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May 20, 1997
Note: This RP is a part of the Tablet TP, spinning around the mysterious stone tablet found in Lorien.
Middle-earth time is:
Entrance Hall, East
Sil-Galen comes around the corner from the North Hall. Thelinen glances at Sil-Galen.
Cyndrial comes around the corner from the North Hall. Thelinen glances at Cyndrial.
Sil-Galen nods to Glendor as he and Cyndrial walk into the hall Cyndrial bows her head to Glendor "Mae govannen Herbmaster, have you seen the Lady Petra?" Glendor shakes his head quickly, "Nay, I'm looking for her myself. Last I heard she was goping to the Library" Sil-Galen nods slightly "Would you care to accompany us, then?" Cyndrial says, "We shall indeed be delighte at the company if you do"" Glendor smiles slightly, "I am not yet familliar with the house..." His smile changes to look a bit guilty, "I suppose I should spend less time walking across the valley. Oh, yes, I will follow you" Cyndrial nods Sil-Galen smiles at this, and, turning to Cyndrial "To the library, then..." Cyndrial says, "indeed""
Sil-Galen climbs up the stairs and pauses on the landing. <OOC>Long travel in the maze of Elrond's house removed.
Second Floor West Hall
Cyndrial comes into the hall from the north. Sil-Galen smiles, surprised to find another in the hall here "Mae Govannen, mellon"
Anthanor says, "Mae govannen" Sil-Galen smiles "I do not believe so." Sil-Galen bows slightly "I am Timmon a Rithron Sil-Galen. I am pleased to meet you..." Glendor follows closely behind Cyndrial and Sil-Galen, quickly glancing from side to side. He nods in a greeting to Anthanor, more like a slight bow, "Mae govannen, mellon. I am Glendor of Lothlorien" Cyndrial says, "Mae govannen, Thandis a Talagand, Cyndrial Silvanus""
Anthanor says, "It is an honor to meet you all" Cyndrial nods to Anthanor Sil-Galen smiles "We were just heading into the library..." Cyndrial nods Anthanor says, "I am afaird I cannot join you I must be off" Glendor looks intently at the library doors, as if straining to pierce them with his gaze. Sil-Galen nods "Excuse us then... Namarie" Anthanor says, "though I do hope we meet again"
Sil-Galen walks into the library. Anthanor says, "Namarie mellyn"
Cyndrial says, "namarie""
Anthanor heads north along the hall. You go into the library
The Imladris Library Petra laughs softly to relieve Ainessandil's tension, and then says, "I would love to hear your verse sung as well! In the meantime, what have you learned in your travels?" Cyndrial smiles at the sight of Petra "ah!, thou art correct herbmaster" Petra and Ainessandil are seated at separate but nearby tables in a corner of the Library, their chairs turned toward each other, and are engaged in an alternatingly serious and light-hearted conversation. There is a formidably large tome on the table with them. Sil-Galen smiles at coming upon the Lady Petra "Ah, Mae Govannen, mellyn!"
Cyndrial says, "Mae govannen mellyn"" Petra turns, and waves to the newcomers. "It seems we have company!" She smiles gaily. "Mae govannen, all! Glendor! Do join us!" Ainessandil looks around upon hearing Cyndrial's voice, and is rather overwhelmed by the numbers who have entered the library, "Mae govannen, mellyn." and Ain bows slightly from his chair. Glendor walks into the library, following closely behind Cyndrial. In the doors he stops for a moment, and glances over his shoulder, remembering location of this place. Only then his eyes turn to the books, and he glances along the shelwes. He seems to be a bit awed, and does not react to Petra's call at once. After a while he notices that he's not alone with the books here, and flashes her a broad smile. Sil-Galen walks over toward the pair seated at the tables "We were hoping to find you here, Lady Petra..." Sil-Galen nods to Ainessandil "And a pleasure to see you here as well, mellon" Petra rises as Sil-Galen approaches. She is wearing the dress she'd been carrying around in various stages of completeness for some days now. "You are looking for me?" Ainessandil nods to Sil-Galen and Cyndrial, and looks to each, and Petra, inquisitively about Glendor. Cyndrial nods behind Sil-Galn Sil-Galen nods "Indeed... We were hoping to speak with you about the trip to Lorien..." Glendor makes few steps toward the table where Petra and Ainessandil were seated, but his eyes look mostly at the books. The words of Sil-Galen must have cought his attention, because he turns and slightly arches his brow, "You plan to visit Lorien?" Petra nods. "I have not had a chance to consult with Captain Saren or Corporal Arehir -- or with you, Glendor -- but aye, they wish to accompany us back." Sil-Galen nods at the Lady Petra's words. Cyndrial says, "We should talk about it later with the leader of your party, privatly as well"" Apparently having decided that his glances were not effective, Ainessandil bows to Glendor, "May I introduce myself, sir. I am Ainessandil, a teithor of Imladris."
Imal comes into the library from the hallway.
Erestor comes into the library from the hallway. Petra ponders Cyndrial's words with increasing amusement on her face. Finally, smiling she turns to Glendor. "Who is the leader of our party?" Imal walks in right behind Erestor, slightly surprised at the gathering.... Glendor looks thoughtfully at Petra, then Sil-Galen, "Any particular reason?" Glendor quickly turns to face Ainessandil, "Mae govannen. I am Glendor, the herbmaster of LothLorien" There is a knot of elves talking animatedly toward the back of the Library. Glendor winks to Petra, "Saren?" Petra looks haughtily at Glendor, but her wink belies her. "I thought I was." Petra and Ain are seated at nearby desks in the corner, and the rest stand near them, apparently more recently arrived. Imal turns her head from the initial conversation with the librarian, as she points to the elf who just identified himself as Glendor. Nodding, she walks towards the conglomerate. Sil-Galen smiles slightly, noting the exchange. Turning, he notices the newcomers "Ah, Mae Govannen, mellyn" Imal nods, her soprano delivering a pecise 'mae govannen' to all. she looks around, then ahems, standing by Glendor. Erestor nods to the elves he doesn't know. "I am Erestor, Chief Advisor to Hir Elrond. Erestor nods in greeting to Ain and Sil-galen as well. Ainessandil looks at the latest entrants to the library, to Erestor with curiosity, to Imal with a combination of fear and possibly dislike, "Mae govannen, mellyn." Petra rises from her chair at the sight of new faces. She smiles, faces Erestor, and curtsies. "Mae Govannen. I am Petra Elethin, Diplomat of the Golden Wood." Sil-Galen looks with curiosity at Imal, but says nothing, his eyes thoughtful Petra then turns her attention to Imal with an oddly interested look on her face. "I have not had the pleasure of your name, lady." She smiles.. Caught a bit off gaurd by the introductions, Imal blushes. "I...I am Imaliniel, the valley's jewelwright. But do call me Imal." Glendor smiles to Petra, "Really? I thought the same about myself, but Saren apparently does not agree. I suppose this depends on where ..." His words are cut short as the newcommer Elves address the group. He glances over his shoulder, then quickly turns and bows his head, "Mae govannen. I am Glendor, the Herbmaster of Lorien" Ainessandil bows to Erestor, "My pleasure to meet, Sir. I am but newly returned to the Valley, so I do not believe we have met. I am Ainessandil, a simple teithor of Imladris." Imal nods curtly to Glendor, gaze passing cool over Ainessandil. "Hiril Lethelindriel and Hiril Caladaniel asked that I speak with you, Glendor." Erestor glances about the room curiously. "I am not interrupting anything am I?" Imal keeps her eyes on Glendor, the curiosity barely kept contained. Petra laughs softly. "I had come here hoping to read, but that can wait. Sil-Galen smiles "Nay, Lord, not at all..." Petra keeps her eyes on Imal, curious herself on the lady's interest in him. Sil-Galen turns and regards Cyndrial, curious at her silence... Ainessandil backs up a step or two, after having arisen with entrance of Elrond's Councillor. Glendor quickly nods to Imal, and leans closer, lowering his voice, "Do you wish to speak here, or ..." He makes a vague gesture toward teh doors, "Hir Elrond mentioned that Caladaniel will be seeking me" Cyndrial keeps her silence. Erestor smiles at Ainessandil. "Please sit. I merely came to return some books I had in my room." Imal nods to Glendor, ignoring the rest of the party. Hands wringing nervously, she explains, "Hiril Caladaniel is not in the valley....In her absence I was called by Lethelindriel, by orders of the hiril, if there was need." Sil-Galen's face takes on a thoughtful expression, as he steps back to speak quietly with Cyndrial Imal steps to the side of the Lorien elf, freeing the path to the door. Sil-Galen +whispers to Cyndrial, "... aught ... matter, ..." Petra remains standing, surveying the scene -- especially Imal and Glendor -- with increasing interest. Cyndrial leans towards Sil-Galen and whispers "... ... ... ... Glendor now looks thoughtful and serious. He nods to Imal, noting quickly, "I see they take this matter seriously", then notices her movement and starts walking toward the doors. He glances at Imal to make sure she follows. Ainessandil steps over to near where Imal stands, after a nod to Erestor, and waiting for a slight pause in Imal's conversation, speaks to her lowly, with some coldness, but sincerely for all that, "Are you about to see *Hiril* Lethelindriel, Imam? If so, I can run and get the book from my quarters that I have not yet had the chance to return to her." Erestor places the books he is carrying on the desk near the librarian and begins perusing the shelves, seemingly lost in thought. Sil-Galen looks up, curious at Ainessandil's tone, as his hand seeks out that of Cyndrial Imal pauses, a gentle and shy smile on her lips, listening to the bookworm's question. She answers, half following Glendor, "I thought *you* were responsible for handing the book, Ainessandead. Cyndrial takes a hold of Sil-Galen's hands(hand) Suddenly feeling alone amidst the crowd, Petra sits down and opens the book in front of her. Ainessandil sees Sil-Galen take Cyndrial's hand and nods, almost unnoticeably, to himself. Sil-Galen coughs at Imal's words Imal glances over to Glendor, following him out of the library. You walk out into the hall. Second Floor West Hall The inner wall of this wide hallway is dominated by a dark wooden stairway leading to the third floor. The entrance to this stairway is at the northeast corner of the hall, while there are a pair of stout wooden brass-fitted doors at the southern end. The stone floor is covered by several thick rugs; these rugs are mostly sapphire in hue, traced occasionally with threads of silver that gleam when struck by light.
Imal comes out of the library. Imal inhales sharply, "Perhaps we should go to the forges?" Glendor pushes the doors open and holds them for Imal to pass. As soon as the doors close behind them, cutting off the voices from the Library, he turns to face Imal. Glendor looks a bit surprised, "Why forges?" Imal cocks her head, a bit pensive. "I have no information on the matter I am here to discuss, Glendor. the hiril thought, after talking to the hir, that the forges were a good place to talk." Crossing her arms, she continues, "Which would make sense if I was called upon." Glendor shrugs slightly, "Aye, well, forges will do. Did Hiril at least told you why you should seek me out?" Imal nods. "Something about a tablet, found close to your lands. And you have travelled thus far because of it. Have you brought it for study?" Imal walks towards the stairs. Glendor shakes his head, and speaks quickly, "No, we deemed it too dangerous." Imal heads north along the hall. Imal has left. <OOC>: Again travel around the house is snipped out.
Grand Staircase Landing
Imal goes down the steps to the west.
Arehir comes up the stairs. Glendor quickly waves his hand to Arehir before disappearing downstairs, followign Imal. You go down the steps to the west into the Entrance Hall.
Entrance Hall, East
Imal points west, "Shall we?" You make your way west toward the front of the house, passing the occasional elf or guest as you do.
Open Meadow Glendor looks around, "I know some paths here already, but not the one to the forges"
Imal walks towards the oak, stoping by it. "All I needed was to retrieve
you from the house....I was cautioned to do so for now...." Glendor looks intently at Imal, trying to catch her eyes, "Then, why did you tell me that we're gooing to the forges?" He plants his staff on the ground, and twists it, tearing the grass carpet. Imal arches her eyebrows so high they almost touch the hairline, before descending to their natural curve. "I...meant to disrespect. Simply I wish to know what is this that makes you speak with the hir, if I can help. I thought the forges as a good place, but if in use, it would not." The young elf looks slightly put out. Glendor still studies Imal with a piercing gaze, "She did ask you to talk to me... Well, you know that we found it, shattered in many fragments?" Imal nods, "By a party of elves, close to a river. But that, I'm afraid, is all I know." Glendor nods, "Right... We had difficulties assembling it. It seems to have a will of its own, or at least a presence about it. Sometimes you can look at it and see the shadows moving around. It's veiled in shadows, has been since we laid all the fragments together. The surface is black, darker than the stone itself, and polished finely..." Imal leans against the tree, arms crossed. Her lips purse as she listens, mind working visibly though the tension on her facial muscles. "A...presence? You mean some magic?" The last rays of the sun through the gorge are lost as the night begins. Glendor tilts his head slightly, and his fingers tap on the staff, "May be... It was resisting some manipulations, and some other would almost happen by themselves, at a slightest hint." Imal looks Glendor over once more. "I need no one to tell you that is unusual at best. What have your scholars said?" Glendor sighs, "Not much... there is another problem..." Imal pauses, her dark eyes positing already too many questions. "Problem?" Glendor nods, "Yes. Nobody knows how the tablet *really* looks like. When I look at it, I see..." He pauses, and grips his staff tighter, his knuckles whiten, "I see a jet-black surface, and on it thin letters, like a dark fire. I do not know the letters, but I can hear the words, it's like someone whispers them to me." He looks disturbed, "Others see similar letters, but not exactly the same... And, those of great might who still dwell among us, they see the fiery lines vaguely, or not at all" Imal now lets her fown command her face. "Those who do not see the letters, or vsguely...is the nature of it more defined?" Glendor looks down, "No... those who have the greatest sight now see the least of all. Those who cannot see the fiery lines, see nothing at all, just blackness" Imal straightens her body, pacing, collecting falling strands of hair behind her ears. "Either nothing, or a false nothing...a trick....for what? Hmmmm....." the young smith moves, pauses, looks at you. "I need to think about this...there are books in the library, old ones.....but a tablet is unusual. Don't the Naugrim use them?" Glendor snorts, "Aye, they might, and it is written that they may hide the letters from sight. But to deceive the eyes of Eldar, make us feel the dark words carried into the very mind by a chill whisper... No, it's far beyond their skill" Imal lets her eyes play over the gray of your cloak. "But then, the eldar also deceive, Glendor...tis a matter of finding why that was needed." she sighs, a fire in her eyes. "I wish the tablet was here. Your...tale is very intriguing." Imal stops pacing. "I shall look at some tomes and scrolls, to find some reference...perhaps we can help. Has Hir Elrond said anything?" Glendor frowns, and tosses his staff in his hand, then catches it with other hand, "The Eldar *did* decieve. Those times are long gone. And, I wish I could carry it with me, but it would be too dangerous. The yrch were following us all the time we were in the mountains, and they were ususually cautious, but also persistent in their interest." He suddenly takes off a shoulder bag, and throws back the flap, "I made a drawing of the tablet as I see it, and few others made their. That's how I know that we do not see the same thing". He pulls out of the bag few large square sheets. Imal leans forward, almost snapping the squares off your hands, "Why did you not say so before?" Glendor chuckles, "I doubt they are of much value, these are images we're made to see" The sheets are webbed with thin black lines, weaving into runes. The letters don't look familliar, but there's something dark and menacing about them.
Lethelindriel comes down the Meadow Path from the north. Imal looks over the lines, in each drawing, her forwn deepening. "Of course, the imalges mean nothing to me, since they were personal...." She sets the sheets in pairs, one over the other..... Lethelindriel walks along, slowly, looking at the sky upon occasion. Seeing you two, she stops, and frowns slightly. Imal places the first pair above her head, facign the moon... Glendor and Imal are standing under the great oak, talking quietly. Glendor apparently has just handed Imal few square sheets with some drawings on them.
Arehir comes from the east across the meadow. Imal drops the first two sheets, her look changing to concentration. In her movment to get the second pair, she notices first the legs, then the rest of the hiril. Arehir approaches quietly from the east, ambling carelessly through the open meadow. Imal straightens herself, "Hiril Lethelindriel...." Lethelindriel nods. "Imal. Seeing to mine errand?" she asks, looking at Glendor as she speaks to the young female elf. Glendor kneels to pick up hte sheets, then quickly glances as he notices the shadow of someone standing behind his back. He quickly stands, and turns to see who it is. As Imal speaks the name, he bows his head, "Mae govannen, Hiril. I am Glendor" Lethelindriel nods to Glendor politely, including the just-arrived stranger elf in saod nod as well. "I hight lethelindriel, " she replies. "And this matter is of some small interest to me, as you might know." Imal nods. "This is...." she stops, as glendor introduces himself. "tis a rather unusual errand, Hiril....But--" Imal stops, as she sees yet another approaching figure. Lethelindriel smiles slightly at Imal's words. "Unusual, aye..." she replies. Arehir stops many paces away as he notices the quiet conversation among the three. Seeing Glendor, however, he approaches cautiously and nods, "Mae govennen, mellyn, Herbmaster." Imal nods, her shyness coming through now that a foreign element is once more added. Lethelindriel addresses Imal again, moving toward the lady and the drawings slightly: "And what determinations have you made?" she asks, more quietly. Glendor nods slightly to Arehir, "Mae govannen, Arehir" Imal steps back, taking hold of the two sheets she had just set down. She turns to Glendor, "Is this matter public, among your own?" Arehir frowns slightly and cocks his head. He asks Glendor quietly, "Shall I leave, my friend? You certainly have dire business here, with the loremasters of this valley." He stands tall and resolute, yet sensitive to Glendor's mission." Lethelindriel half-turns her head, to regard Glendor and his reply to her comrade. Imal waits for an answer, before continuing. Glendor shakes his head slightly, at once to Arehir and his hosts, "It is known widely. No secret was made of it from the beginning, when it was just a mere curiosity for us, and then, it was too late to change things" Lethelindriel shrugs slightly. "If true, it should be no secret," she says, "And if false, then it is of little moment, if that." Lethelindriel looks back at Imal, a trifle expectantly. Imal sharply nods, "Very well then." The inherent shyness disappears, as the young elf begins to posit aloud. "Hiril, glendor showed me these drawings executed by several elfs who saw the tablet. They have webs of dark lines, apparently that were disturbing to each who drew. they must be personal, or localized, as they speak nothing to me... However--" The smith stops, waiting for the others to catch up. Lethelindriel nods, seeming to grow slightly impatient. "And..."" she prompts, sparing but a brief glance to the other two elves present, to judge their reactions to Imal's words. Arehir looks to Glendor and nods ever so slightly. He gazes at the two ladies then, and waits for the younger one to continue. He nods passively then as she describes the tablet. Glendor nods, silently. Imal picks up another couple of sheets, once more matching the drawings one on top of the other, and again placing them under the deep light of the moon. "If you put them in pairs....it seems some of the lines are aligned..." She turns to Glendor, "How many do you have, of such drawings?" Lethelindriel looks from Imal to Glendor once more. And then looks up at the sky, and almost winces slightly, as if unwontedly concerned with the night's swift passing. her gaze then returns to the Galadhim elf, but a slight tension might be almost palpably emanating from her gaze. Glendor points to the pile Imal has, "These are all I have. Not all who saw the tablet made such drawings. Some were too terrified of the images to force themselves to dwell on these thoughts, others..." He half-turns to Lethelindriel, "Those of great might see the letters less clearly, or not at all" Lethelindriel frowns. "Terrified," she says flatly. "How odd for our folk to feel such." Glendor nods, "It seems to bring back the most painful memories. Those who suffered recently feel it much stronger" Arehir rasps a breath as he recalls his own encounters with the tablet, but outwardly shows little other emotion. He simply stares keenly back and forth at the interchange. Imal counts...."Seventeen....I'd like to study them....These first four have some lines that are alike, here, towards the bottom..." She lifts a pair, pointing to the convergence of 4 lines btween the two different drawings. Lethelindriel says, "I can but scarecely credit the tales Master Elrond related to me...for our folk to feel so is more than passing strange...but I digress..."" Lethelindriel nods absently to Imal, her eyes upon Glendor. "I will posit this, sir Glendor; if one of our folk crafted this tablet - as makes the only sense to me - " A quick shadow passes over Glendor's face. Lethelindriel says, "Than he - or she - was in mortal fear, or worse, under great torment. Else 'tis not our folk's work at all...we do not craft such fell things, nor have we eveer. Not even dark Eol..."" Lethelindriel falls silent, frowning thoughtfully. Lethelindriel holds up a hand. "Imal," she says, in a firm tone. "I hazard that there is less to be gleaned from these drawings than might be hoped; what say you? If need calls, will you go to the Golden Wood?" Arehir frowns slightly at the Hiril's statement. Grim of face, he turns to regard Glendor again. Imal looks at Lethelindriel quite puzzled. "Now that is a name I haven ot heard in a long while, hiril." Lowering her sheets of paper, she looks to Lethelindriel again, "Travel to Lorien, milady? aye...but first perhaps these drawing can clue me in...I do not share your certaintly as to whom made it, if you excuse the doubt...." Imal's voice lowers, as if concerned to voice her thoughts. Glendor nods to Lethelindriel's words, "We did not dare to carry the tablet with us, and it proved to be well: we were pursued by yrch, and they were not after fresh blood this time" Lethelindriel nods. "You did well, Glendor," she states, her tone almost regal. Lethelindriel says, "And Imal..." Imal places a cautious gaze upon her hiril. Lethelindriel says, "I do not know who made it...I _would_ know; but I cannot go thence myself at this time. You have learned at my side these past years..." Lethelindriel says, "You I might rely upon to know maker's-marks, and other signs that would elude most others." Arehir snorts lightly after Glendor's comment, but continues to look on. Lethelindriel frowns, and turns to regard the to Galadhrim. "I still am at a loss to explain the feelings evoked by this tablet...I wonder if there is some quality of the Dreamwood that has caused it?" she muses aloud. "Still." Imal averts Lethelindriel's gaze now, setting her eyes on Arehir, then Glendor. "If that is necessary, I shall go. But Do give me two days, to gather what I can from what I have here, Hiril...and will the Galadhrim accompany, or one of our own?" Lethelindriel says, "Will you accept Imal - aye, young she is, yet she is near to the skill of one of the Gwaith-i-Mirdain - my folk - "" Lethelindriel pauses, and smiles at Imal. Glendor clasps his hands on his chest, and looks between the Elven women, somewhat uneasily. At last, he speaks, "And what is the chance that the tablet will not show Imal the same black images like most of us see? Do you not know fear?" The last question is addressed to Imal Lethelindriel says, "I would send you with both, lady, if I have my will in this matter. For I would not have you return alone...fear, Glendor?"" Lethelindriel says, "fear of a mere stone?" Lethelindriel laughs lightly, the sound filling the air like the play of a fountain. Arehir raises a brow, the briefest smirk racing across his face. Lethelindriel turns to regard Glendor levelly. Imal steps back, not exactly pleased at what she is not sure was a positive commentary from Lethelindriel, but she then turns to Glendor. "I go forth as a smith, more so than as a visitor, though. Fear I know--but fear is but a mask, no? Just likethe Galadhrim cloaks..." Lethelindriel says, smiling, "Glendor of my the folk of my kinswoman. I cannot explain what took your folk, and caused this 'fear' -" Imal looks down, face burning. "What I mean Glendor....is that I go with only my knowledge. If it fails, it fails." Glendor straightens and turns to face Lethelindriel, his eyes look in her face, "I fit were a mere stone, Hiril, I would not be here. The Quendi of Lorien are no more flighty than those who dwell with you, and are not scared any easier. Yet, we cannot even apply our knowledge, for we do not *see* that stone for what it truly is" Lethelindriel finishes, her words following Imal's after a short pause: "As you say. I am at a loss to explain your...blindness, maybe? - in this matter, other than to attribute it to some quality of the Wood itself..."
Petra comes along the Meadow Path from the south. Lethelindriel says, "And I do not accuse you of some defect in character..." Petra wanders into the meadow, and snaps to attention when she sees the party assembled some ways away. She waves and heads over with renewed purpose. Lethelindriel says, "But I think that Imal - if the causes here are what I suspect - will be as untiuched as any of our folk might be if touched by a mortal's shade..."" Imal gives another step back, freeing the space between glendor and Lethelindriel, charged as it becomes. Lethelindriel's words are as water flowing over a stone; unheated, yet sure. She is clearly not wroth, merely...certain of whatever she deems at work in this matter. Lethelindriel is standing facing Glendor, and clearly intent upon conversation with him. Arehir stands resolutely to the side, listening to the two women and Glendor. You see before you a tall, delicately slender Elven female. She has high cheekbones, shoulder-length pale-blond hair, and piercing hazel eyes that gaze directly into your own. She seems somewhat serious in demeanor at first glance, but in unguarded moments her face breaks into a radiant smile of pure joy. She is wearing a beige tunic which extends slightly past her waist; its buttons are a rich brown, but it is otherwise unadorned. Her pants are pleated, and of a hue that matches her tunic's buttons. On her feet are a pair of simple beige boots that seem made of something other than simple leather. On the ring finger of her left hand rests a silvery band. From a distance, you might be able to see that it has been worked...but only upon closer inspection does the delicate worksmanship of the ring's braiding become clear. Lethelindriel's earlier laughter was clearly not that of malice, incidentally, but rather that of an adult at a child's relation of monsters in a modern-day closet. Patronizing, perhaps, but then, that might come easily to this ancient elf. Imal continues to flips through pairs of drawings, avoiding the conversation for now. Petra walks up to stand somewhere between Arehir and Glendor, as if it was perfectly natural for her to be in this company. Not wishing to cut in to the current conversation, she remains silent, acknowledging the other elves with a small but polite bow. Lethelindriel appears finished for the nonce; mildly puzzled, perhaps, at this ;fear' business, but interested in resolving the mystery once and for all. She notices the newcomer at last, and smiles slightly as in greeting. Glendor regards Lethelindriel with calm resolve, "I wish for you to be right in this. But I do not see how a young Elf can pierce the guises with her mind, unless you know the secret of this disguise and arm her with this knowledge." Lethelindriel arches a brow in initial rely. "Rather ask why _any_ elf would be so affected by a mere Working - than ask how I expect a young elf - if as gifted as this one is - to see through such a seeming as I think lies upon this thing." Petra smiles back to Lethelindriel, and cocks an eyebrow toward Glendor, noting the gender of the as-yet-unnamed young Elf. Imal lifts an eyebrow. Lethelindriel says, "As I said, I can but guess that some quality of the Wood - for aye, it has its qualities, just as this valley does, as ye should know, and well, maybe - "" Glendor adds in a quieter voice, "What I did not say was that the Lady herself came to look at the tablet. She told noone what she saw, but called for me at once, and sent me on this mission, to seek the councel of Hir Elrond" Lethelindriel says, "Has affected matters here. I cannot measure this otherwise." Lethelindriel frowns. "Galadriel is of the Wood, Glendior...this does not surprise me. Although it does trouble me somewhat...as all this, has frankly. Do not mistake my momentar mirth for unconcern." Lethelindriel says, "I do not send Imal to you out of lack of regard for this, but rather the reverse, as a sign of my great interest - and the herdir's - in this matter." Lethelindriel sighs slightly. "Should Imal deem it needed, I myself will come. But this would be better avoided for the present." Imal asks, "Hiril, should not Hirl Caladaniel be sent instead of me? Her lore is better suited perhaps?" The smith looks at Glendor, as if not feeling welcomed, due to her age. Glendor repeats quietly, barely audible, "Galadriel is of the Wood...", then suddenly looks down. He seems to be disturbed by whatever thoughts this phrase evoked, but does not voice them, just shakes his head slighly Arehir gives a final grim, and somewhat discouraged, gaze across the two Imladhrim, then turns from the gathering, and stalks soundlessly away. Lairelin looks at Barette Lethelindriel frowns, and her expression cools somewhat, as one lightly insulted. "Imal," she says, "I regard your presence as suitable here...but let us ask Glendor; I will not force upon him someone who he deems - " Petra watches the exchange with keen interest, but makes no move to speak. Her eyes read one face after another in constant, rapid study. Lethelindriel's lip curls slightly, "Unsuitable." her tone is smooth and unmistakably dangerous. Arehir follows the meadow path south. Arehir has left. Lethelindriel turns her full regard upon the hapless herb-master. Glendor again looks up, "I was sent to ask for councel, not give it". He has that distracted expression of a person whose mind is travelling some distant paths even as he speaks. Lethelindriel nods, and her expression grows less dark. "Will you accept Imal as my representative in this matter?" she asks formally. "KNow that I speak for the herdir here, as one who is held in high regard with matters in both lore and smith-craft; into my hands he has given this..." Lethelindriel regards the lost-in-thought Glendor with what gorws into a slightly amusedly tolerant smile. She waits politely, however, for his answer. Petra's gaze flicks back and forth between Lethelindriel and Imal, taking in every nuance of their faces. The lady herself is quiet and still. Glendor concentrates slightly more on the discussion at hand, but looks disturbed and distracted, evidently mulling over that sudden thought, "I cannot accept or deny her. If Lord Elrond gave this matter into your hands, I shall bring home your reply as it were his, be it in the form of advice or representative. I will escort her to the Lady. She had requested teh council, and to her your response is addressed." Lethelindriel nods, and smiles slightly "Do you bear my greetngs to her as well," she says, a smile playing about ehr lips. "Too long it has been since I walked under the boughs of her demense." Lethelindriel says, "But I canot judge this matter, save to say that to have the tablet before one of our smiths would be best; from there...we may need to summon others among our lore-masters. That I do ackowledge..."" Imal finally puts down the 17 sheets in her hand, after some permutations. Her voice is firm as she addresses Glendor. "You thus state your do not like the choice. Tis quite alright, Glendor." she returns the sheets to you. "Tell your smiths to scour the holdings of books and lore, for the smith mark on the bottom left of the stone. You can see most of it, if the drawings are taken together." Lethelindriel says, "But Imal has learned of much form me; if this matter involves elf-work, she is well-suited to judge it, in herself." Lethelindriel shakes her head. "Imal...unless you are entirely unwilling, I set you this task. And unlightly do I do this; for you, lady, I have it in mind as a piece of your master-work." Lethelindriel's tone conveys clear respect for Imal, young as she might be compared to the elder elf speaking. Her tone further conveys an utter confidence in IMals' ability to handle this duty. Imal seems irritated as she crosses her arms. "Hiril, I am of no age, nor Wise blood. All I have is my work. I will not travel thus far if judged not competent, as this offer of help is not what The Galadhrim clearly expected." Lethelindriel looks at Imal, and frowns. "Imal. Will you gainsay me in this? I have deemed it meet, and Glendor has acquiesced." Imal purses her lips, silent for the moment. Lethelindriel says, "I do _not_ send you as mistress of lore, but rather as a smith and with a smith's full knowldge, as only one who learned of the smiths of ost-in-Edhil could be." Words stand poised upon Petra's lips, but she holds her peace still, watching and listening carefully. Imal turns to Glendor, "Shall we meet halfway, then? I will go to Lorien, while you remain here. The effort is thus doubled." Lethelindriel smiles faintly, and places one hand upon a slender hip, to regard her protege's counter-proposal. Petra looks at Glendor, waiting for his reaction. Glendor glances quickly at Arehir, "I suppose, if a large force is gathered, the tablet may be sent over the mountains, but even then, there's a danger in it..." He turns to Imal, and his lips curve in a slight smile, "I hardly know you, and cannot judge if the choice is right, nor it is my place to do so. My own studies suggest little, but I am quite sure that teh tablet was made before I was born. Someone who might have *seen* its making... perhaps, not the very tablet, but some similar device, could have perhaps seen through the disguise for she would know what is hidden behind. You will have your lore and skill to draw on, I do wish this to be enough. Yet, unless you plan do leave at once, I don't see what purpose is served by keeping me here, not to mention that we don't have enought strenght of arms to guide two groups over the passes. Lethelindriel Nods. "Imal, this is what I would see:" Lethelindriel says, "Go you with the Galadhrim. Take also no few of our folk, for guard 'pon your return." Lethelindriel says, "Learn what ye may - be this tablet true, and not a device of the Enemy's, most of all - if you may; seek aid also from Lorien's lore-master, as also you assist them." Lethelindriel says, "If this fails to suffice...I would that the tablet be brought here, 'an the Lady galdariel deem it meet. If not -" Imal nods, slowly at first. Lethelindriel sighs faintly, and concludes: "Then perforce I must honour my earlier, if hasty, promise, and come to the Wood myself." Petra nods almost imperceptibly. Lethelindriel says, "And, Glendor -" Imal says, "It shall be done so, Hiril...."" Lethelindriel turns to him. "For what it is worth, we in IMladris have many such craftings; most of what survived the fall of Eregion yet bides here. There are no works to compare with these, save those crafted over the Wide Sea." Glendor nots to Lethelindriel's words, then, to Imal, "Gather as many as the valley can spare to guard you. Leaving the Wood was not easy when we did it, and all signs indicated that the shadows which lay around it will only grow darker wit htime" Lethelindriel says, "And Imal is familiar with them all; mark ye how she placed her finger 'pon the smith-mark swiftly...aye. " She turns to Imal and nods. "Speak to Galdacil as soon as may be."" Imal nods...."Glendor, when would your party be ready?" Lethelindriel bows then, to Glendor; lightly, but politely. "Twas a pleasure to meet, Glendor," she turns to Petra, and smiles. "And to see you, lady of mystery whose name I yet lack..." Lethelindriel says, "But I must go...I am overdue elsewhere." Petra bows. "Petra Elethin, Diplomat of the Golden Wood. I am honored." Imal nods to Petra, her look one of being overwhelmed. Lethelindriel smiles at Petra's courtesy. "Lethelindriel Maglorien,: she replies, her tone formal, but her eyes dance with mirth. "And as I bod you greeting, also I bid ye three farewell...and safe journey, for I think I will not see before you do depart." Glendor glances at Petra, "I am not the sole reason for the party, other messages were sent. For myself, I would like to meet other smiths, as Lord Elrond told me to do. The guards, I presume, are always ready" There's a slight irony in his last words. Petra smiles warmly at Imal and Lethelindriel. Lethelindriel chuckles. "Glendor, you have met two of the highest of our smiths here...Imal, do you also introduce him to Erestor and Galdacil, at the least, if you will...and my thanks you have in this matter, as well." Lethelindriel turns to go, murmuring something to Imal as she departs. Petra curtsies, her eyes smiling. "Namarie, Lethelindriel. I hope to meet you again in happier times." Imal nods, respectfully. "I can introduce you to the smiths, and to our healers. I shall keep looking for vestiges of what I *think* I discern in the tablet drawings, while preparations are made, Glendor."
Lethelindriel follows the meadow path south. Petra nods also to Imal. "Thank you for your efforts, Imal." Glendor nods to Imal, "Aye, thank you indeed. May be the drawings will prove useful after all" Imal sighs, "Petra, do not thank me yet--I had little idea what I was to be involved with, and much less that the Lady would send me off this way." Imal smiles sheepishly, "Herbmaster, I hope tis not another illusion, this one for a harried young smith!" she grins, playful for a moment. Petra smiles. "You have put in no small effort already, and that is worthy of acknowledgement. Farewell, and good luck." Imal excuses herself, moving swiftly through the wildflowers back to the house. Petra watches the elfmaid leave intently. Glendor smiles, watching Imal walk away, "Aye, you are certainly no illusion", he chuckles under his breath. Petra arches an eyebrow at Glendor at that last comment.
Imal follows the meadow path south. Petra mutters "Curious. Curious indeed." Glendor sighs, watching as Imal leaves, and shakes his head. Petra looks at Glendor. "Shall we adjourn to my quarters? You look weary." Glendor frowns, "Talking to ancient Noldor will make you weary... One might think she still had not thawed after the passing through teh grinding ice" Petra laughs. "Aye, she was a prickly one." She shakes her head. "Still, the knowledge she must possess...." Petra slides her arm around yours and takes your hand. "Oh! You never noticed my new dress!" Glendor guides you by the hand to the front porch, "Perhaps, I should see it in a better light?" Petra walks along, weightless in your hand. "A splendid idea!" <OOC>You really think I'm going to tell you what happened next? :-)
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