©
2003 I. Chishti
In the Caverns of Nos Menelmen
House Menelmen Chambers
[Great Hall]
Art. Beauty. Music. History. These things have been enshrined here in the earth. The Great Hall of the House Menelmen chambers is a vast cavern of dark stone, filled with wonders of a forgotten age.
The Hall is lit by dozens of small lanterns hanging just below the ceiling of black granite; tiny beryls have been set into the rock overhead, leaving the entire chamber in perpetual starlight. Statuary line many of the walls, filling space to either side of the numerous doors leading off into private chambers; nearly all are the figures of the fallen Kings of Beleriand.
A fire burns in a stone brazier at the centre of the room, an eternal memorial to the fallen of Nargothrond and all lives lost in the last days of Beleriand.
[Gondramind(#32156)]
This late eveNing, the Great Hall of Nos Menelmen is arrayed as for a festival. It glitters brightly with sparkling light reflected off the shiNing walls from silver lanterns hung below the ceiling and candles placed upon a table merrily arrayed with refreshments and delicacies. Extra chairs have been brought out and arrayed about the room. A respectful distance, however, is kept around the stone brazier.
The Arphedor Gondramind stands at the table of refreshments with the Bathron Idrendae. He wears a simple yet formal robe of silver-gray velvet, embroidered at the back with the crest of his nos, the ship of the moon sailing an ocean of stars. His raven's black hair is held back in one fat braid, tied with a leather thong, a touch which gives him, even in his formal attire, a workmanlike appearance.
He stands with hands clasped behind his back and examines the repast. "Very nice, mellon Idrendae. Were you able to acquire any ale?"
[Idhrendae(#31338)] Idhrendae stands, surveying the meal, before replying, "Indeed, mellon, that I was. It is currently being stored behind the table, in preperation for the guests, although I shall momentarily remove it from it's place, to allow access to it," he says, moving slightly towards the drink. Along his way, he pauses to situation the meats more precisely, displaying a level of happiness with the foods.
[Niriell(#32165)] The crowd of edhil wavers and parts as a small, nay, tiny! elleth makes her way to the buffet. Niriell is wearing a festive robe of glimmering blue silk, and her hair runs free as a waterfall around her shoulders, with only the strands at the temples braided into curving plaits. Next to the table she comes to a halt, gives a cheerful smile to Idhrendae, and moves as if to hug her "uncle", but then remembers the time, place and occasion, and instead just reaches up on tiptoes to give the ellon a light kiss on the cheek. "It looks wonderfully festive," she says quietly. "I hope the guests will enjoy it."
[Silvarion(#25256)] As though summoned by Gondramind's question to Idhrendae, an elf staggers backwards into the hall bent nearly double over a large and obviously heavy cask. Quick glances barely keep him from bumping into the various tables and other objects in the hall, though at last he sets the barrel down with a thump on one of the stouter, empty tables.
"A little treat," says Silvarion smugly, brushing the hair out of his eyes as he turns away from the cask. "There was one barrel of ale left from Bree; and though I know nothing of ale, I have been assured by the Dunedain that Barliman's beer is the best that can be had."
[Duinlas(#27187)]
Hurrying out of his quarters is Duinlas, still shifting rather uncomfortably in his formal robes, very similar to Arphedor Gondramind, save with less adornment. The same embroidered crest resides on his back. His dark hair behaves nicely and rests on it's own down past his shoulders. He bows to Silvarion and Gondramind then moves closer to the Arphedor and whispers in a hushed tone, "I need these robes refitted... They're being hemmed in the back by needles." He turns and to a very close examination you can see the folds that seem part of the robe are alterations done on the fly."
[Gondramind(#32156)]
Godnramind nods appreciatively toward Idrendae, then bends stiffly to accept the affection of his niece and smiles. "Our hope as well," he says, voice low.
And then he straightens at the Hir's sudden arrival and walks toward him laughing softly. "My Lord... " he stands a moment speechless and smiling, then laughs again. "Where ever did you come by this, Hir? I am sure it shall be appreciated." He nods to Duinlas. "My niece there can help you, mellon Duinlas. A fine weaver she is you know."
Niriell clears her throat to suppress laughter, and looks closely at Duinlas' garments. "It seems you might be in need of help indeed," she says softly, eye twinkling, then reaches into the folds of her robe to produce a tiny leather pouch. "I seldom leave my rooms without needle and thread on the ready."
[Duinlas(#27187)]
Duinlas wrinkles his nose and waves Niriell over to the side of the room, out of sight of the main audience, "Please, Mellon! If you have the skill and time, do your best. Either these are not my own robes or something drastic happened in the decades since I wore them last."
Silvarion says, "A few years ago, we managed to arrange some small trade with Bree, through the Dunedain and their friends in the town. I doubt that Barliman knows where his ale was bound, and I doubt he knows that Elves were involved. I have met him a few times, but with considerable discretion and concealment of my identity. It is a pity, but the Breefolk are a supersticious lot, and so we hide ourselves."
TurNing to thump the barrel with his hand, the Lord adds, "Nonetheless, we have their ale and they have some of our gold. Who is better off? It may be just as well that the Dwarves have come by... Hitherto, only the Dunedain and the occasional BeorNing have enjoyed it." Yet for all his attention on the ale, Silvarion too watches Niriell and Duinlas, a smile tugging at his lips.
The golden door of House Menelmen opens, revealing some light of the setting sun. The sound of heavy footsteps can be heard, heavier than any elf would make. In the doorframe a short figure can be seen stepping into the cave, muttering some words that are inaudible. The short figure closes the door, and turns, seeming to sigh as he does so. The figure, shorter than any of the present elves, cannot be mistaken: it is a dwarf. His black beard cascades down, reaching to his belt, which sports a golden buckle with a device finely crafted on it. His hair has been carefully combed and braided, as is his beard. He purposefully walks further into the lantern-lit cavern. Getting to where the elves are, he clears his throat before speaking. "Mae govannen", he says, the elvish speech now coming easier to his lips with the practice he has had since he arrived to Rivendell. "Braldor, son of Braldon of Erebor at yer service", he adds as he bows smoothly, introducing himself formally to those elves he does not know. "I come in stead of my Lord, King Dain, and thusly I greet House Menelmen. King Dain has other matters of urgency that needed his attention, but sends his regards and his thanks for your kind invitation", he says in a very formal and diplomatic tone.
[Niriell(#32165)] A hand pressed over her mouth to stifle the giggles trying to escape, Niriell pushes Duinlas behind a rock outcropping and threads a needle with quick, efficient movements. "You are impossible," she whispers fiercely, trying to make good work of the difficult task while at the same time making sure not to sew the ellon's robe to his undergarments or skin. "I thought you had an elleth to take care of you, was I mistaken?"
[Idhrendae(#31338)] Idhrendae turns upon the entrances of Niriell and Duinlas, bowing a welcome in their direction, before Silvarion provided distraction. At site of the large cask, his eyes begin to twinkle, and he decides to leave his supply alone. Moving to help him, Idhrendae notices the Dwarf, bowing deeply.
[Duinlas(#27187)]
A flush rises to Duinlas' cheeks as the skilled hand of Niriell fixes the robe, he grunts out a response, "Not mistaken at all. Simply consider me too proud to be reduced to humor in regard to a poorly fitted robe. She already has poor consideration of my fashion sense." He grins at this last, and peers around the rocky outcropping and whispers back to Niriell, "Hurry up! Braldor is here!"
[Gondramind(#32156)]
Gondramind cannot help but chuckle, watching the antics of Duinlas and Niriell fussing over the robe. "Aye my Lord? Supersticious. I recall camping near Atchet and being discovered by a group of adan children who nearly froze at the sight of..."
He is interrupted by the opeNing of the door and the arrival of Braldor. "Mae govannen. And well met indeed, friend Braldor." He turns to Silvarioin then. "Welcome again to our halls. May I introduce you to my Lord, Hir Silvarion." And with that he nods respectfully and steps aside.
[Niriell(#32165)] "Hurry /up/?" Niriell whispers back, not pausing as she finishes the last stitches. "Do you want to look like a child in his father's garments and wrinkles everywhere? I'm a craftswoman, leave me to my craft. There," she says a breath later and slaps Duinlas on the back, tucking the needle pouch out of sight. "As good as new, or at least you can take it off and get it fixed properly. Don't complain to me if it turns out that I sewed it to your shift or your back." With that, she adjusts her own dress and steps back into the main hall, eyes wideNing at the sight of the Dwarf. Walking slowly, she comes to stand near Gondramind.
[Duinlas(#27187)]
Duinlas hurries after Niriell, moving the robe slightly to see if indeed she did sew it to anything else, but it appears she did not, and so he smiles, moving swiftly to beside Gondramind, remaiNing silent as the Arphedor introduces the Lord of the House.
[Silvarion(#25256)] Smiling thanks to Gondramind, Silvarion steps forward toward Braldor, incliNing his head formally. "You are welcome here, Braldor son of Braldon of Erebor. I am Silvarion, son of Camelen of Tirion. You are welcome in the halls of House Menelmen; the elves of Imladris do not forget the friendship of Durin's line to our people at Eregion, nor their aid in our time of need. Again, be welcome, and merry. The road between our homes is a long one, but let it not be said that the reception you receive was unworthy."
Gesturing about the hall to the preparations, he adds, "My herald, Gondramind, has had a feast prepared. We have tried to provide a wide selection, including some things that we might not normally eat or drink ourselves. But rarely have I met a dwarf who preferred wine to ale."
Braldor chuckles, losing some of the formality with which he had introduced himself. "Greetings then, Lord Silvarion from Dain, son of Nain and King under the Mountin. And even though the miles between Erebor and Rivendell are long, it is our hope that our peoples do not forget the friendship of our folk. Indeed many were the deeds of Sons of Durin when the Shadow came to Eregion, but we also remember the friendship of the elves of Curufinwe, and how we both were merry in those days, while the Sons of Durin still walked in the halls of Moria".
TurNing now to Gondramind, he adds, "Well, friend Gondramind, I see that you indeed have prepared a wide selection... and as Lord Silvarion says, we dwarves prefer ale to wine. I thank you all for your kindness", the dwarf says with another smooth bow.
[Duinlas(#27187)]
Duinlas smiles and hails the dwarf with a raised hand, "Welcome back to our hole in the rock, Master Dwarf. I trust you found your way back easily? I regret that I did not fetch you myself, but I was kept with some unfortunate snags in my prepartions for this eveNing." His voice is one of cordial friendship, which has developed quickly only in the past few weeks.
[Idhrendae(#31338)] Rising from his bow, Idhrendae offers a greeting to the Dwarf, "Welcome, Braldor son of Braldon. I am Idhrendae, Cook and Philosopher of Imladris," he says, "Please, enjoy this eveNing's meals."
[Niriell(#32165)] Still stood half a step behind Gondramind, Niriell sinks into a deep curtsy, but remains silent, not sure if it is her place to introduce herself.
[Gondramind(#32156)]
The Arphedor Gondramind listens respectfully as his Lord welcomes their guest with words of kindness and friendship, and a smile plays lightly upon his lips.
"Indeed Braldor. The ale was brought here by Lord Silvarion himself," he says, a mirthful light in his eye. He turns and motions toward the table and the cask of ale, and realizes suddenly, that they have no mugs. Only wine glasses. He looks first to Idrendae, then to Silvarion, and finally toward Duinlas. "Well, it seems your clothes are not the only snag," he says with a soft chuckle. "It seems we have only wine glasses for your ale, friend. An oversight."
Gondramind says, "And another second oversight was this small elleth," with an affectionate glance toward Niriell. "Braldor, my I introduce my adopted niece, Niriell. A finer weaver you will not encounter in Imladris.""
Braldor's dark eyes sparkle with mirth, as he turns to Idhrendae. "Well, my lady, to you then is that I have to thank for this fine meal", he says with a smile on his lips. TurNing his gaze to Duinlas, he adds, "Well Master Duinlas, well met. My way back I found easily enough... I can find my way to such lovely caverns even with my eyes closed!", he says with a chuckle. "And well, lord Silvarion, I thank ye then for this coutesy. Indeed, I feel deep in debt to all of ye, and find no way of repaying other than inviting you to visit Erebor. We shall hold a feast when you get to our humble Halls under the Mountain", he says.
Finally, turNing to Gondramind he says, "Ah, care not much about the oversight, Master Gondramind. As long as tis ale, I care not to drink in wine glass, cup, or tankard", he says with a sly wink and a smile. "And your niece, ye say? Pleased to make your acquaintance, my lady Niriell", he says, as bows smoothly once again.}
[Duinlas(#27187)]
Laughter comes from Duinlas at the Dwarf's boast, and he gives a mirth-filled warNing, "Though I do not doubt it, I would caution you against trying such a feat, for if you were to mistep, we would scarcely hear the splash over the roar of the waterfall." Then with a smile he turns to Gondramind, whispering quitely in Sindarin, "He has not seen the beauty of the fountain... perhaps we could take him in deeper after the feast?"
[Niriell(#32165)] Niriell's ears pinken rapidly as Gondramind praises her before the guest of honour, and she lowers her eyes shyly. "Thank you, mell gur, but it appears I am not the only one intent on embarassing others in public," she whispers in fierce Sindarin, then looks up at Braldor. Well, down, rather, but not by much, seeing as she only tops the Dwarf by scant inches. "It is an honour to meet you, Master Braldor," she says then in heavily accented but correct Westron. "I heard you are a smith, a fellow artisan?"
[Silvarion(#25256)] "I did not know," says Silvarion curiously, "That visitors were welcomed quite so fervently in dwarven halls. I mean no disrespect, but your people have often been perceived as... 'private'. Even to the privacy of your own tongue. In the last seven thousand years or so, I could count the number of words I have heard in the dwarven tongue on my fingers. It is... Good to know that your privacy leaves room still for friends among the elves. We may indeed take you up on your offer, Braldor."
[Idhrendae(#31338)] Idhrendae turns, checking once more upon the foods. Seeing everything is in place, he turns to the gathering. "I fear I must return to my kitchens to prepare for tomorrow's meals. Please, mellyn, enjoy the meal," he says, walking towards the door. He pauses, however, to speak again, "It was a pleasure to meet you, Braldor. I hope you shall visit the kitchens during your remaiNing time in Imladris." Walking through the door, he offers a, "Namarie," and then is gone.
Braldor chuckles at Duinlas's words. "Indeed, Master duinlas... a quite clever way of concealing the entrance of yer caverns, as I told ye before. Although in Erebor we do have some gates that are not so obvious to the eye, ye might say". TurNing to the elven maid Niriell, he says, "Well, indeed I am a smith... a weaponsmith, to be more precise. And I see you have some interest in the Art?", he asks curiously. "Maybe we can talk a bit later, and share something of the trade", he adds with a smile.
TurNing to Lord Silvarion, he says, "Well, Lord Silvarion, we are considered by some as being... 'private', as you say. But that is something born out of necessity, my Lord. We have been a wandering people for long, and the Enemy has always coveted for the demise the Heirs of Durin and their line, given our friendship with the elves. That and some... misunderstandings that have happened, Lord, and that have estranged our peoples. But thankfully, those are forgotten by most", he says, clearly not mentioNing anything about the secret language of the dwarves.
[Gondramind(#32156)]
Gondramind inclines his head toward Duinlas, listeNing, nods once. Then to Bradlor he says, "My father, an apprentice jewel smith, traveled often to Dwarrowdelf with his master, long ago in the days for great commerce and freindship between Ost-in-Edhel and Durin's folk." He smiles softly and nods farewell to the departing Idrendae.
"Indeed it is as Lord Silvarion says. We count your people among our friends and it would be honor indeed to visit your home. Misunderstandings are... inevitable among such disparate folk, but if the core of friendship can be remembered, then these... confusions and disagreements can be looked past and overcome. Think you not so my Lord?" He turns then toward Silvarion with a courteous smile.
[Silvarion(#25256)] "Forgotten? Perhaps. But I have not forgotten. Rather..." Silvarion pauses for a moment, bemused. "Rather, I cannot fault the dwarves as a race for the actions of a few of their number; indeed, in those old days of turmoil and chaos... The Elves did more harm to the Elves than the dwarves ever did. We cannot hold Durin's line to account for deeds done thousands of years past. Rather, we recognize the warmth of our present relationship and work to foster further goodwill. And I too remember the Dwarrowdelf. In this, Master dwarf, you may be pleased; however many long ages pass, whether or not the caverns are retaken or not... The majesty of Khazad-Dum will not be forgotten."
[Duinlas(#27187)]
Duinlas smiles at the words of Hir Silvarion and finds himself nodding in agreement. "Hot headed judgement of an entire race based on the actions of one is truly a tool of our enemies. United wholly, there would be much danger to the darkness of the east, but splintered as we are..." his voice trails off, but then he glances to the table and grins, "Surely we have built up a thirst with our words, now perhaps we should quench it?" he eyes the wine hopefully.
[Niriell(#32165)] "Our own history shows the folly of judging too harshly and for too long," Niriell says very quietly with a sideways glance at Lord Silvarion. "The present day counts, and the friends we have now."
Ahhh, indeed Master Gondramind and Lord Silvarion. We still have songs about Khazad-dum and its halls", Braldor says, covering his surprise at the elven lord's knowledge of the Khuzdul word for the ancient dwarven home, "and how Durin and his people labored there. But it seems now most songs are of our longing to return there... someday, although if King Dain's words are true, it'll take some power other than ours to vanquish Durin's Bane. Until then, we sing and wait, preparing for that time. And indeed, with the elves of Imladris we hold no grudge, and we remember when our folk went to the elven city of Eregion, and when we received them and honored them as our friends in Khazad-dum. Maybe those times will return, Lord Silvarion... quicker than many think", the dwarf adds.
TurNing to Duinlas, he says, "Indeed, Master Duinlas, that is our thought too. And thus we have tried to conduct ourselves. We formed an alliance with Thranduil and his people, and with the Bardings. We tried to oust the darkness of the Mirkwood, but failed... that time. But we shall return, and then they shall feel our wrath. And that is why we were a bit... surprised by the reactions of some that we found here in the Valley. Oh, a drink? Let none say that a dwarf refused ale!", Braldor says, as he approaches Duinlas.
[Gondramind(#32156)]
The Arphedor listens attentively to his Lord's words and stands, as ever, in admiration of his great courtesy and knowledge. "Song, friend Braldor, can sustain much. Of hope and memory. And now for wine... and ale. Duinlas, could you do the honors?"
Duinlas smirks at the 'honors' of pouring drinks, but rather enjoys it, as he arrays the glasses and begins pouring while talking and not watching, "Does my skill at drinking reach even your ears, friends?" he says to Gondramind. And despite not watching, he knows how full the glasses are and stops with less than an centimeter to spare, next is the ale, which he takes more interest in, opeNing the kask and letting it fill the wine glass, but with a yelp he pulls away the glass and looks with some horror at the overflowing bubbles, he looks at Braldor crestfallen, "I apologize, friend, I seem to have ruined your glass, I shall try again!"
[Silvarion(#25256)] Watching the dwarf intently, Silvarion is not deceived. As he moves toward the wine cart to pour him a glass, he adds dryly, "Your battle cries, Braldor, are one of the few times that the rest of us hear your tongue. A few thousand dwarves pouring out of the gates of Dwarrowdelf, all crying one or another variant of the same thing... It was not too hard to discover the name of your city. And even when..." The elflord trails off, watching Duinlas with some horror and some amusement, breaking in to say, "That foam, Duinlas, is appropriate I think. I have seen the Dunedain wiping it from their moustaches... I do not think it is ruined."
Braldor chuckles at Duinlas's words. "Nay, friend Duinlas. Ale, as you have seen, is quite different from wine. But don't care much about the foam that was missed. In fact, should you visit an inn or tavern in Erebor, most of the time you'll see this kind of thing happeNing, tis quite common I assure ye", he says. TurNing to Lord Silvarion, the dwarf adds, "Well Lord, indeed our battle cries are in the ancient tongue. Baruk Khazad! Khazad ai-menu!", he cries. "Axes of the dwarves! The dwarves are upon ye! That is their meaNing in Westron", he says.
Niriell listens attentively but says naught. Her knowledge of the Dwarves and their ways is very scarce, so she is making sure not to miss a word.
[Gondramind(#32156)]
Gondramind deflty takes a cloth napkin from the table and offers it to Duinlas with a smile. "Its all right," he murmurs quietly in Sindarin. Hearing Braldor's battle cry, he looks sharply to the dwarf, brows arched in some surprise and the memory of those words, heard long ago, passes across his face as a swift cloud across the sun that shadows light and then is gone again. He smiles brightly. "A cry to chill the hearts of the foulest yrch... orc. And a welcome sound to allies in need."
[Silvarion(#25256)] "I have always wondered... And never before been told; why is your tongue so secret? I know that were I to beg you to teach it to me, and offer a room filled with gold, you would refuse me. So I will not press you for the secrets your people hold so dear. Yet... Will you tell me what it is that makes your tongue so secret? I have heard it speculated that Aule himself created your tongue..." Here, the elf pauses to laugh quietly, "But I have no way to ask him at present."
Duinlas looks mighty relieved at the assurance that the ale is not gone wrong and uses the napkin to dab the sides of the glass and then the floor. He puts all the drinks on the tray and makes offer to all, smiling at the battle cry as he twists his mouth into a wry smile, "Ahhh... now it is clear what the Hobbit Bilbo Baggins was attempting to imitate when he was telling me the ending to his story. I must say, he has great heart, but little skill to speak your tongue at all."
Niriell arches an eyebrow at Duinlas and his experiments with ale, quietly hoping for a glass of fruitwine to hide behind. She is still standing behind her 'uncle', head cocked as she listens to the Dwarf. "A secret language, the mere idea seems alien to my mind," she says quietly. "The thought that knowledge is to be hoarded and not shared is frighteNing."
[Gondramind(#32156)] Gondramind looks to his niece, taking wine for himself and for her from Duinlas' tray. "Tis not a matter for fear," he says to her with an indulgent smile, handing her a glass. "Do you not hold certain truths close to your own heart? For no other inspection?" He looks then toward Braldor, awaiting a reply.
Braldor smiles to Gondramind. "Thank ye for the kind words, Master Gondramind. We hope that we join forces with ye elves to push back the Shadow... and maybe rid the North of it. But we shall see", the dwarf comments. TurNing to Lord Suilvarion, he adds, "Well, lord, your sources seem to be most accurate. In the deeps of time, before moon or Sun rose, the maker labored long and hard, and he made the Seven Fathers of the Dwarves. To them many things he taught, among them a speech he had devised for them to use. Then, after speaking with that who you call Iluvatar, the Maker put the Seven Fathers to sleep in deep places, awaiting for the wakeNing of the First Born. such are our tales, at least. And that language is one which we hold so dear, for tis a language of lore and knowledge given to us by the Maker himself. More I wish not to speak about it, for as you have said, Lord, this language we hold dear, and its knowledge secret". Getting a glass of ale from Duinlas, the dwarf holds it up. "A toast i wish to propose. For the friendship of the dwarves of erebor and House Menelmen! may Aule shine on it always!"
Niriell accepts the wine gladly and rises it to her lips, not sipping but merely hiding behind it. As Master Braldor speaks his toast she raises her glass and sips, then looks up at Gondramind. "Private knowledge, certainly," she says calmly but still quietly. "I shan't tell you what I am giving you for your conception day, of course. But lore and language are different. But I shall be quiet now, lest you say my opinion is influenced by my age, as you always do."
[Silvarion(#25256)] "And the blessings of Aule upon you and yours, Master Braldor. I am quite certain that he thinks of pride on you and yours." Silvarion lifts his glass, tipping it slightly toward the dwarf, before taking a long sip.
Duinlas takes his own glass and accepts the toast, holding it high. Followed by a deep draught, as he is wont to take, draiNing it down to just a third of the glass remaiNing.
[Gondramind(#32156)]
Gondramind casts an affectionate, tho arched-browed, warNing glance toward Niriell, then he too raises his glass with and inclines his head in the toast. "And may the light of Elbereth shine upon this hour of our friendship." And he drinks. "Shall we take some food, my friends, and perhpas offer our guest a tour of these halls?"
Braldor drinks deeply, draiNing half the glass of ale. "Thank ye for yer kind words, Lord Silvarion. That is indeed our hope... to be worthy of sitting next to our forefathers in the Halls of Waiting", the dwarf replies. Braldor looks once again to the cavern walls, his gaze melting into one that can only be described as affectionate. "These halls are beautiful indeed", he murmurs, albeit a bit too loudly.
Silvarion nods and looks around with pride. "I am a labourer in stone, not unlike many of the dwarven people. My skill lay not so much with metals or smithing, so I was not one of Aule's direct pupils alas. Yet I apprenticed myself during the building of Tirion in the West, and aided Felagund during the building of Nargothrond; the Dwarves were a great help in those labours, and I was able to see firsthand their skill. And learn from them."
Niriell looks up and around, hair moving like a silky veil over her back. "I would love to see Dwarven halls one day to be able to compare them to this glory," she says absently. "Of course, they may well be so different as to make comparison impossible." She gives a tiny sigh and inhales the scent of her wine deeply. "I never feel differently as a Silvan, yet when I am in caverns, I admit to feeling somewhat wary. It seems incredible that the whole structure is not about to collapse."
Braldor nods politely at Lord Silvarion's words. "Tis a great pleasure to know that we have been of help, Lord Silvarion. Of this Felagund I know some, since his name has passed to us in song and legend. A great King of the Elves that came from the Uttermost West he was, or as such we have him. But of this Tirion you mention I know naught. Tis a city of the Elves in the West?", the dwarf asks, a bit curiously. TurNing to Niriell, he adds, "Ah, lady, that is always a concern for those not used to live in caverns, but out in the open. But tis indeed the work of the ingenuity of the ones that made the Halls the fact that it does not collapse. Much work is needed for that, but once done, ye can rest assured that it'll never collapse, unless some major catastrophe happens. But if such a thing happens, ye wouldn't be safer in the open woodlands or in the plains, for it'll be something that would make the earth itself tear apart". Braldor takes another drink from his glass of ale as he speaks, his gaze darting between the gathered elves and the carvern walls.
Duinlas smiles and tilts his head to the side, finishing his glass of wine and going back for the bottle to refil it, he speaks across the room, a bit improper, but so it is, "They are a sight to behold, Niriell. I had a bit of an adventure one time in which I found myself in Erebor, many long years ago... and shared songs for a brief night before we made haste back to Amon Tharanduil... we nearly were left behind!" he recounts with some amusement.
[Gondramind(#32156)]
Gondramind swirls the wine in his glass with long fingered hands and cants his head to the side, listeNing to Silvarion's account of his study and work, and Braldor's reply. His grey, colorless eyes sparkle with a craftsman's pride and hunger as he listens and then sips his wine. To Niriell, he smiles and says, "Indeed, a collapse would be devastating, but..." he flicks a glance toward Silvarion, then continues, "these caverns will not collapse, mellon, unless the earth itself were to shake them down. Perhaps, my Lord, our guest would care to venture further into these halls?"
Silvarion laughs quietly, saying, "And yet Thranduil, king of a Silvan realm, makes his home in caverns more extensive by far than what we have here. There is no rhyme nor reason to the world, Niriell. And yet, if you would like, I can see that any of you who would like to take Braldor up on his offer are given the chance."
TurNing then again to the dwarf, Silvarion says, "Tirion is the city of the Noldor, in the gap in the encircling mountains of the utter West. I was born there, and think of it fondly. Though we Elves know naught of your Halls of Waiting, I would not discount them, and it may be that one day you will see the city on the hill, of the Noldor in Aman. But my herald is right; you have the welcome of our entire valley, and if you wish to explore the rest of our caverns, you may do so at any time. The forges of the Mirdain, our jewelsmiths, are here. The remnants of the Gwaith-I-Mirdain of Eregion work there, though there are few enough of those."
Braldor finishes his drink, and sets his glass on the table, ready to refill it as he hears Lady Niriell's words. "Indeed, Lady Niriell, the elves have lived in caverns more than what can be thought. For Master Thileithel spoke to me of Menegroth, who we also helpred to build, and then there are the deep cavers of Felagund. And also Thranduil lives in caverns, which we also helped build, although his folk call themselves 'Woodelves'", he says conversationally. TurNing now to lord Silvarion, he adds, "Ah, Lord, I'd be grateful for such an opportunity", he says, turNing and bowing. "To explore this caverns and look at them would be a most welcome sight. And it would also be a joy to speak to your smiths. Much lore they have in their Art, and I for one would like to talk to some who have worked in the Art for far longer than any living dwarf". He then refills his glass with ale, taking a long drink and wiping the foam from his moustache and beard.
Duinlas laughs and nods at the mention of the deeper caves, "Truly there is some beauty in deeper. I am eager to go with you and show it again!" it's obvious from his expression that beyond this room are wonderful and beautiful things, at least in Duinlas' mind.
"Well, Lady Niriell, Master Duinlas, Master Gondramind, and Lord Silvarion... I'd be delighted to see the wonders of the caverns", Braldor says, "if ye'll show the way to me. I wouldn't want to miss even the tiniest detail".
Niriell looks up, startled. "I am no lady, Master Braldor," she says with embarassed confusion. "I am but a weaver, and a child to most present. Please call me Niriell." She sips nervously at her wine and looks at Gondramind for support.
Silvarion sets down his goblet and says, "At your convenience, then," in answer to Braldor. "You may wonder what use we have for Caverns in Imladris; now it is merely an affectation, and appreciated by few others than the Mirdain and my House. Yet in the Second Age, it was our refuge and hidden retreat in case of attack. We were beseiged, and this was our security."
"Indeed, Lord Silvarion, these caverns would have been of great use when Rivendell was besieged, as ye say. I bet a whole army would crash against it's walls without much hope of victory... once they knew where the entrance was, which would have been quite difficult. This idea of having the Gates behind a waterfall is truly marvelous, I might add. A quite ingenious way of using the terrain in your favor", Braldor says. He then smiles, almost apologetically. "Please excuse my use of military terms, but tis a professional affectation, I fear. Although I would be quite happy just working in my smithy back in Erebor, war has called us away from home quite often, and i must say I've lately found myself more in councils deciding strategy than in my smithy", Braldor says as he eyes all the elves. He turns his gaze back to Lord Silvtrion. "By your leave then, Lord, I shall see the magnificence of the caverns. I fear some elves would not appreciate the beauty of them, as ye say, as will a dwarf", he adds with a shrug.
TurNing finally to Niriell, he says, "A child you might be for most of those present, yet I think you have more years walking this fair lands than I do. But be it as ye ask... I shall call ye Niriell", he says with a smile and a wink.
[Gondramind(#32156)] Gondramind, silent for some time, content to listen to the exchange of stories and ancient lore, places his glass upon the table and nods towards his Lord and guests. Stepping toward the Broad Archway. "And security for the future, should such be required. Perhaps then to the Long Hall?"
[Silvarion(#25256)] "There is nothing to excuse," says Silvarion quietly. "You are conscientious, and there is nothing wrong with that. And military thought was given to the delving of the tunnels, though they have become now places of respite and beauty. The jewel forges, located in the caverns, were once weapon forges placed in case of dire need and retreat to the caverns."
The Noldo then walks toward the doors to the rest of the caverns and says, "Please, follow me."
[Gondramind(#32156)]
Gondramind steps aside as Hir Silvarion passes, then waits for the others before following them through the archway and into the hall beyond. "Such are the times, friend Braldor, when looms and chisels and hammer and tongs must be put aside for weapons of war and councils of strategy. We artisans do what we can in such times.
Dairwenraiel slips up behind the small tour, a flute dangling from her belt by a ribbon.
Long Corridor
The long corridor curves gently in a winding fashion that prevents one from seeing too far along the passage in any direction. The floor is of dark marble, while the walls and ceiling overhead are a lighter rock, perhaps limestone, making this entire passage much brighter than the one before.
Though there are low stone benches at fairly regular intervals, the corridor might be considered barren if it weren't for the innumerable paintings that cover the walls. Large and small, portrait and landscape, the collected works of elven artists over the course of millenia are preserved here for any to appreciate.
Lit by bright white lanterns hung from the ceiling overhead, paintings of fallen cities, crumbled mountains, and fallen warriors are kept on eternal display and not forgotten. Here, if nowhere else, one can still look back at Kor and Eressea and see what has been sundered from the earth, the skill of elven artists forging a final tie to those Western realms.
Duinlas trails behind, catching the hand of Dairwenraiel with a grin as he speaks whispers into her ear in Sindarin, "So glad you could be here, Meltha..." then he smiles down at Braldor and winks, "I do not doubt your kin could create such halls, but it is a mark of pride for those of us who are not skilled in the working of stone. Although Gondramind is certainly not one of those, I am."
Dairwenraiel whispers back to Duinlas. "Could come? Father would have frowned if I had missed it since he himself could not be here." She smiles to the dwarf and nods a greeting since attention has been drawn to her, nodding as well to the other elves.
"Wise words indeed, Master Gondramind", Braldor replies, as he walks through the corridor. "One sometimes has not the choice of hammer or axe, but the circumstances demand one wields one or another. But we should make use of what spare time war leaves us, indeed". TurNing his head this way and that, the dwarf slowly walks down the corridor, admiring not so much the wondrous elven paintings that hang on the walls, but the fine architecture of the corridor itself. "Not skilled in stone, ye say, Master Duinlas? Too humble are ye. This in fact is quite good work, even though I do not work with stone myself. You can certainly find corridors like this in Erebor... although with not so many fair paintings hanging on the walls". TurNing his gaze to Dairwenraiel, he nods politely. "My lady, a pleasure to see ye again. Maybe this time you'll have some spare time for a song or three from yer flute", he says with a sly wink.
Dairwenraiel blushes at Braldor's greeting and suggestion of a song. Duinlas is given a bit of a look that communicates without speech 'This is all your fault'. But her rose lips are tugged up into a smile that lead far more mirth to the exchange then ill will.
[Gondramind(#32156)]
"Spare time? Yes Master dwarf. Work of the hands clarifies the mind, I say, In these times a clear mind is of the essense. And Duinlas," Gondramnd adds with a smile, "my skill pales to that of my master in Eregion, Duinlas and to that of Lord Silvarion. And while Lord Silvarion labored here, I labored upon the builing of Imaldris. Different tasks all together. I am but a creator of dust, and perhaps a little beauty. Welcome Dairwenraiel," he adds in softer tones.
"Yes, Master Gondramind, a clear mind is quite important, specially now", Braldor replies. "In fact, shortly a Council of great importance will start, in which I hope clear minds will prevail". The dwarf continues to appreciate the workmanship of the corridor, the minute details that give away a love for the work in stone he didn't suspect the elves had. "A creator of dust? you might consider yourself that, master Gondramind, but this very caverns tell otherwise".
[Niriell(#32165)] Suddenly, Niriell looks up and frowns. "I beg your pardon, my Lord, Master Braldor, friends. Something has come to my attention, there is a need for me to be elsewhere. Thank you for the hospitality of Nos Menelmen. Master Braldor, I hope to see you in the Artisans' Hall ere you leave." With a last smile at her 'uncle' the tiny weaver slips out towards the great hall.
Gondramind says, "Namarie, mellon Nin," as he watches Niriell depart through the archway. He casts his gaze toward Braldor again and nods. "Aye, friend. Tis my hope as well that cool heads and clear minds will govern the council soon to come." He smiles and his grey eyes drift to the paintings and great works of art that line the hall. "And that shall be conducted in friendship and cooperation.""
Duinlas chuckles, "Well, surely the cool head of Lord Elrond will preside over the council, yet whether it will govern it, I do not know? There was much trouble in recent days that have upset the Galadhrim greatly. Though only they will claim wrongly." He reserves further words, despite having already said much.
Dairwenraiel says, "It would be great foolishness to travel such dangerous expanses only to arrive at the council to bicker like children. My greatest faith lies in those that made the journey with a true intent will apply that intent to the proceedings."
Silvarion remains somewhat quiet, letting the dwarf make his own observations of the stonework and architechture, adding only, "I found many of the paintings stored away, rolled up in tight casings to keep the damp from them. Others were hanging about the house or in workshops, but were obscured in shadow or neglected and unappreciated. Though I should not be surprised; I had never stopped to imagine just how many paintings even a small group of elven artists might create over the span of year, a decade, a century... Much less over the course of ten millenia. It seemed a fitting tribute to hang their works here, in a different form of art itself."
Silvarion ignores mention of the Council itself, obviously deliberately. No doubt he is anxious in anticipation of it as it draws ever nearer.
"Tis our hope too that cool heads and clear minds prevail in the Council", the dwarf says. "And the lady is right, it would have been a waste of time to travel all the way from Erebor, and many other places, just to start bickering among ourselves like children. Thus we have refrained from answering to what some of us consider insult, in hope that the Council will succeed in arriving at some decisions important to all of us". Braldor casts a knowing glance to Duinlas, and then continues to look at the paintings and stonework of the corridor.
[Gondramind(#32156)]
Gondramind's smile tightens to a thin line of... tolerance at the mention of the Galadhrim, but he says nothing in their regard. "Such silence, friend Braldor, is both politic and courteous and wise." He steps toward a painting of Tol Eressea and gazes upon it. "My Lord Silvarion, knew you any of the artists represented here?"
Dairwenraiel smiles wryly as the conversation is politely turned, falling back to the edge of the group. Her gaze wanders back and forth among the pieces before looking back to those gathered.
Duinlas chuckles at all the admiration of art, and then reminds the gathered of the book he shared with Braldor two eves ago, "Even those of us who are more prone to song as art... we still take delight in the illustration of some of our work... there is frozen in time a memory..."
Braldor nods as Duinlas speaks. "I recall the Book of History we were looking at the other day, Master Duinlas. Fine drawing there, and a good recollection of facts... for the most part", he adds with a chuckle. "Indeed, Master Baggins is a hoard of information regarding most of Lord Thorin's trip and how Erebor was freed from the dragon Smaug, curse his name forever!"
[Duinlas(#27187)]
"Say not 'hoard', friend," Duinlas says, a smile on his lips, "For he endeavors to write his memoirs, and even we sing some of his songs and poems..." he seems to hide a smile as he says this, "some of them are really quite good."
Braldor chuckles. "Well, I've never heard a hobbit sing before, but I deem their song much different to that of elves, and even of dwarves. In fact, I have heard BeorNings and Barding sing, and their song is much more akin to our than it is to the elvish songs I've heard here. But of what do they sing? The leaf, maybe? Tis their invention, and they harvest the best pipeweed there is, no doubt. Most of our songs are of history and lament for our losses, of Khazad-dum mainly. And from what I've heard, elves sing a lot of the Uttermost West, and of their fallen kingdoms, such as that of Eregion, and those that were in the lands that sunk", the dwarf comments.
[Silvarion(#25256)] "Some," answers Silvarion. "There are a few whose works are here that I would consider friends, though I think most of those have long since taken ship. It is... good that something of them has remained behind. I do dislike the idea that any achievements, artistic or otherwise, nay even Elven or otherwise, should be lost."
Duinlas nods in agreement to Hir Silvarion, and turns again to Braldor, smiling, "Ah, Master Bilbo will recite often of travel... but he, to my knowledge, has never had a Elven Linnor sing any poem that was not epic in it's reach. He has many poems scrawled about his home in the west, but he has read much history of the world, and listened to many of our tales and he delights in the most ancient and grand of them all. So that is how he picks his subjects for his... ambitious poems."
[Gondramind(#32156)] "Aye," replies Gondramind to Silvarion, wistfully gazing at the painting a moment longer. "While there is memory, there is life." And then he turns toward the others with a smile. "They sing of the Leaf, and Food, friend Braldor. But in Master Bilbo's case, he sing as well of travel and of ancient lore. We sing of things past and keep them present in the singing. And what do your folk sing of? Shall we move on by the way?"
"Yes, I've heard that Master Baggins is a quite unusual hobbit in that", Braldor replies. "For my kin that still dwell in the Blue Mountains say that hobbits rarely venture away from their home... except Bilbo Baggins". TurNing to Gondramind, Braldor says, "Wise words again, Master Gondramind. And indeed we kind of live by those words, at least in part. But the battles that we had alongside the Bardings in Mirkwood, battling orcs and others there", he says with a shudder, as the memory of dark mounted figures comes again to his mind, "taught me something else: While there is hope, there is life". Walking a bit further, he continues, "But what do we dwarves sing of? Khazad-dum, mainly. A while back I shared some songs with another elven lady, Gilwen is her name. She was kind enough to listen to my songs, and she sung some of hers. And also with an elf of this Golden Wood, in the Hall of Song. There also Lord Gelbard of Esgaroth shared some Barding song with us".
[Silvarion(#25256)] "Much that is elsewhere lost is remembered in song and prose." Silvarion pauses in front of one of the paintings, a landscape scene, and shakes his head. "I think Art in all its forms has done a great thing to preserve history. For others, perhaps it also expresses the present. I have heard Bilbo's cunNing works thought up in a moment, about the most silly of affairs. And yet the greatest works of the Elves are retrospective, laments of an earlier age. I envy the Hobbits and Bardings of the world. Their shorter memories make it easier for them to focus on the moment. I hope that is a lesson we can learn from them."
Cavern
Surprisingly bright, this cavern is no rough cave of dirt and damp. The floor seems to be marbled granite, white wisps among the black, polished and smooth. To the sides of the entrance are twin doors of thick black wood, inlaid with golden grillwork and runework in silver.
Further in, the walls are in many places covered with intricately detailed tapestries on scarlet backgrounds. Silver lanterns, their light an unflickering, pure white, are placed at regular intervals on the smooth, sloping walls. Here and there, wider areas in the corridor-like cave allow for small round tables, and soft couches and chairs to be placed.
At one point the walls are broken by a pair of large silver doors, leading off into another passage into the cliffside.
[Gondramind(#32156)]
Gondramind listens intently as Braldor and Silvarion speak, and the group walks down the long, art filled corridor. "Master Dwarf, it seems then that our two peoples share a fondness for songs of the past,"
Gondramind speaks quietly, and his booted footsteps echo as they walk the marbled floors. His brow furrows slightly in thought. "Perhaps, Lord Silvarion, as we linger what is behind seems to strech further and loom larger in our minds that what is before. To keep in the present is to keep within hope. You cannot change the course of the world by sitting in its past." He then stands at the Silver door and holds it open for the others to pass through.
Dairwenraiel listens to the weighty topics then suggests softly. "Would we like to rest here a short while? I can retrieve some tea and bread and cheeses." She smiles and offers the only color that she has to add. 'This is my mother's favorite place to sit."
"Indeed, Master Gondramind, it seems we do", Braldor replies, as he passes through the silver door. The dwarf's heavy boots echo in the vast cavern. "For even we dwarves, who live longer than Men and hobbits, but are still mortal, sing of ages and deeds long past. We do however sing occasionally of more present things... like ale or travel", he adds with another chuckle.
TurNing to Dairwenraiel, he adds, "Well, Lady Dairwenraiel, if ye find nothing better, then I shall drink tea with ye", he says with a wink and a smile.
[Duinlas(#27187)]
Duinlas chuckles and whispers, "Perhaps more ale, for the good dwarf? Although we do not wish to cause him to lose his senses. But I'm sure you can handle this ale better than the BeorNings have handled our wine..."
Dairwenraiel looks to Duinlas and mouths the word 'ale'. She nods slowly and disappears for a brief time before the sound of rattling from what must be a laden tray being carrying to the cavern.
The tray that appears sometime before the elleth that carries it is a vast collection of all the elvish kitchens have to offer. Dairwenraiel balances the tray on a hip, the handles of two pitchers grasp in her free hand. The only call for help the elf maiden utters is "Duinlas...?"
Duinlas takes two quick steps and grabs both ends of the tray, lifting it up and shaking his head, "A blessing of the Valar it is that we are so graceful and able to balance food and drink so carefully..." He moves with the tray and sets it near the dwarf and the Hir and Arphedor.
[Gondramind(#32156)] "Shall we make our selves comfortable?" Gondramind indicates a couch and several comfortable chairs hard by. "We have stood in converse this long while. Perhaps now our guest would care to take his ease?" Dairwenraeil returns with a ladden tray she hands to Duinlas and Gondramind steps aside to allow the poet passage to the table.
[Silvarion(#25256)] "I must beg my leave of you," says Silvarion abruptly. "I have forgotten my lady wife; she will be back in the Hall, wondering where we have gotten to. Please excuse me." Ducking his head to the dwarf and assembled elves, Silvarion slips through the doors and heads back to the Great Hall.
"As ye wish, Master Gondramind", the dwarf replies, as he makes his way to the couch and sits. However, the elvish couch seems to have a slight problem for the dwarf, as his feet dangle a bit... Braldor seems unconcerned by this fact, though, as he continues to talk, "I wonder how much time you took to shape this caverns. For a hand other than the maker's can be seen. Beautiful they were before anyone worked on them, and the work done has only enhanced their beauty".
[Gondramind(#32156)]
The Arphedor inclines his head to his Lord in farewell. "Namarie Hir," he says, "May regards to the Hiril."
Dairwenraiel lifts one of the pitchers. "Ale." She then lifts a pitch of a different color. "Wine." That explication done, she sets both on a small table closest to Braldor. Apparently the social grace of serving a guest just doesn't occur to her and she plucks up an impressive collection of treats from the tray and curls up in a chair.
[Gondramind(#32156)] "These caverns friend Braldor? Hir Silvarion worked upon them for many decades." Gondramind steps toward the couch and as he sits, he courteously, inconspicuously, slides over a small foot stool from under a nearby table. "And you are correct. Many of the caverns were here already and the Hir.... expanded and refined them. We delved here for as many years as it took for Imladris to be built... Wine! Ah thank you Dairwenraeil. Shall I pour your ale Braldor?"
Braldor gets up and pours himself some more ale in his glass. ""Do not worry, friend Gondramind, I will pour my ale", says Braldor with a smile, and sits down once again. . He sips his ale this time, admiring the craft that made this cavern habitable. "Yes, the cavern does show that some work was done, but lovingly and carefully. Lord Silvarion is quite gifted in this, I see", he says after a while.
[Duinlas(#27187)]
Duinlas again handles the wine, a bit dismayed at his last attempt witht he ale. Again he pours a perfect glass, only his own does he risk disaster by filling it to the very brim of his glass, trusting it to stay in without a drip, and it does. He is quite pleased with himself. He turns to Braldor and smiles, "The Dwarves, do they often hew entire rooms out of solid rock?"
"Sometimes we do, Master Duinlas", the dwarf replies. "Although most of the time we just work with existing caverns, just as was done here. But sometimes you perceive hidden caverns, covered by rock, and then you carve carefully to unveil them. However, we do not do that much in Erebor now... I think because of what happened in Moria, where we delved to deep and awoke Durin's Bane".
Dairwenraiel shutters at such a mention of dark entities. She shakes her head slowly then moves with uneasy energy to pour herself a glass of wine.
[Idhrendae(#31338)] Idhrendae enters, having come to retrieve the extra foods and dishes. He is somewhat surprised, although not unpleased to see the group is still present, aside from the loss of the Hir Silvarion. "Mellyn, a pleasure it is to see you again, in so short a period," he says, bowing in the direction of Braldor.
Braldor nods his head cuteously, as he is sitting and unable to bow. "A pleasure to see ye too, Master Idhrendae", he replies.
Duinlas hails Idhrendae and waves for him to join them, "Come friend, sit with us a while. Surely you are not so busy as to be unable to enjoy some wine and food... it is, afterall, from your kitchen"
[Gondramind(#32156)]
"After such darkness touches you, you never again think in the same manner. Such was what happened here, friend Braldor." Gondramind pours himself a glass of wine and considers. "Hir Silvarion took the wealth of his experience under King Finrod and applied it to these halls. Twas hard labor, as you can well imagine. But after Eregion... Ost-in-Edhel was so exposed, so vulnerable, even after years of preparation, knowing the attack would come..." His eyes cloud as he gazes into the red depths of his wine. "We of this nos have ever considered protection and security ever since. As I am sure you can will understand.
He nods hello to Idrendae and narrows a friendly, appraising eye upon the dwarf and smiles. "Master Braldor. You must come to the guildhall. It is not often that we have visitors from Erebor and to... 'talk shop' with you would be a great pleasure, though we work in differnt disiplines."
[Dairwenraiel(#30888)] Taking the glass she's filled, Dairwenraiel returns to her seat. Stories she's had repeated to her since childhood are reflected in her thoughtfulness as Gondramind recounts. In some attempt to dispell the darker air of the conversation, the elf maiden looks to Duinlas and gifts him with a small small thick with meaNing only the two can decipher. As Idhrendae enters, she nods to the edhel.
"Indeed, friend Gondramind, we of Erebor know of these concerns for security. For even us, in what we thought to be inexpugnable places like Moria and Erebor, have suffered much. First when Durin's Bane arose, and then because of the dragons of the Gray Mountains. They attacked Durin's Heir in a settlement we had in those Mountains, where metals are supposed to be found aplenty, and then when Smaug, curse his name forever!, showed up in Erebor. So we have been made into a wandering people, before Erebor was retaken". Braldor takes now a long drink, easily half of his glass, and brushes the excess foam with his forearm. "Ah, yes, I would enjoy visiting your Guild. I am a Guild representative myself, and in periods of peace represent all the Smiths of Erebor in our Guild. Maybe we could indeed talk, friend Gondramind, because I have a feeling that both Rivendell and Erebor can benefit from such a relationship of our Guilds", he adds.
[Gondramind(#32156)] "That would be gratifying indeed. Perhaps then, before the council. Or after if there is time prior to your departure. Now." The Arphedor stands and drains his wine in one deep draught. "If you will forgive friend Braldor, but I have business to attend to on my master's behalf. Thank you for your visit. I am sure this shall mark a long and lasting friendship between Erebor and Menelmen. Namarie." And he smiles brightly to his friends and departs.
[Idhrendae(#31338)] Idhrendae says, "Namarie, mellon," as Gondramind departs, before turNing to fetch some wine for himself.
"Namarie", Braldor says to the departing Gondramind, registering the elven word for later use. "I think I must be going too myself", he says, as he takes another long drink and drains his glass of ale. "The visit to this wonderful caverns has made me almost forget that I must meet with King Dain before the Council... they make me feel so much at home", Braldor says wistfully. "Well, I should better get going. I thank all of ye for this wonderful experience. I will make sure to mention this to other dwarves who would come this way, they cannot pass Rivendell without admiring this caverns! I wish ye all fare well, and may Aule light yer way". Braldor bows smoothly once more, and exits the cavern.
Duinlas stands and hoists his glass in salute, "I shall see you, also, at the council, although I am not meeting. Merely as a servant." But he bows as the Dwarf leaves, "May your beard grow ever longer, friend!"