Gillhach greets Tiresgal on the Lawn

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.

As the moonless night wanes to the last, and with the sequined quilt of Varda's stars; which overlayed the world, fades with the rumour of Anar rising. Day dawns on the centre of elvendom on earth, on the heart of Laurelindorenan; a lawn unfolds, like a great bald circle crowning the hill of Caras Galadhon. Lush and verdant is the grass, 'pon which the spritely elanor blooms, glittering as the sun rises over the endless, serried ranks of the ancient mallyrn.There on the lawn, in the lengthening shadow of the titanic tree at the hill's peak, many folk sit and herald the dawn. One such, a maid laid in calm repose, all cloaked and cowled, as if from long travel. Lays, gazing skywards.

Even as does the sun rise, so does the great form of an eagle plummet from the yet star-filled western sky. From a great height does he drop, though he draws himself up to circle playfully over the wide green lawn, a great cry of exhileration echoing from his massive beak, startling into flight some of the singing birds in the nearby mallyrn.Perhaps tiring of the play, at least for now, the avian drops down again, his wings beating mightily back as he does, so that his taloned claws touch lightly upon the soft spongy turf. As the golden sunlight makes its first appearance into the woods itself on this morn, the eagle stretches wide its wings, greeting the new day, and then folds them in after the fashion of birds upon land. His eyes, wide as saucers, turn to the elves upon the ground, and foremost upon one maiden lying there. "Good Morning."

Even as the eagle descends, and the rumour of it's coming spreads throughout the people gathered there; the whisperings of those gathered can be heard to rise, and they loosely crowd around and the spectacle. Others can be seen heading northwards with the news, to the great tree where dwell the lord and lady of the wood; herself, the cloaked maid stirrs from her vererie and stands, stretching her long, lithe limbs; as the discerning eagle bespeaks her a greeting, touching an unnasuming hand to her breast, and glancing nervously about; the maiden bows a heady bow, "<Sindarin>Hail windlord," Says she, "<Sindarin>Hail and well met..."

A great rumble emerges from the Eagle's parted beak, as though stones in his chest were waging war. Indeed, it is his laughter, for he shakes his head and says in his harsh but friendly voice, "That is not a title I can well claim, good maiden of the Golden Woods. I leave that to Gwaihir, my liege. But I thank you for the kind greeting. I may not tarry o'erlong, but I am bound to Imladris, and offer to carry news or tidings if the folk of the woods would have it so."

Cheeks rosy with a blush, the elleth manages a wry little smile at her inexactitude, "As you say," She inclines her head to a nod, "At any rate, m'lord. My liege would welcome news of the world beyond... and if your stay be but short, I shall convey it to him, as needs be." She bows once more, and intones: "What tidings do you bear, servant of Manwe?"

Tiresgal gives pause at this, perhaps surprised to hear the title of his race of old invoked once again. He nods his great head to the maiden, then, though he towers above the elves, and says, "Little of interest, little maiden, though all is of interest to the Lords of the West." He glances off eastward, and says, "Still the south and east buzzes with o'er interest... The battle between Gondor and Mordor may once more be one of skirmish and wait, but their war escalates ever. To the west, the mountains are disturbingly quiet in some areas, and yet swarming in others. And I have seen elves in places where I would not think to find them... Dunland, and near Isen... E'en to the borders of Rohan. Were not my errands of the time pressing, I would dearly have liked to pause and have their tale. But it could not be so." He pauses then, once again giving the woman his attention and his gaze, and asks, "What news from Lorien? The Eagles of the Lords of the West hear, see, and remember."

Smiling softly at the last, and laughing; the maid answers; "As do the elves, m'lord. Our memories are long, it is said... though we know not the passing of the years, we remember them all." And her bosom heaves with a sigh, "Your news is dire, doubtless... though the world beyond is of little consequence to the least of us." She smiles once more, "I shall convey your message to the lord and lady, as I may..." But she shrugs, her slender shoulders bunched, "As for me, I fear I've not news to give... save only that a company of ours was bound for Thranduil's realm far off. Else, there's nought, I fear."

Nodding once more, Tiresgal says, "I thank you for your words and your time, then, fair maiden of Lorien. I must now be off; I am hungry, and the open land holds my breakfast. I may return once more before crossing the mountains, but give the Lord and Lady my salutations, and the regards of the Windlord Gwaihir." Gathering himself, then, he thrusts himself up into the air, leaping even as his wings unfold, and a great wind arises upon the lawn as his huge wings beat furiously to carry him up into the heavens. A final cry from his beak, and he streaks away southward, in the still-pink sky of early morning.