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October 6th, 2004

rathmir @ 09:11 pm: A course of action
Rathmir after thinking for many long hours and coming to no answers as to why Lord Erestor asked him (of all people) for names has decided that he must know. In fact, so long and hard has he thought that he has carved a small herd of horses of all shapes and sizes that he intends to paint as soon as he has time enough to do so. And so, curious and more than a trifle uncomfortable; Rathmir decides to ask him himself.

Knocking on the councillors' study door, he can't help but fidgit as he waits. While attempting to pick the leaves out of his unfortunately unbrushed hair, that he has only just come to realise are still roosting there from his numerous trips outside to his 'thinking trees'; even in the heavy snow.


September 23rd, 2004

elrondperelda @ 04:18 pm: Practicalities

Morn dawned glorious that day.


Elrond was already at the dinning room dajacent to the family quarters when the sun rose. Unwilling to wake up the servants only just gone to rest some, he himself fetched a simple breakfast and took some small bites of dark bread and some leftover of lamb and cheese. From afar he could see his daughter Arwen playing in the borders of the woods, her movements creating pathways in the fading mist even if her feet left no path to be followed. Elrond enjoyed the serenity of it, knowing in his heart, for good or for evil, that he would loose it in the upcoming days.


However, needs must then as they had ever, and Elrond could not risk loosing any more time than what already was lost to acceptance. With a heavy heart he tore his sight from the lovely maiden dancing in the mist and went to see to the supplies for the journey.



Current Mood: busybusy

September 22nd, 2004

hiril_o_lorien @ 03:04 pm: OOC: Leaving
As school is currently consuming most of my time, I'd like to leave, or at least be excluded from active gameplay.

When Galadriel is needed in the game (e.g. when the Fellowship arrives in Lorien, or when the messengers from Rivendell rest there on their way to Mirkwood), feel free to poke me about it. The same goes if the homepage needs updating.

L.E.

September 9th, 2004

_erestor_ @ 10:22 pm: A glum elf-lord
Erestor takes his leave and does gaze at the stars, briefly, but tonight they seem to have lost their inspirational qualities. Resigned, he returns to his home in gloomy spirits, and pours himself a glass of wine. He watches the flickering light from the Hall of Fire, and broods for a while over various and unconnected matters: Eregion, the Ring, Eamane, the diplomatic mission, and the displeasing fact that he's left his alcoholic ink by the hall fireplace.

He finishes off the bottle of wine, not thinking of how compatible it is with the firewater he had earlier, then goes to bed, and dreams uneasy dreams of ships and leaves and golden hair.


September 2nd, 2004

hiril_o_lorien @ 07:58 pm: Holidays
OOCCollapse )

Current Mood: bouncybouncy

September 1st, 2004

_lindir_ @ 05:02 pm: Evening in the Hall of Fire
Their destination is indeed close by, and when the doors of the Hall of Fire are flung open for Lord Elrond and his companions, they find the room full of light and colour and music. Over the music of harps and oboes, a familiar voice rises in song:

"One morning in the month of May,
Down by a rolling river,
A jolly sailor I did stray,
When I beheld some lover,
So carelessly along did stray,
A picking of the daisies gay,
So sweet she sung a roundelay,
Just as the tide was flo-wing...

"Oh, her dress it was as white as milk,
And her jewels did adorn her,
Her shoes were made of the crimson silk,
Just like some lady of honour.
Her cheeks were red, her eyes were brown,
Her hair in ringlets hanging down,
She'd a lovely brow without a frown,
Just as the tide was flo-wing."

Lindir breaks off at the end of the second verse, having noticed his Lord standing in the doorway. The minstrel, as ever, is impressed by the Master of Imladris, who still looks majestic and imposing with damp boots and flakes of snow in his hair.


Lord Elrond! he calls. I was beginning to fear you were not coming to hear me sing tonight. I would have been terribly hurt. And is that the fair Lady Eamane with you? Sit here, lovely maid, and warm yourself by the fire! I have a song to sing, just for you, for your beauty inspires me.

Lindir clearly hasn't noticed that Erestor is glaring daggers at him, as he takes up his harp and accustomed silly grin, and begins to sing a new song - which is, unpredictably, about the stars and the lovers who meet underneath them...

*Collapse )

August 29th, 2004

shadows_gm @ 03:24 am:

Celeborn is the first to wake, and takes up his turn in the vigil. No one would ever account the lord for not taking up the same responsibilities as he expected from others. And then some.

As the night fades away into dawn, he feels the faint presence of his lady, ever watching his path, ever prsent. It was a comforting thing, that constant in his life. It certainly made facing the uglyness and uncertainty of the world outside Lorien`s borders an easier task.

He Takes one good long look across the horizon. There had been many orcs on the road, many trolls and olog hai, and a good deal of nameless beasts he could well passs the rest of his immortal life without knowing. Vampires, by the Holly Father. How the beats had clung to the elven warriors, trying to suck the life out of them. His neck itched just with the memory of it. The endless days fighting, the weariness of the stakeouts, the long hours of waiting. It had been rough, not quite so rough as it was when the qworld was young and Melkor walked over the earth, but still.

He must be growing old indeed.

But now the world was at peace. They had doen what they could with the forces they had available. And more, so much more. Thranduil did not repress a self-satisfied smile. The galadhrin could well scare when they were on the mood for it.

The Sindar had been magnificent in battle, in the old days. The Sylvan, too, though so little experienced in the arts of fighting, so greatly unprepared in men and weapons and armours. But they had had courage, Thranduil recalled, shuddering. They had had nerve. Mayhap a bit too much.

And the Noldor. Curse Feanor and his stubborn insane seed, the feanor had been poetry in motion. If only they weren`t so consumed with madness.

With another sigh, this one heavy, Celeborn stood up and went to search for his captains. It was time to leave the Hithaeglir and go back home.



Current Mood: contemplativecontemplative

August 17th, 2004

shadows_gm @ 08:55 pm: A friendly request
Dear Players,

Just a reminder of the rules: we try to be fairly flexible in terms of posting, as RL issues come first, but a post every 2 weeks is expected, or a note to the mods so they know you're still in the game, but unable to post. I know about glorfindelf, and elentari_valie's characters are quiet as she doesn't have much net access at present, but what about the rest of you?

If you can't post because of RL/net access issues, please let us know - a comment in shadow_gm would do fine as well. Likewise, if you know why someone isn't posting and they don't want their character to be eaten, tell us.

If you've lost interest in the game, it would be nice if you'd email the mods, so we can offer your character to other interested parties. Hope that doesn't apply to anyone, though.

Also wanted to applaud the active players: your posts have been a pleasure to read, and hopefully we will be able to get going on our quest soon - when the snow melts, of course.

Yours,

The Mods

August 16th, 2004

_lindir_ @ 09:34 am: Enter the minstrel
Having spent the morning sleeping off last night's wine, Lindir doesn't venture outside until well after noon. He smiles to himself at the sight that greets him - the rooftops and walkways still covered in fresh snow - and he whistles as he ambles toward the Hall of Fire, in search of company.

He stops at the stables to investigate a frozen trough, but a movement inside catches his eye. He peers around the door to investigate, and glimpses the back a charming, unfamiliar elf-maid, who appears to be seeing to her horse.


Well, hello there, says Lindir, letting himself in and leaning on a stall. I am Lindir, the minstrel with the voice of gold, as Master Bilbo so kindly put it. Surely you have a name to match your lovely face? He winks at her, quite pleased with his discovery. Red-heads are, after all, very rare.

It's only then that he notices Rathmir, apparently armed with his whittling knife. He clears his throat nervously, edging back a little towards the door.

>Oh
. Hello, Rathmir. Well, er, I might go inside to join the company. I don't wish to distract you from... horsey things...

Current Mood: chipperchipper

August 12th, 2004

elrondperelda @ 12:04 pm: Royal channels

It was a lovely night, Elrond had to admit even in his poor mood.

The Fellowship had just only left the range of his sight. His heart was still heavily weighted, even if still hopeful- still, he thought, after all those years, after so much bloodshed, after so many defeats, grief, withdrawal. Betrayal, too, and it still stung, even after an age. If only he had been somewhat more present, more active, if he had guided his kin more closely...

If-onlys would do Endor no good, Elrond thought with a heavy sight. And because he had promised, and because it would be necessary, the Lord of Imladris turned his attention Eastwards, to the Golden Woods were the House of Finarfin had their last living leader, and where the House of Thingol persevered still. He found it somewhat odd that Celeborn and Galadriel had decided to lead the people of Amrod, rather than remain in their own realm founded and destroyed so many centuries past. All in all, he thought with a smile, the Sylvan being led by Sindar and Noldor was something of a cosmic joke.

They had been eveer so firm in being kept apart of other clans' affairs...

What news from the east, Lady Galadriel? He sent his thought across the miles. I trust the Golden Woods are faring well?

In the distance he could see the wood-elf playing in the snow, and Erestor watching her. Ah, but wasn`t it sweet, he thought to himself, even as the familiar presence of his mother-in-law signaled she had joined  their linking, when things went out so well?</font>

Occ: The conversation between galadriel and Elrond take place just a little before he joins Erestor and Eamane in the snow. Maybe even Galadriel is still present and watching, epending on how wicked she is :)



Current Mood: determineddetermined
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