Lord of the Rings Fanatics Plaza

Hidden in the hidden valley, there is a mountain stream and a shoreline dotted with statues of the bards of old. This being a warm, late spring day, the trees are blooming with leaves of every shade of green, full, luscious and healthy. There are stone benches that look out onto the river from a comfortable height, and fire pits for the winter - they're unlit now as they aren't needed.

In one area of the shoreline there are some communal instruments, including stringed ones, and wooden flutes and drums. There is also blank parchment, sitting next to brushes and pens. While there is ink, there are no paints per se - but there are ground compounds so that artists may mix their own paints.

Finished work is often shared and shown under a small pavilion before being shared with the larger community at the Last Homely House and at other large gatherings. Sometimes, if asked for, thoughts are given, but mostly Elves and fellow travelers like to enjoy the creations of their fellow Middle Earthers.

******

Firerose, guild mistress, is sitting on a bench not far from the communal area, a blank piece of parchment in her lap. She's a writer, for sure, but it's been so long since she's put pen to paper - so much time fighting. But as always, better to be a warrior in a garden than a gardener in a war. The war is over now, but not the trauma or the memories. She dips her quill in ink, and waits for the words to come.


****

This is the Bard's Guild of Imladris! A place for you to share your writing, art, and music with your fellow Elves. All are welcome, but we do have a few rules to keep things going:

1) Please stay on topic, and keep writing/art/etc related to Imladris, and it's relations to LotR. That is, in this thread, you're writing as your character - AFF is where you want to go to write as yourself ;). If you must include an OOC, please include OOC at the bottom of your post.

2) RP is encouraged! In a nod to the Old Days, this won't be super strict in terms of limiting foo and general silliness, but please don't abuse it!

3) If/when this thread gets full, c/p the top part above the asterisks to start a new thread.

Have fun and happy writing!

Ohtarien

An elf clad in plated steel walked along the mountain stream, seeing unused benches and unplayed instruments. Blinking, she walked towards a bench where Firerose sat. Ohtarien looked around quickly, as if checking to see no one else saw the armored elf. She walked closer, stood at attention, waited for a moment, and then slightly coughed. As she moved towards Firerose, Ohtarien took out a folded piece of parchment within a sack tied to her belt. When Firerose greeted her, she would hand the folded piece of parchment without greeting back, saying:

"This was written by my mother. It's a poem or song I think. This is a copy of the poem, and I have the original at home. Just take it, and er- goodbye" Ohtarien stammered as she handed Firerose the folded parchment. The armored elf, then began walking back from whence she came not waiting for a response.



On the parchment contained the following words:

"When wine flows through our cup,
As mead drowns our eve delight,
I will sing while we sup
To all who listen tonight.
I sing a tale of justice:
On The Noble and Baker.

There lived one of great wealth,
Who’s generosity was ever greater.
He often hid in stealth
To walk amongst those who were lesser.
On the streets the noble heard
Of a ranc’d avar’cious baker.

They cursed the bread-maker,
Who charged quarter as much as others.
He bankrupted neighbors,
Whose bread businesses became withered.
The Baker’s bread smelled afoul,
His sneer wreaked the stench of worms.

The noble rushed in stealth,
He dressed in stained tunic,
Garments hiding great wealth.
Striding with common folk,
He soon found the bakery,
Which sold infested bread.

'Fair tidings, oh baker. I’m famished,'
Spoke the hidden noble with parched voice.
Oh, the baker’s greedy eyes relished
seeing another victim swindled.

'Come come, we have bread from all lands fair,'
He said; the grin bore a crooked smile.
Rubbing grimy hands, he spoke his wiles,
'my grain is best, handled with great care.'

The noble took a slice.
He tast’d it, and he spat.
'I’d not give this to mice!'
He cried; the baker shocked.

'Yet,' the baker calmed, with a large smirk,
'You eat, you drink, you pay; such is life.
Now pay, forever great was my work
In baking this here bread that you took.'

The noble became tired of hiding.
Forsaking his parched tone, he spoke clear:
'You have gone too far, for I am siding
With the people you tricked, you cad cur!'

'I’m a noble, and I cannot bear
To see this gruff gnarly bakery
Remain to torment people I care!
Your bakery is mine; I’ll buy it.'

'Pay for it in blood! You fool me not!'
Retort’d the baker, hand to cleaver.
'You will not take my bakery, you sod!'
The baker charged, blade at hand to slash.

The noble manages the city’s grain;
The people rejoice on the marble streets.
Now Gondolin will finally attain,
The bread every elf should rightfully eat."

Ohtarien

...Sometime afterwards, the armored elf once again returned towards the bench where Firerose sat, as Ohtarien's eyes gazed everywhere except for at Firerose. The former sheepishly muttered, "I accidentally gave you the original..."

@FireroseArien

Saranna moves eagerly to where FireroseArien sits, and stops close by. 'Mellon,' she whispers. 'We are home again. One day soon my words will awaken and I will have an offering for you. Meanwhile I have climbed the hill to the clearing where my little hut sits, and found it safe, though in need of sweeping. Beyond all hope we have come home, and home will welcome us.'