Erinstar charms Gillhach

Early Afternoon
Ormenel Heavens-day
3 Laer Summer
Moon phase: Waning Gibbous <HIDDEN>
Gil-Estel is not visible.
Loa 139 o Yen 21, Nelandran o Endor <TA 3019>

Lawn
Here the stairway through the mellyrn meets the top of a mighty hill. You stand in the middle of a great lawn filled with blue and yellow flowers. A sweet scent fills the air. In the middle of the lawn stands a great shimmering fountain which falls into a basin of silver. From the basin flows a white stream of water out into a small brook, which then trickles away down the hill. Further north stands a mallorn tree of such magnificent height that it seems to reach even to the clouds.

Erinstar sits off to one side of the lawn with his back resting up against the trunk of an elderly mallorn while he gazes off into the clouds thoughtfully. He holds a half a glass of wine in one hand, and a partially carved lump of wood in the other. Little bits of wood shavings seem to populate his general locale, and a carving knife is stuck in the ground beside him.

Of elvendom in middle earth, this is the heart; the soul of Dwimordene, vale of illusion as the men call it: high and lofty is the peak of Caras Galadhon, the great hill and capitol of Lorien, Laurelindorenan as it was of old; well nigh to the top of the great mound, here there sprawls a lawn swathed with grass of verdant green, set alight by the evening sun; From below, clambering up the long, elegant stair: a maid, (lithe and slender, her figure marks her such) all cloaked in elven grey surmounts the landing at its top; the woolen wrap of her cowl she starts unravelling, as, with emerald eyes glistening, she breathes deep of the cool, clean air.

Cutting through the haze of driftless reverie like a knife, the presence of the young elf-maid sparks the fire of reality in the Herald's eyes and brings him sharply back to the present. A faint smile alights upon dusky lips as he turns his head to greet the newly arrived, his soft-spoken words drifting across the empty lawn like a summer breeze. "Good Evening..."

Once drawn about a long, appreciative arc; (the huntress' eyes are not blind to aesthetics, at least) the twinkling orbs alight upon the herald, in whose reverie was at once ignorant, and ignored; lids widen and flutter a while, and the master stifles to a bow; as, whilst decorum might beg for a curtsie, no hem has Gillhach to grasp; rising then, the maiden curls her rosy lips to a smile, "Good day, my lord herald." says she, - honey might not taste so sweet, nor silver bells ring so true as the tone of her voice - she adds on afterthough; "Forsooth, it is not so late of the day just yet... how fare you, I should say?"

The handsome young herald seems taken aback by the display of eleagance, and there is a pause as words catch unformed in his throat, hateful to poison the memory of her beautiful voice. An eternity seems to pass unheeded in his mind as he basks in the glory of that sound so precious. But those endless few seconds are shattered finally, painfully, with the comparitively harsh murmur of birdsong as the nightengales stir from sleep. He answers finally, breathlessly, and with the subtlest curve of a roguish smile, "I fared amiably, Lady, til you turned my world upsidedown with a word..."

A blush, creeping assuredly as wildfire across her cheeks sets the huntress' fair visage ablaze; an unassuming hand is touched to her breast, as she stutters an embarassed, though vibrant peal of laughter; "Good my lord," She blurts out hastily, "Stop, I pray;" Bashful is the smile set as answer on her lips, though her eyes glisten with mirth concealed.

Erinstar chuckles softly, a pleasant sound to say the least, and motions gently for you to join him with the wave of a slender, gloved hand. "Please, be stayed a moment that I might enjoy your company but a little longer..."

"As you would, my lord." Allows the huntress, her head inclined to the affirmative, "But," She attatches the clause hastily; "Not overlong... Ere the day is done, I must needs be gone from the city once more," She re-affirms with a smile, and follows the motion of the Heralds' hand, sitting as she may nearby, disposing of her gear near to hand; the long, curved leather package that was strung about her back, her cloak and cowl and such, Gillhach lays aside.

A tender smile graces his lips once more as he gives a slight shake of his head, his silken locks dancing, "Hardly am I a Lord, my Lady. Even less so to one such as you..." There is a pause then, and a look of mild curiousity crosses his finely chiseled features, followed shortly by the quirk of a slender brow, "But whence must you be gone? And with what haste? For a finer day I have not seen in an age, made more perfect still with your added beauty... Must it be spent away by mindless errands?"

Eyes downcast then, face flushed with modesty befitting, Gillhach answers; "You give me much credit, my lord... and though I be eldest left of a proud line, I am not yet so noble;" On that note, he breast heaves with a sigh; slender shoulders rise and fall, "As for me, think you my errands mindless? Of skins there is a need, and of meat at that... I supply both, as I may and can, and would. But the kelvar dwell without, and so some few days i'th wild might be begged of me." She smiles, though, a reassuring smile by all accounts, "But, by your words you warrant some time of mine at least, and I shall stay yet a while."

He stretches forth a gloved hand without thought, tucking away an errant strand of your golden tresses as he speaks gently, his silvery voice dancing like raindrops across the mind, "More grace than a king you do possess, my Lady, and Kings I have seen. No queen in dreams most wild has begun to perceive a voice so pure. Of beauty I shall not speak, lest I blaspheme. Your modesty is divine, and doth suit you immeasurably, but do not belittle yourself overmuch, for greater Nobility is sought by Royalty and never found..."

Gillhach turns sharply away, eyes cast in haste down to the ground; "Oh, but you give credit where it be not due... might you compare me to a summers day? Or else to the lady herself... I would not have it so," She shakes her head, "Not I... a simple maid, no more nor less by all accounts, but too proud or foolish both to be had," On that note, the huntress dares gaze upwards, the misty emerald orbs of her eyes mirrored momentarily in the hazy silver of her fellows', "And yet you, one high and lordly would attempt to charm me... but why?"

Streaks of silver dance amidst the dark stormclouds of his eyes, flickering softly in the starlight as he murmurs, "And yet the Summer would hide in shame for sight of thee were it given the choice, to say naught of Spring. But speak not of my nobility when you deny it yet yourself, for I am but the Lady's guardsman and messenger, and but a fool with words next to yourself. And still I am proud of my humble station, while here mourns a Lady for her supposed faults. Faults which most would kill and die to achieve as virtues, for were they but a candle to the sun next to thee they would rejoice."

A peal of laughter rings true from 'twixt the maids' rose-red lips, "And now I know you do but jest, playing on my innocence, no doubt; but not so naive am I, and is't forgot? Of a proud line, I said... though not so as to be blinded to the shortcomings of my birth, and so, I mourn not my faults, but shall have no other deny me them; nor praise my graces overmuch..." She stands, "Forgive me lord, you are sweet tongued, and touched my heart and humour with your words, and yet..." She excuses herself on earlier clause, "all the time that I have, I have given ye, and now shall take thy leave."

Erinstar grins roguishly and bows his head slightly in parting, "Although known for exaggeration at times, there is some merit in my gilded words. Your insight serves you well, however. Indeed, your visage is only improved in mine eyes for now I see that you possess not only grace and beauty, but wisdom as well. Fare thee well for now, my Lady, and be wary that ye not speak overmuch, lest ye have a line of lonely guardsmen trailing on behind you, drooling in admiration..."

Erinstar
Before you is a tall, muscular elf of about 6'10". He wears solid black from head to toe except for his grey cowl and cloak signifying him as a member of the Order of The Guard o Lothlorien. Only his head is not covered in black. He wears midnight colored leather gloves and slightly worn knee-high boots. His tunic is made of soft, light material. On his belt he carries a long coil of rope, a large animal-skinned pouch, a water bottle, a small flute, and several other odds and ends. He wears a greyish looking cloak which changes color and blend with it's surroundings making him very hard to see, pinned together by a small gold clasp in the shape of a star. His hair is long and a light brownish gold. His face is strong and handsome. His eyes are strangest and most noticable part about him. They are like the sea in a storm. An occasional flash of silver flicks past as if it were lightning. He looks young but his eyes show he has seen many more years than it looks. He wears a black headband to keep his long hair out of his face and he flashes one of his bright, enchanting smiles as you look at him.

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Gillhach
A tall woman, and fair, even in the reckoning of her own kind. She seems youthful, as do all her kin, even though come to full growth, she has perhaps some eighteen years by the reckoning of men. A wealth of silky golden hair frames her fair visage; her elegant, sculpted features, the emerald eyes glistening 'neath her high brow, encircled by a silver circlet, a single stone of adamant set therein. With skin like alabaster, milky white. And the figure of a dancer, lithe of limb and fleet of foot. She is cloaked all in grey, beneath: Close-fit leather breeches, with simple leather boots to match. A loose, armless silk vest, clipped at the shoulder with a brooch; the likeness of a crescent moon emblazoned on a star of six points. She wears a swordbelt, though without a blade to her name, save only the long knife sheathed there in a bejewelled, ancient scabbard, and the quiver of grey-fletched arrows hung therefrom.

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