Arehir and Talia on the Long Plain

This RP happened on the wide, grassy plains south of Lorien, when Talia and Arehir were on a routine patrol. They certainly didn't expect to find an encampment of humans!

Long Plain
The grassy plains continue in all directions. Here upon a grassy knoll you feel safe as you would be able to see anyone coming from aways away.

After a long day of pouring rain, the sky has filled cleared and the heavens are filled with twinkling stars against the dark sky. The Gondorian encampment is relatively quiet at this hour of the night, midnight, when all the world should be at rest.

The murmur of the healers as they tend to the men injured by the wargs can be heard when one passes close enough to the healers tents. And once in awhile, the laughter of the guards can be heard as they tease and talk to one another during their watches.

A lone woman stands outside the healers tent, her arms crossed as she looks at the sky. Holding something in the one hand, her head bends to look at the object and then raises back up to the sky. That woman would be Lady Aearwen of Ethring-Bragollach, envoy of the Prince of Dol Amroth.

The plains stretch out empty on all sides and to the heavens above. The gentle waving of the grasses in time with the barely noticeable breeze is all that can be seen. Any who might be attuned to the night, however, might have noticed that the song of the cicadas has gradually quietened to a silence. Yet, nothing can be seen, despite the bright Moon and the glowing of his children stars.

The pale-white gloam of the moon seems to blend the endless grasses into a sea of murmering, undulating grey. The wind himself seems to quiet suddenly though, as if pausing to contemplate the presence of others whom he cannot quite grasp, cannot quite find. A bird calls harshly overhead then, though even the sharpest of eye has little chance to spot the origin of this rather eerie cry, and the sense of something otherworldly begins to seep across the hushed grasses.

Lady Aearwen walks over to a makeshift table and chairs outside the healers tent and takes a seat. No longer aware of the stars in the dark sky, she sits quietly listening to the sounds of the night. Her face is hidden in the shadows, but the rest of her is illuminated by the light of the moon. Sitting up quickly, she turns to her left, eyes glancing at the tall grasses, vividly recalling the warg attack on her person two nights previous. Bending over she quietly slips the dagger from the sheath attached to her calf, clenching it tightly in pale fingers as her eyes rove the plains.

Approaching the harshly lit encampment now, a darkly-clad form emerges from the monotony of the plains. Still some distance away, just outside the ring of brazen orange light cast out by the fitful blaze within the camp, the figure pauses. No features can be discerned of this form, though tall indeed it stands, and, perhaps, the slightest hint of a glow about its head.

No creeping beast slinks from the shadows or lunges for human prey, despite the woman's fears and sudden defensive posture. The night remains as quiet as ever, only the memory of the bird cry clinging to the held breath of the night breeze. Shadows on this open plain are rare, especially with the moon unclouded, but now and then one can be seen, flitting to hide behind one blade of grass or another. There was one just then! East of the camp, just outside the circle of firelight.

Peering into the darkness of the camp, Aearwen strains to view the person moving about at this hour. Getting a glimpse as they move past the firelight, she does not recognize the form as one of the Gondorian or Rohirrim visitors travelling with the party. Rising from her chair, her hand holding the dagger slides down and hides in the folds of her dress as she calls out, "Who goes there?", taking one step closer to the healers tent as she awaits an answer.

Not moments after the first figure's appearance, it simply dissolves back into the dark fitfulness of the grasses. No sign of its passing could be found even if it were sought, but for that increasingly pervasive feeling of an unexplainable presence. Menacing, mayhap, but not exactly evil. Soon after the shape reappears to the north, again just beyond the halo of visibility about the small knoll, as if attempting to discern something of this encampment of men so far from the lands of men.

Galloping in from the North is a lone black horse. This horse bears no saddle or reins as he enters the camp. It knickers nervously as he thunders his way to the corral that he was kept before his rider, Galdorim, took him out earlier that day. The horse bears no wound or sign of struggle.

A swift movement, a blur of moon-lit grey amidst the deeper grey of the plains, accompanies the approach of the horse, and once again the shadowy figure fades away.

Puzzled by the sudden disappearance of the stranger in the encampment, Aearwen walks a few steps towards the north. Standing there quietly perusing the horizon, a soft gasp can be heard as the shape again reappears. Softly slipping through the grass, this ever curious woman walks towards the light, seemingly without fear.

And then to the East again, if only briefly there is a figure - it's billowing cloak undeniable. It lingers longer, covered head turned towards the out of place encampment. Then it dissolves again in objection to the curious human. The straining flames of the fire cannot throw the light quite far enough to catch the eery spies.

Aearwen laughs softly and rubs her eyes, straining again to catch another glimpse of this unusual event. Shaking her head she laughs again and says to herself, "I must be out of my mind." Bending to slip the dagger back in the sheath on her calf, she stands again and gazes at the horizon, hoping to get another glimpse of what ever it was she saw.

One last time, the shadow-swathed form to the north of the camp stands clearly above the restless grasses. This time, however, the figure is silhouetted against the moon. Clearly very tall, with a long, seemingly colorless cloak wrapped tightly about about its body, the being's sharp facial features are visible for an instant, dark eyes painful and piercing. Most disquieting, however, and intriguing, is the brief greenish glow that seems to radiate from the silver-maned head. In an instant, however, as if with the minutest shift of the wind, the figure is gone, lost irrevocably in the ever-waving of the plains.

Aearwen
This Lady stands proud with a sweet ageless face. Dark haired, she has translucent, creamy skin that is set off by the auburn curls that tumble around her shoulders and down to the middle of her back.. Hair that glistens with shades of gold and red of the dusk. Her eyes are compelling, blue, lit with laughter and fire. However, there is something indiscernable beneath her eyes, as if deep wells of experience shine through with clarity. Her soft pink lips are usually curled with a smile and her features clearly denote her as one of an aristocratic, pride-filled bent. Her long slender neck and porcelain shoulders are showcased by the lovely low cut gowns she wears. She is attired in a gown of russet satin that has a deep neckline, with lavish gold embroidery adorning the tight bodice. The long sleeves have golden threads woven in a rich tapesty design that end at her tiny wrists. Her slender waist is encased by a golden girdle that accentuates the tiny span of her waist, the full folds of her skirt flare out from her shapely hips and drop to the toes of her golden slippers.
Adorning the pinkie finger of her right hand is a silver, floral engraved ring, given to her by Galdorim as a promise of his affection. Around her slender neck is a beautifully crafted necklace of amber beads overlaid and connected by delicate silver filagree, dropping low on her swelling figure to an amber pendant. Inside that glowing amber pendant is a butterfly, trapped for centuries with its wings aloft. This necklace was Galdorim's grandmother's and then his mother's, given to Aearwen to pledge his eternal love, forever in his heart, as the butterfly is inside the amber warming her skin.

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