Ents on Cerim Amroth

Top of Mound
You are standing on top of the mound of Cerin Amroth. It is covered with fresh springlike grass and strewn with small white and yellow flowers. These are the niphredil and the star-shaped elanor, the flowers of Lorien which stay in bloom all year long. Beside the center tree stands a broad white ladder which leads high up into the branches of the tree. 

Upwards rises Arien's care, dawning the light of day on fairest Laurelindorenan. And here, atop the hill that once stood centre of elvendom in middle earth, the morning sun shines brightest; set in the tall, verdant grasses, the pale niphredil and lovely elanor bloom ever. Cerin Amroth this is, where the elven King lived in ages past; from this, the highest point, all Lothlorien is visible, bathed in light after the moonless night. Far off, beyond the endless, serried ranks of trees, the snow-capped tops of the Hithaeglir glimmer in the sun, the fastness of mirkwood is to the north and west; an ugly shadow lying on it. To the south, the dark, gloomy green tops of the Entwood are. And here, atop the hill are stood two rings of stately trees, ringed around one great and tall, amidst whose eaves an ancient house is set; But lo, aside these naked trees, the silver and the gold, another stands: a little tree, by comparison. It's branches upheld, heralding the dawn. An ash, as yet bedecked with leaves, e'en though winter it be; quite squat, this little ash, and oddly warped. A black sheep among the flock, as it were. 

An endless melody fills the place, seeming to come from the surrounding trees, though the players cannot be seen by those that reach the top of Cerim Amroth. The melody is soft and fills the heart with peace and content. Harps and lutes, flutes and mandolins, and the sweet voices of the hidden bards bring to this dreamlike mound the music of time past. 

Galdhil having come up the hill takes a slow look about at the trees and reflects on memories. He curiously looks at the out of place tree for a few moments, too far from it to make it our for what it is. 

From Amroth's Talan, a couple comes down hand by hand. Their faces brights in happiness. He is dressed in green and silver, she in shining white. They look at each other with love as they walk towards the crowd gathered there. Lindil and Lothriel stands among them smiling and greeting.

Tirastaldo pulls his body up the hill, and walks up quite doggedly. His clothing is slightly askew and his hair matted. He drinks from a flask which he then resecures to his belt. He looks for a place to rest that would be out of the way of the party, and spotting a tree some way off, walks toward it. 

As he starts to approach the elves gathered here to party, Lindil notices the strange tree in the center of the mound, his eyes lingering on its branches for quite a while. He then turns to Lothriel and asks, "Melda, had you seen that ash here before? I do not recall having seen such a strange thing in this place"

Rayakalm was sitting on the slope of the hill. Presently he stands up and joins the crowd silently. 

Up, way up atop the Ash tree's broad trunk: A great, plate-like eye cracks open a ways. Shimmering a burnished, emerald green, flitting this way and that, it promptly winks shut. Long limbs shivering slightly, the Ash does its best, (If at all it were possible) to seem inconspicuous. 

Dawn's breath, fresh with life and eager light, casts it's soft shadow upon the great mallorn and the Ash of an Ent. Off to the side; barely atop the mound bedecked with the wonderous flowers niphredil and elanor stands another - recently arrived. Grizzeled old face masking deep-set eyes; a well of finite knowledge. His roots, seven toed each, are covered by the soft slippers of the flowers of the mound; indeed reaching partially up ancient legs. Slowly does Treebeard, eldest of living beings, ascend the hill - the brush of his leafy top rustling with the life of it's own; untouched by the soft kiss of the wind. His eyes, parting the cracks of wood, glisten as they sweep wide; looking and taking in as he watches and passes. From up one side of the mound Treebeard ascends and down the other he descends, a gentle "Hroom-hmm," wafting by as he passes; back into the forested sea of Lothlorien. 

Galdhil stops and grins as he hears the ent voice. He watches the creature drift into the trees. Then turning his head back to the out of place ash he studies it a bit more closely, a small and boyish grin upon his face. 

Taking Lothriel's hand as the eyes of the Ent open, Lindil shivers for a second then smiles broad. But no sooner has he breathed in again, he sees the figure of the other Ent climbing towards the top of Cerin Amroth, his eyes open broadly and his lips are slightly parted as all his attention is directed to this arriving new Tree-Shephard. 

Rayakalm watches the walking tree in amazement. His eyes are wide open, following the movements of the wooden giant. 

Lothriel looks to the ash pointed by Lindil and awe appears in her face when the tree open her eyes. Then she turns her gaze too the other Ent giving no credit to her eyes. She says as a whispers, "The Enyd!" 

Mirelas slips quietly up the hill and finds an out of the way place to stand.

Climbing up the hill of flowers in a quick mood, appears the figure of a maiden clad in shinning green. As she approaches the top, her eyes fall on those present, and she smiles wide. Not noticing the ash tree in the center of the Mound, she walks directly toward his brother and without any greeting she hugs him tenderly. 

Leaning, as might a young tree in a strong wind, to a stiff, shallow bow; doubtless at the Eldest's passing; the ash-Ent stands, now twice revealed, despite it's treeish camoflauge. Embarassed perhaps, (at least seemingly) it coughs an entish cough. "Ahoom," And smiles a little smile to boot, blinking it's great eyes once, twice, thrice. It's arms (once branches) fall down low, twig-like fingers flexing. To and fro it glances, from one figure to the next, with a pervasive gaze; thinking perhaps, always thinking it's inward thoughts, the ancient thing rumbles out, in the common tongue: "Hoo... umm. Ho, yes. What is this, hmm? Little firstborn hmm." It nods inwardly, (as well it may, without a neck) "Hoho... hmm. I quite forgot... waking me up, so they are. What is it they all do here, then? Perhaps we interrupt..." Inwardly it thinks, and inwardly (doubtless) it's words are directed... nevertheless, the Anod stands and waits to be bespoke. 

Surprised by the hug of his sister, Lindil hugs her back and chuckles for himself. After a moment he says, "Mae Govannen, my little sister, I'm glad that you could come in time for the ceremony..." He makes a pause to look at the green eyes of his sibling, "We could never have it without you". As he hears the mutterings of the Anod some yards away from him he turns and says in soft but polite mood, "I'm very sorry to have disrupted your rest," he fumbles for a second, as if searching for some name to address the ent, then finally says, "mellon. We are going to have a party here... A wedding party."

Tirastaldo's search for a tree to rest upon falls short as he finds himself struck as stone at the sight of walking and talking trees. 

Rayakalm smiles as he sees his cousins meet. But his eyes are soon fixed on the ent. He is reluctant to go nearer, even though the curiousity shown in his eyes is great.

Suddenly noticing the talking Ent, Aldarwen rises her eyes from those of his brother and stares at the ash tree. In her eyes there's not surprise, but rather amazement, they shine with strong brilliance as the light of the morning sun touches them. And her smile is that of deep content.

Lothriel looks upon the Ent. Her eyes meet the Tree-shepherd's and she is lost for a while in it. Going back to realty, she curtsies to him politely and says, "You don't interrupt, Old one. Indeed we have upset your rest." She turns to Aldarwen and with a smile she hugs her, "Mae govannen, Aldarwen. I am happy having you here." 

Mirelas remains where she is, watching the events unfold from a moderate distance. 

His gaze remaining fixed upon the Ents, and his eyes wide with awe, Tirastaldo says to no one in particular, "Since when can trees walk and talk?" 

Even though she hears her name mentioned, Aldarwen moves her head just slightly, her gaze completely frozen on the figure of the Ent in front of them. With her musical elven voice, she says towards the Tree-Shephard, "Mae Govannen", her face is somewhat blushed as she smiles to the Ent. 

Mirelas just turns to look at Tirastaldo without comment. Rayakalm, who is not far from Tirastaldo, catches his words. He walks to him. "... ... not heard ... ... ... ... ... ... Trees?" He says in a soft voice. 

Tirastaldo squints and turns his head to look at Rayakalm, his face showing no recognition. He shakes his head. 

Even as did the Eldest before, the long-limbed Ash looks to descend the hill, with a fleeting "Hmm..." wafting with his passing, underbreath though, he mutters a terminal: "Off we go....." But his voice trails off, and he turns roundabout atop the hill. Upon Tirastaldo does his gaze fall, "What is that you say... oh, but the firstborn do so forget. Hoo, but /we/ have been here since trees were trees, so we have. Hmm.. oh, our name is very long..." As a glacier might seem to a passing polar bear, so the Anod seems to the elves here stood. Quick conversation seems quite beyond him, "Hello.. goodbye." He gasps to one, a maid before him, only to look back, squinting to the other. But blinks... "Oh-ho... but you're enough to put old Longlimb back to sleep, yes... I do not think so quickly, no. Ho... no, no. Off I shall go, yes. Perhaps I shall rest elsewhere, or seek out the eldest... yes. At least then I might not have to be so..." Something of distaste is betrayed in his voice... "/Hasty/" A rumbling peal of laughter passes the Anod's ruddy lips, and he turns about once more, striding off down the hill upon aptly long legs.