Glirdain Theatre: Rayakalm's Song

Daytime on Sterday
Day 11 of December.

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.

It's a winter afternoon, and in the Golden Woods there seems to be little movement. The rays of the some come cool through the branches of the trees, and a soft breeze blows, making their leaves shiver in an endless whisper.

Sitting amid the clearing of the theatre, there is a maiden. On a small carpet to one of her sides lie a clay jar and some clay cups, while on her lap, caressed by her long-fingered hands, playing sweet melody, is her silver harp.

Sauntering in with another edhel aside him, Belegedhel espies the Master Bard and his cousin. Taking brisk strides towards them, Belegedhel bears a large smile upon his face as he calls "Mae govannen mellon!" in his clear fair voice.

The melody fading slowly as the other elves approach, Aldarwen raises her head and nods once to the others. In her sweet musical voice she replies softly, "Mae Govannen, mellyn. How are you faring today?" She looks briefly to her side, where the jar is and adds with a misterious smile, "I have something prepared for you."

On the other side of the cups sits another elf, listening to the melodies. He answers the greetings with a nod towards the newly arriving elves and a "Mae govannen!".

At a brisk pace, Celidener enters the theatre with Belegedhel. Pulling his cowl back, the pale elf bows as he approaches the maiden with his partner. "Mae Govannen mellon," in a tone full of merriment. Standing straight, he turns to the other elf he notices, "Mae Govannen mellon."

Peering curiously at the jars, his head tilted at an angle, Belegedhel sits near the Master Bard. Still gazing at the clay jars, he says "Rayakalm and Master Aldarwen, this Celidener, a new acquaintance of mine." with a gesture towards he who arrived with him. Now growing anxious, he queries "What is in the vessels Aldarwen?"

Rayakalm nods to Celidener. "It is nice to meet you, Celidener." He says with a friendly smile. "Please, sit down." He motions with his arm to the ground near them.

Noticing now she hasn't met before the newly arrived, an eyebrow is raised in the maiden's face as she says, "A pleasure to meet you, Celidener." Looking briefly toward Belegedhel she adds, "As our friend just said I'm called Aldarwen, and I'm pleased to invite you to this small musical party". Looking to the others for a short moment, she smiles to herself and says, inclining her head toward the jar, "It's a special treat I have prepared for you, mellyn"

Galenthil slips in silently, and sits.

Smiling respectively as the introductions take place, Belegedhel keeps an eye on the surprise that the Master Bard has prepared for them, but he says naught. A look of anxiousness crosses his face, and he shifts eagerly from one position to another, and remains silent.

With a smile across his face, Celidener nods to friendly elf and then to the master before him. "Thank you much fair maiden." Sitting near the other elf, the merry elf turns to him, "You are Rayakalm I persume. It is good to meet you."

Rayakalm grins slightly to Celidener. "That is right. I am Rayakalm. A Learner of Harp and Song." He spots the elf who slipped in so silently and greets her. "I do not know your name yet either, I'm afraid."

Recognizing the silent newcomer, Belegedhel says "Mae govannen Galenthil." in a quiet, yet clear voice.

Taking the jar carefully and slowly pouring the liquid into the clay cups, the Master Bard says in her soft voice, "It's a special infusion that I learned how to prepare while I was in the Valley of Imladris, some months ago. You'll find it sweet and aromatic, tasty and consistent." The cups are all filled now, with a golden liquid, and exhaling golden vapors. The maiden passes them to the others with a broad smile upon her face, as she says, "I hope you enjoy it".

Galenthil smiles slightly at Rayakalm. "I am called Galenthil by most. I do not believe I've had the pleasure of your aquaintance either...?"

Galenthil nods to Belegedhel, her smile widening. "Mae govannen, mellon. I do await evidence of your skill with baited breath!"

Going on in her hospitality mood, the Bard opens up a leather bag and out from it takes a buch of shinny red apples. She scatters some of them in front of the other elves and says, "You may also take some, if you feel like eating." Then, as she notices the introductions being made just a yard away from her, she smiles wide toward the other maiden and says, "Be you welcome, too, mellon. My name is Aldarwen, Master Bard of the Glirdain, and Healer of the Cuigrithweg."

Nodding a quick unspoken word of thanks to Aldarwen, Belegedhel grins uneasily before drinking the strage concoction. "Of what is it made Master?" he asks hesitantly, sniffing the vapour that spews forth from it. Then averting his attention to Galenthil, he says "My skill? I'm quite afraid that you will find little evidence of that mellon, but an attempt I may make; if it would please all present, and time permits." he says quietly, before turning his attention back to the clay cup.

Rayakalm repeats his words to Galenthil. "I am Rayakalm, Learner of the Glirdain. It is great to make so many new friends in one day." He takes the cup Aldarwen hands him. "Thank you, cousin." He says, and inhales the aroma.

Celidener bows slightly from his seated position towards the newcomer. "Mae Govennen, mellon. I am Celidener." His fingers enclosing the cup offered. Raising it before his face, the elf lets the sweet vapors drip into his nose. As his crimson lips fall upon the cup he drinks the liquid slowly. Pulling it away he smiles, "Refreshing to the utmost."

Galenthil smiles almost impishly at Belegedhel, murmuring clearly, "We have yet to see about that..." before taking up an apple. Nodding friendship and acknowledgement to Rayakalm, she then turns Aldarwen, nodding deeply in a gesture of respect.

Raising an eyebrow to Belegedhel, Aldarwen giggles and says, "That would be telling, wouldn't it?" She looks just for a very brief moment toward her cousin and then looks again to the student that had asked her, but changing the subject she says, "You say you want to perform something for us, mellon? I think Rayakalm had something prepared to show to you. But we can enjoy both, can't we?" She looks at the others and says, "Music is never too much to share", then takes up her own cup of golden liquid.

Rayakalm nods to the words of the master bard. "Indeed I have prepared a song for today. But the student's songs are beautiful, as far as I have heard." He turns towards Belegedhel. "Please let us hear some of your work, mellon. I will gladly wait."

Grinning at the Master's and Galenthil's jests, Belegedhel says meekly "True Aldarwen. And if you told, then all could enjoy this wonderful liquid. 'Tis quite a bit more soothing than mead or miruvelas." Then turning to Galenthil, he says hushedly "That we do maid, and we may, in time." now speaking clearly to all, he says "It would do me honour to listen to the words of Rayakalm, for I have yet to hear any of his work." feeling relieved that he did not have to sing as of yet again.

Setting the cup down upon the soft ground before him, Celidener bends over pulling the bright red apple before him. A broad smile upon his face the entire time. With a muffled crunch, he bites the juicy fruit, letting a line of the liquid run along his chin. Swallowing the bite, he meekly wipes his chin with the sleeve of his cloak.

Giggling softly to herself, Aldarwen nods once to Belegedhel and then turns toward Rayakalm saying, "Before you repent from this public show, I think it's your turn now to let us hear what you have prepared for us". She takes then her cup up again, and starts sipping from it slowly, while her shinny eyes are set upo her cousin's.

Rayakalm's face turns a little less pale. "Very well." He says. "Let me get my instrument." He stands up and walks to the side of the theatre. He returns holding a harp of beautiful design. It shines in the rays of the sun when it moves. Rayakalm sits down at his place and quickly tunes it. Then he turns to those present. "It is a song of a know theme. Yet the words are my own."

Galenthil smiles softly, her face still, and moves very slowly to stretch out in the grass. Her chin she cups in her hands, and her eyes watch Rayakalm dreamily. It will begin...

Looking attentively to Rayakalm, Belegedhel is silently awaiting the beginning of his lay. His hands folded in his lap, he closes his eyes as he listens.

Celidener turns to face the Rayakalm, picking his cup from the ground and taking a warm sip before leaning back to enjoy the song.

Becoming quite serious now, Aldarwen puts the empty cup in front of her, rests her hands upon her lap, and silently stares at her cousin as he tunes up the harp and prepares to sing. She nods just once to his comment and smiles softly, reassuringly.

The music starts very softly and slowly. Rayakalm keeps his eyes on the harp, concentrates on what he is doing as best he can, but during the song he closes his eyes, trying to find the stars that he had learned to seek. The melody of the song remains slow, but it becomes clearer. A play of tones. Sad, but with a hidden happiness. It seems as if the intrumental part of the song will never end. Then the Learner starts singing. The voice intertwines with the music from the harp in harmony. And the words are these:

         In Golden Wood
         Lived Elven maid
         Between trees great
         So still she stood
         For all her heart
         Was far away
         Longed for the day
         When she would start
         The journey late
         To other side
         Of ocean wide
         To her soulmate

The tones of the harp become softer untill the music dies away. Rayakalm opens his eyes and remains silent.

Listening to Rayakalm's voice, absolutely harmonious with the music of his harp, Belegedhel can't help but grin in total relaxation. His hands cupped behind his head, he stretches out on the lawn, and for a moment, he feels as if he were no longer within the Wood. It appears as if everything that lives within the Wood has stopped moving to listen to Rayakalm's tune.

Almost quivering with the intensity of her stillness, Galenthil lies still and listening in the grass. Her eyes, normally veiled and free of feeling, shine brightly with emotion. Even as the silence falls and the last notes die away she lies thus, savoring the echoes in her mind.

Biting her lips just once, Aldarwen stays still, her gaze lost in the horizon, all her body listening to the melody and the lyrics. The soft breeze that blows across the Theatre catches her lose hair and makes it shiver in the air, but still she does not move.

Celidener lets his grin spread as the words roll off the tounge of Rayakalm. With his thoughts caught in the simple melodies of the song, the elf finds himself ignorant of the music ending, eyes focused inward.

Upon reopening his eyes, Belegedhel finds himself stretched out upon the lush carpet of grass in the Theatre. He seems to have awoken from a dream, and acts thus as well. He smiles to Rayakalm momentarily, and then realizing what his poem was about, and what visions it had brought to his mind, he quietened himself, saying only "Galadriel..." as he averts his gaze from Rayakalm and looks up at the golden leaves above him.

Slowly waking up from her trance, the Master Bard smiles wide toward Rayakalm and whispers in a very soft and tender voice, "Well done, mellon. A preatty way of braking your public silence". She giggles slightly and the looks at her empty cup. Taking the jar again she looks up to all the rest and asks, "Any of you want any more?"

Galenthil shakes herself out of her stillness, very quietly, and smiles luminously at Rayakalm. In a very quiet voice, almost lost on the wind, she whispers, "Thank you, mellon..."

Rayakalm puts the harp on the ground behind him. "Thank you." He says to the Master for her compliment. He continues, "We can never have enough music. Who is next?"

Sipping the drink slowly from the clay vessel, Belegedhel shakes his head in an unspoken 'no' to the Master Bard.Wiping a solitary tear from that streamed his cheek, he conceals the gesture by reaching forth, grabbing an apple, and shining it quickly with his sleeve. "This is a fine piece of music, and your skill at with the harp is masterful mellon!" Belegedhel says excitedly. "Indeed, it makes me wish I had some skill to put music to my verse."

Filling her cup with elegance, Aldarwen nods once at Rayakalm's words and then looks toward Belegedhel smiling, "Maybe our new Student here wishes to recite something for us?"

A look of surprise crosses Belegedhel's face. Then standing, he says "Would I only if you or Rayakalm would be generous enough to put music to it for me." with a broad and merry grin.

Celidener blinks as he hears the voices round him. Aroused from his reveries, he faces the musician and nods, "Excellent verse my mellon." Reaching his cup towards Aldarwen, his smile broadens, "Might I get a refill of that great potion of yours?"

Rayakalm grins also. "The Master or me? Or maybe both?" He suggests. His eyes turn to Aldarwen.

Nodding eagerly to Celidener, Aldarwen murmurs in a welcoming voice, "Of course you can". She fills the cup until the golden vapors coming from it filled all the present. She puts the jar down, by her side and, spying Rayakalm over her shoulder she says, "Let's try to do it together." She smiles broad to Belegedhel and says, "We have not rehearsed this, so let's pray that the stars do guide us through the right path". And as she says this she picks up the harp and readies her hands to play upon it.

Galenthil rolls to her side, and stands, treading lightly across the grass to Aldarwen. With a smile and a respectful nod, she asks, "May I try some of this drink,"

Rayakalm nods and takes a sip of his yet untouched drink. Then he takes his harp again and positions it, ready to begin.

Looking helpless for a moment, her hands set upon her silver instrument, the Bard nods eagerly to the other maiden and with a silent gesture invites her to help herself some of the infusion.

With a solemn look crossing his face, Belegedhel says "As afore, this is a lay of great sorrow, and it is of dreams that I have reoccurringly. May the harping fit the content mellyn." His gaze now looking far past the silver boughs and golden leaves, he seems to be in a trance, and he says "'Tis entitled Niirnaeth: Deep within the Golden Wood

There lies an elf whose heart is good
but his is oft troubled, shrouded in fear
For what may become of all he holds dear

For once afore, I continually dream,
That I witnessed the fall of a beautiful queen
Na'er wanting this for his Lady and Lord
This would be more pain than his life could afford

... for it speaks of a time long ago
yea, 'tis a time this edhel could not know

Recounting this tale makes my blood run cold
for it is the tale of the Hidden Kingdom of old
Where Thingol and Melian ruled a land fair
and beauteous things in this land were there

In Menegroth, the Thousand Caves
Edhil and naugrim: side by side, mass amounts of work they gave
and so the majesty of the hidden halls
with carven images of the Undying West upon its walls...

... was wrought for Melian and Tinuviel
whose beauty was unsurpassed...

And yet the mighty Elu Thingol, king
whose mind returned to Feanor's jewel; a most beauteous thing
was enamoured with its beauty
yet two had he whose beauty was unmatched, truly

Galenthil smiles, and taking up a swirled clay mug from the pouch at her side, pours herself some and heads back quietly to her spot.

Celidener sips upon the newly refilled cup. His face with merriment as the songs begin again.

The music comes from Aldarwen's harp, slow and soft, filled with the sense of the days of old. As the poem goes on, the music starts to grow, picturing the caves and woods of old Doriath, and even dancing in the grass as once Luthien did.

With the melody of the harps filling the air, Belegedhel is lost within the enchantment of their music. He appears as if he were awake, yet dreaming as he continues....

And he sought the aid of the Naugrim,
whom he endeavoured to have toil for him
but the enchantment of the Silmaril
Lead the dwarves to rage and kill

... and Elwe Singollo's blood they did spill
and Melian stayed by him silent...

For she thought now of a greater doomhisnd as the waning of the moon, the dreaded event did in the near future loom
For bound to Thingol by her love in Arda
her form became that of a child of Illuvatar, yet she was of the lesser Vala

Now the fea of Thingol passed unto Mandos
and now comes that event, which in dream, pains me the most
For Melian and her power now withdrawn
She returned again to Valinor, to be at peace with her sorrows forever and anon

... and with this came the downfall:
For Melian is gone.....

And now Doriath was open to all foes
and the Naugrim passed under Region and Eldoreth's boughs
unhindered were their travels now
And of this action comes an event most foul

Because there was battle in Menegroth
and both elves and dwarves' lives were lost
Victorious the stunted folk were
and Thingol's halls were ransacked of all treasure

... this act has not been forgotten
nay, it will not be forgotten...

Following the melodies, the tones of the other harp mingle with those of the Master's harp, and the voice of the Student.

Opening his bright eyes, full of hopefullness, he belts out the final verse of his song with great pride in craftmanship....

For the Silmaril these lives were lost
The payment for the jewel greatly exceeded the cost
Yet of those who perished, my sires were present
And those who caused this, I shall ever resent
For nary shalt this elf forgive, nay nary shalt this elf forget.

The music of the harps goes on, even as the last verses end and are lost in the air, the sad and soft melody keeps going, dancing slowly, moving along with the wind, filled with solitude and the winter's cold.

As the final verse is sung, Belegedhel slumps down to where he sat afore he began the tune. He appears somewhat unhappier however, but he manages a smile to those who were his audience. "I hope I have not bored you all mellyn." he adds quickly.

Galenthil, who was caught by the first notes of the music and frozen half-sitting down, now finishes her motion, sliding down into the soft grass. She smiles at Belegedhel, just a little, thoug her eyes seem about to spill over with some emotion.

Rayakalm's harp comes to a rest after Belegedhel's last words. He puts it behind him again. "It is truly a historical song, mellon." He replies.

Putting her harp slowly down, Aldarwen shakes her head slowly. In her tender tone she says toward the student, "Definitely not bored mellon, although your song was indeed too sad. Maybe it would be some nice test for you to write about something happy, something that can help you cheer up that others. Have you ever tried writing in such a way?"

The sun sinks in the sky and falls below the horizon. Nighttime takes over.

As the music fades and the words end, Celidener's own grin has left. Instead, tight-lips straightened. Facing Belegedhel, he smiles again. "Old thoughts and carried grudges it reminds us of."

Rayakalm takes another sip of his drink.

Nodding to the Master Bard and the Learner Belegedhel says "Indeed 'tis an historic lay mellon. And yea, though I try to write of such things, they turn out.... " he stops and thinks for a moment. "They always end in a way that I would not feel comfortable presenting publicly. I am currently writing a new song though, and I never know how they will be until I am finished, but this should be a more... mirthful." at hearing Celidener's words, Belegedhel is reminded "I believe that Celidener has something to speak with you about though .... "

The Master nods eagerly towards Belegedhel and says, "Do make the effort of writing something happier, mellon. Even if you then go on writing with your sad songs, it will be a good exercise of entertaining the others. Since that's what we are here for, to give our music as a present to all those that may need it". She makes a pause and then raises an eyebrow toward Celidener, and asks, "What is that, mellon?"

Nodding gleefully towards his friend, Celidener again turns to Aldarwen. "Master Bard, my occupations throughout the centuries have not satisfied my own longings. I mused the thought of perchance becoming a song-crafter. It seems you are the one who could instruct me on this undertaking."

Pausing to consider the gravity of his words, Belegedhel says "But I am here as well to recount the lore of our folk Master, and it seems that our folk have had little to be joyous about. But I will find a theme to write mirthful things about Master, as I should not depress the entire Wood with my stories of old." he says with a grin.

Hearing both the replies of the other elves, the Master smiles toward Celidener first and says, "Indeed, it's me who you may ask, mellon. Although it's not only from me that you may learn the lore of music. Since music is everywhere, it's in the birds that sing in the morning, and the rivers that run along our lands, and even in the stars that glitter from afar". She bows her head slightly and says, "I'm glad to have you in our group now, mellon". Then, turning to Belegedhel she says, "I think your words are wise, mellon."

Galenthil frowns deeply for a moment at her friend, then stands, and speaks quickly, the words droppign from her lips in a spate. Deep concern is evident in her eyes. "Mellon... Belegedhel, how can you say that our history is such? We are blessed beyond measure, and have been for long... the beauty of the world does not pass becuase of the travails of a few..." she stops, too full of emotion to continue.

Blushing slightly, Belegedhel smiles to the Master Bard as he says "I thank you for your kind words Aldarwen. And I will make an effort to write about things cheerier in nature."

Turning to Galenthil, he ponders her words for a moment before answering. Then, thinking of his retort, he says "But there are numerous reasons to suggest the latter Galenthil.... But as you say, we are blessed beyond measure, for we live under the mallyrn boughs. We live in the Lady's Wood, and it would appear that I focus upon the negative oft." as he grins at her.

Galenthil sighs deeply, and her body relaxes like that of a bowstring unstrung. Her eyes once again darken, and a smile returns to her face. "Thank you, mellon. And if ever you put words to the beauty of this world, I shall thank you more. It is to often unsung."

Leaving the rest of the elves amid their discussion, Aldarwen turns to her cup of golden liquid for a moment, breathing some of its vapours first, then drinking it very slowly, savouring it with pleasure.

Celidener smiles, letting his lips spread across his face, "Thank you mellon." Turning from the Master he finishes the his apple with a few small bites.

Smiling again to Galenthil, Belegedhel says "And your words ever offer enlightenment mellon, 'tis twice you have done so." with his grin broadening. Then sipping the last of his drink, he places the cup upon the grass and says "I thank you Aldarwen, for this refreshing and delicious concoction, and the rest of you I thank for listening to me mellyn. Namarie" as he stands and heads out of the theatre.

Galenthil looks, startled, back at her forgotten mug and apple, laying in the grass. As she stoops down to gather them up, her eyes light on the sky, and she gasps quietly in surprise. "Oh! It is late! I must go quickly, or I will not be in time for the leaving..."

Galenthil scampers off quickly, carrying her mug in one hand, and apple in the other.

Rayakalm waves to those leaving. He finishes his drink, lies down on his back beside his harp, and relaxes.

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Celidener
  A loosely jointed figure slightly shorter then most of his kin you view. Pale skin glowing in an earthly radiance fits tightly to his slender frame. The eyes of the fair creature are thin but deep. They are blue, reflecting the ever present feeling emitted from them. A softly upturned nose sits above his pale crimson lips. The elf's chin is short, thin. Silver hair holds a wet look upon his scalp, tinted blue with the presence of water. Flowing down to his neck, the thick hair is cut off, unheld but hidden behind his silver-blue cowl. The cowl fastens to his cloak by two navy wooden brooches. Another brooch of the same material keeps the cloak together at his front. The cloak itself seems to mirror the color of the sweetly flowing Nimrodel herself. Life and health radiates as a natural perfume around the garment. To his ankles it flows. But it never hinders the soft strides his feet lightly take. A tight pair of light blue leggings lay under the cloak. Over the lower calf of his leggings navy leather boots rest. Worn in but clean, the soles lofty as the waters and quiet as the streams. A silver vest upon his upper body, below the cloak. His look is weathered. Cheery and warm with a hidden sadness and sense of power, a presence the defines the elf in his fullest.

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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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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 tall, an enchanting figure. Upon his head lies raven dark hair, cascading in shimmering waves nigh his chin. Returning your gaze are two orbs of glistening jet, roving from your top to toe; with a certain brilliance set about them that subtely suggests he is of the first born children. As if to contrast his eyes, his face is of a pale hue, like to a blanket of snow fallen anew: unblemished and softly white.

  When gazing upon his raiment, you are not moved by what you see. His feet are adorned by a pair of earthly-brown boots, which stop short of his knees. About the tongue of each are laced two strips or leather, entwining themselves in a pattern, and stopping in a knot at the tip of each boot's tongue. They look well used.

  His clothing is all of green, though some of which is of a lighter shade than the rest. His tunic is dark of a dark, forest green, with leather stitching hemming the seams. He is wrapped within a green, hooded cloak, being a much darker colur than his tunic (obviously for this elf is of the Woods, and this aids him in his stealth); which appears to lack any seams altogether, and indeed, though not apparent upon first glance, it is a finely manufactured article of clothing. Upon his legs are a pair of loose fitting trousers, of the same colour as his tunic. Perhaps the most striking item he has adorned himself with is the pendant hung about his neck upon a thin strip of leather. It glistens quickly when light touches it, and is of a metal not unlike silver in colour and appearance, but it is far more fair. Engraven upon it is a nimrodel, surrounded by three stars.

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Galenthil
  The elf maiden is tall, and slim even for her kind. She stands straight as a sword blade, an unbending statue of alabaster skin and gleaming hair. A scattering of light freckle-flecks does not mar her still, aloof beauty. Storm-gray eyes neither welcome nor rebuff, merely observing everything from behind their opaque surfaces. Age is seen there, perhaps, a passage of springs and autumns and winters, but no more. Her light gown, the color of the first soft leaves of spring, billows gently around her. Loose earth stains her palms and bare feet. Vibrant with the scent of green growing things, the elf's hair tumbles in a shining, earthen-brown waterfall to her waist. Her movements are quick and graceful, punctuated by stillness. A loosely woven circlet of mallyrn leaves crowns her head.

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