Talia and Gillhach on Cerim Amroth

Early Morning
Oranor Sun-day
30 Laer Summer
Waning Gibbous <HIDDEN>
Gil-Estel is not visible.
Loa 139 o Yen 21, Nelandran o Endor <TA 3019>

Cerin Amroth
You are standing by a great mound on which grows two rings of trees. The trees of the outer ring are leafless with a bark of snowy white; beautiful in their shapely nakedness. Those of the inner ring are golden Mallorns. In the center of the mound stands the tallest Mallorn of all, and high up in its boughs rests a wide flet. There of old was the dwelling of Amroth, Prince of Lorien and lover of Nimrodel. He departed over the sea long ago, yet you can feel his spirit around you here, lingering still...

The glare of the morning sun is busy drying the morning dew, giving the air a hazy feeling, laced with the strong smell of elanor. Several small birds and butterflies go about the daily routine of scratching the ground and landing on flowers, respectively, but this pastoral soon is soon disrupted by careless trot of an elf, down the side of the mound, coming from the direction of the tree.

Of elvendom in middle earth, this is the heart and soul of Dwimordene, vale of illusion as the men call it: high and lofty is the peak of Cerin Amroth, the great hill and ancient capitol of Amroths' Lorien, Laurelindorenan as it was of old; well nigh to the top of the great mound, here sprawl grasses of verdant green, set alight by the evening sun; From below, clambering up the long, elegant mold of the slope: a maid, (lithe and slender, her figure marks her such) all cloaked in elven grey nigh on surmounts its top, where stands the double ring of trees; the woolen wrap of her cowl she starts unravelling, as, with emerald eyes glistening, she breathes deep of the cool, clean air.

Somewhere around the middle of the mound, Talia skids to a halt, recognizing the other - from across the mound - as she shows her face. "Glin!" she calls and starts her jog towards the other.

Spinning roundabout, the elleth lifts a dainty hand to shade her face from the glare of the sun; on recognition of the other, that same hand waves a frantic, eager greeting; standing fast, she calls in like answer: "Aras!"

Talia smiles upon catching up with her sister. "Of all places...." she says, after taking a breath. "You have been a hard elf to find, sister. One of us is at least." Talia glances up the mound, then back to the other. "Does your errand to the mound this morning allow for company?"

Rosy lips purse in consideration, and then curl up to a smile; "Company?" the huntress questions, "Is welcome, as always..." Laughing then, a silvery peal of laughter, she explains: "Not so much an errand brings me here, as lack of ought else to do you see... but were it not so, still I would allow time for my dearest sister."

Talia smiles in reply to this and turns slightly to resume Gillhach's earlier path. "Nothing to do you say? Is this an uncommon state. It has been so long since I have seen you. I did not think the Wood was quite so large a that. What has kept you so scarce?" Talia rests her hand on the quiver that hangs at her side.

Resuming her upwards journey at equal pace to her sister, the huntsmaster shrugs; her shoulders bunch and rise, then fall. "The wood is large enough, and I wander it at my lesuire. Within it and without, at that... though perhaps you were not looking hard enough? Forsooth, I have been here to be found."

A half laughing sound escapes from the younger elf. "Yes, it is probably my lack of diligent searching more than anything else. But being Protector takes more work than I ever suspected. I am constantly running from border to border, city to forest. I miss sitting quiet beneath the stars keeping watch. I didn't think I would ever miss that." Talia smiles the smile of a much younger elf as she remembers.

Walking alongside Talia, and lending a moment to a silent scrutiny of the protector, the elder woman observes: "Your new rank suits you though, I feel. Responsibility that is..." The huntress smirks, "Not something that suits me."

Talia mirrors the expression. "We have all known that sister." The elleth veers momentarily to the outside as if dodging a blow, and then goes on good-naturedly, "But I enjoy having a place that I know is my own; chisled and unquestionable." She pauses and for a moment the only sound is the barely audible noise of elven feet on elven grass. "Did you hear of the attack at the Naith some weeks ago? I can image you would have liked to put an arrow into warg hide."

Once more, a shrug; the huntress lends the notion nought by way of consideration. "I had heard..." She answers, "And though the intrusion of our foes pains me as t'would any other... that is not my care these days. Yours is to protect, mine is to reap a harvest," She grins, and further tends: "And, fell wolf is not of preference to even the least discerning pallet."

"Well my sword missed that fight as well," replies Talia reluctanctly. "And hopefully it will not even have the opportunity for some time again....But forgive me for bringing up such a dark subject at such an inappropriate time and place." She looks up to the near crest of the hill. "The sunrise was beautiful this morning. I try to make it up here for it as often as possible."

Gillhach inclines her head to the affirmative, noting: "As do I, whenever my wanderings lead me hither, but then do not we all? For who, even of our folk could stand on Cerin Amroth of a morn, and be unmoved by the rising of the sun?" Unspoken, as need not be said; the ancient heart of Lothlorien, the dreamflower that is reduced to the blossom, still flowers here at Cerin Amroth. The pair ascend in silence to the broad, flat summit that once housed Amroths' throne. Underfoot, the verdant dew-decked grass glistens still as the morning lengthens; the little blooms of Elanor and Niphredil twinkling like stars of gold and silver 'neath the noonday sun. But then the huntress stops, standing there upon the hill; and, breathing deep the air, says; "Aye, sister... darken not the day with words of fell deeds and beasts, I would not have it so..."

Upon arriving at the top, Talia seats herself in the grass, unconcerned with the dew. Bending her knees up before her, she leans back to rest on her hands and watches a cloud drift for a moment before breaking the silence again, "Did you know Lord Amroth?"

"Amroth?" Smiling, Gillhach shakes her head. "Such questions you ask, sister..." Setting aside her bow and cloak, the elleth seats herself upon the grass. "I was younger then... but yes, I saw him. He was very tall, I remember... the grass was greener then, or seemingly so. The people here... mother always thought them simple folk, were happy. He was a great king, they say... but, I did but see him, and no more. The woman, Nimrodel I knew. But it is long years since they both were lost."

Talia sits forward and crosses her legs. Resting her elbows on her knees, she then places her chin in her hands and dwells in a pensive silence for several breaths. Watching a butterfly re-land on a nearby flower, she speaks through a wistful sigh, "It always stirs me a little to sit in this place, knowing that a great king ruled from here. I would not have minded so much to have been one of those simple folk."

Reclining, back onto the grass, gazing skywards, Gillhach answers: "Perhaps... but they are gone now. All of them gone," She shakes her head with a rueful sigh, "It should not have been so, but they are gone, and so much with them." The light of her eyes dims momentarily, "I remember when the falls rang with Nimrodel' song, when the wood stretched north and south about the hithaeglir, and one could walk from here to Fangorn without ever stepping a foot from a tree... alas for ages passed."

Talia smiles wanely, "But it is not so bad now either. I love both Galadriel and Celeborn with all my heart. Even if we are more confined, we are more safe here than anywhere else. We have our songs still and our crafts." She plucks a small elanor from beside her and twirls it between her fingers. "And we have sacred places at least like this that we are able to protect from time."

Breast heaving with a deep, drawn out sigh, the huntress shakes her head; "Our crafts wane... and our songs are filled with sadness now, that is the way of things, they say... but still there is such beauty in them, and none of them weather or age. They are very much worth fighting the long defeat, are they not?" She seeks some affirmation, it seems.

"And I am at the head of the march, sister," Talia says, a heartening smile on her lips. She begins to rise to her feet, "But I will not turn the whole of your day, dismal. I should be getting on to the border. That's where I was off to before." Standing now, she looks down at her older sister. "Enjoy the view."

Brightening in mood somewhat, the huntress sits up, saying in parting; "So soon? It seems you're the one who had to spare me the time... be off with you, lest the squires think you tardy. As for me, I shall while away a day or two, and then be back about my business... I shall see you soon enough, no doubt.""

Talia nods. "No doubt you will." And with that, the Protector turns on her heel and lopes back down the hill.