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Eamane stood scowling in the front yard asthe company came up and about their affairs, last-minute preparations, or simply one last tasting of Imladris's Cook delicious treats. By the Caves of Shelter, she was not so anxious to give up delicious meals and a jolly hearth for stale bread- even if it is stale elven bread-, whatever unfortunate game they chanced upon and the unforgiving cold of the Misty Mountains. But they all had a mission to fulfill.
Therefore she sat and waited. And scowled.
She saw the bard come out of the main house, almost shyly, with a lot more luggage than he'd ever have need to. Not that it was any of her concern. If needs must, they'd leave the weight behind to make for speedy travel. But before that happened Lindir could take half of the valley with him for what she cared.
The clear bells of Elrond's house jingled several times, calling the travellers to the road. It was time. Eamane was feeling entirely too broody to pay attention to Elrond's parting speech. As soon as it was polite, she turned and mounted her horse.
She was going back home. Only it did not quite feel like it.
Lindir has recovered from his earlier melancholy mood, and with an impish grin rubs Eamane's horse's nose, looking up at her.
Do not be sad, fair lady, he says. You and your dancing feet will always be welcome to return to the Last Homely House.
Eamane does not, as would be her wont, smile and tease. In fact, she merely throws one last longing glance to the Halls of Fire.
The lady gathers herself with a good amount of sheer will.
I am sorry to leave, that is for sure. She leans companionably on her mare. What about you, mellon-nin? Are you glad for this trip?
occ: sorry about the delay. Should be whipped.
I am sad to leave my home, yes. He looks at her with mournful, sad eyes. Still, if your land is half as beautiful as its daughters, I shall soon be consoled. Lindir winks.
Whipped? *summons elves*
You pervert. ;)
At that Eamane cannot help but grin. Careful what you wish for, Minstrel. You just might be out of your league there... Eamane slows her mare's pace to an easy canter. I'll have you know that many a Light-elf has accused our society of being a tad too free.
The lady throws her braids behind her back in a mock-impetulant act, and gives the singer a wicked smile. Which, we all know, is.... what is that word you like? oh yes. Bull.
|Date:||January 23rd, 2005 08:39 am (UTC)|| |
Whistling cheerfully, Rathmir emerges from the stables almost having to drag his stubborn mare Aelin outside. Suddenly striking upon an idea he takes a piece of peppermint out of his pocket and wafts it under her nose, then just as she attempts to take it he moves it away; and so slowly the pair arrive at the meeting point where she is finally allowed the mint.
He listens quietly as Elrond speaks stroking his horse in an attempt to stop her from galloping away back to her stall.
..Therefore I commend you to go in high spirits and put yourselves to the task appointed to you without any worry for the evil of these days more than is its due. If the world is to be free again, and the lands without shadow, we will need more than sword and daring.
I certainly hope you will find no need for yours throughout the road, though it may prove to be wistful thinking.
Elrond paused, and saw the precious winter morning waning away. The group was gathered, the preparatives made, now it was only a matter of taking the road.
May the Grace of the valar be with you.
For you may come to need it, if Oropherion's temper comes out again.
Alassiel, completely beshrouded in her voluminous cloak and cowl, rides up tentatively on her chestnut steed Ereg. She is all but invisible beneath the sheltering fabric, except for the parts of her copper-colored riding gown that show, and her long slender arms and hands, clutching to her horse's reins. She casts a backwards glance to ensure that she has all the proper provisions in her riding satchels and pats Ereg's back soothingly, murmuring to him.
The horse ambles towards Aelin and nuzzles her muzzle, happy to see a familiar face of his own kind.
Alassiel keeps her head low and offers a quiet greeting to her travel-mates, then looks towards Lord Elrond.
"Hir nin, I give you my thanks again for allowing me to partake of this journey. Your generosity has exceeded all that which I had expected."
Thank me not, tithel-nin. Come back but safe, and enjoy this opportunity. I shall be waiting for your return to hear your impressions on our kindred.
With a final smile Elrond turns back and climbs a few steps, watching the company go from up the parlor. Soon they are out of the gates and into the Path in The Mountains.
Eamane takes the lead on the party, scanning the horizon for any threat that may chance their way. It was not that she did not trust Elrond's warriors, but rather that she would not be at peace until she kept track of the path herself.
The day was bright and chilly, and the company made good speed. So far it seemed that the Mountains were quiet and would remain so for a while.
Alassiel pulls her cowl tighter around herself as she rides upon Ereg, making sure the movement of the enthusiastic horse didn't move the garment to expose much of her. With all of the welcoming and understanding which she had been provided in such a short time by Elrond, she found now that she felt at a bit of a loss in mixed Elven company with which she had no real familiarity.
Giving a long glance over at Rathmir, wishing she had the confidence to make open conversation with the one party member she'd spoken with at length. She instead takes a deep breath of the crisp, almost piercing morning air and moves her steed to the front of the party, near to Eamane. Her eyes linger darkly over the landscape ahead and she chances speech to the fellow Elven lady near her.
"How long do we expect it will take to reach your realm, hiril?"
|Date:||July 17th, 2005 04:14 pm (UTC)|| |
Mounted upon Aelin Rathmir, trusting his steed to not attempt to buck him pulls an apple out of his saddle bag intending to finally eat his breakfast no matter what might happen. He had intended to eat it earlier however, with the chaos of departure his intentions had come to naught and he had been left hungry. Smiling at the fact that none of the company around him have commented upon him eating whilst on the trail; it does not take him long to finish the fruit passing the core forwards to his mare who happily chomps it. Stroking her neck and whispering in her ear she calls out softly in return clearly pleased with the attention that she has garnered.
Watching the rest of the company with interest Rathmir can't help smiling to himself; at last he'd finally got out of Imladris and had been allowed to travel.
She glances back towards Rathmir again and sighs, pulling her cloak and cowl more tightly around her. As Alassiel has most often expected of any situation around groups of Eldar, it is best for her to keep her mouth shut, evidently. Ereg trots along at a leisurely pace, unaccustomed to having others travel with him and his mistress, and he continues to sniff the air as if familiarizing himself with the scent of their road companions.