The Swan Festival

This RP took place at the Alqualonde in Lorien. The event is the Swan Festival sponsored by House Raavindonserke. (This log does not contain the entire event)

Mirelas observes Telion's blush with gentle amusement.

Kathalis chuckles softly as he watches Telion on the dance floor.

Telion groans in ever growing embarassment, and slowly turns around, tensing as they can now see his less flattering side. He starts to shiver with the anxiety, ever so slightly. All watch Telion as he displays his costume.

Mirelas calls out to him, "it's a very nice costume, really"

With a small gasp of delight and admiration at the magnificence of the moonlight of the swan-mere, Arehir makes his way from the path, and toward the festival-goers.

Arhuine tilts her head, openly admireing the poets nether side. "Very nice!"

Telion buries his face in his semifree hand, letting out a thruoughly shamefaced groan.

Kathalis smiles and says, "thank you very much, mellon." to Telion

Arhuine claps her hands.

Telion looks back over his shoulder eagerly, "Free to step down am I now?"

Mirelas applauds softly as well.

Arhuine says, "But slowly!"

Mirelas says, "so's we can watch"

Telion sighs heavily with resignation. He turns around slowly so they can watch. And the steps down. He tries to find a place to blend in with the rest of the crowd, foliage, anything.

Taking her eyes at last from Telion, Arhuine notices Naerdhin and hurries to her side. "Just in time! Yet another contestant!"

Talia smiles and claps politely for her cousin, but quickly catches her cloak before it opens too widely and stands silent again.

Arehir grins unconsciously as he approaches the group, sensing the contriteness of the old bard as he stands on display. "Yes, well done, mellon!" he calls as he slows to a stop beside his kinsman and fellow Elder, "You are well suited to such garb, dear friend!" The guard can't help but raise a hand to his mouth in response to his impropriety.

Naerdhin slips into the gathering, stately as a black swan, twilight's dim sheen upon her iridescent ebon tresses. From behind the feathered mask her eyes sweep the lake, the stark white trees, the revelers adorned in all their finery. She nearly misses Arhuine's familiar voice turning toward her at the last moment with a look of mild startlement.

Mirelas takes another glass of wine and smiles as she watches.

Telion exhales with visible relief, and then glades along the muddy wetland surface over to Talia, to take up a position. He flashes a quizzical look at Arehir, but doesn't say anything. He just dips his head and pokes in the mud with his staff, waiting for the next contestant.

Naerdhin's mouth moues slightly beneath her mask, veiled consternation showing at Arhuine's expectant gaze.

Arhuine takes Naerdhins hand leading her forwards to the stage. "A contestant from a distant place, if I may present. My sister, as she may as well be, Lindril of Mithlond."

Laying a hand upon Kathalis' shoulder, then, Arehir inquires politely, "The Festival appears to go well, kinsman, though I can't hide a bit of disappointment that a glass of fine red has yet to be placed in my hands." He chuckles mirthfully though, and peers quickly about, "Where is the Indir? I would have guessed her to nearly live here for the duration."

Mirelas moves to the edge of the stage to watch.

Telion looks up at the mention of wine and makes a cough in Arehir's direction. Then he makes a louder one to follow on its heels.

Mirelas turns to look at Telion, curiously.

Kathalis glances over his shoulder to Arehir and grins, "Aye it goes well mellon." he motions to one of the passing elves with a serving tray to bring a wine for Arehir as he smiles, "She left just a short time ago...the costume competition proceeds now..."

Naerdhin blinks, moving blindly in the direction Arhuine leads her, her ebon skirts rustling softly as she walks. Feet hidden completely by the dress, so that she seems almost to float along, the feathers on her mask dipping and bobbing. Almost before she realizes it, she is upon the stage. Naerdhin turns, surveying the crowd whose eyes all suddenly seem to be upon her. Her eyes grow wide; one hand starts toward her throat and then falls as she catches herself in mid-gesture. She stands, unmoving.

"So I see!" replies Arehir whistfully, the smile on his pale face only broadening. He nods graciously at the youthful woman from his house as he presents him a goblet, and leaning close, motions discreetly toward the master bard, whose signal he did not see, but certainly understood. As the lithe youth flows off in that direction then, Arehir casts a warm smile toward Telion before turning his dark eyes back toward the stage, and the equally dark swan-maid floating thereupon.

Kathalis claps as the elf form distant lands moves out watching her a smile forming on his face once more as he makes a few notes...

Telion gently move his elbow towards Arehir, in an attempt to nudge him.

Arhuine watches Naerdhin pose, her expression belies a protectiveness. She calls up softly. "Tis rare indeed to find you in a dress, much less one so lovely. Could we not have made merry and moreso those eves with the little folk with you so attired?"

Mirelas smiles and edges away from the stage, seeking an out of the way place to sit.

Kathalis smiles and says softly, "We thank you ma'am for joining up in our celebration..."

Telion turns and tries to get closer to Arehir, turning more to his side as he gets closer. He tries to get Arehir's attention.

Arehir sips at his wine, nodding appreciatively at the grace and exquisite gown of the Istyara's 'sister'. He lowers his head toward Kathalis' ear and murmers, "I have seen few of the contestants, mellon, but few indeed could be of this beauty."

Mirelas applauds from under one of the trees, she can hardly be seen for the foliage.

Arhuine's words touch a curve into Naerdhin's mouth. She tilts her head, a consummately avian gesture, and behind the feathered mask her eyes become steady. She uplifts her hands, sleeves draped like dark wings, and turns--a slow, smooth revolution upon an unseen pivot. The gold on her wrists glints in the night's dimness; she bows elegantly from the waist, color coming to her frost-white visage.

Kathalis nods slowly to Arehir and whisper back softly to him, "You should have seen this little girl earlier, she was absolutely adorible."

Mirelas stands, smiling, and smoothes her dress, then tiptoes quietly to the path leading out.

Arhuine watches raptly, humor now changed to a fond expression.

Mirelas pauses by the path and turns to watch again, for a moment.

Arehir grins merrily at his friend's exuberance, and squeezes his shoulder gently before turning about - nearly into the approaching bard. "Good Telion!" the guard exclaims, "Was the not the nectar offered by my youthful charge to your liking?"

Some small part of her gaze Naerdhin saves for the Istyara, a wry arch of brow, a gentle twitch of mouth. But for the most part she meets the eyes of the crowd unabashedly, and offers them a general curtsey before moving to leave the stage.

Telion gives Arehir a significant look, and then turns to applaud politely for Naerdhim. As he does so his cloak billows in and out provided, hopefully, Arehir alone with a view of secretted bottle of Telion's Good Stuff.

Kathalis steps forward once more, "Our next contestand needs no real intruduction as swings his arm back towards her as if presenting, "Knight Protector Talia."

Mirelas watches the poet's action curiously, with a bit of a smile.

Arhuine greets Naerdhin with a kiss on the cheek after she descends.

Talia smirks at Kathalis' over emphasized introduction. She walks slowly up to the stage, her elfstones burning a dim blue, still clutching her cloak tight about her until she is centered on the stage.

Telion continues clapping boisterously and enthusiastically as Talia is announced. He smiles brightly for her.

"Here, here!" calls Arehir at the Protector's introduction, then turns conspiratorially back toward the bard, silvern brows arched. He murmers, "Surely one of such deftness *intended* such a secreted view. Or do you tease your age-old friend for my earlier banter? You know too well that the glass of Arehir is always empty for the wines of Telion."

Naerdhin presents her cheek placidly to receive Arhuine's kiss, but as she draws back her eyes narrow upon the Istyara, and her mouth twists in grudging amusement. Something in her eye might make one glad of her imposed silence as she glares at her 'sister'.

Freeing one hand, Talia reaches under the collar of her cloak and finds a white hood and pulls it far over her head, so that her face all but disappears, then she drops her cloak to reveal her costume, her frame drooping a bit as she sighs and drops her chin to her chest.

Arhuine attempts to look innocent in reply to Naerdhins expression.

Amrodd quietly wanders up the path and slips into the crowd near the edge of the elves that are milling around.

Mirelas seats herself near the path to continue to watch the proceedings.

Looking up Arhuines eyes widen as she takes in the wonderous costume of Talia's.

Telion opens his mouth wide in awe at the beauty of Talia's costume, the illicit attempt to pass Arehir a fast one momentarily forgotten.

Naerdhin turns to face the stage she has just descend from--and her mouth forms a small 'O'. She blinks, noting the low-hung head, the heart's blood staining the white, the drooping plume. Eyes widen slightly.

Mirelas just watches all quietly, no longer a participant.

Kathalis becomes very quiet just stairing out at talia silently, as are most of the other elves in attendance..

Talia reaches up a hand to tentatively peek from beneath the hood she wears, nervous from the sudden silence.

Amrodd looks towards Talia an odd mixture of sadness and understanding mixing on his face. Saying nothing he takes a seat in an empty chair.

Arhuine steps away from the press to step over to where Mirelas sits. Stooping she whispers something.

Mirelas looks up at Arhuine as she speaks.

Kathalis blinks and few times and begins to clap, "That is a truely lovely costume talia."

Amrodd scans the crowd looking, examining even. His features having gone back to being a somewhat blank page.

Arehir frowns slightly then at the snub from Telion, though he too draws a breath in startlement at the visage presented by the Knight-Protector.

Talia exhales as her husband finally responds and takes it as permission to step down. She turns once to show her tail feathers, then steps down the same way in which ascended, pulling her cloak about her again as she does so.

Mirelas sighs softly and turns toward the path

Kathalis steps slowly up ontothe stage and says, "Have we any further contestants?" looking around the crowd.

Naerdhin tries to catch Amrodd's eye across the gathering.

Amrodd sees Naerdhin and his blank visage cracks a little as he looks towards her. His skin also flushes ever so slightly until he looks away.

Telion turns around to Arehir, and pulls the wine bottle out. He tries his best to keep it hidden from the general populous, and looks around to the left and right attempting to seem innocent. He puts the bottle between his legs and mildly wrestles with unstoppering the cork.

Naerdhin bites her lip to stifle a sudden smile, then begins threading her way through the crowd slowly, skirts rustling, heading more or less in Amrodd's direction.

Off to his periphery, Arehir notices the departure of the Aide Mirelas, and purses his lips in momentary consternation. His attention is returned, however, to the covert activities of the bard as his tousels with the prized container. He sighs somewhat impatiently then, offering Telion a mildly impetuous glance.

Naerdhin grabs up a bottle of white wine and two goblets on her way past the table, eyes fixed upon her countryman as she draws ever nearer to where he is standing.

Amrodd tries to sneak glances in Naerdhins direction without looking like he is trying to look in her direction. His hands rubbing against each other somewhat nerviously.

POP! goes the cork rather loudly, causing the poet laureate to blush vermillion. He coughs, faintly chuckles and waves the now opened bottle in Arehir's direction.

Talia sits herself off to the side a bit, eyeing her cousin and his accomplice with an amused expression, then fixes her gaze upon her husband to see what is next.

Naerdhin finally comes up, nearly silent, to stand at Amrodd's arm. Taps his shoulder with one gentle finger, her expression dry.

Kathalis speaks silently with the other judges for a few more minuets and nods.

Arehir's dark eyes widen at the sudden exclamation from the bottle, then laughs merrily at his co-conspirator's reaction, and leans forward, offering his glass greedily, "Let it never be said that the bard Telion was an unjust and ungiving soul."

Amrodd looks up at Naerdhin and flushes even more than he already is. "Ummm Hello Milady....Would you...Um like to join me?"

Telion coughs looking around nervously. The wine, his (in)famour Pinot Noir burbles from the bottle, filling Arehir's glass. Then Telion swipes a glass from a nearby server and then looks to the left, looks to the right, deftly pours out his own portion and lifts the glass to Arehir, "And never let it be said by any and all that bad wine ever touched the lips of Arehir."

Naerdhin inclines her head almost regally, still restraining a smile, and offers Amrodd the empty goblet.

Kathalis comes back up onto the stage and call out, "Everyone could I please have your attention."

Amrodd looks at Naerdhin his face altering to a somewhat questioning nature. He takes the glass unsure what to say.

Talia rests her chin on her knees and looks in Kathalis' direction.

Telion turns towards Kathalis, keeping one eye on Arehir now and again. He smiles expectantly.

Naerdhin pauses, about to pour the white-gold wine into Amrodd's goblet. Her eyes flicker to Kathalis with interest.

Kathalis smiles, "The judges have come asked me to announce there desision on winners of our little competition...." glancing around to the crowd.

Feigning seriousness suddenly, the tall black-masqued guard raises his goblet to join the other, and half-whispers, "Were such a thing ever uttered, no more black a falsehood could ever have been expressed." He inclines his head then, and tips the glass backward, drinking deeply of the beloved liquere.

Amrodd's gaze turns towards Kathalis. His eyes showing interest. Though not necessarily towards the speaker.

Telion also lifts his drink, though he remains silent, wondering who will win. He takes an idle sip, almost forgetting what he is imbibing.

Kathalis looks around and says, "Our third place goes to, Talia...." as he announces it a group of elves carry a smalled covered table behind Kathalis.

Naerdhin smiles brightly in Talia's direction, clapping her hands in congratulations.

Telion lifts his glass to his cousin, smiling brightly. He then takes a nother sip after his silent toast.

Talia smiles and laughs lightly, rocking back and forth a bit where she sits.

Amrodd also add his hands to the sound of clapping that is spreading across the crowd.

Kathalis smiles, "Our second place prize goes to Mirelas, and finally our grand prize goes to non other then......."

Naerdhin adjusts the wine bottle under her arm and claps once again, glancing around for Mirelas.

Telion silently toasts Mirelas for her victory, too. And uses it as an example to have another swig.

As warm applause ripples across the crowd for the contestants, Arehir whispers brief thanks to the bard for his considerable gift, then sweeps temporarily from the gathering, the long white mantle upon his shoulders fluttering agitatedly. Turning away from the happy voices of the elves then, he takes up the small forest path.

Kathalis watches out thew the crowd and calls out, "And our winner is none other then Telion."

Telion blinks in shock. He does a double blink. Then he seems to lose his balance and falls flat on his buttocks, spilling his wine.

For the first time Amrodd see's Telion's costume and nods and claps.

Talia cheers rather loudly for her dear kinsman and claps a bit before rolling out the way of the tumbling Poet Laureate.

You leave Alqualonde and follow the forest path southwest. (Arehir leaves the Alqualonde)

Saren slips along the fallen leaves without seeming to disturb them, let alone touch them. The clear crisp moonlight shines down only to be responded to by the twinkling of the stars and the twinkling of his softly luminescent elfstones.

Mirelas looks up at the sky and wipes her eyes with a bit of her skirt.

Arhuine glances up from where she talks in hushed voice with Mirelas yet doesn't offer a smile. Arhuine rises, walking off down the path.

Saren quietly notices the mood of the women talking and offers a small bow as he continues on his way.

Mirelas nods politely to Saren.

Arehir strides from the warm laughter of the festival onto the quiet pathway, dark eyes peering here and there as if seeking for someone.

Saren gives Arehir a small casual salute as he proceeds to the festivities, "Isil shine on thee, mellon"

Mirelas glances in the direction of the festivities as some else approaches, she sees who is is and stands, smoothing her skirt and trying to appear cheerful.

"And on you, mellon," comes the friendly reply from Arehir and he passes Saren by with a nod. He moves slowly onward then, and noticing a figure stand from the shadows, moves that way.

Mirelas stands still for a moment, uncertainly, then bows politely, her voice so soft as to be nearly inaudible, "mae govannen, mellon"

Arehir approaches the other and, hearing her voice, removes his dark masque. He senses uneasyness in her voice, though, and asks with concern, "Good eve, Mirelas. It is Arehir. Please let me not disturb you, I only sought to ask of you a trifle of a question."

Mirelas lifts her own mask so that her face will be seen as well as the moonlight will allow, "you are not disturbing me at all...and as for your question..please do ask"

Inclining his head with some relief, the guard explains, "I was attempting to join you at the festival, but," and he chuckles briefly, "little power of elf or vala might dissuade Telion when his mind is upon something. But let me to he point, lady. Before your journey to the forest-realm of Thranduil, I begged you take a message to a great friend of mine there. I wondered, perchance, had you the opportunity to deliver it?"

Mirelas sighs softly, "alas, I never met with him.. though i did leave a letter with that message in case.." she seems to wilt, yet another failing.

Mirelas wipes hurriedly at her eyes and pulls her mask down again hastily.

Arehir reaches out a hand, hesitantly, not certain of your health, "Please, please, mellon. Let not this trifle concern you." He pauses then as the other reacts, and cocks his head to the side worriedly, his long silver hair, now entwined with glittering black feathers, falling gently along. "Forgive me, lady, for I see that affairs of more import than my small request are upon your spirit. Little do I know of them, but if my services will ease you, you have but to ask."

Mirelas looks toward you for a moment, "I am sorry that I couldn't bring you more word that what I did.." her eyes blink under the mask, "there is nothing for me to forgive you for..it is a failing of mine I think..in the middle of all these festivities... I am just feeling a bit...sad.." she sighs softly, "I thank you for your offer to speak with me, but.. I fear my reasons are too trivial.." she starts to smooth her skirt but ends in shredding a few of the illusion feathers.

Mirelas reaches out and touches the hand.

Arehir nods, "As you say, lady, though I would again offer what I may to ease your mind, should you seek it, later." He lays his other hand lightly atop your then, and gazes quickly back toward the swan-lake, before adding, "I'll bid you a good eve then, mellon, and hope that the stars may guide you back to peace within. Namarie, lady."

Mirelas nods slightly, "namarie to you as well, mellon..I hope that you enjoy the rest of the evening.."

Arehir smiles warmly, and steps away then, walking briskly westward toward the main forest pathway.

Telion
Golden brown hair cascades down and flows around this male elf's face, two locks on either side fall forward onto his shoulders and chest. His face is like a mallorn leaf; it comes to a peak as his chin. The elf's smooth skin radiantly glows whenever there is the least amount of light aroud. His eyebrows arch up and give him a more sarcastic look. And at the moment he wears a white mask that covers the eyes like spectacles, and covers his nose like a bird's beak. Little porcelain-blue eyes look out on either side of his long thin mask's beak. His thin lips cannot quite decide if they should frown or smile. Around him are various and sundry robes of simple quality. Closest to his body is a long white alb that reaches to the very ground covering his feet. Along it trailing edge and the edge of his sleeves is a thin red trim. The alb is tied with a simple rope. Over the alb is a scapular of the same white colour, trimmed in the same shade of red. A scapular is esentially a long piece of cloth with a hole in the centre for the head to poke through. This scapular has a wide circel that winds around covering his shoulders. Around his shoulders is his cloak, which is a grey colour. It is so large and so wide that he could encircle himself in it. The hood of his alb has been pulled through the neck of his cloak so it can rest inside the hood of the cloak. This means two and not just one hood covers his face when he chooses to have his face covered. Sewn onto his scapular where his heart lies beneath is a red symbol of a dove being released by two hands.

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Kathalis
A tall elf of 7 feet, his sandy blonde hair is tied neatly back in a simple silvery cord and his silver eyes can be seen peering out from behind the white feathered mask he wears. Today he wears a shiny white tunic with cloth between the arm and side to simulate wings, and simple white hide pants. Upon his right wrist can be seen a bracer of intertwined silver and gold, and encrusted with jewels of many kinds. A simple golden ring can be seen shining on the ring finger.

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Mirelas
You see a tall, slender young elf woman, who stands around six feet in height. She is quick and lively, moving with the athletic grace of a dancer. Her face has been covered completely by a mask made of white swan's feathers and gold, but her pointed ears are still to be seen, as well as her glittering emerald green eyes that survey her surroundings alertly and twinkle mischievously at those around her. A mane of long, wavy auburn hair frames her face to perfection and falls like a cascade of soft spun silk over her shoulders, reaching to well past her waist. In the right light, her hair shines as if lit by some inner fire. She wears a simple dress of white silk that reaches to mid calf. It has long fitted sleeves and skims her lithe form. An attached overskirt made of illusion is cut to mimic the feathers of a swan. She wears white stockings and white silk slippers with long ribbons that wrap around her lower legs before being tied.

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Talia
The proud head of the Protector hangs low now, golden wisps of hair showing at the edge of a white hood. The hood is topped by a plume of long white feathers that droop sadly to one side and the likeness of closed eyes are embroidered onto the front. On her torso, Talia wears a long white surcoat, feathers sewn around the bottom, and a feathery tail hanging from the back. On the breast is painted a large red stain, like to a wound in the heart of the noble bird that she feigns.

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