Old Friends in Odd Places

As the sun rises over the Tower Hills, the sky lights up into a brilliant fire. The sun turns the clouds purple and swirls the colors together into one magnificent spectrum. The air is cool with a west wind, gently caressing the grass and adding relief to what would be a hot day.

Thorhur sits in the grass, his harp in hand. He sings an old song, a song of the Green Elves, in the language of those who lived in Ossiriand in days long forgotten.

In Forest Hall and under tree

I hear not the thundering sea

My heart is turned towards the streams

And to where the sunlight gleams

My eyes are turned to the endless trees

Yet ever do I dream of the sound of the sea

From the Forest Hall, a lone figure emerges, slow steps that turn almost westward, his footfalls nigh-silent. Yet, there is something that causes the steps of this figure, clad all in green, to halt. Azure eyes scan across the grasses, nigh filled with wondering, and Methenauth brushes a lock of darkling hair, displaced by the cool breeze. And then his fluid steps begin once more, then turned toward where Thorhur sits, toward the source of the song.

Yet, if this green-clad ellon offers a greeting, it would be in silence, for there are no words at his lips as he listens to the old, and perhaps familiar, song.

The sound of wind

The smell of trees

Yet why do I not feel at ease

My heart is here

My gaze looks east

But somewhere still I yearn for the seas.

Finishing the verse, the Bard proceeds to start the next when he feels the presence of another. He turns around and smiles. \"Hello there, I...\" He stops. He knows the face of the new arrival.

\"It can\'t be,\" he whispers in awe, walking forward. He studies the ellon\'s face for a long time, then smiles. \"Methenauth?\"

Like quarry lured into a trap and then caught: perhaps the situation in which Methenauth finds himself is similar, having been drawn near by the song and then recognized by the one who wove the song-net. Blue eyes linger upon Thorhur a moment before they turn downward and to the side, a shade of hesitance in the manner in which he tucks a lock of hair behind his ear.

\" Aye...\" Surely the song of the fellow bard must be yet impressed in his mind, for the words of Methenauth are in the same tongue as the song of Thorhur, and they are plainly the words of one who learned to speak it beneath mallorn boughs. \" Though I would have fain left that name in Lorien and would fain not hear it spoken outside of that fair land...\" A pause, and azure eyes rise from their downward cast. \" How far those of the Golden Wood have strayed from their home...\"

\"The Bardic Congress may draw forth even the most reclusive of the elves of the Golden Wood. Our travels here were smooth, and we have enjoyed our time in this land.\" the Bard smiles. \"It\'s been so long mellon, so long! The Glirdain and House Laiquendi has missed you since you left.\"

\" And yet there are some who perhaps are more wise than us and have remained within the Wood,\" replies the minstrel, shaking his head a touch, the faintest of frowns at his brow, thoughtful.

\" But, aye, it has been long, indeed. Yet I doubt that my presence has been sorely missed... In truth, I fear that it is rather remembered with unhappiness, due to my departure.\" Again Methenauth pauses, gaze shifting to the side, a sort of hesitance, perhaps even a touch of abashedness, in the manner in which he shifts in his place. \" Surely, certainly, Hiril Calriel is yet sorely displeased with me.\"

Thorhur bows his head. \"I have not seen Calriel in a long time. Where he has gone I do not know, but he is sorely missed as well. Surely you remember Aluirwen though, from the Glirdain? She is a Master now, and for a while has been my teacher.\" He smiles, then frowns quickly. \"You never really told me why you left...you probably wouldn\'t want to, but we were all pretty surprised when you did. I was one of the youngest and nobody seemed anxious to tell me much, other than that you had gone away for a while.\"

\"Aluirwen? Ah, I am sure she might teach you much...\" Thoughtful turns the visage of Methenauth, as if he ponders the words that Thorhur has offered.

\"There would have been little to tell, in truth...\" he continues. If there is an explanation to be had, it would seem that the minstrel does not intend to voice it at the moment. \"But, if that is what little you were told, then you were yet told awrong. \'Tis not true that I will be gone for a while... I do not intend to return to the Wood at all...\"

Thorhur sighs but smiles. \"Well, at least I got to see you this last time, old friend and teacher. Our camp is departing soon, I must join them.\" The Bard turns, stops, then turns back around. \"I am glad you have chosen this path, Methenauth. You seem very happy now.\" with a smile, the Minstrel turns and heads away.