Celebration at Rivendell

Theatre of the Fountain

A large open area, roughly circular, this clearing is ringed by tall pines, thickly limbed with almost wall-like density. The lawn is snow covered, on the bowl-like hill which makes up the clearing on one side is a tall wooden structure, looking much like an outdoor stage or half-pavillion. There are torches burning brightly in sconces all about it to light the stage, and there are silken drapes which open and shut with performances hanging on rails above. On the hill opposite the stage, there are almost natural looking depressions in the ground, no doubt rows where people may sit to watch. Snow falls from above, the flakes falling softly, and there is silence from the woods about.

A white-pebble path runs down into the center of the bowl to greet a great fountain in the very bottom of the bowl-like open space, a stone basin carved with waves, fish, and ships, while the center which spouts water is a giant figure with a crown of clouds, and waves for raiment.

Contents:
Faerglin(#31281POVenA+c)
Elrohir
Awarthnur
Estelmor
Theatre - Festival Desc
Mirodhel
Mirinthel
Obvious exits:
�Behind leads to Vaire's Tapestries.
�Narrow trail leads to Terraces.


Elladan comes down the narrow trail.
Elladan has arrived.

Dulinien comes down the narrow trail.
Dulinien has arrived.

Arwen has arrived.

[Mirinthel(#30248)] Beyond the dense cover of tall pine trees, the wide, circular lawn of the Theatre of the Fountain is ringed with many flickering lanterns, glowing brightly through jewel-hued glass shades like living gems. Sheltering the path to the large clearing are three tall wooden arches carved in the likeness of young saplings from the branches of the these hang vivid silk tapestries of blue, green, and gold that billow with the movement of those to walk beneath them. This distinguished entry opens upon the middle of the bowl-like expanse where the great stone fountain reaches up from the ground, floating lanterns sparkling like stars at the feet of the figure to stand in the midst of the waters.

From the far edge of the fountain to beyond of the pavillion festooned in lavish silks, the crystalline laughter of a great many of Elrond's folk can be heard. Strains of fair music waft from the stage, where performances and dance are enjoyed by many. Surrounding the fountain are many long tables overflowing with a feast of grand proportions, attended by many eager stewards bearing silver carafes of fine wines and ales.

[Mirodhel(#24329)]�
Mirodhel sits in one of the seats of the theater and watches the ongoing performance on stage. The Elf holds on his hand an apple from the winter store that he bites into and slowly chews on as the dance goes on. Nodding at a particularly deft move, he looks just a bit impressed, though he doesn't show much as he chews.

[Estelmor(#30955)] Estelmor walks over to Mirodehl, carring a glass of wine in one hand and a scrool and pen in the other. He sits down." Amazing arnt they. I wish I could even do a single motion they did. So graceful and lovely."

Thari has arrived.

[Arwen(#30712)]
�
�Amongst the many coloured silks and fabrics an elleth clad in snowy white circulates slowly about the clusters and knots of people, dwarves. The raven-tressed elleth bearing a small glass which from time to time is raised to her lips.
�
�Elrond's daughter wears a simple circlet upon her brow its occasional twinkle in the laternlight put to shame by the sparkling grey eyes that rest beneath it. From time to time however the grey eyes of Arwen Undomiel cast about expectantly.

[Mirodhel(#24329)]�
Mirodhel glances over at this Elf who starts speaking in the middle of the peformance and he offers a slight nod before looking arounf further. He notices the newly arrived lady and what she is holding in her arms and smiles. "Undomiel comes ready for anything..."

[Elrohir(#13377)] Laughter and music filter through the trees ringing the theatre, reaching a pair making their way in relative solitude. Just beyond the reach of the circle of light, Elrohir pauses and turns to face his brother with a small smile of multi-layered emotion, melancholic as much as glad. "It is different."

[Dulinien(#30029)] Through the multitude of peoples comes another image of elven grace, her attire beautifully stitched with diphanous materials. Against the light of the lanterns, her fiery hair gleams atop small ringlets, matching those tempest-like eyes. For the most part, the young Dulinien decided to have a breather, sitting down demurely beside one elder elleth, nodding and smiling at her respectfully.

[Awarthnur(#24083)] Pressing gently through the crowd, a figure in robes woven of crimson and bronze threads calls out to familiar faces and greets each responding voice with a dazzling smile. Accompanying her is a tall ellon, the night to her searing sunrise, his ebon hair braided in plaits that drape freely down the front of his pale grey tunic. Extracting themselves from the mass of bodies, Awarthnur and her husband make their way to a vacant spot by the steps and recline there as they laugh at some private joke.

[Elladan(#27059)] "Is it different?" The reply comes as a question. Elrohir's likeness stands still as his brother does and he looks at the festivities. Then he moves on towards the group, urging the other to follow. "The joy at least is not less than all the times before," he adds amid a fine smile.

[Frarin] Of the dwarves there comes Frarin son of Forli, clad richly in a open tunic of dark green and a belt of plated silver. He walks alone, shirking the company of elves and dwarves alike as his dark eyes watch the stage. Small pieces of bright silver and gold adorn the lower fringes of his long beard, now unbraided and allowed to flow loosely. Hands clasped behind his back, the dwarf wanders casually, seeming to enjoy watching the assembly as much as the performance of the theatre.

[Faerglin(#31281)] A tall elf emerges from teh crowd, wearing a blue robe that sweeps lightly against the floor. Faerglin takes a seat and relaxes as he gazes at the theatre and the performance going on in it.

[Arwen(#30712)]
�
�Laughter as bright as the tumbling waters of the foutain rings out suddenly as the Lady Arwen finds mirth at something said by one the children. Her fingers dip into the waters to send tiny droplets towards the small child before she toussles the boys hair and moves on about her way.

[Elrohir(#13377)] Elladan's movement is mirrored by Elrohir's stepping out into the light, beneath the arched branches. "Not the joy, but it shall never cease to strike me, this contrast of the bleak, cold and despairing, and..." he gestures widely, "this." Then, suddenly, there is a smile on his face. "But perhaps this is a time to put such thoughts aside for more cheerful ones."

[Mirodhel(#24329)]�
Mirodhel rises as there is a lull in the dancing and the players of instruments gontinue on. Looking to one side to Estelmor and then the other to an elleth with whom he had spoken earlier, Mirodhel nods to them both and then slowly makes his way back towards the fountain. As he goes, he spies again Arwen and walks in her general direction.

[Thari(#31038)] The silks hanging from the arches billow, and outline a stout hand. Thari pushes gold silk aside and passes eyes over the crowd while entering. This dwarf is clad in a white, somehow pure despite the travels, which is encircled by a hammered golden belt. This is clearly seen because the thick beard is cropped abruptly short, just covering the throat. Moustache is braided and gold is in the braids behind, but nothing adorns this beard's short beard.

Elladan emerges nearby, and Thari's steel-colored gaze studies him.

[Dulinien(#30029)] The sharp amber eyes of the Poetess does catch a change in the crowd, something that gave them a more joyful appeal. "...surely, Lady, I dare not doubt your words at all..." the trailing words of the elleth are heard briefly, ending with the two of them laughing heartily amongst the festive sounds. Despite this, Dulinien's attraction is into this crowd, as if expecting someone.

[Arwen(#30712)]
�
�"Mirodhel, we have lured you from your forge!" teases Arwen as she spots the ancient Noldo and turns her steps towards him, "Truly a celebration this is then with your presence as well."
�
�The apperance of the pair beneath the branches has escaped the Heryn's notice for her back is towards them, for now.

[Mirodhel(#24329)]�
Mirodhel shakes his head. "Would it put a damper upon this event for you if I were to disillusion you and point out that this is partly my doing? I was with Mirinthel when your father commissioned her to see to these festivities and I offered my services." The Noldo does a little bow and then asks, "Your walking stick there is not needed unless you fear our guests will prove unruly?"

Awarthnur activity across the pavilion catches Awarthnur's eye, and she rises to meet the sight. Squeezing her husband's shoulder, she makes her way back into the fray as another ellon advances to take her place at his side and engage the smith in conversation.

Stepping lightly across the matted grass, the elleth's progress is soundless. As she draws alongside Thari, she clears her throat delicately so as not to startle the stately dwarf.

[Arwen(#30712)]
�
�"Dampen? Not a dousing in the fountain could achieve such for you have done a wonderful job, even if we are missing a certain pair of guests..."
�
�Smiling all the more Arwen's gaze drops to the staff in her hand, "Unruly? Nae unless you are planning on such? This is one of the performers props, I'm merely guarding it a while."

[Mirinthel(#30248)] Pale fingers trail languidly through the shimmering waters of the far side of the fountain, reflecting a smile both bright and serene. In a brief pause apart from the multitude of guests, the Gwethril Mirinthel shares a quiet word with two young stewards, who then set off in a flurry of activity. Moments later, the stewards begin to drift through the crowd with a graceful swiftness, trays of crystalline glasses preceding their eager smiles for elf and dwarf alike. Mirinthel watches this with an expression of satisfaction before skirting the gathering, only to disappear behind the pavillion. The silken curtains that hang behind the stage billow slightly, then fall still.

Thari is still holding back a bit of silk, still watching Elladan and his brother, when a throat is cleared nearby. The dwarf is startled out of reverie and drops the cloth, eyes going up to a lady-elf nearby.

"Good day," Thari offers to Awarthnur before bowing deeply. "I am at your service and your family's.

[Mirodhel(#24329)]�
Mirodhel shakes his head. "I am neither a guest nor am I unruly. As for props, I did not realize you were going to grace us with a song and a dance?! How exciting!" The Elf's hand finds its way to Arwen's back as he pushes her in the direction of the stage while calling aloud, "Friends of Elrond, our host's daughter will sing for us!"

[Awarthnur(#24083)] "Well met, Master Dwarf," Awarthnur smiles, dipping into a curtsey even as she fixes bright, azure eyes on the face of the mountain dweller. "What do you say to this?" she inquires, her hand lazily pushing aside air as she gestures to the gathered elves and dwarves and the feast set up in their midst. "Does it do any justice to your own feasts, or will this be only another tale for you to take back to your kin, to have a laugh at the strange waves of Elrond's folk?"

As Mirodhel's voice echoes across the pavilion, Awarthnur raises her head and narrows her eyes against the lights.

[Dulinien(#30029)] Dulinien merely heard little of the elleth's words before grabbing a glass of wine from a nearby steward, sipping at it daintily. "Tell me then...when is your daughter to be expecting her first child? I hear th-" As she hears the loud calling, she looks immediately to the source, a soft smile lifting her lips.

[Arwen(#30712)]
�
�Arwen shakes her head, "Later perhaps, I am missing my father Mirodhel and he helped me with the song."

[Frarin] Several among the gathering seem known to the dwarf Frarin, for he bows now and again to both elf and dwarf, exchanging short words with some and merely nodding to others. Of a sudden a steward is at the dwarf's side, but so graceful is the approach that Frarin seems more amused than startled. A smile tugs at his mouth as he gratefully accepts one of the proferred glasses. Raising it to his lips, he turns as Mirodhel's voice rises over the assembly, looking expetantly towards the stage.

[Faerglin(#31281)] Faerglin looks dissapointedly at Arwen. "Surely you could spare us a little song?"

[Elladan(#27059)] And it is now that Elladan arrives at the crowd. Quiet he is, expectant to hear his sister's song. "A job well done," he remarks to Mirodhel and he lowers his head amid acknoledgment. "It seems though that this performance was not planned before?" Mirth is now visible on his fine face as he beholds the Evenstar. "Sister, do sing for us, will you," he asks her.

[Mirodhel(#24329)]�
Mirodhel smiles and shakes his head. "If she is waiting for her father to come, we will not spoil whatever is to come." He turns to Elladan and nods. "We will wait. Perhaps you would care to sing for us, Herion?"

[Arwen(#30712)]
�
�Arwen's face lights up at the arrival of her brother and in a single girlish movement she grins and places a fond kiss upon his cheek in greeting, "I thought you were going to be late!"
�
�"I will have something to sing later of course! But I will listen first, what about you Mirodhel have you brought any songs with you?"

Thari smiles for Awarthnur, white teeth parting the beard. "Ah! The difference is in the air. Rarely do we dwarves have skies above in our feasts, unless the stars are set as diamonds in the ceilings! It does not compare, dear lady, in the sense that one does not compare apples to roast beef, but it is still a fine feast you give to us, and I thank you." The dwarf's proud head bows again.

[Elrohir(#13377)] "The comparison might not be so favourable." Elrohir suggests, a mirthful twinkle in his eye as he appears at his brother's shoulder, "I fear Elladan has not had much opportunity for rehearsing the more pleasing notes of late."

Awarthnur nods approvingly. "I should like to see one of your feasts some day, Thari. I imagine they must be a sight to behold."

Awarthnur has all the while kept Arwen and her rapidly growing entourage at the edge of her vision. Turning more fully to look upon the lady and those who would beseech her to sing, she smiles wryly and laughs under her breath. "Master Thari," she continues, catching the dwarf's eye again and winking almost imperceptibly. "Will you accompany me in paying respects to the Lady of the Valley? I know she will wish to see you, and it looks as though she could the distraction."

[Mirinthel(#30248)] Even amidst talk of the Evenstar's song, the music of the elves momentarily swells with a flourish, only to descend like a falling tide as Mirinthel sweeps aside the silken curtains to ascend the stage with a proud and graceful stride. The throng of dancers parts before the Ambassador, welcoming her to the forefront of the stage with the raising of glasses.

A bright smile upon her own ageless face, the Noldo's voice chimes like a silver bell over the joyful murmurs of the crowds. "Friends new and old... I thank you for your company on so fair an occasion!" In the wake of her words rises a passing tide of cheers and applause. Mirinthel's eyes flicker over the crowd as she raises her glass high, a gesture which many upon the stage behind her repeat expectantly.

[Mirodhel(#24329)]�
Mirodhel looks at the newly arrived Elrohir and shrugs. "Singing under the stars when alone in the wilderness is a time-honored activity." The Noldo quirks an eyebrow and then glances back at Arwen. "Of course, more than a few actually." He turns then to walk to the stage.

[Awarthnur(#24083)] "Ah!" Awarthnur exclaims, and snatching a full glass from the tray of a passing server she mimics the toast.

Thari turns to try to discover what it is Awwarthnur watches, but comprehension fails as the tall elves block the short dwarf's sight. "I'll go with you, yes. I haven't seen the Lady for some time-- and you would be welcome at our Halls!"

Thari, too, snatches up a glass upon hearing of the toast, and lifts it, listening.

Faerglin picks up a glass and raises it high in the air, almost spilling a drop on himself. "Hear hear!" he exclaims.

[Arwen(#30712)]
�
�Arwen's silvery gaze averts towards the stage and her own glass raises in readiness.

Frarin's face brightens with recognition at Mirinthel's taking of the stage and with a "Well said!" he raises his glass to the toast.

[Elrohir(#13377)] "So is jesting." Elrohir replies simply, before turning to the stage with an expression of mingled curiousity and politeness.

[<#24329>]
Mirodhel climbs up onto the stage and whispers in Mirinthel's ear as if to remind her of something, "... must ... ... ...?"

[Awarthnur(#24083)] Catching Thari's reply, Awarthnur's face brightens and the smile she bestows on the dwarf is brilliant. Nodding across the pavilion, she begins to make her way towards Arwen and her admirers, pressing a long, white finger to her lips as she does so to encourage a quiet passage.

Thari can't help but release a small laugh, quiet indeed by dwarvish standards, though who can say what the elves think of it? The short merchant follows after Awarthnur in her approach of Arwen.

[Mirinthel(#30248)] With her goblet still held high in one hand, Mirinthel beckons to Mirodhel with the other, the timbre of her mid-alto reaching easily above the crowd. "It is at the Herdir's fortune and hospitality that we gather here, and it is indeed a fond company that brings so many of his folk together upon the birth of a new spring." This she says with a bright smile, and the subtlest nod towards Elrond's daughter and sons, the latter's arrival not unnoticed even in the midst of so large a gathering. "And to the folk of Dain I raise my glass as well, for your friendship spent over the course of many months now, and years beyond. May you walk the paths of the vale again on occasions not far removed, and matched in merriness to this day!" At this, the Ambassador bends a bright smile to Frarin in particular before lifting her glass to her lips.

As the many dancers behind her on the stage do the same, Mirinthel offers a quiet aside to the Gweithir as he arrives at her side. "Toast whatever you wish, Gweithir! I should think you have as much an occasion to do so as any."


Sulriel comes down the narrow trail.
Sulriel has arrived.

Fuimeth has arrived.

[<#24329>]
Mirodhel listens to Mirinthel's fine words and he nods along with the Elf-woman as she speaks. As their conclusion, he smiles in agreement and then notes with some amusement, "... words ... ... .... ... I ... to ... them ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... day, ... doubt ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... of yours." He shrugs and then calls out, ''A dance in honor of the Naugrim! Players play!''

The merchant Frarin gladly raises his glass at Mirinthel's words. When she speaks of his own kin, he places a hand upon his chest and bows low in return to her smile, then sips from his glass.

[Thari(#31038)] "To the dwarves and the elves!" calls out the deep voice of Thari, before a sip is taken of the wine.

[Arwen(#30712)]
�
�"To this day," murmurs the Evenstar as her own glass lowers and she takes a sip.
�
�Catching sight of her Silivriel Arwen smiles all the more widely and extends an elegant hand in greeting, though her gaze remains politely on the stage at the commencement of the dance."

[Fuimeth(#1912)] Scarce footfalls heral the late arrival. Slow, blinking eyes look over the mass of elves assembled for such a fesitivity, and Fuimeth moistens his lips, waiting until he can hear the clinking of goblets to walk into the theatre more profoundly, finding his way to a decanter of wine and pouring some for himself, and taking a good sized sip from it, perhaps to mask that he has not been here the whole time. Sighing softly, the Magor moves to the outer ring of quendi. where it isn't as thickly populated.

[Mirinthel(#30248)] At Mirodhel's bidding, the many elven musicians gladly resume their music, which again swells from the bowl of the theatre to the sky above the tops of the trees. The dancers sweep into motion once more with the strains of laughter.

Awarthnur moves fluidly across the floor to the Evenstar's side in a set of motions that appear almost as a dance themselves. Bowing, she raises lively eyes to her Lady and presses her hand gently with her own. "My lady!" she exclaims, speaking loudly enough so as to be heard over the music and the pounding of the dancers' feet upon the stage. "You honor us with your presence. A jewel to outshine the brightest star! How can we stand next to you without being humbled?"

Faerglin takes a sip from his cup, and saunters up to Fuimeth. "Well met!" he declares. "How are you?"

Thari, who has been following Awarthnur, pauses and takes looks slowly and incredulously upward at the elf at this effusive praise.

[Fuimeth(#1912)] Eyes moving from his goblet to the Historian as he so elegantly 'saunters' towards him, Fuimeth looks up, the young Edhel working a smile upon his lips. "Mae Govannen." He says softly with a nod to accent his greeting as he sips from his wine again, his eyes rolling across the theatre, halting for the briefest of moments upon the Evenstar, before looking back to Faerglin. "Quite the party no?"

[Sulriel(#24654)]
Another elleth comes, even later than Fuimeth. Sulriel enters, dressed simply, smiling faintly, but distantly, as if her mind is somewhere else. She gatheres her blue skirts about her and enters the theatre, looking about her quietly.

Amloth comes down the narrow trail.
Amloth has arrived.

[Mirodhel(#24329)]�
Mirodhel looks to Mirinthel as the dancing resumes. "You have brought all your usual acumen in bringing together this magnificent festival. Well done. May I escort you down to the tables to sample some of the food?"

Faerglin grins. "Indeed it is! We are all holding our breaths until Arwen's father arrives so that she can sing. That is, if her illustrious father arrives. Have you tried any of this excellent wine?" Faerglin offers a cup to Fuimeth.

[Arwen(#30712)]
�
�Smiling softly Arwen laughs and shakes her head, "Please do not flatter Elrohir so! His head is quite inflated enough after chasing away those orc from the fort I hear!"
�
�"Thari," the dark-haired elleth greets with a dip of her head before setting aside her now empty glass upon a passing tray, "Are you looking forward to seeing your own halls once more?"

Awarthnur coughs lightly, and folds her arms at her chest. Rather than respond, she glances down to Thari and allows him space to speak.

[Fuimeth(#1912)] Holding his own goblet up to show Faerglin that he indeed has tried the wine, The Magor's eyes again look about. "Forgive me Ellon, but I seek an audience with Lady Arwen.. Excuse me?" The social leper know as Fuimeth...That was his version of tact it would seem. Turning a shoulder slightly to fluidly move around Faerglin, after nodding to him with a soft smile, he moves towards the groufawning over the Evenstar, stopping only to refill his wine, and to grab another glass.

Working up to the place in which Lady Arwen and her adoring fans reside, he clears his throat. "Lady Arwen. A refill of your wine?" he asks, holding out the goblet, looking the absolute outcast of the high class group about the Daughter of Lord Elrond.

[Thari(#31038)] "Good Lady." Thari bows deeply for Arwen. "I am indeed. We've been gone far too long, methinks, and our kin might be worried. I am proud to be bringing profit back to my father and miss the halls of home! Have you been to the Lonely Moutain, good Lady?"

[Mirinthel(#30248)] "And well done to you as well," Mirinthel chimes, a nod and smile aside to Mirodhel. "But should not we wait to dine for awhile? You have commissioned a dance, after all, and there are far too many stilled feet about, I would say." A certain mischief colors the depths of her ancient eyes at this, skirting a glance around the edges of the gathering to find many a new arrival. "What say you, Mirodhel? Shall we remedy the situation?"

Faerglin gets up and follows Fuimeth, his face showing his irritation at having quite simply been disregarded. He then sits down and watches Fuimeth, a grin forming over his face.

[Mirodhel(#24329)]�
Mirodhel offers his hand to Mirinthel. "By all means."

[Arwen(#30712)]
�
�"I have not Thari, though perhaps one day the world will allow me to," smiles the Heryn graciously even as she shifts to make room for Fuimeth to join the growing group. "What about you Fuimeth, Awarthnur? have either of you seen the dwarven halls?" she asks as she smiles greatfully and accepts the goblet.
�
�A subtle wink she casts her cross-armed Silivriel over the rim of her glass as she takes a sip.

Fuimeth seems Oblivious to the hurt feelings of Faerglin, something obviously pressing upon his mind. "Evenstar. Of that talk we had, but days ago.. I have though much upon it. Of dreams?..Well I would have a word with you when...When you are not as busy..I'll take my leave for I doubt a simple edhel such as myself would have much to add to the converse here, little more than a small stone into a large pond I feel. No.. I have not seen the Dwarven halls." He adds, before bowing, and seeking an exit from the growing gathering about Arwen.

[Awarthnur(#24083)] Smiling, Awarthnur unfolds her arms and lets them rest at her side, the hem of her full sleeves draping down to the ground by her feet. "I believe Thari has heard me bemoan the sad fact that I have not had the pleasure, though as a child we dwelt not far from their mountain home." As her speech resolves, the Istheryn's eyes wander over the crowd and pause as they pass over Mirodhel and Mirinthel, ready to lead the dance.

Mirinthel takes Mirodhel's hand, a conspiratorial smile kindling upon her face as she searches the crowds of idling party-goers. "Who shall our victims be, Mirdan?" she asks, a brow quirked.

Thari's head is tilted back to watch Awarthnur as she replies. There is a long pause, and the dwarf takes a long swallow from the wine. "You're.. you're a Mirkwood elf then?"

[Mirodhel(#24329)]�
Mirodhel nods to one of the dwarves. "If you find one and bring him up, I will find another?"

[Faerglin(#31281)] The smile on Faerglin's face grows wider at the antics of Fuimeth. "Have you grown so flustered as to babble? What is this of talking? Trying to woo the lady of a house?"

[Elladan(#27059)] "Victims?" Elladan turns his head towards the pair of Noldor. "Must I escape you now ere you clutch me?" He jests, and his laughter follows instantly as the "victims" are chosen by Mirodhel and Mirinthel.

[Arwen(#30712)]
�
�"Oh! Just a moment!" exclaims the Heryn suddenly as something catches her attention, perhaps an askew table cloth? Who can tell?
�
�Dipping her head the white clad Arwen retreats towards the edge of the crowd to attend to something.

Fuimeth halts his step at Faerglin's assuming words, his lips becoming a thin line at the suggestive comments of the Historian. Slowly, the Magor turns to face the historian, catching the departing Heryn within his vision before looking Back to Faerglin. "You should bite your tongue until you know something of the situation. Otherwise such comments meerly come out as the same 'babble you accuse me of.. Wooing the lady of the house? Why would an educated edhel utter such tripe?"

Elrond has arrived.

Awarthnur tilts her head minutely and considers the dwarf with a humble smile. "I speak relatively. By 'near' I mean that I grew up among the elves of Eregion when that elf dwelling was yet in its prime."

[Mirinthel(#30248)] Crystalline laughter is Mirinthel's response to Elladan. "Take care, Herion, unless your flight shall be swift! Your wit will not save you from a dance." A nod aside is all the ambassador offers to Mirodhel as they descend from the stage together, only to part at the base of the steps. It is to Frarin now that the Noldo's smile then is turned. "We meet again, Frarin, and nearly too late! A dance, perhaps, while the occasion permits?"

Faerglin simply grins. "Oh, no reason, save that you seemed a bit flustered within the presence of Arwen, and your words seemed to-but no matter. I wonder where Elrond himself is, though... I would have thought he would be the first at an occasion like this."

Elrond steps into the theater. "A small matter detained me, but here I am!" he proclaims. "Greetings, one and all!"

[Sulriel(#24654)] Sulriel takes a glass of wine, and she takes a seat, near the edge of the gathering, drawing up her feet and tucking them under her. Her eyes flicker a moment as she sees Elrond, and then she settles in the chair and sips at her wine.

[Elrohir(#13377)] "Perhaps not your wit, but your feet." Elrohir murmurs under his breath, winking at his brother, and then he slips into the throng of merrimakers, blending easily with them, whether to mask his own retreat from the dance or to greet old friends as surely he does, who knows?

[Mirodhel(#24329)]�
Mirodhel slips through the gathered throng and makes his way towards Thari. As he nears, he stops and bows low before asking, "Master Dwarf. Perhaps you would teach me a dwarven step or two for this occasion? I would be proud to learn them if you will teach me?"

[Fuimeth(#1912)] " You should go back to your books.. Leave matters of the present that you obviously know nothing of to the people involved in them to such matters.." Fuimeth says, his temper becoming hot, perhaps from embarressment of being mildly accused of flirting with the Evenstar. Downing his wine in an unflattering fashion he sets the goblet down, hard, upon a table and begins to depart the theatre,

[Thari(#31038)] Something eases a little in Thari's stance at Awarthnur's reply. "Yes. Now Eregion-- that's... let me think if I've been through there. It's NOT Mirkwood..." There's a tiny bit of a hard question in that last statement.

Elrohir has left.

Faerglin sits back down, and watches the crowd, looking for more entertainment.

[Frarin] Lingering amidst the crowds, Frarin had been largely entertaining himself, drinking in the richness of the coming spring. But lo, he is soon revealed and most unexpectedly at that. Mirinthel's smile falls upon Frarin and for a moment he says nothing, starting ever so slightly at her approach. But the hint of smile quickly surfaces and indeed broadens as he bows to the Ambassador. "Well met, my Lady, and rich were your words upon the stage. It has been many a year since last I danced, my feet are more accustomed to dusty roads, but honoured would I be just the same." Setting his glass upon a passing steward's tray, he nobly raises a hand to the lady.

Elrond looks sternly toward Fuimeth, as if sensing something not quite right, but ... neither does he prevent Fuimeth from leaving.

[Awarthnur(#24083)] "The opposite side of the Misty Mountains, yes," Awarthnur nods, "near to the Gate of Moriah?" Glancing up at Mirodhel's interruption, her eyebrows raise as her hands lift to her waist where they rest firmly. "Oh no, you don't, Mirdan!" she exclaims, her voice chiding playfully. "Not before Thari takes me for a turn about the dance floor. If you would have me for your partner, of course," she curtseys to the dwarf.

[Elladan(#27059)] "Mae govannen, father!" Elladan greets from afar, but there is something that draws his attention soon after. Is it a hint of discord amid all the merriment? Is it the nearby sound of harsh words? The son of Elrond turns to Fuimeth and Faerglin and grey eyes look upon the two of them, questioning.

[Thari(#31038)] Another elf steps up and asks Thari for a dance. "Er, ah." The dwarf sets down the cup on a nearby tray and throws a searching glance through the crowd, lingering on Frarin briefly. "Of course!" A sudden wild grin is thrown up at Mirodhel. "I don't, er, generally dance with men. And generally there is more of a beat to --Oh, yes!"

The dwarf then turns to Awarthnur and offers a hand-- palm down, then abruptly turned palm up. "Ladies first of course."

Another glance is thrown aside to the only other dwarf in the gathering, Frarin, who is alas, distant.

Faerglin bows to Elladan. "Worry not! Our... heated... discussion is at an end." he reassures him.

Awarthnur grins coyly up at Mirodhel as she accepts Thari's hand. The musicians on the stage strike up a lively waltz as she directs her partner onto the clearing that has been cropped specifically for the amusement of the guests in the dance.

[Mirodhel(#24329)]�
Mirodhel watches as Awarthnur is led off by Thari. His own job seemingly done, he follows along to see what the elleth and the naug plan to do next.

Elrond seats himself, taking a glass of wine, clearly prepared to watch, and possibly even applaud the dancing. He looks toward his children, as if trying to read the thoughts and feelings this event is causing.

Thari bows head apologetically to Mirodhel, naturally flushed cheeks growing darker. The merchant's head lifts, the poor cropped beard appearing shorter, and leads Awarthnur to the dancing-area.

Once there, Thari's stout hand grips Awarthnur's, the strength of the dwarves felt in that firm clasp. "Now, I'll be steppin' a bit harder than what you're used to. I've seen elves dance and they seem to float, but dwarves are for hammers and forges," says the merchant solemnly.

Thari reaches for the elf's other hand, and there is a long, awkward pause before a jerky start to the dance.

Fuimeth halt's at the edge of the theatre. Turning swiftly he strides back. " No... I don't think it is. I am insulted by your insinuations...Tell me.. does the son of a Kinslayer always have such bad manners?" Crossing his arms over his chest, Fuimeth glars directly towards Faerglin, obviously insulted to suggest such a horrid thing.

[Mirodhel(#24329)]�
Mirodhel's head turns sharply as the word 'kinslayer' is used and he eyes Fuimeth from across the way. The Elf was following Thari and Awarthnur, but he changes course with an abrupt move.

Elrond turns sharply, his eyes also focusing on Fuimeth again.

[Elladan(#27059)] "Is that so? That is well then," says Elladan and he turns to join the dancing. But at once he swirls back to stare at Fuimeth. "Such words have not been spoken in this vale for quite a while," he remarks sharply. "And not since I remember have such words been spoken during a peaceful fest."

Awarthnur suppresses a laugh as the dwarf begins what appears to be an awkward attempt at a jig. As she dips and sways to the music, she is careful to avoid her partner's pounding feet.

As Mirodhel changes his course, Awarthnur too seems to sense a change in the air and glances briefly over her shoulder just as the Mirdan disappears from view. A brief frown darkens her countenance, but she is quick to dispel it with a merry laugh as she turns her attentions back to Thari and encourages those around her to continue in the dance.

[Fuimeth(#1912)] "Tell that to the spawn of dark thoughts here that would dare suggest I hold thoughts of Ill intent towards Lady Arwen, who I would trade my breath for." Snaps Fuimeth towards Elladan, though his eyes never leave Faerglin. "perhaps This should besettled. I know a smith with a weapon worthy of this one. For I believe Thenengel has the blade of one who slew their own."

Faerglin reaches out a hand to calm Fuimeth. "This is not the time or the place. This is an occasion to be merry, not to fight. If you are truly offended, we can talk of it later or in a different place, but while we are here let us not detract from the merry mood." He gazes concernedly at Fuimeth.

Elrond rises. "If you dare suggest taking blade to another elf, Fuimeth," he says sternly. "You risk exile. I shall have no kinslaying here."

Mirinthel accepts Frarin's proudly-offered hand with a ceremonious bow, and when she rises, laughter silvers her alto. "Then you and I have that in common, Master Dwarf. Dusty boots or no, I am glad to see that you have come to commemorate the occasion."

As Noldo and Dwarf ascend the stage together, however, a smile at Elrond's arrival sours in the wake of Fuimeth's words biting through the crowd. Her footfalls still upon the stair for a fleeting moment, and though she does not yet turn to face them, a keen ear is turned to the discourse between the two edhel that has clearly drawn the attention of many.

[Elladan(#27059)] "Indeed," speaks Elladan to Fuimeth. "If you must cool down your mood, help me and my brother with our tasks in the mountains. There is enough bladework to do out there."


[Sulriel(#24654)]
The change is subtle, at first, but it is there, a coldness to the warm undercurrent of the evening. Snatches of words she catches, and then Elrond's words. she rises quickly, dropping her glass. Pale from distress, she turns from the crowd, shaking her head slowly.

Thari's dance is much less jerky after the first moment or two, and the dwarf seems intent on it. Seems anyway. "What's going on with the raised voices?" Thari looks behind and errant dwarf-feet run the risk of stamping on Awarthnur's feet.

[Mirodhel(#24329)]�
Mirodhel nods as he comes alongside Elrond and hears Elladan's words. "Remember the course set by Ceruill. Do not follow his path if you are not ready for the consequences of it."

Faerglin looks in distress at the crowd. "Come! I meant no harm by my remark, only a joke in the way of a tease! Do not let this party sour because of my poor sense of humour! I will do whatever you wish to atone for my remark, but let it be in another place. This party should not have to bear this."

[Awarthnur(#24083)] Awarthnur avoids a broken toe only by the swiftest of side-steps. "One of our young kinfolk has evoked a term most foul to elven ears," she replies off-handedly, determined to maintain the mood. "But see?" she continues as Faerglin makes his hasty intercession, "No offense has been taken. All is well." Even so, her gaze is dark as she peers with narrowed eyes over the top of Thari's head and in the direction of the somber crowd surrounding the disgruntled elf lad.

[Fuimeth(#1912)] The weight of what he's suggested coming upon him, Fuimeth's ire does not settle, but nor does it spill over into the festival. Blinking eyes. at Faerglin's withdraw of his comments, which seem to calm the Magor to a visible state of embarressment.. "I..I.." The young edhel manages before a curt bow is given to the children of Elrond, and the Lord of Imladris himself before a swift withdraw is made, Pushing past through should he need to.

[Frarin] The steadily growing dispute between the two elves does not escape Frarin's attention. Indeed, he glances towards the growing crowd around the two with wary eyes, even as he and Mirinthel ascend the stage. His mouth opens slightly, but he looks to his dance partner and gives a small smile. "And perhaps I may yet fulfill your request for a song. Shall we set the example at this occasion, my lady?" And then, most unusually for him, he waves a hand to those gathered beneath the stage. "Come then! Surely there are other of my cousins who can do justice to the dwarves on the dance stage?"

With that, Frarin looks away from the disputing pair and begins a dance. He does not move with the grace of the elves, but his long travels have not failed to serve him, for he is yet light on his feet. Moving to the rhythm of the lively waltz, Frarin leads with as much poise as his height allows. His silver belt issues a fine tinkle as he moves and the light sound is reflected in the merchant's face, usually stern, now gently smiling.

Faerglin sighs quite audibly as the merriness is restored to the party. He forces a grin and goes back to watching the stage, though the corners of his eyes still watch Fuimeth in case something should happen.

Elrond sighs. "We will have to speak to him later," he says to the air. "But for now, let us see this dance!"

[Thari(#31038)] "Did someone mention swords?" Thari's dance is growing with grace in every step, and more confidently leads Awarthnur, turning her about. "A good fist-fight is what's needed. Never use blades against kinfolk, that's what we say." Beyond the lady the dwarf's eyes go.

Faerglin catches that last phrase and quirks an eyebrow in their direction, but makes no move otherwise.

[Sulriel(#24654)]
Sulriel shakes her head, closing her eyes for a moment. She draws a few slow breaths, then opens her eyes and turns, and starts to walk away. Before she can get away from the crowd, though, there is someone pushing through it carelessly, and knocking hard into her. Fuimeth indeed, and he steps on her skirts and her legs tangle in them, and she goes sprawling on the ground.

Faerglin jerks upright quickly, and runs immediately over to the two of them to offer his hand. "Are you two all right?" he says, the concern evident in his voice.

Awarthnur's laugh rings with the resonance of silver bells as she twirls about under Thari's firm lead. As her skirts billow and her copper curls form a gold-tinged halo around her ears she looks as though she could take flight, were she not grounded to the dancing floor by the dwarf's hearty grip.

Elladan frowns while he watches Fuimeth mingle with the crowd. "What is this argument of yours," he asks then from Faerglin. "It seems to me this all is about the Lady Arwen? Tell me, ellon,..." he says softly, but then he glances at Fuimeth and Sulriel with disbelief. "It /is/ different tonight," he mutters at last.

[Mirinthel(#30248)] The music that resonates within the theater is indeed lively and fleeting upon the stirring breeze, and Mirinthel finds herself drawn into the throng with steps that are light to match it. The lady quickly falls into a rhythm with Frarin, her dwarven dance partner's poise mirrored with a languid grace in definite contrast of style. A laugh escapes her lips as her eyes follow his feet, matching the dwarf's unique steps as best she might. "A wise suggestion, my friend," she muses, the silvered green of her silken gown whispering over the ground. Her fair brow, however, bears testament to the faintest furrow that remains there, suggesting that perhaps a dance cannot cure all that is ill-spoken.

Faerglin glances back at Elrond. "It was nothing, at least from my point of view. Fuimeth had approached her and been a little flustered, so I laughed and teased him about it, as is my wont. Unfortunately, he took it the wrong way, and..." He leaves this last bit open, not wishing to recount what came next.

[Mirodhel(#24329)]�
Mirodhel frowns as Fuimeth moves off and he turns back to watch Mirinthel, though not without a furrowed brow.

Fuimeth gasps as he knocks Sylriel to the ground. "I.. I am so sorry...Forgive me.." he manages, before departing completely, where to, who is to know.

Thari's steps quicken as Awarthnur laughs, and a deep laugh is given in return. "What's so funny about that?" comes the amused question. "Elven fists can't do as much harm!" The dwarf spins partner around now, double-time to the beat, such as it is.

[Sulriel(#24654)]
"I..." begins Sulriel, sitting up, "I suppose so." She frowns at Fuimeth's departing back, then looks up at Faerglin. "It was not how I imagined my last festival in the Valley, I admit..."

Faerglin grins. "No, I would expect not. I apologize for what happened there. Have you and that thoughtful poet had any more meetings? All jest aside, I am quite interested."

Awarthnur spins faster still, and it is some time before she is able to reply to Thari for the laughing fit that overtakes her. "Oh no?" she manages at last, clutching her side with one hand as she falls back into step. "You underestimate us, I think! But then, there are few occasions to test the theory I suppose."

Sulriel shakes her head. "No, I am afraid not. But I have been a bit preoccupied of late, I have to admit. I've kept pretty much to myself. I... well... it is odd. But I already half-feel as though I am gone."

Faerglin shrugs, and walks off.

[Frarin] Frarin's heavy boots pound merrily upon the stage as he and Mirinthel dance, going to and fro and narrowly avoiding other dancers. At last the dwarf's stony expression is fully banished and a hearty laugh rolls forth. "Never have I danced with a elf, my Lady, but you are a most welcome partner! Truly this valley brings many surprises!" His dark eyes remain as ever, keen and bright, and perhaps still ever so slightly troubled, but a broad smile there is upon his weathered face. The edge of his tunic flies about him as the music speeds up.

Elladan walks over to the two now, Sulriel and Faerglin. "You will not truly be gone, Sulriel," he says mildly. "Imladris will be in your heart and many an Imladhrim has made the journey before." Here, his voice decreases and Celebrian's son says no more for a while.


[Thari(#31038)] "No matter how hard the punch is, however, it'd sting less in the end compared to a blade lopping off the lad's hand." Thari's feet slow as the music does, and finally the dwarf drops Awarthnur's hands and steps back. A very deep bow is given, braids from the back of the dwarf's head slipping toward teh grass. "But I'm afraid I must be leaving. I have much to do and I don't know how soon we'll be leaving."

[Sulriel(#24654)]
"Indeed, Herion," answers Sulriel, looking up at Elladan. There is a kindness in her eyes, and she rises slowly, wincing a little. "I just never wanted to leave before. I... I will take messages from anyone who has them, of course." She frowns slightly at Faerglin's abrupt departure, then sighs softly.

[Awarthnur(#24083)] "Will you allow us to accompany you to the House?" Awarthnur asks as her husband appears through the crowd and takes his place at her side. As she smiles up at him and is rewarded with a light kiss, a faint blush colors her cheeks. Gwathimglar laughs at his wife's sudden bashfulness, and takes her hand in his. He bows to the dwarf, and intones in a voice that is both deep and intimately soft, "It seems a pity to reclaim my wife, when you and she make such a fine pair in the dance. But we are quite ready to bring our evening to an end, are we not?" Glancing down at Awarthnur, he is met by a nod.

[Mirinthel(#30248)] The merchant's speed is matched, and easily so. "Even in my many years, I too must admit that this is a new experience!" Mirinthel answers. "And yet I hope that, for your time here, a dance will be far from the fondest of your memories to be taken back to your mountain halls." The Ambassador drinks in a breath, much needed perhaps admist such whirling steps as she takes across the dancefloor, a smile offered with greater ease as the passing moments seem to carry troubles further from her mind.

A glance over her shoulder falls upon Thari's departure, to which Mirinthel calls a bright farewell in the dwarf's wake.

Thari starts to arise, then bows again for Awarthnur's husband. "I would love to go back with the both of you, and than ye for your kind words. It was indeed a novelty to turn about with an elf!" The three continue speaking as they make their way out of the festival and toward the House.

[Frarin] The music draws slowly to a close and with a final turn, Frarin too slows, coming a halt facing his partner. The spirit of the dance fades from his expression, but he seems still pleased and a small smile remains. And though his face is red from the dance, he manages still a courtly bow to Mirinthel. "Well danced, my Lady, especially with the steps unknown to you. It shall be one of many fond memories that I carry back to our mountain halls. And if ever you visit there, perhaps you may then teach a dance of your own."

Elladan has left.

[Sulriel(#24654)]
As Elladan departs without answer as well, Sulriel bites her lip. "I..." she murmurs, then shakes her head. She glances once behind her towards the theatre, then makes her way out, away from the crowd and the music.

Mirinthel stoops low in a graceful curtsy opposite her partner. "Perhaps we may find such an opportunity... one day," she echoes, an enigmatic smile plain upon her fair features. "But for now, there is feasting to be done!" As if in response to the Gwethril's words, the clear ringing of chimes decrees the beginning of the feasting, and the stewards bustling around the long tables step away to reveal lavish spreads set out for all. "Shall we?" this last aside for Frarin, the Noldo then joins the crowd that begins to drift from the stage to the tables surrounding the fountain. In this midst of this activity, Sulriel's departure appears to go unnoticed by the lady.

[Frarin] "Indeed, we shall," says Frarin with a nod. The rich array of food and drink is taken in at a glance and a look of satisfaction settles over the dwarf's face. His hands meet again behind his back as he resumes his composure. Following Mirinthel's lead, the merchant drifts towards the tables and is soon lost amongst the crowds of hungry feasters.