Glirdain Theatre: Belegedhel's Song

Theatre
Your footsteps are immediately muffled as you step onto the soft carpet of cool grass. Before you rests the Theatrical Stage, sparkling in the light, resplendant with the glories of past plays and recitals, awaiting future performances. Everywhere around you grow sculptured hedges and benches of the purest white marble have been placed in rows nearer to the stage. Overhead, lightweight fabric strands, one seeming torn, of the most brilliant golds, reds and greens, decorate the mallorn branches, nearly glowing in the light. Through the boughs of the surrounding mellryn sunlight filters in to warm the air and cheerfully light the stage. Several baskets sit around the perimeter of the Theatre, one tipped on its side.

The wind blows lightly from the west, bringing with it the sound of birds singing gayly in their trees. And through those trees shines the bright sun, free from cloud cover, though several small whispy clouds pass lazily overhead. Without sound, the stalky elf appears from the Courtyard west. He holds a long poll of stalf-like quality, and leans against it as a walking stick. He approaches one of the benches and immediately sits down, skipping his usual surveyance of his surroundings. He removes his right boot and gently rubs his foot and toes.

This afternoon is particularly quiet in the Golden Woods, and the Glirdain Theatre appears to be completely empty, except for one figure to the side of the scene. The figure of a maiden, clad in shinning white, sitting upon a wooden chair, inclined over some old papers. The maiden is in deep silence, a harp resting against her chair.

The crimson clad elf tenderly rubs the heel of his foot and upto his toe, grunting loudly in pain as he presses on his large toe. He turns his foot, looking at his toe and grimmaces, touching it again lightly. He unslings his backpack from around his shoulders setting it lightly on the earth beside and below him. From around his waist he takes a small waterskin, opening it and pouring some of the cool water over his toe, splashing the bench.

Raising her head from her papers, the maiden stares for a long moment of silence to the whining elf. Slowly, she puts her papers toward a side, stands from her place and approaches the border of the stage, her eyes set firmly upon the figure. After another moment, she steps down and starts approaching him, whispering softly, "Mae Govannen." Her eyes trying to spy the face of the still unrecognised elf.

A soft bump is heard. A bag hits the ground under the nearby tree of the Glirdain Talan. Another bump is heard. An Elf drops out of the same tree. He picks up the bag and touches it and looks at it on all sides. When he has made sure nothing seems broken, he allows himself to smile and look up.

The whining elf lifts his eyes from his foot. His face still turned away from her. He quickly snaps his mouth shut, squaring his jaw. At the sound of the sudden bump, he jumps, startled and looks off to the location of the bumps, blinking curiously. He shakes his head, ridding the question from his head, and turns his face slowly to the approaching elf-maiden.

Disturbed by the sudden noise that come from the Talan, the maiden turns quickly to look to ward that side. As she recognises the elf that has jump from the branches, she presses her lips slightly, shaking her head just a little before turning again toward the other elf. She repeats her former phrase, "Mae Govannen". And with a whisper she adds, "May I help you, mellon?"

The elf swings his head around facing the elf-maiden now. His eyes meeting hers: a soft, wordless greeting. They stray momentarily, tracing her figure, and smile creeps onto his face. He releases his foot from the confines of his hand, placing it soflty upon the grass and straightens up, "Well, m'lady, Mae Govannen, and on what a fine day it is that we should meet once again."

Holding the bag close to him, the dropped Elf notices the Aldarwen's glance. He blushes and grins shyly. Still, since he has to face the master sometime, he picks up his courage and walks towards the other two Elves.

Belegedhel appears from the archway.
Belegedhel has arrived.

In silent reply to the elf's polite words, the maiden bows her head slightly, and allows a smile to creep up on her lips. Looking briefly toward the now grounded foot she says, in her sweet musical tone, "Are you alright, mellon? It seems your boots have hurted you. You shouldn't wear such heavy shoes if they hurt you." Turning now toward the approaching elf, the maiden giggles slightly at his face and says, "Good to see you again, cousin"

Striding into the theatre, gazing at his shoes, Belegedhel comes quickly. He appears to be deep in ponderance as he enters, and does not notice the edhil gathered thence. At once upon seeing them, he cries in a merry tone, or perhaps startled, "Mae govannen mellyn, how does to-day fare for all?"

Wiggling his toe slowly, the crimsoned elf sighs, "No, not my boots, but lack there-of. I was clumsy enough to stub my toe on a tree root, and it still hurts a bit when I walk, tis no big deal, but I had come here to rest a while, enjoy the scenery and the such." He averts his gaze to the new arrival, picking up his hand, fanning his fingers and waving, "Mae Govannen, mellon, come join us!"

A pleasant air about him, the newly arrived edhel walks towards he who called to him. With a broad grin set upon his fair face, he says "The pleasure would be mine..." pausing while squinting his eyes momentarily, he looks to be trying to recall something which he cannot. "... prithee mellon, it has just occurred to me that your name I know not. Have we met afore?"

Seeing the arriving learner, the face of the maiden lights up. She looks toward him for a moment and says, "Oh, Mae Govannen, Belegedhel!" After saying this, she retreats some steps slowly, and then elegantly sits upon the grass. As she does this she motions the others to sit as well, and says, "Mellyn, it's a great afternoon, it would be better if we could share some wine and song, don't you think?" Just after saying this she takes the leather bag that hangs from her waist and starts opening it.

The Elf with the bag waves back and joins the others. "Mae Govannen, cousin, fellow learner, ..." He stops and looks at Tirastaldo's face and then at Belegedhel as he translates his expression into words. He waits for the reply patiently.

The seated elf wrinkles his nose, looking off at the stage in thought, then back to the new arrival, "No, friend, I believe not, at least from what I remember." He stands slowly, tending to lean on his left foot. He bows low in greeting, again coming to stand, "My name is Tirastaldo, and I'm an delighted to me you, mellon." He turns his body, and moving his hands as to indicate for them to sit with the elf-maiden.

Grinning toward the master bard as she speaks to him, Belegedhel saunters rather hastily to the spot she had gestured to. Espying the bag of leather she is fiddling with, a curious look upon his face, but he says naught of it. Now the orbs of jet set within Belegedhel's pale features rove toward the stranger he he knew not. Looking o his foot, and chuckling a little, he says "And I am called Belegedhel Tiristaldo, but the pleasure is purely mine. I over heard something of your foot... 'are you well?" Now, finally looking to the other learner, Belegedhel grins saying:"Ah, Rayakalm, it has been long since last we have spoken mellon." As he seats himself upon the lush grass

As she opens the bag, Aldarwen brings a small clay jar out of it, and a wooden box. Opening the wooden box she takes out four delicate glasses and puts them in front of her. As she starts pouring the wine in the glasses she says, "This is the last Miruvor I have left. With this problem with the bees and the vinyard I haven't been able to find more." Stopping for a second she rises her eyes, two glasses filled, two still to be filled, then goes on, "But let's not think about that, and share the joy that we have."

Favouring his foot once again, Tirastaldo takes a seat upon the bench. He unfastens his cloak and sets it beside his pack. He looks to Belegedhel and smiles, "Oh, mellon, yes. I am quite fine, I stubbed my toe, and cramping my feet into such boots isn't good for it, tis nothing of great worry. Thank you for your concern, though."

Rayakalm adds to Belegedhel's words by saying, "And I am Rayakalm, Learner of the Glirdain. Yes, Belegedhel, it's been too long." He sits down beside the maiden.

Accepting the wine in the magnificently crafted glasses, Belegedhel smiles to Aldarwen saying "I thank you mellon. Indeed, I am parched as I have yet to dine to-day." Raising the glasses to his lips, he takes a small draught of the wine, and allows it to rest in his mouth for a long while; savouring the flavour of it, before swallowing it and grinning broadly "And what luck am I to have found such a vinatge in times of such short rations" Then looking to the others, he nods briefly and smiles at the courtesy shown to him, before returning his attention to the maiden.

Reaching back for his pack, Tirastaldo falters and falls off the bench, hitting the ground softly. He pokes his head above the seat of the bench, his face matching the colour of his hair. He grins widely and reaches up, backpack in hand. He folds open the flap and from it takes from it a small bottle, placing it on the bench. He closes the pack again, and sets it on the ground, leaning across and handing the bottle to Aldarwen, "Here, I always have some on hand... this bottle's full."

Raising an eyebrow toward Belegedhel, Aldarwen pauses for a moment, her whole expression frozening as she ponders the Learner's words. After a long pause she says, "I have a couple of apples to offer you, mellon." She turns to look toward Rayakalm for a brief moment, then toward Tirastaldo, and then back to Belegedhel, "But, " she adds, "I'll give them to you in exchange for a song of your own". Looking up toward Tirastaldo again she grins to him and says, "Oh, yes, thanks. Wine's never too much"

Rayakalm puts the bag beside him. He smiles as he sees his cousin poor the drink. Then he looks at Tirastaldo's bottle and follows it with his eyes as he hands it to Aldarwen.

A merry laugh bellows forth from the depths of Belegedhel at Tiristaldo's folly. Placing an a forearm upon his shoulder for a mometn, he says "Comic relief afore a song of great lamentation is a rather occurrence mellon,as I would expect it to follow." Then turning back to the Master Bard, he says "The apple I need not, for I am in no need of 'sup, though I thank you graciously for the concern you show me. I will take time to eat later in the eve, but a song I will gladly sing, if my audience does not mind at hearing a rather lengthy tale." with a large grin waxing upon his face. "Though the tale may disturb the merriment, which I wish not to do. Do you all wish to hearken to me?"

Taking his pack in hand, cloak in the other, Tir stands, bowing again, "I must take leave and tend to my foot, perhaps pay a visit to the healers, take care, good day." He turns abruptly and heads away.

Rayakalm nods to Tirastaldo before he leaves. Then he turns towards Belegedhel.

Raising her head as Tirastaldo stands up, Aldarwen bows her head toward him whispering a "Namarie, take care of you feet!" As she does so. The Bard then nods eagerly at the Learner's words and says, "The afternoon has still a lot of time to spare for us, so let us share this tale, mellon".

With a strange glint in his eyes as he stands, Belegedhel coughs only once before speaking"'Tis a tale of great woe, and is epic in length, though I will try not to bore you. It is called 'Broniad mil-ava-fir' now inhaling a large draught of air, he opens his mouth wide and a sweet elven voice rings clearly. All motion stops in the theatre as all things alive stop to hearken to his fell words:


Once in days when this life was less old
before I entered the Wood of Gold
I, on the oft occasion, for days unnumbered
was frequented by a maiden mellon
For hours; though it passed swift as the wind,
we would lie in the twilight and watch the night creep in,
And at times we would laugh, or simply lie
and at times we would cry, her and I
But as the fowl returns to his nest at the night fall
through troubles unnumbered, I would return upon her call

And it came, that one day, on the grass where we lay
she asked a commitment of me
And I feeling helpless, wanted not to spark a crisis
avoided the topic of her betrothal to she
Yet, on she pressed, as she smoothed out her dress,
and I said, quite too firmly it now seems:
"Oh, do not ask this of me!"

And her pale hands then went straight to her breast
for she knew, afore I spoke
That this could be the fatal stroke
for on my love, her life; as did mine once I thought, depended
Now let me relate to you how this fell tale ended:

Seeing how she reacted; an expression of great pain
from my harsh words I immediately attempted to refrain
Now I pleaded with her, seeing the pain in her eyes
"That is not what I meant at all, no... not at all"
standing now with glistening eyes in disgrace
One silky tear streamed her cheek, marring her face
and from her breast her hands did fall
And this was her retort:
"Not what you meant? No... not at all."

And springing forth from her eyes
a geiser of tears came
Then running, to my eyes, her image began to slowly wane
and from my mouth, my voice clearly rang
"What do you want of me? Would you have my heart?
Would you have my fea?
Would you have my tongue?
My fate entwined with yours?
Would you have my hand,might I take yours?
My life has merely begun! O! Dearest, why do you ask this of me?"

Hearing this, my heart ; as did the maiden, halted
and hearing the spite in my voice, upon her determined path, her feet faultered
"Nay my love, Belegedhel, that is not what I meant at all..."
she said through clenched teeth and wet cheeks
"... Nay, not even immortal slumber should, my love, nary encumber, that bond that between us lies."
And her reddened eyes
beneath swollen lids and wettened cheeks,
Between drenched lashes slowly peaked
and her retort was much to my heart's disquiet:

"Yay, O Belegedhel, for once I thought what we share
was much more spendid, infact, beyond compare,
But with this counsel, I am no longer blind,
but you I would have loved beyond the end of time,
This now may be the end. Yay, my love, you and I are no longer entwined."
and the last beautiful smile I have ever seen I saw as this speech came to its final end
And nary have I seen something that beauteous look so foul

And the maiden slowly slithered away
and her I saw naught, for much longer than a day.
But upon seeing her again, I wish that I had not.

For seeing her in that chamber in Doriath, so long ago,
as I recall, is the reason for many of my woes
And reason for my slumber in exile.
Upon her bed, her pale skin glistened red
upon her bed, there she bled, lifeless; yay.... dead
For this lack of commitment, she grew weary of life
in her hand there lay limply: a glistening knife
Indeed, it was of fine manufacture
and in a pool of blood, rested this blade: and the one with whom I was enraptured.

Now the light left her fair face, because of this deed
and long I wandered, but to the Golden Wood my shattered heart did lead
where I asked of Irmo counsel:
"Why, O Valar, did this have to happen so?
Why O Irmo, O Why?!" I shouted with a strained voice, so full of woe
and pity was shown unto me.

For in Galadriel's forest fair
running recklessly, violently, I struck my head, and slept without care

And there I remained untroubled for so long
and there my heart was mended in time,
Indeed, I recalled little; which until of late, was fine
but seeing now lovers, holding hands beneath silver boughs
A fire deep within me is aroused
and na'er will I ever find that love again
For my love, with her life, never did end.

Enraptured by the tale, the maiden leans back. Her eyes staying all along upon the eyes of the learner, her lips slightly pressed as the story goes on. Her hands fiddle with the glass of wine, and she sips from it now and then. When the tale is ended she claps her hands softly and says, "So beautifully told. Such a sad story with such power of words." She makes a slight pause, her eyes still lingering on the learner, "Thanks for sharing it with us, mellon"

As he stands completely still, looking at what appears to be nothing at all; a dreamy expression appears upon his face. Belegedhel says nothing. At the words of the other bards however, he breaks free of this ethereal state and smiles slightly saying "Thank you mellyn, your opinions matter greatly to me indeed, as you both are likely far greater in song-craft than I."

Rayakalm remains silent at first. But at the words of the master, he nods. "It was beautiful." Is all he says.

Shaking her head eagerly, the maiden giggles slightly and says, "Not at all, mellon. You've showed us how sweetly and beautifully a story can be told." Taking some time to finish the glass of wine in her hand, the maiden then adds, "I have been talking with Calelia and Taelyn about your talents and your work, mellon, and I think it's time for you to go further in your studies. So it's now my duty to ask you, in what area do you want to deepen your knowledge and studies?"

Pondering for a moment at the words of Aldarwen, Belegedhel looks first to Rayakalm, and then back to the Master Bard. Stroking his chin and resting upon an elbow, he replies "Song brings mirth to all who hear, as I have noticed oft. As well, it brings health to those who will listen, or so it is said, though I have not mastered the craft." with a smile creeping across his face now, he says assuredly "I think I shall study the art of the minstrel, for I wish to be learned in instruments other than my tongue master."

Nodding slowly to Belegedhel's words, Aldarwen says, "Your words are wise, and so it your desire. It shall be granted, then. I shall see that our masters give you the best or their knowledge." Her eyes divert to the top of the trees for a short moment and then, returning her eyes toward other elf she says, "And I myself will be the one to show you the healing that can be done through the power of music". As she says this, she stands up and says, "I have to go now, if you forgive me, mellyn".

Aldarwen
  You look upon a slender elf maiden, her eyes are dark green and if you look deep in them you can see the leaves of the trees of her childhood still quivering. She has long hair and the color is a bit greenish, like the grass in automn.
  She's wearing a long green dress, that shimmers with different shades of green as the light reflects on it. A thin silver belt tightens around her waist. Hanging from the belt at her waist there is a small leather bag, that seems filled with many things of different shapes. She's smiling, but in her expression you may notice she's not completely happy. She wears no necklace or rings of any kind.

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Tirastaldo
  Crimson hair flows like liquid fire from atop his head, hilighted by streaks of pure white. It's neatly combed and falls just below his shoulders, his bangs end just above the bridge of his nose. His hair contrasts with his light skin. His skin appears smooth and flowing, with a tint the like of pearl. Sharp blue eyes are deeply set and peer through narrow slits. Every so often do they flit back and forth, in constant watch.
  He appears as most elves: a tall slender visage, although his frame is slightly larger and bulkier than most. In his stance there is an apparent springiness, he seems to be forever at the ready.
  Of his apparel, the most striking articles are a cloak, which dangles form his shoulders, and also his tunic. The dark cloak, fastened by a shapeless pearl broach, wraps itself closely to his body, as if blown by an eternal wind, outlining every detail on his upper body in a forest bronze. Embrazoned upon the back of the cloak is a faded coat of arms bearing green, red and brown colors. The coat seems to bear no familiarity. Apparently, beneath the cloak is carried a small travel bag which boasts out against the cloak. The hood of the cloak lays sprawled across his upper back.
  His tunic holds an eerie quality. It appears green, yet every glance seems to reveal a new shade or color. The tunic, like the cloak, is held tightly to his body outlining his torso and his forearms, which poke out from behind his cloak. Covering his hands are brown gloves studded with tiny opals and other semi-precious gemstones along the back. Gilded to the center of the back of the left glove is a larger sapphire stone. His pants, a dark brown, are faded in areas from extensive use, and are secured by a plain belt. The buckle of the belt, though, is made of a reddish stone that shines with an odd luster, although has a dull quality. His feet are covered in high boots which extend just below his knees.
  Of other ornament, nothing is apparent except for an occasional glint of a necklace held just beneath his tunic.

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Rayakalm
  You see a tall and slender Elf. Dreamy dark eyes look out of a pale friendly face. Dark also is the hair that flows down his back. He wears a shirt of the purest green silk, soft even to the eyes. Light and shade move over it in an undulating motion; it seems of air, clinging to him like a whisper. The shirt is tucked with a certain flare under an intricately braided belt of leather. Well fitted pants stretch over his legs, sheathing them in a warm almond color.

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Belegedhel
  Before you stands a tall, enchanting figure. His hair is raven-feather dark, and falls in a shimmering cascade to just about his chin. Staring at you is a bare face, which is pale, and yet has a certain brilliance to it.
  His high cheek bones are contrasted by his strong jaw. Large, dark eyes are set amid the pale hue of his face, and appear as would two deep,dark inkwells set upon white parchments. These dark, yet bright eyes suggest he may indeed be among the Firstborn.
  About his neck is hung a silver pendant; with a nimrodel, surrounded by three diamonds; which hangs loosely from a dark strip of leather, resting upon his breast.
  He is clad all in green, with his tunic being of a darker hue than that of his trousers. The hem of his pants as well as his tunic are of a brownish hue, leathery in appearance. His tunic swoons down at the neck in a sharp 'v' shape.
  Upon his feet are worn high leather boots that come to about his knees, with laces that run all the way along the front of them.

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