Imladrim at the Lawn

A part of this RP is missing

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.

Lomean is sitting near fountain, Altharon standing nearby, and there is animosity that can be grabbed by bare hands between Altharon and Foronwe.

Lomean nods at these last words. "Tis really strange, you are so free and so secure at once..." He takes a glance aside at Averiel, frowning at her remark towards the Ethir and shakes his head, but says nothing.

The Ethir looks to the Ellyth as he feels her touch. For a while he does not answer yet seems lost in thought. A silence seems to fall about the lawn, broken only by the sounds of a birds wings. Eventually, Foronwe breaks the silence and replies, first to the former of Averiel's sayings, with a smile "I did not live here as a child, though at times I wish I did, though I visited this forest with my parents on occasion, yet that ended at a young age, and I have not returned since." His smile disappears as he replies to second and latter of the sayings "The forest is magnificant and beautiful, is it not, Mellon Averiel? Perhaps this beauty should be left untouched and unmarred by small evils that exist between folk. Perhaps it is better not to speak of such things."

Turning his back demonstratively Altharon concentrates once again to his small doll that he carves carefully, chip by chip.

Averiel nods, and her hand drops from Foronwe's forearm to her side. She glances at Altharon, with Lomean, and narrows her brows. In a voice barely above a whisper, she says, "The forest s verily beautiful and spectacular, and yet homelike in way that I said I have yet to put into words. So different than the pine forests I am used to wander. Thus it is indeed ill to speak of evil here in this wood, yet why would you assume evil has been brought here, Ethir?"

"Please, Teithor," Lomean says, rising again now himself. "There are some issues not meant to be adressed. Not now. Not here."

"Yes, but please, tell them!"; Altharon says as he abrubtly turns to face Foronwe with bitter and contempt grinon his face. "Oh, I am sorry, this renegade, this traitor, this shame to his kin should not talk to pure and good people like you, wasn't that so, Foronwe?"

As the day lengthens, with Arien driving her care ever closer to the horizon; it's light blazing over the endless ranks of trees that lift their majestic beauty up into the vaulted sky. Caras Galadhon is all abustle, as ever it is or was. Folk about their chores, their own business, couples enjoying one another's company as they walk, hand in hand about the lawn before the great tree. One such, a maid walks up onto the lush, verdant grass having ascended the great stair. She is cloaked, (though the robe remains unclasped) in that grey synonymous with the woodland folk of Lothlorien; that which the Sindar account to be the heart of elvendom in middle earth.

Averiel steps back and favors Lomean with a critical look. "Feredir, I beg your pardon, I hadn't spoken to you. But I shall leave this subject, if such is possible." she says, looking pointedly at Altharon. Seeing the maid approach, she continues in a tone that is sharper than her usual one. "Do not show the folk of Lorien the discord that seems to lie between you, Altharon and Foronwe. I beg you."

"You _did_ speak to me." Lomean replies softly, but with determination, a grave look on his face. "More than you are aware of. And I ask you to trust me with this: You do not want to know. Not here. Not now."

Foronwe remains calm and silent as Lomean and Averiel speak. Once again he seems to be in deep thought. Though, as an Elven Maiden arrives at the lawn, Altharon's harsh words are too much for Foronwe, they tear him away from his deep thought. He answers in a calm voice, yet in can be seen from his expression that all is astir within him. "I shall respect the bidding of all , that this argument and hatred be lain aside, Altharon. Do not force strife in this fair land, do not destroy all you intended to do in this journey. Long I have thought about this, Altharon, and I say now, that if evil it is that stands between us, let us not allow our evil to affect the people and places around us, but instead let those people and places dispel the hatred and heal the wounds between us. We are in a land of unspeakable beauty, please take some of that beauty for yourself, as I shall try to do, and let us throw aside this useless argument, too long has it gone on. Then perhaps will aught be gained of this journey." As he finishes, he is breathing heavily and his gaze does not leave the Awardan.

It is day still, and yet above, in the vaulted heavens the starry veil of Varda's works is almost visible, not least of which is Earendil, most beloved of the elves, (much less Elrond's folk.)Inclining her head to a nod, by way of a greeting, so does Gillhach bespeak the Imladhrim; "<Sindarin>Good day, friends. I pray you all are well? And that the hospitality of our humble city pleases you?" And though her tone is cordial, it seems she heard something of their earlier conversation, and she speaks with a brow raised, and seems wary.

Altharon seems to get control over himself again as he turns to look at newest arrival. Bowing slightly to elleth he states with somewhat expressionless voice. "I think we have been introduced, mellon Gillhach...and yes, everything is fine, we are yout continuing one debate over minor little detail that we started in Imladris..." Then he turns back to face Foronwe and bitter smile once again appears to his face. "Evil, I do not know about that, but rarely have I been accused of betraying and dishonouring my family and my kin twice on same day, or wasn't it so, mellon?"

Averiel nods and smiles a greeting, her face only slightly clouded by the tension of the words that have just passed between the scout and the woodworker. "Good day to you, and thank you for your kind inquiry. Indeed, the hospitality of the people and the beauty of this land are all that we could desire, and more. Please do not heed my companions, Lady." she says, looking back at Altharon sharply. Turning again to Gillhach, she adds, "I have not yet made your aquaintance, Lady. I am Averiel, a scribe, and sometime poet, of Imladris."

"You have done no such thing, Awardan" Lomean says, closing on him and putting a hand on his shoulder. "and that shall be it on this issue." Nodding to the new arrival, he greets. "Mae govannen, mellon. We meet again."

Chilled anger can easily be sensed as coming from the Ethir. His steps are strong and slow as he moves towards the stairs. A breeze blows through his hair, and his eyes glare at those around him, and they seem to be on fire. He answers Altharon at length, saying "Perhaps it is best to heed their words and not speak of this matter now. " Yet it is clear he says this not easily. He greets Gillhach briefly, and somewhat briskly with a cold air, and then stands apart from the rest, looking down the side of the hill.

Altharon looks first at Lomean, and then Averiel. Then he shakes his head, snorts, and sits down, concentrating once again to doll he is carving. In his hands you can see a wooden doll, about the lenght of span. You see that it resembles a beautiful young elven maid. She is dressed in plain skirt wich is decoreted with patterns of vine, and her long hair is wrapped around the neck. You can also see few flowers in it. She is barefooted and her ankles are crossed. The doll is so finely detailed, that you can even see the pin in her hairpin. The doll is so smoothly polished that only the lines made by fibres give its true material out, altough even they seem to add some detail or harmony in this small sculpture.

Averiel smiles, as if there has been no discord among her three companions. "I must be away, now. I promised the Isthir that I would meet him at the library at midday, and midday seems to be fleeting. It was a pleasure to meet you, Lady. Farewell, Altharon, Foronwe, and Lomean."

Lips curling to a smile, then to Altharon alone Gillhach speaks; "Good, good. The lord Celeborn has made clear that his wishes your comfort assured..." Pursing her lips momentarily, she continues, directing her words to all those gathered. "If you, or any of your folk require something, you need but ask, of course." She pauses, "But," Emerald eyes flash betwixt Foronwe and Altharon, "You two have business, yes... But rest assured, though you be kin, none of the Galadhrim shall suffer any malice or ill deeds on your part..." The last is worded carefully, though with a tone of finality to't and so that all might hear it. "At any rate," She smiles once more, and disregards the last with an expansive gesture, "I should think it well that you feel free to wander... enjoy your stay."

An elf-maid takes a break from her chores, and rests alongside the fountain."Oh, wander I did already," Lomean replies, nodding goodbye to the departing Averiel in between. "I met some of your fellow Galadhrim at the gate the other day, and with their permission, explored the Forest outside a bit."

Foronwe looks at Gillhach and nods solemnly. His solidarity seemingly calming him somewhat. He bids farewell to Averiel, and then turns to speak to the Galadhrim. "I apologize for any trouble we have already caused, yet I assure you, that no malice or strife shall enter your fair domain due to this pointless argument."

Lomean cocks an eyebrow at these words but remains silent.

A peal of laughter passing her lips, Gillhach says simply; "Come then friends, for so I account you... tell me what it is that brings you to Lothlorien... through such perils, and on such a long journey." She motions to the silver basin of the fountain, from whence the burbling waters of the brook issue, "Sit with me, and tell me our tale, I pray you."

Then Altharon turns to face Foronwe and bows slightly. "I think I'll leave now, but I will talk with you again, _mellon_..." Then he turns to face Gillhach "Alas, I think I must depart now...but thank you still for your invitation..." And with that he begins to walk towards the stairway.

Sitting down, Lomean shrugs. "I heard the Arphador has a message for the Lady Galadriel, but he joined us while we were already planning. It is the Awardan who is led here by some obligation to his betrothed...But I do not wish to intrude upon his privacy.... As his friend, I accompany him..."

The Ethir Foronwe moves back towards Lomean and Gillhach, after nodding and bidding farewell to Altharon, in a somewhat frigid, yet also somewhat curteous manner. He walks with steps, now lighter than before towards the two Quendi and nearing them he says "Mellyn, I am afraid that most of my time for good conversation has been spent, for I am needed elsewhere. As for my coming on this journey, of the purpose of the journey, I suggest you speak to Altharon, who has just departed. Yet as for my joining of the expedition, suffic