned and arranged, then cleaned again and rearranged his fur. Osa thought he looked silly, silly but cute. She liked to let her fur be natural, she called it her “I woke up like this” look because she literally woke up like that. If she ever needed to bathe, she simply jumped in the river and swam about for a bit. A good long soak would feel very good right now. She closed her eyes momentarily, imagining her swimming through the Celebrant (the elves name for it not hers) like a crocodile or an alligator.

Once, she followed a boat with three elven ladies out for a weekend getaway (or some sort of elven nonsense word), and when they were right in the middle of the river, Osa surprised them all by leaping out of the water like a giant fish. The prank went perfectly. The elves were so startled by her sudden presence that they shrieked, panicked, and tipped over the boat. Osa then snuck away to watch them swim to the opposite shore dripping wet and complaining about crazy bears. If Osa had any grasp of the concept of writing, she would have written that day in her journal. She had also managed to secret away the baskets of food the ladies had brought with them. Lembas, honey, blueberries, and goat cheese. It was the best afternoon snack she had ever had! She had to lay low after that, of course, because apparently one of the ladies was a very snooty high society type, Glad-reel or something silly like that, and all the elven guards were out looking for a crazy rabid bear. Osa, being a bear and better and doing bear things like hiding and running through the forest, got away from them quite easily. Golly, what a day!

Seriling’s yowl brought her back to the present. She was so wrapped up in thinking about scaring elves that she jumped. She jumped so high that she was afraid she wasn’t going to land and grabbed onto the tree for dear life. She was not a very large bear, but when she was startled, her claws could be fierce, as this poor tree was finding out. When she was certain she could reach the ground again, she closed her eyes and climbed back down, only opening her eyes once she was back on the ground. She let out a big sigh and shook her head at her pine marten friend. “You scared me! And if you can scare me, I’m sure you can scare away all those fraidy cat elves!” Her smile was devious and mischievous, she could practically taste those yams!

But it was time to deal with the raccoons. She sat back on her hindlegs and crossed her arms, doing her best to look stern and grumpy. Raccoons were scaredy pandas and if she looked mean enough to them they would do whatever she wanted. “Oh you stop that! I’m not going to eat you!” the thought of eating a raccoon was just gross, she had a much more refined palette! “You’ll get a yam a piece, only,” she raised her voice for this next part, “only after I’ve had my pick of the yams and have decided how many I want to take.” She licked her lips as imaginary grapes passed over her eyes. “And I get three fourths of the grapes. And any mushrooms you three derps find are mine.”

Her eyes widened in horror and disbelief. Did they just say…? Osa couldn’t believe her ears! Had they just compared her to a grizzly! Didn’t they know that you never, ever, ever compare any other bear to grizzly? It was the biggest taboo in all beardom! Calling another bear a… a grizzly was a grave insult and grounds for trial by combat. It was the worst, most hurtful thing you could call a bear, especially a tiny bear like Osa. She opened her mouth, ready to berate (and maybe she would eat one of them) the raccoons when they said it again! Osa’s eyes were as wide as the dinner plates elves used to eat their yams. How could they just…

She huffed and growled. “Listen hear, you thieving handed trash pandas! I know you might not be up on all the bear lingo, but don’t you ever call me a grizzly every again!” The golden moon bear narrowed her eyes at the raccoons. “Now you only get half a yam a piece.”
Strange Fruit got holes in the flesh but it ain't gonn' spoil cause it never was fresh

Chef
Points: 810 
Posts: 406
Joined: Thu May 14, 2020 5:03 am
Opal the Magpie
Northern Lothlorien


Swooping low over the unbroken forest, Opal's sharp eyes landed on an interesting sight. A pine marten, a bear, and three raccoons, all engaged in some sort of debate to judge by the look of them. It had been a long and boring day coming down from the snow-covered mountains to the warmer forest, and Opal did love a good debate. She folded her wings and dove down in a splash of black and white, landing on top of the closest tree just as it shook from the force of the bear jumping into it. Opal had to flare her wings out to keep her balance.

"Are you quite all right?" she asked Osa, cocking her head to one side as the bear climbed back down to the ground. "Only I've never seen a bear jump like that, almost seemed as if you were a bit frightened. A scaredy bear!" Opal chattered with laughter at her own joke, her beak clattering. "I don't mean to upset you or anything of that sort, it's just what I see, and I say what I see, it's what I do. Oh!" Opal straightened her head up and looked at the tiny pine marten. "I do believe I heard you mention eggs! Have you got a lead on any eggs? I do love a good egg." She hopped down to a lower branch, keeping well clear of the three raccoons. Raccoons were a shifty sort, as Opal knew well from experience. She had to abandon a lovely meal halfway up the mountain, two days flight from here, the remnants of an unlucky squirrel that were a perfect snack for her but which a large angry raccoon had decided was the perfect snack for him.

"Oh, I'm Opal, of course," she said to the group at large. "Did I hear some discussion about yams and grapes and mushrooms as well? I do love a grape, or two, or ten. Can't say as I've ever tried yam, but I would give it a taste, if, that is, you see, you had some yam. Or some grapes. Or some eggs." She fixed them all with a hopeful look, trying not to think about her empty belly.
they/them/actual hobbit in search of a merrier world

Black Númenórean
Points: 2 938 
Posts: 2854
Joined: Sat May 16, 2020 9:29 pm
Image
Seriling, a Pine Marten
Northern Lothlórien

The well-coiffed little pine marten gave a start. What was happening? In a flash of golden fur, Osa appeared to fly into the air and up the tree. Had his yowling done that? Seriling puffed up a bit with pride. Naturally, rodents and small critters trembled with fear at the sound of his ferocious cry, but it was a pleasant surprise to see this effect on as imposing a figure as Osa. Seriling stood on his hind legs to get a closer look at the moon bear as she descended from the tree. “Oh Osa, I’m sorry for scaring you! I must say, I’m quite impressed with your climbing skills. Not that I ever doubted you. It’s just that I’ve never seen a bear scale a tree so fast!” He grinned up at her. “Anyway, I’m glad you see now how useful I can be - both as an adoooorable distraction” - here, he innocently blinked his large, shining eyes - “and as a fierce intimidator.” He bared his pointy teeth and hissed. “Those elves won’t know what hit them!” he concluded brightly.

His pleasant mood darkened, though, as the three trash pandas began to bargain with the golden moon bear. On and on they went about grizzly bears - such rudeness! - and Seriling’s eyes widened at the audacity of it all. He turned his wide-eyed gaze toward Osa to see how she was taking it all. As he expected, he saw that her eyes were wide at the insult. Whether or not the raccoons knew what they had done was beside the point. Osa, his old pal, his favorite moon bear - why, her honor was at stake! Seriling narrowed his eyes and slunk over to stand close to Osa. He hissed softly at the trio of scavengers as Osa told them off. That’d show them! He didn't utter a word, but he resolved to watch them from now on for signs of mischief or any intent to cause further harm to his dear friend.

He was just about to inquire as to when they might get started on this mission when a flash of black and white alerted him to the arrival of a magpie! She alighted gracefully in their midst and spoke at length about many different kinds of foods. A beautiful, sleek magpie who liked eggs! What a lucky day! Seriling paused in his gleeful thoughts before he got ahead of himself. Did she like eggs because she was a motherly magpie? Or was she willing to feast upon them? Seriling’s eyes narrowed still further. “Hello, Opal!” he began in greeting. “Why, yes! We were indeed speaking of eggs. Some eggs and yams will make a fine feast!” He licked his lips and waited to see how she would respond to the idea of eating eggs. Hopefully she wouldn’t attack; he did not want to deal with re-fluffing his coat so early in the day.
she/her | Esta tierra no es mía, soy de la nocheósfera.

Balrog
Points: 5 867 
Posts: 3513
Joined: Mon May 18, 2020 11:02 am
Image
Osa, the Golden Moon Bear
Northern Lothlórien

Osa turned back to Seriling after addressing the raccoons social faux pa, confident that she had not only corrected their behavior but struck a more than fair bargain with them under the circumstances. They would either be willing to have a yam a piece or they were free to try and have a yam caper of their own.

Are you quite alright?

A new, seemingly sourceless voice appeared out of thin air (Osa made a mental note to use that pun at a later date), causing the golden moon bear to whirl around and sniff the air. The claws on her paw extended, ready to defend herself and her pine marten companion should she need to. A few moments of searching however, thanks to Osa’s better than average nose, quickly found the newcomer, a magpie! Ducking reflexively, the golden moon bear tried to play it off as a bow of greeting. She raised her eyebrow at the ‘scaredy bear’ comment but when the bird chittered a silly laugh she relaxed, clearly the bird did not mean anything mean or untoward about the state of her courage.

“it’s nice to meet you Opal, I’m Osa and that well coiffe pine martin is Seriling.” She beamed at her well manicured little friend and confidante and licked her chops, padding back over to stand next to the tree her pine marten friend was using a lodging. “We’re planning a yam caper as it were. I know where some of the elves are keeping a garden full of them. Yams are the greatest thing you could ever taste. They’re kind of like potatoes, but they taste much better. I think I know where we might find some mushrooms too. Grapes I’m less certain about, although,” she sniffed the air in hopes that maybe the wind would be able to give her an answer, sadly it did not. “although I’m sure if we did some scouting I bet we could find some. They like their spicy grape juice around here.” She shuttered and sneezed as the memory of a caper last year came to the forefront. She had snuck into a cellar and stolen away a barrel of their spicy grape juice and drank it all by herself. She didn’t remember the next few days very well, but remembered waking up in the river with three frog sitting on her head. She grinned though, and her eared twitched eagerly. Having a bird on the team could give them an immense advantage. Having a team member that could fly was invaluable, they could be used for scouting, for attacking, or for distracting. They weren’t the best at carrying things but that’s where Osa would come in.

“I think we should start this mission now. Opal, do you know the patch of gardens about three miles from here? The place were all the trees are missing? It has a great big rock on the edge of it that looks like cat. If you could fly over and do some reconnaissance,” she felt very smart for using such a big word, “and get us a number of how many elves to expect that would be a great asset. The last time I was at the garden there were only a handful, I could count them all on one paw. If there aren’t any more then Seriling should be able to distract them with his ultra floofiness while I sneak in behind and dig the yams up. After that, we can plan the egg heist, then come back here for a grand old feast!”
Last edited by Akhenanat on Fri Feb 19, 2021 5:08 pm, edited 3 times in total.
Strange Fruit got holes in the flesh but it ain't gonn' spoil cause it never was fresh

Newborn of Lothlorien
Points: 52 
Posts: 4
Joined: Thu Feb 18, 2021 5:16 pm
The Nimrodel

Eärnynn was quietly sitting at the bank of the Nimrodel idling away time. She sat with her eyes closed, focusing on the soothing sounds around her, feeling the warm rays of sunlight on her skin. It was bliss for Eärnynn. The solitude, the loud yet quiet sounds of nature were precisely what she needed. Quieting her racing mind that did not halt these days. Eärnynn smiled and simply sat there. A little bird chirped a cheery tune near to her and Eärnynn opened her eyes. She watched the little bird flit to and fro, fluff its feathers, clean its beak. Then a golden leaf floated gracefully down the stream swirling and dancing on the water, spinning and pausing and letting the stream carry it away. Eärnynn then stared at the spot where the leaf had been, not quite seeing what was in front of her lost in thought.

Ent Ancient
Points: 2 696 
Posts: 1830
Joined: Sat May 23, 2020 11:34 pm
Athena the owl
Northern Lothlorien


Deep within her cavity, a tawny owl was cozied up getting some well-deserved rest after a night spent on the wing hunting. Unlike some other forest creatures, she had plenty to eat and slept very soundly...until words like ‘capers’ and ‘yams’ jolted her awake.

Athena poked her head out from the tree-hole and her big black eyes took in the scene: a bear, a pine marten and three raccoons walked into a forest...it was like the start of a joke, but Athena was not laughing. No, indeed. To top it off, Opal the magpie had gotten herself involved in the motley crew. Such disgraceful birds, they were. She listened long enough to get the gist of what they were up to -- no good, that’s what!

Without a sound, the owl swooped down toward the gathered creatures with her talons outstretched, not to injure, but to send a message: she was NOT pleased. “Hoooo-HOO! Hoooo-HOO!” She scolded them as she landed upon a nearby branch. Her head swiveled from one critter to the other and back again.

“Do you MIND not making such a ruckus?” She flapped her wings in irritation, wishing for once they could make some kind of angry whooshing sound to help drive her point home. “Some of us are getting some shut eye around here! I have a long night ahead of me. We don’t all steal food, you know! Some of us are noble huntresses.” She puffed out her barred brown-and-white chest. “So will you please take your mischief-making to another part of the wood?"

Balrog
Points: 5 867 
Posts: 3513
Joined: Mon May 18, 2020 11:02 am
Image Image
Midsommar Night’s Mare
On the Banks of the Celebrant

(Private)

He’d been quite nervous at first, it had been a long time since he’d gone unclad anywhere but the privacy of his own chambers, but she was more than a little persuasive. The air was hot and stifling, and he doubted the fact that it was Midsommar had everything to do with it. Even on the banks of the Celebrant, with their legs dangling freely in the water, he could feel the heat rising. A cool breeze drifted through the silver barked trees. Figwit closed his eyes and smiled. When he received the letter from her, asking to meet him in the Golden Wood he couldn’t believe it. She had always come to him in Imladris in the past, sneaking in like a shadow in the night. They had their fun then, just like morning mist, she would disappear. The first time she came to him he was certain it was a dream. A very vivid dream. By the time she left he hadn’t even known her name. The whole affair, at first, seemed inappropriate and unseemly, but soon he found that that was what he liked about their relationship. It was secretive, it was improper, it was salacious. It was not until the third time she’s appeared, a phantom dressed in grey and white, that he learned her name. Eldûrien. The name was strange, mystical, and hinted at very dark things beneath the surface. It excited him to know that he, Figwit, cupbearer and messenger of the Lord of Imladris, had been chosen by this fae creature. Surely, she was more than just an elf. He knew that she was not the “good” kind of elf that traversed through Rivendell, tarried in Mithlond, or sang in Lórien, but he could not help himself. He was, for lack of a better word, spellbound. When the letter came, as secretive and sudden as her own visits, he immediately made up some excuse to his liege lord and made for the Golden Wood. What sort of time did she have planned for them? It had to be more than a single night’s tryst, he was confident of that. She would not have had him ride out all this way just for that. It was aware for the watchful eyes of the Last Homely House for sure, but that could not be the only reason.

The morning he arrived, she found him and diverted him away from the city of Caras Galadhon, saying she had a more rustic adventure in mind for them. Since then, she’d declothed and taken a dip in the silvery waters of the Celebrant. They were alone, she assured him. No one was going to interrupt them this time. She looked so lovely, so enchanting, he followed suit almost without thinking. It felt unnatural at first, but then, as the morning turned to afternoon, he felt more at ease. The quendi of Cuiviénen oft went unclad and without shame, why should they not as well?

They’d sent the day dancing and frolicking, and a little more than frolicking. It was strange to be out in the open with Eldûrien. She had been such as secretive and furtive creature when they’d met, this brazen and bold version of her was new, new and exciting. Before they decided to relax in the waters, they’d snuck into an orchard and made off with nearly a dozen rare heirloom apples. The sack they brought was a veritable rainbow of colors.

“Darling,” she whispered in his ear, her husky voice sending shivers down his spine. “I think I’d like one of those apples now, what about you?” Her silvery white hair was loose and unbound, cascading off her shoulders like an avalanche of newly fallen snow. The light shone off her shoulders just so. It was so strange seeing her in the light of the sun, strange but wonderous. He could feel the heat of her body radiating like a black sun beside him. He moved closer, only reluctantly withdrawing his hand from her waist.

“I thought you’d never ask,” he responded, half in a dream. He pulled out an apple at random, a dark purple one, small but firm, and handed it to Eldûrien who took it with lithe fingers. She bit the fruit and the crisp snap of the apple filled the Golden Wood. The juice fairly exploded and dribbled down her cheek. She handed the apple to him, leaning in to kiss his lips hungrily. The juice was sweet and tart at the same time. Figwit felt his mind abuzz. He took a bite and groaned with delight, the green-white flesh of the apple was firm and succulent, sweet with just a hint of sour. How had he never tasted these apples before? Surely there was a way for him to bring them back to the valley, perhaps grow his own orchard. He had money, perhaps it was time for him to buy some land and make use of it.

“I think that’s a very wise idea,” she said, almost as if he’d said it out loud. Had he said that out loud? He flushed with embarrassment for a moment. “Tut, tut, no blushing here my darling lover. Not after all we’ve done. It’s unseemly. You’re adorable, but innocence is a charm early on in the relationship.”

“Are you saying I’m not innocent?” he said with half a laugh.

“After all things we’ve seen and done together? Innocent is not the word I’d used to describe you.” Her voice was fire and silk.

“Then what word would you use to describe me now?” his smile was cocksure and self-assured.

“Awakened.” She said, caressing his cheek. “And an awakened elf needs a better name that Figwit.” She leaned in, her dark plum colored lips just sort of touching his. “What about Melarpo?”

“Fig thief?” He was not sure if he loved the name or was reviled by it. The implications were… He looked into her dark eyes and saw exactly what the implications were. “Melarpo it is then,” he mumbled as she pulled them both in the water.
Strange Fruit got holes in the flesh but it ain't gonn' spoil cause it never was fresh

Balrog
Points: 5 867 
Posts: 3513
Joined: Mon May 18, 2020 11:02 am
Image Image
Midsommar Night’s Mare
On the Banks of the Celebrant

(Private)

He was not the kind of elf she would normally be attracted to. One, he was an elf; two, he was a courtier of Imladris, a poisonous valley of serpents hiding behind smiles and moralistic tutting; three, he had been very uptight. Yet when she looked at him now, laying back against a smooth barked tree with his calves dangling in the sweet waters of the Celebrant, she found him more than a little appealing. It had taken some time to unwind him. He was an old elf, not one of the Ñoldor but he’d still be around during the wars in the early sun. He had been so bound up tradition and morals and maintaining some upright standing in the eyes of his fellows that she was shocked he didn’t try to imprison her as soon as she appeared to him. A type of imprisonment had occurred later, naturally, but she had been the one holding the keys and he was the one in cuffs. There had been a certain amount of trust between the two, something she had not expected. Either he was eager to jump into the arms of darkness, or he was sorely mistreated and misused. Judging from his enthusiasm and energy, it was both. They’d flittered all over Imladris, all under the Lord of the Vale’s upturned nose. They spent time in fountains, in gardens, once she even convinced him to sneak her into Elrond’s inner sanctum. There they discovered together all sorts of new and interesting things about her fig thief’s liege lord (and about each other).

Yet for all their sneaking around and furtive trysts and the excitement it all brought them, Eldûrien wanted more. Strategically, Melarpo (he was truly no longer Figwit in her mind) was of little use to her. There was not really use for a secret entrance into Rivendell in her mission (and the one still up in her skull watching all this). Initially she’d planned to seduce him to gain access to the library where she might get information on the wraith she was hunting, but she’d managed to get him in there on their second encounter. So, what was she doing? It had made no sense for her to keep coming back. There was a thrill in their salacious encounters, thumbing their noses at the traditionalist factions throughout Imladris, but what was the point? Did she actually want to be with him? He was not the only one she had encounters with, not by a long shot, and she was not about to give up that sort of freedom. She found herself torn between spending time with him and hunting the wraith that had botched her creation. Despite getting tips and clues to his location, she found herself wanting to return to their secret gardens and carry on their affair under the starlight.

“Penny for your thoughts,” she said, pulling him closer to the water’s edge. His well sculpted legs submerged into the water on either side of her. He looked as if he were about to fall asleep. Had she really tired him out so quickly? She smiled wickedly.

“Thinking of the old days, actually.” He said with a dreamlike distance in his voice. His eyes were on her, but she could tell he wasn’t really looking at her. Something feral stirred in her.

“The old days?”

“Doriath,” he answered, “I was born there you know. Maybe a hundred years before the sun. Oh, you should have seen the stars in those days. You would have reveled in them, my Lady of Dark Stars.”

She dipped her hand in the water and drippled the water down his thigh. “You would have wanted me in Doriath?” she scoffed. “My little fig, I doubt that very much.”

“Truly,” he insisted, true sincerity in his voice. “I would have loved to have you on my arm in the court of Menegroth.”

She rolled her eyes and traced a white painted nail along the muscles of his leg. “Menegroth? Home of the ever so lovely Lúthien? Why would I have wanted that?”

“Well,” Melarpo stammered, “I…”

“You gawked at her like all the other courtiers did, didn’t you?” she said with more than a little unkindness, “and she never even looked at you. You mooned and wrote poetry and hung on her songs in the grand hall. Didn’t you?”

His entire body went a shade of scarlet. “Everyone was entranced by her,” he confessed, “she was the most beautiful of all the Children, mortal and immortal.”

“And you wanted her. Tell me, Melarpo,” she pushed herself up out of the water and pressed her body to his, “tell me would you still rather have her?” she kissed his neck, nipping at his skin. “But why would you want her? Am I not fairer in beauty than all the daughters of the Eldar?” she kissed his chest, nipping again. “Why would you want someone so plain and dull when you can have me?” She kissed his stomach and nipped. “Would you prefer her dancing to mine? Did she ever dance for you Melarpo? Did she dance for you the way I do?”

The dark elf slid back into the water and looked up at him with large pale lavender eyes. “Does my lord wish for someone demure and simpering? Shall I wait in our house and pine away the hours waiting for my lord to come home? Should I be chaste and sweet and give light caresses after dinner?” She moved closer to him, her lips parted in a snarling, ravenous grin. “Or do you want me?”

To his credit, Melarpo didn’t yelp and try to backtrack. He touched her hair, her face, her cheek. “Eldûrien, my Lady of Dark Stars. I would have no one but you. You would be outlawed in Doriath. The Queen would exile you for being more radiant and shimmering than her own offspring.”

“No one but me?” she giggled and pushed herself up out of the water with a satisfied grin. “Now, now darling. There is so much wine to taste in this world. A single bottle is limiting. You deserve an entire vineyard.”

“But, the Laws and Customs of my people…” he began.

“Would forbid you from doing most of things you do with me on general principle. They would forbid us together at all, even in the same room. I am nothing in their eyes.”

“I would exalt you above the stars…” he tried again.

“And it would do you no good. You know this. Don’t bind yourself to some conservative doctrine set down by people so out of touch with reality they forbade pleasure itself!”

“But…”

“That too,” she smirked and touched his cheek with a delicate finger, “You have tasted figs and pomegranates, why go back to celery and potatoes? They ran and hid, what right do they have to tell you how to live your life? Be free, my darling, be wild and free with me and I will show you carnalities not even the Lord of Imladris could conceive of!”

He leaned in and tried to kiss her. She moved, however, shifting her weight and pulling his shoulders so that she rolled over and took his place while pushing him into the water. “I think it’s my turn to relax and your turn to cool off in the waters. I have a special night planned for us.”
Strange Fruit got holes in the flesh but it ain't gonn' spoil cause it never was fresh

Balrog
Points: 5 867 
Posts: 3513
Joined: Mon May 18, 2020 11:02 am
Image Image
Midsommar Night’s Mare
On the Banks of the Celebrant

(Private)

The hour was beginning to grow late and twilight began to set over their little grove. Fireflies came out and blinked tiny flames of illumination, the stream continued to ripple and burble over the smooth blue stones of the riverbed, the air chilled, the mallyrn were aflame with orange-gold light. He tried not to be too sentimental, but he could not think of a more beautiful scene in all his life. Melarpo and Eldûrien had spent most of the day by the river, teasing one another, eating stolen apples, and telling stories of a most salacious and immoral nature. That last event had been Eldûrien, naturally, but Melarpo listened to all her tales with rapt attention. Even though he had lived longer, it appeared he had not lived as much as she had. There were things she held back; he could tell. There might be a gap in the story she was telling, or the story itself didn’t have context. There were so many things she did not share with him. For all the physical parts of themselves they had shared, all the long moments of physical intimacy that ran the gambit from rapacious to tender, there was a large of her psyche that she would not share with him. At first, when he noticed it, he’d been jealous. Why would she hold back from him? She had been open about having lovers in the past (and the present) yet he’d not been jealous; why would this make him feel so? It felt wrong, being jealous. Before he met her, he often felt jealousy, but when he met her, Melarpo found it was unbecoming of the man he wanted to be and had tried hard to leave it in the past. That green-eyed monster still lurked where he least expected it.

She was floating in the stream, her arms raised over her head with her eyes closed. The setting sun made her appear to glow with a purplish light. Despite the many ways he’d seen her, this calm serenity was by far his favorite. He waded out to her, moving with patient slowness. Step by slow step, he moved closer and ducked further under the water until he was mere inches away from her, only visible from the nose up. “Got you!” he shouted, scooping her up suddenly in his arms with a great splash of movement. She yelped, wrapped her arms around his neck, and tried to pull him back under. He was so astonished that he didn’t fight back. He held on, and they both plunged below the water. She slithered out of his grasp like a serpent, then turned and pressed her lips hard to his. They kissed until he could feel his lungs begin to burn. He broke the surface first and watched her breech like one of the legendary undines.

“So, lover,” he said, finding that he very much liked that word, “what else do you have planned for us? Are we going to sleep beneath the stars tonight?”

She laughed, bubbly and wicked. “Black stars, no! We’re in Lothlórien my sweet fig thief; we’re staying in the autumn home of… some friends.”

The way she said “friends” with a nearly imperceptible wink and a chuckle made Melarpo’s brain explode with questions. There were always questions with her, but there were rarely answers. When he was a moral, upstanding citizen and courtier of Imaldris, he would have found that troublesome and unnerving; yet now, awakened and libidinous, it only added to his interest in her.

“Friends, eh?” he leaned against the bank, letting the sweet breeze dry his hair. “What sort of friends are those, if I might ask?”

“Oh, the best kind,” she answered, drawing out the word best, “the kind that isn’t at home.”

He could not stop the smile that spread over his face. “Do they… know we’re staying?”

She didn’t answer, but she did wink, which was as good as an answer. He let it drop, satisfied. She swam to him and rested her head on his chest. They stayed there unmoving and watched the show of the fireflies until the sunset and darkness laid its thick blanket over the forest. The river glowed faintly with ethereal luminescence. The night was quiet and subdued, but he could still make out the songs of the frogs croaking back and forth to one another and the chittering song of the grasshoppers. It was peaceful here. He thought he understood why Eldûrien and had brought them here.

Reluctantly, he finally climbed out of the stream. The water started to lose the day's warmth; he could feel certain parts of him getting unnecessarily cold. Eldûrien led the way, her eyes were far sharper than his in the light of the moon. They walked still unclad in the darkened eaves of the forest, beneath a panoply of stars. “Do you think the primordial elves felt like this, walking beneath the stars like this in Cuiviénen?”

She turned back, her lavender eyes shining with internal light. “I think they must have. They were so free in the early days. They did what they pleased and felt no moral compunction to be ideal in the eyes of a third party.”

“Do you think we could go back to that sort of life?”

“No,” her voice was sad, rimmed with anger, “as much as we would wish it. There will always be those, like your lord I’m sure, that would seek us out and force us to capitulate to their religiously conservative ideals.”

They came to a tall mallorn with silver and purple bark and a set of golden steps climbing into the thick branches. “So, we find our own secret place.” He said as they climbed.

“What would you do in this secret place, my darling?” she purred. They came to the entrance to the elven home. She touched the door handle and it came unlatched with a soft click.

They entered. The space was wide and sparse with little in the way of furnishings save for a couch in the living room. Melarpo could see an elegant table in the dining room and a canopied bed in the bedroom. “I would do whatever I pleased, I think.”

She traced his jawline with a dark grey finger and kissed him. “I think that is an excellent answer. You’re learning well.”

“I have a very good tutor,” he retorted.

“The best,” she confirmed, a wicked grin on her face.

They lounged on the couch for some time, holding one another. The air was warm and dry; the songs of the nocturnal animals were sweet and mellifluous. The canopy of dark green mallorn leaves opened to a wide, cloudless sky. The stars twinkled and shone like trapped diamonds. Eldûrien was the first to stand; she walked to the edge of the apartment and leaned against a rich beam of wood. Melarpo came up behind and wrapped his arms around her waist. She gasped at the coolness of his finger then purred. “You have a very good tutor. She’s ought to be given a lordship for her efforts.”

He buried his face on her neck. “Lady Eldûrien of Imthurin, the Valley of Secrets.”

“Mmmm, and what of you? Will you be a lord of secrets alongside me?”

“I would leave with you now,” he whispered.

“So bold and romantic, to think you were so mousy and conformist when we met.”

“Those days seem so long ago,” he confessed, “I truly feel like you’ve helped me achieve a higher level of awareness.”

“Careful with that… mmmm,” she purred as he kissed her ear, “sort of talk, I’m not a cult leader.”

“You are much more than that.”

“You ought to come with me to Far Harad, there’s a city there I think you’d appreciate.”

Suddenly there was a sound at the door, the sound of a lock disengaging.

“I thought you said they weren’t going to be home,” Melarpo said frantically.

Eldûrien didn’t move, her form still stretched out against the wooden beam like a hungry cat. “Unexpected, but don’t worry, dear. No,” she looked at him disapprovingly as he tried to put on his trousers, “don’t you dare. Don’t be ashamed; that would undo all the fun we’ve had.”

“But…” he whispered harshly, eyes wide.

“Trust me,” she shot him a look and a wink.

The door opened and two blonde elves, a man and a woman, entered. “Who… ?"
Strange Fruit got holes in the flesh but it ain't gonn' spoil cause it never was fresh

Farmer
Points: 89 
Posts: 23
Joined: Mon Sep 13, 2021 8:09 pm
Image
Caras Galadhon
(a forgotten telain)
Open!

With accumulating concern Karue Sadyen made his way up the steps which had seemed to be growing in disrepair the further he now climbed. It had been ten years (he rounded) since he had last been here. Since he had last soaked in the Nimrodel, which was in fact where he had just come from and in fact, the reason he had been humming such a cheerful toon right before this concern began to rise. He started to let out a sigh, which turned more into a Woah! as he rounded the stair and a rather plump squirrel sat staring at him confusingly before darting. “Excuse me good sir, deeply sorry to have startled you..” Karue offered as it scurried off scatting what were surely squirely curses at him.

Finally, he got to the top of what now appeared to be nothing more than overgrowth and inhabited by no one save woodland creatures and he looked around noticing even all of the bridges connecting it to the other telain were completely blocked off. He grumbled a bit at that, likely a sign he owed someone some serious money somewhere. “Well, that's alright.” He thought as he adjusted the heavy bag on his back laden with various hides and furs. “Time to see how the shop fairs.”
He turned and faced what once was his beautiful storefront, “But, I may need to use my knife just to cut my way in…” He examined the thick vines, even branches that had grown over the doorway and windows... “And... I may need a bigger knife.”

After some effort, Karue was able to peel back mother nature's attempt at reclaiming his store. The door and windows were viewable again and he was finally ready to poke inside. Upon opening the door something inside skittered, a waif of odorous smell, probably brewed from tannins and other materials left unattended, escaped and dissipated over the telain. “Ooo. That's foul… right of Mordor that smell is…” He quickly began going about opening the windows and then sat back outside with his backpack while the fumes cleared out.
Snacking on some cured meats he chuckled at it all for a bit, then setting his pack underneath one of his windows, leaning against it, he fell into a deep (perhaps even fume induced) sleep. Such as which he hadn’t enjoyed for quite some time.
Karue Sadyen - Elven Leatherwork | Marilyn Took - Hobbit Adorableness

Archer of Lothlorien
Points: 90 
Posts: 29
Joined: Thu Apr 21, 2022 5:46 am
Image

A Spring Hunt:

Northern Lothlorien,
Talan O Nandor,
Home of Eruedraith
[OPEN RP]


The air was crisp, the days had lengthened, and the spring had come again. The sun was barely peeking over the tops of the nearby hills, sending long strands of misty light, hanging between the trees, and the nearby woods echoed with the aggressive groans and shuffling movements of our Elven male, outside of his talan. He had lived in Lothlorien for an age, but had always called the great woods in these areas home, as he was of the Nandor. They were an ancient, almost forgotten people, who among the Teleri had not seen Aman, in the earliest days of their race. He didn't exactly remember his age, because years were much different during the Time of the Trees, before the Sun and the Moon had graced the face of Arda.

"Stay focused. Slide your right foot out, there you go." He thought, whipping the sword in a balanced and even arc. The sword flashed and shone brightly, flickering with bits of the sun, the sweat of his brow leaking down onto his shirtless body. "Those that train in the spring", he thought, "are much better prepared for Summers heat." A modern take of an old adage, though for him, what most thought of as young and new, was in fact quite old. Whether it was ideas about passion or love, brotherhood and bond, any of the ideals or whims of our fancy, they were far older than Men can imagine. Thier age did not spoil them, the time between did not weaken them, the ideals of both Men and Elves, and all who seek freedom and peace; lofty the cowards would call them, but one would rather live with high ideals rather than mire in low realities.

He stopped to catch his breath, he had been training hard for well over an hour, surely that was good enough for the day, for he must save some of his energy for his hunt. Waking for breakfast, he found that most of his food stores had been whittled away during the Winter, he had a few bags of beans and lentils, some wild rice and herbs, and some various root vegetables, but the last of the meat had come and gone, but now that spring was here, and the frosts of the mountain were melting, it was time to hunt once again. It will take him roughly three days to get to his preferred hunting grounds at the base of the Misty Mountains, south of the DImrill Dale.

Preparing his things over the week prior helped him feel at ease with the morning. He was able to quickly gather the small pack, which contained some of his most valuable items for this trek, a flint and steel, some rope, four leaves of lembas, his bed roll, a small axe, a metal tin cup, a small empty sack, some twine, a waterskin and a small sharpening stone for his knife. He already knew the path that he would take, where some wild apples and berries grew, and in the late summer, the walnut trees would be in bloom, one of his preferred travelling foods. Summer was some time away now, but lucky for him, he carried a small sack of them that he saved back for just this hunt. Securing what he could for quiet maneuvering through the woods, sporting his preferred travelling attire, he stopped about fifty yards out from the talan, taking one last look. When he returns, he hoped to bring meat, which would help power him through the planting season and into harvest time, after which, he would hunt one last time for WInter. Such was the years of this quendu, and many of his kin, for well over an Age in the land of Lorien.
Characters: Eruedraith [Lorien Elf], Ar-Turic of Khand [Khandese Man], "Amber" Dan [Gondorian Pirate], Hrard Depthcleanser [Khazad Dwarve]

Post Reply