Elendor

Dining at Rivendell

Frarin, Ovor, and Thari meet in the dining hall of Rivendell. Among other things, they discuss Thari's shorn beard and good dwarven ale. But is there something else, a secret, that Thari harbors?
Sort Date: no date set
Location: Dining Hall, Rivendell
Game Date: Day 28 of March 3043
field_date_rl: Feb 09
IC Time: Early afternoon
Weather: Clear
Description: The mid-day sky above the cliffs is crystal clear. The Misty Mountains are visible in the east. A haze seems to hang around them.

Dining Hall
This is a high hall polished with laughter and song and the aroma of lingering feasts. Two flights of amber pillars run down its length on either side supporting an open gallery, and their lucent reflections are like spears of gold upon the walls of white cloud marble. They glimmer in the lanthorn light of many chandeliers branching down from the vaulted ceiling. Beneath this constellation of lamps in the very centre of the wide floor is a large oval table, arrayed with silver dishes, and ringed by other tables that become progressively smaller as they ripple outwards like leaves upon a lake.

Watered silk tapestries are hung between the pillars to create shimmering grottoes for those seeking a more secluded dining space. They stir at the slightest caress of air, a whisper of fabric should the doors to the kitchen swing open. On either side of those doors are stairs that gyre up to the gallery, carpeted in deepest blue and scattered with comfortable chairs and reclining couches. At each corner of the gallery a statue beckons in graceful silence with basins of food and drink that are always replenished.
Contents:
Ovor
Thari
Buffet
Obvious exits:
 Kitchen leads to Kitchen.
 Hallway leads to First Floor North Hall.


Sulriel walks in from the hallway.
Sulriel has arrived.

[Frarin] The approach of spring seems splendidly heralded by the clear afternoon outside the House of Elrond and many of the valley's residents can be found out of doors this day, enjoying the hint of warmth in the air. But within the house there are many as well, not the least of all in the splendid dining hall of The Last Homely House. This chamber glimmers with all of the brilliance of the sky outside and, even lacking windows, the white of marble and sparkle of many silver dishes makes this place radiant with light.

Nor is this hall deserted. Indeed, it is full of activity as many elves glide to and fro, some bearing fresh dishes of food to the ever-present buffet, others helping themselves to a late lunch. One figure among them is not nearly so tall, nor so graceful in his walk, but he appears at ease in the bright chamber, even pausing now and again to exchange short words with an elf or two. The dwarf is clad in a deep red tunic and wanders casually about the room, his hands clasped behind his back. He holds a light yellow apple in one hand, but his attention is all about him, taking in the glittering silver dishes, the chandeliers, the long tapestries and the beckoning statues alike.

[Thari(#31038)] Another dwarf enters from the hallway, shorter than the first in both height and beard-length. The second dwarf pauses at the doorway, blinking at all of the glitter and light, lips pressing, almost as if bracing before striding toward the buffet. So blinded indeed perhaps that this dwarf's grey eyes do not seem to rest on the first dwarf in this.

The shorter dwarf serves mushrooms and quail onto a plate before turning, and there does see the other. Something seems to relax in Thari at finding this other. A half-smile is tucked into the beard as the merchant looks for a table.

[Frarin] The first dwarf stands before a particular tapestry for a time, seeming more interested in it than the others. After a moment, he turns away, taking a bite of his apple as he does so. As he brings his hands back together behind him, he seems to catch sight of the second dwarf to enter the dining hall. His expression changes ever so slightly, softening at the brows even if a smile is not forthcoming. He lingers near the tapestry a second longer before slowly wandering towards the buffet table and selecting a slice of fresh white bread spread with butter. He approaches his fellow dwarf and raises a hand in greeting. "Hail and well met, cousin. I had thought myself to be the only of our kin to enjoy the fare of the elves this afternoon."

[Thari(#31038)] The second dwarf has found a table unoccupied and the plate is set there just as the first approaches. "Hail!" A deep bow is given, the sad shorn beard-- coming just low enough to cover the throat-- not swinging at all. "I don't believe we've been introduced." The dwarf continues, arising. "I am Thari..." A sidelong glance is given to an elf nearby, "... Balur is my daughter. I am at your service and your family's.”

[Frarin] "I am Frarin son of Forli, at your service," says the first dwarf, bowing low in return to Thari's own gesture. "May I?" he asks, indicating a second seat at Thari's table, which he pulls himself onto without waiting for a reply. He sets his plate of bread and his half eaten apple before him. "I have seen you about, kin of Balur," he says, with hardly a change in his tone, "though I regret our not having properly met before now. Your bravery during our passage to this valley is well known.

[Thari(#31038)] "It is?" Thari repeats, surprise in tone. Dark brows lift, then drop again. The shorter dwarf is half-smiling while settling into a seat, face darkening. "Did you see that big bastard with the red cloak? Hope his own kind have eaten his entrails-- or perhaps not, for I'm hoping more he has my beard on his belt--" The deep voice hitches, "So's I can take it back." The chin juts out, beardlet bristling.

[Ovor(#20753)]   The two Dwarves are soon three. Heavy bootfalls and grumblings announce the arrival of a third Dwarf into the dining hall, along with the 'clink' of metal on metal. The third Dwarf, none other than the Thane Ovor, pauses a moment after entering, eyes darting back and forth between the various foods. The 'clink' seems to be coming from the iron-gloved fingers of the Thane tapping on an empty flask.

         If he sees the other two Dwarves, he does not yet give a sign. Rather, he moves to get food after slipping the flask under his belt.

[Frarin] "Indeed," nods Frarin, an unusually animated look of grim determination befalling his features, matching Thari's own. "Though like as not he is dead already. Those creatures are not kind to one another, he is as likely dead by one of his comrade's hands as one of our own. But he was a big fellow, a captain perhaps, so he may yet live for your revenge. But these brutes of the mountains know little of the strength of the dwarves if they think that they can injure us in this way. My cousin lost his beard, at the High Pass in fact, some years ago. His pride suffered perhaps, but he is the stronger for it.

The silver merchant seems to recover himself and shakes his head, the grimness fading as quickly as it had come, as if the dwarf were unaccustomed to easily showing emotion. "Forgive me, talk of that accursed place does tend towards high emotions. But their fortress is no more, for the time at least, so let us talk of more cheerful things. What have you thought of our stay in this valley of the elves?"

Frarin glances up as the clip of heavy boots upon the marble floor breaks the soft footsteps of the elves in the chamber, but, though he sights the Thane Zinbar, he makes no greeting.

Thari's grey eyes glance aside at Ovor as he enters, and follows him as she speaks to Frarin. "Who was this?" she asks in a hushed voice. "Your cousin who lost his beard? And--" the voice lowers even further. Thari looks back to Frarin's face intently. "-- how long did it take for the beard to grow back?"

[Frarin] A smile forms beneath Frarin's thick beard, warm if small and clearly meant to comfort. "Fear not, cousin, it is now nearly thirteen years since that time. His beard now reaches nearly to his belt. It was quick to grow to the chest once again, though slower beneath that point. His name is Burdol Greylock, son of Belndor. Indeed, he lost also his left ear at the same battle and soon came to realise that to be the greater loss."

[Thari(#31038)] "Mmm, how long to the chest? That's the part that troubles me the most." Thari again looks around furtively before leaning forward and murmering. "It's not entirely proper to not have a beard over the chest in these foreign parts, if you catch my meaning.

She sniffs and leans back, just in time to catch Ovor's bow. A smile is given to the Thane, along with a seated bow. She waves toward the table in an invitation.

[Frarin] "A year, I believe," says Frarin, turning his gaze upward as if in thought. "Yes, a year it was before his beard reached his chest again." He lowers his head as Thari's voice sinks to a murmur and he nods silently. "I take your meaning, cousin, but worry not. Soon we depart the elves, then we shall be only among our kin until our return to Erebor. There you need not bother with prying eyes."

Nodding to Ovor, Frarin echoes Thari's invitational gesture. "Hail, Thane. Will you join us?"

[Ovor(#20753)]   With both the waved invitation and the spoken one by Frarin, the Thane smiles briefly before making his way to the table. Sitting somewhat heavily, he sets his plate of food on the table, digging under his robe a moment before pulling another flask from it. Thumbing the top off, he sniffs it a moment before shrugging slightly. "Cousins. And how are you both this day?"

[Thari(#31038)] "These elves act as if--" Thari suddenly masks her voice with a fit of deep coughing as an elf walks by. "Well! Yes!" she says in a blustery voice. "I fare well, about all packed myself. Making do with elven wine, are you?" she asks of Ovor.

[Frarin] "I am well, many thanks," says Frarin. He straightens in his seat and makes a half bow to the Thane, sparing himself the awkwardness of climbing down from the over-large chair. "Frarin son of Forli, you servant," he says before turning his attention to the plate of buttered bread before him. He tears away a small piece as Thari addresses Ovor.

[Ovor(#20753)]   The Thane grins, shaking his head slightly. "No. This is a bit of my private travel stock. Keeneye's Mountain Ale, I'm afraid, but it does well." A slight shrug before he looks to Frarin, nodding his head slightly. "Well met, son of Forli." After taking a swig from the flask, he glances at the two of them. "Would either of you like to try some?"

         After the elf walks by, the Thane chuckles briefly. "They act as if what?"

Thari toys with her mushrooms with a fork and murmurs. "These elves have long ears, but, you know, they act as if a dwarf hasn't a right to a bit of privacy." Her voice lowers even further, and her whispers become agitated hissings. "The daft beast cut all of my beard out but one little strand and it was murder to get some time alone with a pair of scissors or a knife! 'What's a dwarf to be doing with a knife?'" she mocks in a whisper, waving her fork about, "I don't know, ye daft elf, perhaps I'll be CUTTING SOMETHING!" She rolls her eyes and drops her fork again with a sigh. "Aye, m'lord, I think I'd like a taste of your ale, that's right kind of you."

[Frarin] "Oh aye," nods Frarin solemnly, though Thari's imitation of the elves seems mildly to amuse him. "I have lodged at our camp during our time here. I prefer the comfort of my own tent. But every other day it seems some helpful young lad or lass is inquiring why I did not employ the guestrooms here at the house. What with all the residents of this valley living under roof, however, can you be surprised that they lack the same sense of privacy as we dwarves? No where to expand to, not as at Erebor leastwise." He nods gratefully at Ovor and selects a small silver beaker from among several gathered at the centre of the table. "That would most appreciated, Thane. It is long since I have tasted of any draught from under the mountain."

[Ovor(#20753)]   At the imitation, the Thane laughs, shaking his head slightly before nodding. "You have a point, son of Forli. Such a situation breeds a lack of privacy. You would think, though, that they would know we Dwarves like our privacy." Ovor himself takes a similar beaker, filling it and pushing it gently to Thari before filling Frarin's. "Giloin Keeneye is the Master Brewer of Zinbar, so I am confidant you will find the drink meeting any standards." A slight grin is flashed beneath the beard.

Thari's voice whispers again as she leans forward. "Well and I thought I was being clever and trickin' 'em by doin' it in their own house, for I stayed in a guestroom myself for a bit. I went to bed, waited and waited, and when the clock struck two in the morning I got up and turned on some lanterns and there--" her voice catches, "--did it. And--"

Thari suddenly leans back and accepts the beaker when another elf nears, smiling. She grins brightly back and sips the ale. "Delicious!" she says loudly. The elf walks away, so she leans forward again.

"So there I am, two in the morning, cutting at my own beautiful beard, and there's a knock at the door! A knock!" Her voice is rising a bit. "An elf coming to see if I was tucked in aright. I had to explain to the lass about bedtimes for sensible folk! And I was so surprised that I forgot to put on slippers, so there's an elf running around this Valley who knows what my own bare feet look like, which none of the lads even know." She raises her eyes to the heavens as if long-suffering.

[Frarin] Frarin's face is still as stone as Thari speaks, but a look of quiet horror gradually fills his eyes as she continues. His brows come slowly together and his frown deepens. "Durin's beard," he murmurs as she finishes, but the exclamation is more whispered to himself than a true exclamation. "And you did not lodge a complaint? Surely the master of this house must know something of our customs. For an elf to come upon a dwarf," he glances about them, "of any persuasion in such a capacity is unheard of. Does this elf know the grievance committed? Surely something, an oath of secrecy perhaps, should be sworn. It is not unreasonable."

[Ovor(#20753)]   The Thane shakes his head, taking a swig from his flask and eating some of his food before speaking once more. "If you are not comfortable directly lodging the complaint, your Thane is friends with these folk. Perhaps he could serve as a method to make them understand that privacy is paramount." A slight shrug, however before he glances to Frarin, a slight smile tugging at his lips. "An oath? I like how you think."

[Thari(#31038)] "This really is good ale. Thank ye, m'lord." Thari's cold mushrooms are finally eaten and washed down with another precious sip of dwarven ale. "So much terrible elven wine! Ahh."

"Well, I don't properly remember the name of the elf, I'm afraid, and they all look alike to me. And she didn't quite catch what I was doing-- I hid things before I opened the door."

[Frarin] The silver merchant seems to relax a little at Thari's next words. He sits back in the large chair, finishing off his bread and washing it down with a swig of the dwarven ale. "Well, that is some comfort, at the least. Still, it might be wise to speak with Thane Braldor about the incident. The elves of this valley have been very accomodating, and to adapt to their ways is something to be expected of us as guests, but there are some customs that must be respected. The Thane may be able to say something on your behalf."

he takes another draught of the ale, this time pausing to actually savour it. "Ah indeed, my lord, you speak true. Tis a fine draught. Of the hand of Giloin Keeneye, you say? Yes, I have had his ale before, some years ago. His talent has diminished none."

[Ovor(#20753)]   "Let us hope they are not good at distinguishing us either." The Thane quietly murmurs this before he nods. "Ay, I've yet to drink something made by Keeneye that was not good... but I would dearly prefer his Northern Stout." Ovor glances to Frarin once more, eyebrow arched slightly. "You have? Which of his fine brews did you try?"

[Thari(#31038)] "Mm, well, if you two both think I ought to say something to my Thane.." Thari chews on a bite of quail, then swallows. "Yes," she says decisively. "I'll speak to him." She falls silent, eating her now-cold food, and listens.

[Frarin] "Let me think," Frarin muses, rapping knuckles upon the table as if to wrack his memory. "Twas at my cousin's wedding, with all assortment of ales and other brews from Erebor and Emyn Engrin. I believe it was called Keeneye's Best, does that sound familiar? A splendid brew as both accompaniment to feasts and to be enjoyed alone. His Northern Stout I have not tasted, I believe, but perhaps I might upon our return to Erebor."

[Ovor(#20753)]   Ovor nods, finishing the food on his plate. "Ay, you should speak to your Thane. It will be for the better, I think." A few minutes of silence before he looks back to Frarin, nodding slightly. "Ay, Keeneye's Best. We serve it at high functions, when the Elders of Zinbar and I meet to discuss business. As to Northern Stout, perhaps I will invite you to join me at my table for a meal, and you will be able to try it."

[Thari(#31038)] "Never tasted Keeneye's Best myself, but like it. I'll be buyin' some when I get home, aye." Thari finishes the rest of the beaker with a thick gulp and a sigh. "Now whose wedding is this? Burdol's or another cousin?"

[Frarin] "I should be honoured, my lord," says Frarin, a hand upon his chest in a gesture of respect. "It was indeed Burdol's," he nods to Thari. "Do you know him? I did not mention before that he was wed."

[Ovor(#20753)]   Nodding, the Thane replaces the stop on the flask, slipping it back under his robe. "We will discuss more on it later, Forli's son. If you both would excuse me, I need to speak with some of my merchants, see how well they've done." A smile is flashed at the both of them before he stands from his seat his heavy steps soon take him out of the dining hall.

[Thari(#31038)] "Farewell then." Thari bows for Ovor, then lifts her head again to look at Frarin. "Oh, I've heard of Burdol's name. I think he was on a trip or two when I was younger, an apprentice. Who did he end up marrying?"

[Frarin] "Kelis daughter of Dari," Frarin replies, instinctively lowering his voice even at the mention of the name. "A healer, she is, of Bundazanul in fact." He downs the last of his ale and gently pushes his empty plate away from him. Struggling down from the elf-sized chair with an attempted grace, the silver merchant takes his still unfinished apple and clasps his hands behind him again. "And now I must take my leave also. I have already broken my fast and was only lingering in the hall for my own curiosity. Now I must attend to several things ere we depart this valley, there is much to do in preparation. But I trust that I shall see you both at the celebration that the elves hold in our honour and in honour of the battle? Until then, farewell!" And with that Frarin bows to his two fellows and departs the hall at an easy pace.

Players: Frarin, Thari, Ovor
Located in: Erebor