(Archive) The Fellowship of the Sword 26 - Into Lothlorien

You stand aside an energetic river, surrounded on all sides by the towering boughs of a winter forest of Mallorns. A clear path runs alongside the river's
embankment here northwards you can see it leading into a well-protected alcove
beneath the forest canopy, while southwards the forest seems to begin thinning.

Across the river (which appears impassable here), the forest extends both upstream and downstream as far as you can see. Surrounded as you are, you have the distinct sensation that you are being watched.

[Eldin] A shadow walking under cover of the dark of midnight on a cloudy, cold Winter night, suddenly among you appear a group of the First Born, once again led by Eldin, Diplomat of Lothlorien. His face is as dark as the night, uncharacteristic for him, as if something troubles him. At his sides, six members of the Order of the Galadhrim, armed now with longsword that gleam in the light of lanterns and campfires.At the very edge of the camp, the Guards stop, fanning out to the left and right, allowing passage only along the single path that disappears to the northwest. Eldin, continuing into the camp, halts before Amano, the Blue Squire with whom he had dealt on previous encounters. "Squire, my Lord grows impatient. He has commanded that I bring to Caras Galadon those among you who are prepared to make the journey. Those who are left behind will be escorted by other than myself."

[Amano] The approach of the First-born, six of whom girt with swords, is enough to rivet Amano's gaze thither. Tall and still he stands, himself without sword-belt nor knife, clad in the ebon swirl of the cloak from Minas Tirith Eldin's approach, he acknowledges by inclining his brow.

Swift in replying to the Elf, though perhaps caught off guard, is the youthful Isilrim, his eyes glittering faintly in the half-light of the fire. "Then it shall be," he murmurs, thoughtfully, "as you ask, emissary of the Lord Celeborn. Not a few stand ready to go with you. Though in compliance with the restrictions set forth and fairly.." he tilts his gaze at those other squires who may be within hearing - "Shall ye take possession of the weapons which we have divested ourselves of?"

And another approaches, bearing with him many a sword and dagger, of those men who have readily complied.

[Rowaen] A blink is made, as Rowaen steps into the encampment from the southern edge, another hour poorer, guard-duty being his reason of slight absence. The blue eyes stand somewhat weary, not bearing the so common calmness... How the squire eyes the arrived First Born with interest now, brow raised in slight wondering. For what reasons would they once more come here, to find themselves amongst the Second Born, the very same that betrayed them so, years and years ago...Light and swift is his tread, the Blue Squire finding his way silently between the tents. No words he speaks, only some nods are given, sometimes a brow raised in apparent displeasement, for again some find themselves in dream, rather then wake. And so Rowaen comes near to the tent he dwells in, flap raised, yet never has the keen awareness in his eyes, left the sighting of the First Born, speaking with his friend.

Mathollor moves through the camp to stand with the assembled guardsmen that are staying behind. He wears his sword quiet openly and stands with his arms crossed across his chest "Good journey to you my friends, go in health and return in health."

[Rowaen]And there the young Nimothan finally eases, gaze free of the First Born and his fellow Blue Squire Amano, the eyes fall silent upon the tent before him, his figure for a moment disappearing within.

[Rowaen] There the flap rises, the person of Rowaen once more to be seen. Yet plain seems his figure, stripped away of all weaponry, only the blue and white, common to one being a Blue Squire of Dol Amroth, he still wears. His calm and sense he seems refound, for how he eyes the camp lightly, to fall silent upon the gathered near Amano. There the lad steps free from his tent, a light step taking him near Amano, a firm nod given to his person. Respect is reflected in the sullen blue of the youth, as he now faces Eldin fully, a greeting leaving his lips.

"Good eve, my Lord..." A hand is placed before his chest, the bow made, with elegance. Yet more Rowaen speaks, now speaking to his friend. "I, of course, stand ready to go within." lips curve upwards now, forming a faint smile, "Pray, Dania would not forgive me for not doing so. Hah, already can I see her astonishment, if ever to hear I indeed found myself within the dream flower... Tis an honor indeed, one for which honor will be given in return..." Perhaps speaking of the one being his love, causes the change of mood. For where has
gone the calm and cold...? Instead now a brow is furrowed, a heavy glance directed outwards. Silently Rowaen takes stand amongst the other men, ready to enter the realm of elven... and there he remains.

[Calriel] Even when the tides of the seasons turn so close to winter, no leaf has sailed the timeless air to cover the field of the earth in Lothlorien. Aha! The star-sky is over the wood, letting its rays light the
outspread leaves of the Mellyrn and Oak and other various trees that call this dream-like realm their home. The breeze, heated by the reflection of the vibrant colors from the trees, drifts lazily this way and that.

The towering boughs of the Forest of Lothlorien stand quietly over the river, and the encampment of the men of Gondor. Dully the silver and steel glints in the light of the moon, under the watchful eyes of the Galadhrim. In grey the guards are dressed, and they stand silent, and their cloaks blend so well with
the surroundings that it makes one wonder how many more there are of them, hidden somewhere within the wildgrowth.

Then, as suddenly as the night, two sunrises ago, a small Elven lass steps into the area. This time, she is not dressed as a soldier, but rather as a princess of the days of old. Perhaps, yea, perhaps some of those of the blood of Numenor can only faintly resemble the fairness of the elven race. Keen are her eyes, crowned by many winters and summers, tainted with memories both glad and sorrowful.

Her radiant forest-green dress fits her slim figure perfectly. The sleeves fall a little over her tiny pale hands. On the ends of her sleeves are various elven patterns, embroidered in gold on a ruby background. But on her breasts is embroidered a symbol of old, in a material that seems like silver hairs. It shines clearly in the light of the moon and stars, the three-trunked beech tree Hirilorn. From her belt fall various thin sashes with a regular interval and about her noble brow, the maiden wears a light diadem of Ithilmar in which is set a single radiant gem. She looks at Eldin and lays her petite hand on his shoulder. In the tongue common to the Elves she speaks "I will take it from here, friend."

Her gaze dwells on those of the Second Born... She speaks now in their own language, surprisingly fluent and accurate, yet tainted by the beauty of the elven speech. She introduces herself, "My name is Calriel, I am the Herald of the Lord of the Golden Wood: Celeborn of Doriath! Heed these words: he has given you leave to enter the forest of Lorien and has ordered refreshments for each of you! Yet he will not tolerate any abuse of his hospitality..." the words of Calriel carry far, for they are spoken with strength - yet not so that it jars the ears.

[Amano] Amusement, as clear as the light in his sea-grey eyes, glimmers in Amano's gaze, ere he turns, to the Nimothan. "Honour it is, my friend. Yea, for few mortals have walked within, even crossed yonder river, and returned, so it is said. Among them account Elf-friends, such as the Lords Girithlin and Isilrim one must be thankful that passage into the Wood has been granted, for it is a truly rare thing, and accorded, surely, to the noblest of heart. And thinkest thou, Rowaen, that we shall walk, even unto the same paths that they must have trod, to see with our own eyes what they saw. It shall be a tale told and retold long hereafter... and I deem, Dania would do no less than be proud, if you returned, and with your own speech recounted the many things we have, and will see, on this quest. Not the least, of our journey into this land."

Yet, he halts his speech, for now one comes among the Elves, whom he had seen before and her speech renders him silent, as intent upon her words, he speaks none of his own. Many now stir, those especially who have set their resolve to go where their Lords will and it is to the forest of mallyrn now that their steps will be bent, parting ways with those of the fellowship who remain hither.

[Calriel] The fair elven lass looks up to Amano - small even to the count of men. She says "Then, I assume you are ready to go. As soon as we will cross the river and arrive at the Naith of Lorien, you will be asked to turn over your weapons to the patrol leader. You will receive them as soon as you will cross the naith again. It is not our policy to accept strangers, so indeed, Squire, your words are true."

"But we must stop speaking now. Your Company should not stay here. We have held patrols along the rivers ever since a large group of orcs have crossed Northwards towards the mines of Moria." The elven lass inclines her hand towards the tall mountains towards the west, that scathe upwards towards the horizon of the world, which pinnacles to rival the heavens. "Wolves are wailing at the borders of the Forest. Danger cannot be far away. Verily we must not await the coming of morning."

The moon glinted dully through the leaves. The wind somehow was less sharp. In the faint distance the raw laughing and the tread of many feet on the earth below could be heard. Metal rang. The small lass quickly looks about the camp. But then, slowly, the sounds fainted and appeared to move southwards. Calriel,
alerted, hissed "Yrch!"

Many of the guards were already gone. There were no more sounds. Even the leaves were quiet and the river rushed silently.

[Amano] Heeding now the words of the Elf-Herald, those who had chosen to go first gather into an orderly group of men, among the foremost the Blue-Squire, their movements wary and as silent as is possible for those without elven woodcraft two columns of tall men of Gondor, not a few turning their glance toward the jarring tramp of orcish feet. No more unlovely sound could there be, even here upon the borders of the Wood, and not a few might wish for trusty steel. Yet gone now are the Guards, and the peril, though close, has passed south.

Hushed now, the glint of steel in his gaze, countenance shadowed and hidden to mortal sight, but not the keen eyes of the Elves, the youth steps forward, gesturing wordlessly for Calriel to lead.. and the part of the company that have readied themselves to cross the river waits, the tension in the air nearly palpable.

[Calriel] The elven lass nods to the Squire and then shouts in the language of the Green Elves " - Only a short while later, a ladder was led down in the shadows it was made of rope, silvergrey and gleaming in the dark, and even though it looked rather thin, it appeared to hold people well as the lass climbed quickly upwards. 'Come quickly', she whispered, gesturing for the Gondorians to follow her.

Naith of Lorien

You stand riverside, in Dwimordene, amidst the grey bowls of the mallyrn and
the conceiling underbrush on the eastern banks of the river Celebrant. It is
here in these golden woods where the rolling foothills of the Misties come to
an end and in the Elven realm of Lothlorien, often called Dwimordene or
Dreamland by men, begins. It's Winter, and the mallyrn's golden leaves fill
their boughs as they sleep the winter away. Presently, the early morning sun
filters down through the trees, creating a patchword of sunshine and shady

areas.

Obvious exits:

UpStream leads to Upper Riverside.

DownStream leads to Harbor Pathway.

Northeast leads to Forest Path.

Across leads to Western Riverbank of the Upper Celebrant.

[Calriel] The first rays of sunshine from the east herald the coming of a new day. As the light became stronger and, filtered by the roof of golden leaves, touched the faces of the Gondorians and their elven guards, the everblue sky of heaved peaked between the branches. Then, the company reached a place where a rope bridge was made over the river Celebrant, and a group of elves was gathered at the opposite of the bridge. During the entire trip, not a sound had been heard of the yrch, yet it could be read from the chiseled,
almost sharp, faces of the elves, that they were in a state of high alert.

"And now, friends," said Calriel, when all had crossed the bridge "you are at the Naith of Lorien. We do not permit strangers to spy on the secrets of the Naith. Therefor but few have been here before you."

[Amano] And so even into the Naith, the men of Gondor came, into the fringes of Lothlorien, beneath the gilt leaves of the grey-barked mallyrn, mortal in this place where time seems to hold less sway than the rest of the lands between here and the southern Sea. Fair and dreamlike indeed Dwimordene might be, to many among them, but Amano, perhaps now held fast to duty instead of his own thoughts, bows to the Herald of the Lord Celeborn, his countenance reflecting the mien of the Elven guards, steely and rigidly calm, nothing outwardly belying his disquiet. "As agreed to.." here he gestures, and two among the men offer the Elves of the Order the accumulated weapons of all who had crossed the Celebrant - "As agreed to, here are our swords, Herald. From here, what was requested of us shall be held to from here, we trust upon you to lead us to where we are summoned by the Lord Arnafel, and with haste we shall follow as best we can."

[Calriel] The petite yet slender fingers of the Herald closed around the longswords of the Gondorians, one at a time. Though the swords were really large for her stature, her grip was one of a perfect combination apt, skill and agility. After she had turned the swords over to one of the guards who took them with care, Calriel turned over to another -white cloaked- elf. They spoke quietly in the elven tongue for a moment, though soon the fair eyes of the lass were upon the group again.

"The honoring of our agreement finds me well, Squire of Gondor!", declaimed Calriel. "Most of our guards are afield now trace down the group of yrch that passed last night. None of them will leave Lorien alive!" She folds her hands behind her back and continues, and her everlovely voice rings out again in the
tongue of the Second Born "And indeed I shall lead you to where your leaders were brought two days and two night ago! You cannot go back now - now that you have come this far, you will be led before the Lord and Lady. But before we leave, I have requested some food be brought here. You must be hungry!"

The lady's words are still echoing doughty as two elves appear from the forest, both carrying a basket. Large, fair pieces of fruit, dried and fresh, as well as bread and water in cans is quickly set in front of the group of men.

[Eldin] Striding through the chill morning air, his breath a cloud streaming behind him, Eldin appears again from among the trees, a small smile playing across his lips. Shaking his head, amused as if at some private joke, the diplomat nods a greeting again to the strangers to the Naith, faces among them he had not yet seen.

Spotting Calriel among the assemblage, he approaches the Herald, chuckling as he walks. His comments, directed to Calriel, but meant for all ears, reflect this inner humor. "It seems that, after some consternation, mellon, we have the ... approval of the Order to escort our guests to the city. Seems that Lord
Celeborn's directive had not reached all ears."

Still chuckling, he moves now to the Humans, sobering slightly before concluding, "If you are all ready, the journey is of some length, and time is a luxury we have little of. Shall we proceed?"

Mathollor speaks quietly to a group of Dol Amroth guards who stand quickly and gather their possesions. They remain close together and obviously uneasy as they reach for reasurance to weapons that are no longer there.

[Amano] The tall Squire's expression, heretofore a stern one for the presence of the orcs beyond the river, now registers a faint current of surprise, though he seemed to have expected it. Fair is the smile that he offers in reply, even as his quiet words ring deep in the Westron tongue. "Yea, we shall go, even to before the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood, a respectful audience, to repay the courtesy which you so far have shown us, and the leave given by the Lord to enter." A murmur ripples along the lines of men, though they evince not reluctance or the superstitious fears that might shadow men of other lands, though quickly they fall silent, keen and bright-eyed. "As for the orcs... " distaste hues his voice at the mention of the goblins, "Staunch guard do you keep, Elves of Lothlorien I doubt that the foul creatures will tarry there again for long days after. I can only hope the rest of our journey shall not see us crossing paths with them again."

Many days of journeying in the wilds, have the men faced, in the harsh and unforgiving winter long ago had the fresher of the supplies been consumed, and only meat and dried food their provisions, as well as what they had gleaned hunting, though far from failing in health, strong as many are. At the sight of the fresh fruit, so rare in winter in lands beyond the leaguer of Lorien, the Blue-Squire's eyes widen, though his tone remains even, and he inclines his head in thanks. "No poor hosts are ye, folk of Lorien! Hearty are our thanks for the victuals, though it seems.." And he addresses Eldin, now, in replying, "If the journey needs be of much haste, perhaps we may take sup at the end of it? Though it shall be as you decide." He gestures to the food set before them. "We may bring this, if it is such that we must needs go forth now."

[Calriel] Bright now glimmer the hairs of gold of the short lass, as her eyes turn to meet those of Eldin. Already morning has lazily stretched its rosy rays across the distant horizon, gracing it with orange hues and crimson layers. Clouds, however, gather firmly on the west, a brewing tempest of storms and billowing thunder-claps. It suits well the image of the maid, for at times, a light seems to shine from within her, sharp as lightening storm behind clouds.

She replies to the diplomat " Very well then I shall leave them unto your care, Eldin! As word has it, refreshments and tents have been set out near the lawn, and Lord Celeborn shall see them tomorrow. I will meet you tomorrow in Caras Galadhon Aldarwen and myself have considered your request and have
reached a decision." She nods to the diplomat, her thin lips curling up slightly -- the traces of a warm regard reflected upon the fair bosom of her face. She says unto Amano 'Here our ways part, Squire! But they will cross in the city of Caras Galadhon.' She adds, 'I will ride out to announce your arrival!'

[Eldin] Sobering completely now, Eldin proceeds toward the forest path, immediately joined by members of the Order, now unarmed as is the custom of the Wood. Turning back, he announces, "Be mindful of your surroundings, mellyn, and of the restrictions placed upon you by those surroundings. Though you have been
shown far greater courtesy than any others of the Second Born, take care to receive this gift in the spirit in which it is offered."

The guards thereupon take flanking positions around the group, one advancing in the vanguard with Eldin, as they enter the forest proper.

Calriel disappears into the trees!
Calriel has left.

[Amano] Swift to follow are those of Gondor, though keeping with the pace set by the van laden now with the food gifted upon them by the Herald they pass within, their glances about them wordless. Where shimmering elven-grey cloaks the folk of Lothlorien, blue and white, and many colors for those of Dol Amroth, and sable with the White Tree for those of Minas Tirith, mark the men, though silent as they are their journey is marked by watchful eyes.

Eldin turns towards the north-eastern path and disappears between the trees.
Eldin has left.
Mathollor turns towards the north-eastern path and disappears between the trees.
Mathollor has left.
Foronwe turns towards the north-eastern path and disappears between the trees.
Foronwe has left.

You follow the pathway eastward for a while...

(Here the fellowship follows Eldin deep into Lorien, and into Caras Galadon itself.)

Flat Lawn
This long flat lawn stretches far in all directions, ringed by tall Mallorn trees, though the view of the sky is unfettered from this point. Stones with inset torches line the arboreal boundary of the lawn, and a strange low-hanging canopy of some dark greyish-silver material hangs suspended from the trees directly to the east. Low well-carved stone benches lay in the grass around this area, and you wonder for a moment how or who carted them up the long stairs and hills of Caras Galadon.
Obvious exits:
East leads to Galadhrim Training Facilities--Foyer.
West leads to Lawn.

[Eldin] Dismissing the Guards, a sour look on his face, Eldin points to a sheltered grove at the north edge of the expansive lawn. "There are provisions for you there, where others of your Fellowship have already arrived."

His face softening with the departure of the Guards, he adds, "Feel free to roam the confines of the Great Lawn, though I advise against wandering too far to the east." Pointing in that direction, he chuckles, "There are many who are new to the Order there, and some may not have complete control of their ... enthusiasm."