(Archive) Rangers, Wizards, and Elves
A light breeze wafts amongst the trees, stirring the soft grasses of the forest, strengthening as it comes into the clearing of the long lawn. The sun shines down on a poised elleth, sitting perfectly still. Rays of light seem to almost dance around her, eyes closed in relaxation.
From one of the passages leading to the lawn comes a tall figure, even for one of the Firstborn... but indeed, 'tis not an Elf who approaches, for even if the step of this figure is light and soft, it's still too heavy for one of the Firstborn. Clad in grey the figure is, with a mane of raven hair falling past his shoulder, and a pair of keen grey eyes which remind many of the Sea. Thus comes Henleg, Ranger of the North, back to Lorien, although his trip this time has been... different from his past ones, neither safer nor more dangerous... or perhaps a bit of them both.
The man comes, and stares at the elleth who so calmly sits as the Sun shines brightly on her, and stops, loth to interrupt such a perfect moment.
Strolling quietly onto the long lawn is another elleth, clad in a gown of soft, foamy green. She has apparently been down by the river - as she walks up from that direction - and the hem of her skirt is rather wet and dripping in places. Nioniel pauses and glances up at the beaming sunshine, smiling back at it.
Turning her deep blue eyes down to earth again, she spies Istaril quietly relaxing, and seems about to hurry on quietly so as not to mar her peace ... that is, until she sights the ranger. She freezes in her tracks, startled, and she draws in a sharp breath of surprise.
As others gather around the newlycome wizard, another Apprentice hurries into the lawn. "Istaril," she calls, "They're in the garden again, they got the woodruff this time! You're to come quickly!"
"Not again..." groans Istaril. But without further comment, quickly, the healer rises to her feet and follows the other back to the city.
Approaching quickly on the path towards the long lawn is another visitor to the land of Lothlorien. His foot falls are silent, and few as he steps into the long lawn.The bright gray eyes fall upon those here currently, Gildor nods his golden haired head stepping further in "Well met indeed all." the noldo speaks to the room at large.
"Well met, O fair people of Lothlorien!", the Ranger says, as step closer, and then bows. "I have travelled much since the last time I was in this fair wood, but its beauty remains unchanged! great is the skill of the galadhrim, who so tirelessly care for their wood, and for the fair mellyrn that so grace this land", he adds.
Arching her eyebrows in surprise, Nioniel smiles a little weakly back at Thorhur and Gildor as they draws near. The elleth nods in greeting, but says nothing as yet. Her eyes follow Istaril as she flees the scene, uneasily before turning them back to the Ranger. It would seem the elleth is forever doomed to be ill at ease with outsiders - even good ones such as rangers.
However, as the man begins to speak with such grace and eloquence, her expression becomes less tense and uncertain.
Thorhur's gaze first turns to Istaril, then to Nioniel, to whom he gives a wink. To Istaril he smiles, for it has been long since has seen her. To the approaching Gildor he gives a nod and a soft smile, but for the moment says nothing to the Ranger.
Taking a step towards him, Thorhur examines Henleg with kind but questioning eyes. "Long it must have been since you were last here," Thorhur says in a soft voice with perhaps a hint of crispness, "for I do not believe we have met before. I am Thorhur."
Blushing slightly, Nioniel seems suddenly ashamed of the coldness of her manner toward Henleg. Glancing down at the golden flowers waving at her feet momentarily, she gathers a little courage from Gildor and Thorhurs easy manner and looks up at the ranger. Realizing shell have to do better than that, she fairly cranes her neck to look him in the eye, "Are you resting w-well since your arrival, good sir?" she asks very quietly.
The Ranger grins, as he regards Thorhur. "Long by the count of Men, but a passing momento to those of the fair Folk", he says. "I am Henleg, son of Mathadan, and far to the north my country lies. From Rivendell I hail, and I have been before the guest of the Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn... and it's been more than five years since my last stay in your fair land", he adds, in perfect Sindarin, as if he were used to speaking the tongue of the Elves.
Thorhur nods. "Indeed...five years would be a mere couple months or so in your reckoning," he says, his brow furrowing. He himself speaks Sindarin for the sake of the Ranger, "However, I do not remember you, but if you have been guests of the Lord and Lady before, then I trust you."
Looking relieved at hearing the conversation continuing in elven tongue, Nioniels tense form relaxes a little more, and she works up the courage to try and speak louder. It would seem her question went unheard before by the large man, so she tries again, holding her chin up and trying to look brave: "I am sorry I do not recall you myself, Henleg ... but I have avoided visitors from the outside in the past - so it is no surprise." She pauses and clears her throat quietly, "Have you rested well since you came?"
"I have rested well, indeed", comes Henleg's reply in his deep baritone voice. "These woods are soothing for those who come from Outside, where dark things roam the lands... yet this is not so In fair Lorien. Indeed, those things seem to be far in time, for such is the beauty of this land that all worries seem to drift away with the waters of the Nimrodel", he adds. "And a pleasure to meet you, lady". he then turns to Thorhur, and adds, "As for me, I know the ladies Mia and Niinaeth, and the Marchwarden Lir, and the tailor Galharth, who gave me this cloak ere I left this fair woods. Perhaps you know them?", he asks, to both ellon and elleth.
Thorhur smiles, already less tense, and the soft wind blows his hair, ruffling the braids. He suddenly seems glow in the light of the sun, and he seems to glide as he paces the lawn. To answer Henleg's question, he replies in a soft voice, "Yes...these woods are a shield against foes. I have met my share of them, no doubt."
Continuing in a slightly louder voice, he says, "I am very close to Galharth, and the Ladies Mia and Niinaeth I have met before. However, Lir I know not, which may seem odd considering my place in the Order."
Smiling at the fair praise Henleg gives Lorien, Nioniel is much more at her ease now, smiling warmly up at the ranger. Pondering before she replies to knowing any of the mentioned elves, her eyes wander over the Rangers wardrobe and sparkle a tad mischievously: "I, for one, know Galharth ... I am a seamstress here in Lorien, and work with the master tailor." She pauses and chuckles, "And he will be /interested/ in knowing the state of your clothing, I think."
Taking hold of her skirt, she begins walking toward the high green wall and smiles once more at Henleg - throwing a knowing grin in Thorhurs direction as well while passing him, "In fact, I should be finding him now. I ought to tell him what a job hell have in hand to make new our guests wardrobe. You may enter the land of Lorien tattered, but we would never allow you to leave so!" She calls out merrily with a wave of her hand and ducks through a gap in the leafy wall, vanishing from sight.
"Of Lir I have had no news for quite some time... I hope naught is ill with him", Henleg replies. As the elleth replies, he gives her a wide smile. "Let the master tailor know I am here... and that indeed I'm in dire need of his assistance. The Road is a poor place to keep clothes clean and whole", he says with a chuckle. To Thorhur he tuns again. "With your permission, sire, I shall leave now, for indeed I am weary after much travel and toil to reach Lorien. But I look forward to meeting you again, and perhaps share news of lands near and far of these woods. namarie!", he calls, and then makes his way back the way he came.
"Good day," Thorhur says with a wide smile, his eyes glistening, and with a grin he walks back into the shadows of the trees.
