The Beornings Meet Galadriel

[Mobeorn(#22365)] Some time has passed since the group of travelers stopped here on their way into the Golden Woods, but in this land, it might be hard to say exactly how long. A day, perhaps? Two? Galharth had said he would make arrangements to hold the council on this hill, and then slipped off into the woods.

Since then, the sun has come and gone overhead once, and now it is once again dark night, though the Beornings have lit a small fire and the small group of them that are here are sitting by it, talking. One particularly large Beorning man, Mobeorn, stands outside the circle by the fire, looking into the woods.

Cecilia has improved only very slightly. She finally moved to join the camp, but hasn\'t eaten much and has interacted even less. She protested extensively against the group building a fire, complaining that it might \'anger the lady of the wood\', but the healer didn\'t have much sway over her companions. She\'s sitting, hunched with the group, staring down at the glowing embers of the fire.

Amid the other darkening noises that haunt this place, a new voice rises. Some night bird on the wing pipes a song, which though out of place, is neither startling nor unsettling. He loops up the side of the mound with his heraldric song, then goes to rest somewhere in a tree beyond the firelight. It is only moments later that a strange and dim light appears to be travelling towards the summit a light that soon takes the shape of a figure and as it arrives, disperses into a halo. For a figure indeed it is, very tall but slender. The figure wears a cloak of blue which seems to have starlight itself woven straight into the fabric. It is apparent now that it is a woman, which tresses of gold escaping the hood, and she stops as she nears the fire, her hands folded before her.

[Tiridor(#30454)]         That figure is indeed not alone, for beside it comes another figure, dressed casually in dark forest colours. Indeed he has a bow, but it is casually hung over his shoulder instead of made ready. Nontheless, the figure holds a hand on it, as if to be able to reach if - if. The figure moves a few steps behind and beside the other and no emotion is revealed. He shoots a glance at the camp, eyes seeming to be everywhere almost at once. They move over the fire and doesn\'t seem to care about it at all. A hint of recognition in his sparkling eyes as they fall upon Mobeorn.

[Mobeorn(#22365)] Mobeorn had been looking the _other_ way into the dark woods, but the sound of a bird call makes him turn that way. The Beorning man holds still, then, watching the growing light, and then his eyes positively widen as the lady emerges into sight, though his eyes are full of wonder, not fear. He stands, mouth dropped open, not saying anything. If he recognizes Tiridor, he gives no indication.

Cecilia looks around sharply at the unfamiliar bird call, still on edge as she has been since before they arrived. She notices the glowing light and sucks in a breath. This is it, they\'re all going to die. The end has arrived!

The young Beorning woman whispers harshly, \" Something is coming!\" to get the attention of her kin. Then the healer scrambles to her feet and moves to stand behind Mobeorn, \" We can\'t stay.. it\'s the witch! We have to go!\" She says in a frantic whisper, clutching at his arm to shake him from his staring.

The cloaked figure reaches up to the edges of her hood and slowly lowers it down. Yes, it is definitely an elven woman. Her hair is gold and spills in waves across her shoulders and back and her face is delicate and pale, which is in contrast to the depth and emotion of her eyes. At first, she turns to the figure standing next to her, smiling faintly, before turning her full attention on their guests. Her gaze is unflinching and though she darts a look at Cecilia as she takes refuge, her expression does not change. It is not, apparently, because she does not understand her words however, \" Good evening. Welcome to my Wood. I am Galadriel.\" Her voice is cool, but not unkind, and her words wrap around the strange tongue unhaltingly.

\'What? Huh?\' Mobeorn blinks, as if being pulled out of a daydream, frowning to Cecilia as that woman panics and clings to him. He looks between her and the newly arrived elf. And then to Tiridor, nodding to him as recognition slowly comes to his eyes. The 3 other Beornings with the group also get to their feet and come to stand behind Mobeorn, though unlike Cecilia, they are calm.

\"\" Good evening,\" Mobeorn addresses Galadriel as he gets his wits about him again. He gives a short bow--it\'s stiff and unpracticed but his expression is sincere. \" I am Mobeorn of the Anduin Valley, kin to and messenger of Grimbeorn the Old.\"

Tiridor returns the smile of the large man, recognizing and not unfriendly, but formally. He is happy to be silent for now, glancing the situation, and - as always - being acutely aware of the surroundings.

It\'s too late. There will be no escaping. All of her companions are transfixed by the witch and the healer has no idea what to do. Cecilia looks around for Galharth but he isn\'t here. Her gray eyes wide with fear and her hands are trembling where she clutches Mobeorn\'s arm. \"What are you -saying-?\" The healer demands of Mobeorn in a whisper, her voice heavy with anxiety. She darks a few quick glances at Galadriel, but her gaze never settles on the elven lady.

\" Greetings Mobeorn of the Anduin Valley,\"  replies the Lady Galadriel. Her expression is inscrutable and her tone remains somewhat detached. Still, there is no menace about her. To the group of visitors, she speaks in the common tongue, \'Though I heard of your arrival two days past, I hope you can forgive my delayed arrival...I believe my Lord was on hand when you first arrived.\' To Mobeorn, she says, \'I look forward to hearing what news you bring Messenger.\' She steps closer to them now, fully within the firelight, and gestures for Tiridor to do the same.

Still without uttering a word or making a sound, Tiridor does as he is told, and follows. He maintains the same relative distance to the other elf, and it\'s remarkable the way he moves without seeming to even move a treenail on the ground as he does so.

Voices drift down to her from the hill. A fire flickers there which makes her eyes widen and mouth twist in a slight frown. But the Lady\'s voice is on the air Tinuriel lifts the skirts of her green gown to her ankles and widens her stride. Arriving at the crest of the hill she stands in the shadows, her dark hair a deeper shadow against the white trunks of the trees. She watches, a look of wonder allowed on her face here hidden from the scrutiny of the outsiders.

[Mobeorn(#22365)] His attention torn between Galadriel and Cecilia, Mobeorn slips into the Common Tongue--but not before he tries to put a hand reassuringly on her shoulder. \"Calm down..\" he whispers to her first.

With a small smile of apology, Mobeorn looks to Galadriel. \"Then it must have been when we were blindfolded, because we were not introduced, alas.\" He frowns. \"We are here...the tailor invited us. And we came with the Herion. He has news that affects us all, concerning a growing threato f the enemy in Mirkwood.\"

\"I\'m -trying- but you are not listening to me! You\'re acting strange.. you all are! She\'s going to change you! Celemir told me as much!\" The young woman is still holding his arm, whispering her protests, but then Galadriel begins walking towards them. The healer grows silent and moves back behind the tall Beorning man.

Standing as she is within the light now, it is easy to see the narrowing of the Lady\'s eyes at Mobeorn\'s words. Her expression is grave, but does not show surprise. After all, why would strangers bring good news. She says nothing yet, but briefly her eyes turn into the Woods, towards Tinuriel, but she does not otherwise give the elf-maid\'s presence away.

At the nervous whispers of Cecilia, Galadriel quickly returns her attentions to the woman, fulfilling at last the healer\'s dread by looking full on her. It is only a moment, but may feel longer as the Lady\'s gaze is heavy is searching. Finally (or perhaps only a second later), she turns away and looks into the fire, \"The shadow of the Mirkwood does not fall on this place. Why think you my people would wish to hear this news?\"

Tiridor doesn\'t reflect his vision towards the hidden elleth. He has more important things to do, perhaps. But other than that, he quietly - at least by human standards it would be quietly - he says with a soft voice:

\" The man knows you are here, you know.\"

Then again he is quiet.

\" The man?\" Mobeorn asks, having heard it somehow.....maybe there is more to this Beorning than meets the eye. He seems confused--having not noticed the elleth yet, focused as he is on Galadriel and distracted by Cecilia.

His attention returns to Galadriel now, his nose wrinkling in a small frown as he concentrates. \'I believe, Lady, that the Herion has evidence that our common enemy is personally building up a force in Mirkwood. There was a troll of much reknown that we slew, the blocking of the way through the woods, an orc that was not swayed by daylight....but...\' he hesitates...\'I cannot speak for the Herion\'s news. The idea, as far as Galharth the tailor put forth, was that our combined forces would be needed to vanquish this threat.\'

Cecilia peeks a look at the witch again, and freezes when she sees Galadriel staring straight at her. She musters enough grace to keep some measure of control, and even manages a small curtsey, but the healer says nothing else.

The elf maid shakes her head at him as if he were her younger brother behaving badly but steps forward into the light. Her pale face is solemn, her large gray eyes fixed on the humans. She bows her head to the Lady in silent grace and shoots a glance at Tiridor.

Galadriel returns her eyes to Mobeorn as he speaks, her mouth drawn into a thin line. \"Galharth is, as you have mentioned, a tailor. Thus, talented as he is, he holds little sway in the War Room.\" She drops her head and paces a few steps. Her glance briefly finds Tinuriel and she nods at the girl. \"Still,\" the Lady continues in the common tongue, \"these threats of which you speak are not unknown to us and either they or their brethren have troubled us here as well.\"

She looks back at Mobeorn, her noble chin tilted up ever so slightly to meet his gaze, \"So you must understand my reluctance in letting an army set forth from here, leaving my border empty.\" A small sigh escapes her lips, \"It is not something that can be decided tonight, but I take your words to heart.\"

Tiridor grins for a moment at the maiden as she is not happy with his aknowledgement of her existance. It is the first sign of any emotion he has shown to so far. The grin disappears quite quickly though. \'She\'s gonna have my head afterwards\'. he thinks to himself.

[Halla(#30997)] One of the Beorning watchers stirs. The woman Halla has been standing quietly behind Mobeorn, watching and listening to the proceedings. Every time her eyes fix on Galadriel her mouth half-parts and a flush comes to her cheeks, but then she tears her gaze away and glances round at the other elves. Now, listening to the words set forth by the Lady in familiar Common, she sighs. A small sound, quickly muffled, but not quickly enough for sharp elven ears.

[Mobeorn(#22365)] \"I see,\" Mobeorn replies to Galadriel, something of a frown touching his expression. \"In fact, the Herion spoke of a council to decide how to handle the growing threat. And then the tailor took it upon himself to invite us. I think he meant well--we traveled together over the High Pass and sere set upon by goblins and trolls. That and...well, it might be gratitude on his part. You see...we slew the troll Grot, in Mirkwood. Or at least so badly woudned him that he was found dead.\"

Cecilia looks over at Halla and the rest of her kin, then her gaze goes back to Galadriel when the elven lady speaks. She buries her face against Mobeorn\'s shoulder for a moment, saying in a muffled, aggrieved tone, \" We came here for -nothing-! Explain to her about the day-walker they speak of.. and the growing forces!\"

The conversation passes between the Lady and the humans in quiet, intense starts. Tinuriel\'s eyes flicker between them, one moment examining the human woman who seems so fearful back to the calmness of the man. Something is said about trolls and enemies and she takes a quick breath at the Lady\'s reaction. Her eyes return to Tiridor and were she given to such displays she might stick her tongue out, she satisfies herself with narrowing her eyes at him.

[Galadriel(#19278)]

The ancient gaze of Galadriel darts again to the fretful Cecilia, and this time she addresses the woman, \"My answer has not been given yet.\" Her tone is matter-of-fact but her eyes have softened somewhat. She turns to Mobeorn, \"News of the trolls death is news that I hear gladly, sir. For now, I must show my appreciation with hospitality. I will speak with my Lord and my Council and we will decide what else can be done.\" She lifts her hands to raise her hood again and it seems somehow that the light of the whole place is dimmed by this action. \"Good night.\"

[Halla(#30997)] Something of the tightness of Halla\'s features that accompanied her sigh fades as her countryman speaks. She looks toward Mobeorn - and must perforce gaze on Galadriel again. At the sight of those golden tresses, one hand slips up to touch her own tousled braid, speckled with leaves and broken twigs from their last rest stop her cheeks flame and her eyes turn groundward.

Cecilia\'s murmurings are a welcome distraction - whether she can make them out or no. \"Hush,\" she hisses in the girl\'s direction. \"Let Mobeorn do the talking. /He\'s/ the Laird\'s spokesman, not you or I.\" Only when the Lady of the Wood raises her hood does Halla lift her gaze from her worn boots.

[<#30454>] Tiridor makes ready to leave with the lady.  \" I assume that I shall make sure all preparations shall be made to take care of our distinguished guests, my lady?\" he says. His voice does not hold any mockery or irony, just clearing for orders.

\" And I and my people...\" Mobeorn frowns slightly again at the two Beorning women, then looks back to Galadriel again, \" thank you for your hospitality. They...\" looking to the women again...\" mean no harm. Grimbeorn asked me to come and be part of this council when we were invited, and these two thought they could be of help. But I see it was a mistake to bring them, and I apologize for that. They can\'t get past their fears, and I am sorry, Lady. But I thank you on their behalf nonetheless.\" He bows his head.

Cecilia grows quiet once more, one hand moving to rest on Mobeorn\'s arm again. Whatever wonderment the others are enjoying, the healer can\'t seem to get past her own fears. She says nothing as Galadriel departs, only watches with a wary gaze.

Galadriel as she leaves, says over her shoulder, \"Perhaps tomorrow will be better. The weather will be lovely.\" Something about her tone suggests that there should be no doubting this tidbit about the weather, and perhaps it brings a bit of ease. Soon, Galadriel is again a dim light passing down the hill and the bird that announced her arrival goes twirling off into the Wood, playing again his song.

[Tinuriel(#23113)]

The maiden elf she acknowledges the humans with a tilt of her head and the shade of a sad smile for the fearful one. She steps back into the shadows, her footfall silent and fades into the calm of the forest.

[Halla(#30997)] As she watches Galadriel and her elven escort depart, Halla shamefacedly picks a couple of twigs from her hair, looking hastily away as the elf-maiden\'s gaze sweeps past her. \"She makes me feel so ... small,\" she mumbles, still unnerved enough that she is likely unaware she speaks aloud.

\"So keen to leave?\" Tiridor asks the maiden. \"I thought you wanted my head on a plate.\" Now that he has made sure that Galadriel is out of harms way, he can relax a bit. He turns to Mobeorn once again. \'Hunting brother.\' he says, in the common tongue. \'I regret I haven\'t had time to greet you sooner. I hope all is well with you.\'

\"Hunting?\" Mobeorn gives the elf a curious look, biting back some answer he was about to give. \"You\'ll excuse me?\" he then says, slipping past Tiridor. \"Business to see to,\" he says as he heads to the tent here.

[Tinuriel(#23113)]

The green maid stops still listening to Tiridor, eyes narrowed in amused fury. \"........scare.....humans,\" she replies in a quiet, arch voice. She steps back out of the tree shadows and bows more formally to the humans, her expression softening somewhat when she looks at them until she turns to the Warden. \"Well, Tiridor?\"