Playing Perhaps

Standing by a window holding a flute of wine, but not drinking it, is the short elf Jaithen. He is wearing typical clothing of his kind, and merely standing, staring, remaining silent and introspective.

Slowly, the entrance to the Hall of Fire is pushed open, and the petite elleth that is Rochwen slips through the small crack she\'s made between the doors. She is once more dressed in her stable garb, covered in all manner of horse hair, dust and dirt, and most likely covered in the scent of her equine charges as well. Few elves might give her a second look or two simply because of the dirt, but most are used to it by now, having witnessed the sight for decades. She lightly makes her way across the room, eyes searching for a place to sit down.

Muirgheal caught a glimpse of her friend Rochwen before she disappeared inside the Hall of Fire. Now, the golden haired lady and her husband Rhifaroth are the next to enter. There\'s something in those dark eyes, shining excitedly, that she hasn\'t shared with the man on her arm. Not with anyone, yet. There are only a few others in here, and Muirgheal calls out to Rochwen, \"Mae govannen,\" before taking herself and Rhifaroth over to the wine cart. Though he may be often in some other reality, right now, there\'s no reason why he might not enjoy some sweet Elvish wine, Muirgheal reasons. Still, she finds herself looking for help, having only one arm with which to pour.

The Dunadan has come in quietly with his wife and stands quite still while Muirgheal tries to figure out how to handle the wine with only one hand. He doesn\'t look around the hall or offer any greeting. But Rhifaroth looks tidy about his person as though Muirgheal had just combed his hair and given him perhaps a fresh tunic to wear. The past few weeks since Muirgheal\'s and Rochwen\'s arrival might, just possibly have been good to the man because he looks slightly less gaunt.

Jaithen smells the air, a certain unmistakable odour drifting in, and then he hears a particular name and his somber attitude lightens with a chuckle. He turns and spotting some newcomers to the room, he takes a drink and moves away from the window. \"Evening,\" he says uncharacteristically soft, wearing his soft grin. \"Though I do not know yet if I can call it good.\"

Rochwen halts in her search for a chair to settle into, turning at the greeting. She smiles as she recognizes the faces following her, and moves toward the wine cart as Muirgheal attempts to pour one-handed. She carefully takes one of the bottles, pouring three glasses before setting it back down. \"Good to see you, mellon,\" she says. She glances toward Rhifaroth, her blue-gold eyes holding a Healer\'s studying and calculating gaze. She looks away as Jaithen speaks, smiling and inclining her head in his direction.

Muirgheal purses her lips, though she looks amused. \"Yes, evening,\" she says to Jaithen. Then there\'s a grateful smile for Rochwen. \"Le hannon.\" She picks up a glass for Rhifaroth and hands it to him, wondering if he\'ll take it. \"Wine?\" She asks him, smiling. If she has to, she\'ll just hold the glass for him. There\'s still something very excited on her face every time she looks at Rochwen. Finally, she can\'t stand it any longer. She looks up through lowered lashes and bites her bottom lip, seeming suddenly quite bashful. \"So...I think I found something with which to occupy myself with, for a time. But I\'d need a lot of help..\"

Now dressed in a dark green velvet tunic, Rhifaroth better matches his wife\'s attire. No doubt she picked out his clothes this time. He continues to stand without moving, not taking the wine glass from Muirgheal. And as he faces the wall behind the wine cart, Muir will need to pull him gently to either face the others, or direct him to a seat - eventually.

Jaithen follows the crowd and takes a seat, not caring in particular how the conversation goes, but lingering politely. He nods as words flow this way ant that, and his gaze unfocuses. He\'s there physically, but perhaps not so mentally.

As Rochwen takes a sip of her wine, she tilts her head at Muirgheal\'s word. \"You have found something to keep you busy? I am glad to hear it,\" she says, smiling to her friend. \"What is it, and what kind of aid will you need? I would be glad to help.\" Another glance is given to Rhifaroth, before the Healer asks, \"Shall we sit?\"

Muirgheal takes several sips of the wine, looking at her unresponsive husband. She doesn\'t stop until half the glass is gone. Then she takes her husband\'s arm and leads him to a chair by the hearth. She sits on the floor, at his feet, waiting for Rochwen to join them. She speaks to her friend- but also to Jaithen, somewhat- while she waits. \"Well...I wouldn\'t just need your help. It\'s silly, really, just an idle sort of thought but it sounded too fun not to mention..\" Muirgheal dithers, not coming out with it yet. Finally, \"I thought that we might write a story. Or rather, that you could write it, because I don\'t know how. But then...we could act it out. You know, there\'s a stage out near Tumladen...by that fountain...and we could make costumes. I made my own skirt once, and I suppose I could do it again. And we\'d need music.\" That\'s Muir, taking an idea and running all the way with it.

Lead to a seat, Rhifaroth sits when Muirgheal tugs down on his arm and instructs him to do so. But her action makes him blink his pale grey eyes and change his expression after a moment to perplexity. The man\'s eyes skim over those gathered here, and this place. Rhifaroth\'s breathing picks up a just a little bit and he murmurs something softly, barely audible, \" Hall of Fire.\"

Jaithen\'s attention is brought back to the present and he smirks at the mention of the woman making skirts, an odd memory about women\'s attire jumping to his mind. He cocks a head, then casting a confused but concerned look at the man, he nods to Muirgheal and says, \"Any help I can provide is yours.\"

Hall of Fire...skirts...wine...Rochwen hides a mischevious smile by sipping her wine again, glancing briefly towards Jaithen. She nods to Muirgheal then as she settles into a seat close to the others, tucking her feet under her as she sits. \"You mean, like a play?\" she asks, her voice bright with interest. She tilts her head, her eyes thoughtful. \"If we could do it, mellon, it would be fun!\" As Rhifaroth speaks, the Healer looks to him. \" Yes,\" she says to him, with a half-smile, \" Wine?\" The last question is simple, and the elleth gestures to the second full glass in Muirgheal\'s hand.

\"A play? I guess that\'s what it\'d be called. It would be playing, yes, playing for fun.\" Muirgheal smiles, glad that Rochwen has warmed to the idea. She\'s even more excited when Jaithen also offers to help. Now that they\'ve encouraged her, she gives more direction, more ideas taking shape, \"I think it should have singing in it! Not just talking.\" She drinks the rest of the wine- how quickly that glass became empty! \"And the story...what sort of story should it be? I like stories with...dragons. And ill-fated lovers.\" Her cheeks are a little pink from the wine.

Muirgheal looks over her shoulder at Rhifaroth hopefully then, thinking he might say something more that she can understand. \"What did he say?\" She asks Rochwen, though she\'s still looking at the man. She smiles at him, warm as always, and reaches for the other glass of wine that\'s still full, meant for Rhifaroth. She holds it up to his hand.

Oddly enough, Rhifaroth moves his right hand and takes the wine cup. But he sets it on the chair arm, holding it lightly, and does not drink from it. Instead, he sits very quietly and does not again move. His gaze is loosely directed as though he were watching Muirgheal. But as still has he has become once more, it may be difficult to tell if he\'s \'here\' or has already slipped back out.

He could just be listening, having nothing to say.

Muirgheal gets up for a moment, after looking to make sure her husband won\'t spill his wine. She kisses his cheek, then goes over to the wine cart to pour herself another glass. Then she settles again at Rhifaroth\'s feet, her bright eyes showing that her mind is racing. \"Well, yes, lovers, wildly passionate lovers...and they wish to be married!\" She\'s making this up as she goes. \"But...they can\'t, for some reason. They- wait! One is of Dunland, and one of Rohan, so their families hate each other and refuse to allow them to marry. And...\" She sips her wine, swallows, \"It must end in terrible tragedy.\" Her eyes flick up to Rhifaroth at that last, for just a moment.

\"But - where should the dragon come in?\" Muirgheal asks to Jaithen and Rochwen, perplexed. And even more pressing, \"And who should play the lovers?\"

\"Such a story sounds promising,\" Rochwen continues, twirling the glass in her hands carefully. She glancing up briefly, that mischief returning. \" And perhaps ellyn is dresses?\" she braves. She turns back to Muirgheal, tilting her head as the woman speaks once more. \"I…am not sure about the dragon. Perhaps they go to one for advice on how to handle their...situation?\" she offers, tossing an idea out there.

Jaithen drifts towards the fire, looking at the flames buried within. \"A dragon would be difficult to display in a play,\" he chimes in. \"Perhaps it is merely the backdrop to the story? The motivations for these lovers?\" He takes another drink from his flute, it nearly empty now.

Muirgheal makes a face and drinks a bit more wine. \"Well, I don\'t really know about dragons beyond sort of what it looks like.\" She giggles. Muirgheal hardly -ever- giggles, but the wine is spreading through her veins, swirling her head and intoxicating her. \"A backdrop, yes,\" she agrees, a look to Rochwen as she adds, \"I may not know about dragons, but I don\'t think they speak to people...\" Another giggle at that. \"But a backdrop, a painting, perhaps the dragon has somehow caused them to go to war...burnt the home of a Dunael soldier, and those arrogant men accused the Rohirrim of the fire!\" Judging by her grin, she finds herself very creative right now. But more importantly, she\'s not on the verge of crying over Rhifaroth right now. She looks to Rochwen again and asks, \"Would you play the lady love in our story?\" Then, to Jaithen, she intends to ask him to be the father of the girl. But what comes out is, \"Will you be her mother?\" She points to Rochwen, not realizing what she\'s said.

Rochwen looks between the two she\'s listen to as she sits. She nods in agreement with Muirgheal as she listens, and takes another sip of wine. She never knew her friend could create such...interesting ideas! And the question, she smiles, and nods. \"I would be honored,\" she answer. Another sip of wine, and then...she nearly chokes on it as Muirgheal\'s next comment slips out.

Jaithen looks calmly at the faded Rhifaroth, and then back at Muirgheal and nods. \"If it fits the story, it would be my pleasure,\" he says, about to say the same as Rochwen but changes it at the last second. \"It\'s not as though I am unfamiliar with that attire. But why a mother? Where is your plot going?\"

\"Well, we\'ll need another mother, too! Remember, their families are feuding..\" Muirgheal just prattles on, completely oblivious, it would seem, to the fact that there might be anything wrong with what Jaithen just agreed to do. She feels light as air, free from sorrow, with so much wine and so much agreement to her ideas. \"I\'ll play the besotted man!\" she cries delightedly. \"And my name will be...Murgoil!\" Whatever that joke is, it makes her laugh even harder. \"But we\'ll need more actors...another mother, and two fathers, and...something to complicate the story. Another suitor for the beautiful Rochwen!\" Muirgheal narrows her eyes, then grins. \"You need a name for the girl you will portray onstage!\"

She is almost done with another glass of wine. \"Do you all have friends who might play with us?\" Muirgheal wonders.

Rochwen manages not to get wine everywhere, swallowing and coughing to clear her lungs of the burning liquor. \"I am sure we can find others who would like to join in,\" Rochwen assures her friend, smiling. \"And I will think of a name...any suggestions?\" She looks to the others for ideas, smirking.

Jaithen\'s smile grows, this woman\'s giggling becoming infectious. \"Friends?\" he smirks. \"I don\'t need no friends.\" He speaks in an over emphasized voice, mimicing a Dunlending accent. \"I can play /all/ roles.\" He glances at Rochwen and grins and winks. \"Well, except the male roles that Rochwen will play.\"

Muirgheal decides to get into character, nearly spilling the remainder of her wine in the process. \"Are you making advances at my lady, sir?\" She exclaims, gesturing wildly. \"I will not tolerate it!\" But then, an idea, \"Perhaps you should also play our dear Rochwen\'s other suitor! Only, she\'s not Rochwen, she\'s...\" Muirgheal pauses, thinking of name. Meanwhile, she adds, \"We\'ll need to get to work! We need costumes! And a script! And songs to sing, and musicians to provide a decent tune, and someone to paint the backdrop of the dragon and the villages and things...a bedroom! There should certainly be a bedroom scene!\" She\'s really had too much to drink, too fast. She sways a little and leans her back against Rhifaroth\'s chair, closing her eyes for a moment or two.

Laughing brightly at Muirgheal\'s sudden change into character, Rochwen stands, looking quite shocked. \"Male roles?\" she asks dramatically, slapping a hand against her chest. \"I may prefer to wear breeches, sir, but I will take no male roles. I shall play the leading lady, in a dress even lovelier than that which her...mother...will be wearing!\" She nearly laughs a moment there, but catches herself and continue onward. That said, she promptly sits back down, winking.

Jaithen\'s brow goes up. Is that a challenge he sees? He graciously places a step in front of him and lays a delicate hand on his breast. \"Madam, I do swear,\" he says, the inflection of his words much more feminine than usual. His face is very calm, serious. \"There is no dress that you can wear that will not look just as lovely on me, if not lovelier.\" He arches his back and shows his \'curves\'. \"Cinched in the right areas, I could turn the eyes of any young man.\"

Again, there is that mischief flickering in her eyes. Rochwen stands once again, leaving her glass of wine perched upon the arm of her chair. She clasps her hands behind her back, and begins to walk in a slow circle around the ellon, as if perhaps thinking over the suggestion. After a long moment, she comes to a halt, giving him one more glance over. \"Hmm...that may be,\" Rochwen admits, her voice perfectly steady, \"But, with the right handsome tunic and stride, I could turn the heads of just as many young women.\" A pause, then, \"With the addition of one more, if I were to take such a role.\" Ah, yes, challenge indeed!

Jaithen watches with in interest as the elleth circles, admiring in more ways than one the slender motions and gait of the lady. \"That may be true,\" he says, but does not give up just yet. \"But how can we ever know, since you said yourself you would not be taking such a role.\" He goads her into committing into something she may not want to do.

The elleth tilts her head, watching him curiously. \"Well, the leading lady is a busy part,\" she says, that well-known half-smile upon her face, \"But if you yourself are up to the challenge of playing a mother, I may very well be willing to accept a minor male role.\" She crosses her arms before her, still smiling.

Jaithen peers at Rochwen a little closer and smirks. \"You know, covered in horse hairs as you are now, I\'m surprised you aren\'t mistaken for a ellon as it is.\" He moves away, still in his \'graceful\' manner, back to the fire.

Rochwen lets out a bit of an offended sound, though if it is real, or an act, is hard to tell. She lets out another sound, this one partway between a snort and a breath, before she quiets. She crosses her arms in front of her, she smirks as she observes him walking back to the fire. \"I believe you need to work on that walk of yours, my Lady Jaithen,\" she offers in advice.

Jaithen looks over at Rochwen, and looking her over, smiles. \"I think you\'re right,\" he admits. \"When are you planning to teach me?\"

Her half-smile returns, and Rochwen seems to contemplate the question for a moment. \"Perhaps, when I am not dressed to be mistaken as an ellon and draped in horse hair?\" she offers, amused.

\"Or perhaps at the stables proper,\" Jaithen replies.

Another smile. \"Perhaps,\" she says.

Oh really? What exactly does this mean to the friendly Jaithen? He shrugs and doesn\'t know, being oddly a more impulsive elf than most. \"Well, considering our playwright has passed out,\" Jaithen says, looking down at the husband and wife now soundly asleep before the fire, \"Perhaps... we should find out?”

Delicate eyebrows rise in question, and then Rochwen glances at her charges. She smiles at the sight. \"This being the case...let us begin your practice march to the stables, my Lady?\" Rochwen asks playfully.

\"As you wish, my master,\" Jaithen says, arching his rear higher in the air, standing on his tip toes as he walks, heading towards the door. Normally he would open the door and allow the lady to exit first, but since the rolls are reversed, he ignores his instinct and marches first, waiting at the door for Rochwen to open it.

The healer barely manages to keep her composure, but she does stifle a bit of laughter at the sight. Uncrossing her arms, she lets her hands fall to her sides, doing her best attempt at an ellon-type walk to the door. She nearly laughs again halfway there, biting her lip and finally walking in her normal stride. She is teaching the new \'lady\', after all! Reaching the door, she opens it wide, bowing at the waist politely and waiting for Jaithen to pass through.

Jaithen starts to nod a thanks, but stops himself, and instead performs a curtsy in an over-exaggerated manner. \"Why thank you, sir,\" he says. He straightens, and sways his hips out into the hall.

\"Do not waver so much,\" Rochwen offers in advice, finally able to properly suppress a snicker. \"Think of the willow trees by the lake, in a calm wind...not too much about the swinging gait of the horses that will surely be critiquing you moreso than I.\" She smiles innocently.

Jaithen calms his swaying down, not so exaggerated and actually focusing on trying to get the feel of seduction down. The cheek goes slight with each step and he frowns. \"This is a bit uncomfortable,\" he notes. \"But I suppose if it draws the look of the ellyn...\"

Rochwen smiles. \"Well, pretend as if it is a habitual walk for you,\" she offers, amused, \"If you think it draws the eyes of the ellyn, then perhaps it must be so.\"