©
2003 I. Chishti
Dwarf Messangers and Meals
========== Eldarin Calendar ==========
IC time is: Early EveNing
IC day is: Orbelain
IC date is: 32 Laer
Moon phase: Full
Earendil: Gil-Estel is not visible.
IC year is: TA 3029
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RL time: Mon Jun 23 09:50:29 2003
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Front Yard
A few trees stand here, just in front of the Last Homely House. A pleasant meadow with grasses and wildflowers stretches off to the north and west. Various insects are busily whirring all around, and an occasional small aNinal stirs the grass. Not far behind the house the trees close in to form a pleasant wood. The grass here is not so high and thick as the wild grasses further out in the valley, perhaps because of being trodden on so often. Two paths lead away from the house, one southwest and one north. Down the steep bank to the south is the shore of the Bruinen.
The fading light of the sun is quickly fading, a tiny sliver of Arien's chariot is all that can be seen in what is a fine summer day. In the azure sky, the moon can be espied, still riding low on its daily course through the skies. Some elves can be seen entering the Last homely house, some other leaving, as activity lessens as the day fades. The trees around the house are a lush green, as the summer season is still going. Some forest aNinals can be seen, squirrels carrying nuts, some deer that quickly pass, as the Hidden Valley is in peace from the dark forces that haunt outside its borders.
The relative peace is broken by a faint clip-clop, clip-clop, the sound of what appears to be a horse are faintly heard. The sound, however, seems to grow, and soon a green-clad figure appears. It's stocky build and height mark the figure as a dwarf, which seems to be leading a pony. Runir's dark eyes go to and fro, scanNing his surroundings, his hands firmly clasping the pony's bridle. He's wearing a sling, but nothing on it, and he appears a bit uncomfortable, although the cause is not apparent to any casual looker. As he approaches the Last Homely House, he murmurs something, and he starts to quickly make his way to the door.
The summer eveNing often finds Duinlas out beneath the stars and this one is no different. Although not dark enough yet to truly enjoy the gifts of Elbereth, he is a patient one. But the sound of hoofs across the distant bridge, and then the recognizable form of a master leading a pony brings to the front of his mind his most recent discussions with Arphedor Gondramind.
Duinlas throws quick glance over his shoulder toward the caverns of his House where he would expect to find the Arphedor, but realizes that it might be wiser to check the vistors arrival before someone not expecting him checks it. And with that decision he approaches, a hand raised as he seems to glide quickly over the front lawn toward the newcomer, "Hai-" he shakes his head and begins again in Westron, "Hail and good eveNing, Friend!"
From the Front Porch into the Yard, steps a tall raven haired man. His height and build, and stormy grey eyes would instantly portray his identity of those who know of the history of Arnor, Kingdom of the North, yet to others outside the walls of the ravines that protect the last homely house, he is known only as a wanderer. He moves slowly and with deliberate movements, each step as if pre-determined before it was ever made, draws him closer to the dwarven Caravan.
Silver eyes peer curiously over the form of the dwarf and his companion, the pony. Tuoreden, as he is known by his friends and kin, seems to prefer to keep his distance, for now. To watch with a certain impartiality. Every few moments, his eyes seem to wander to the splendor of Elbereth's jewels that seem to sparkle in the Summer Eve. Though most of the tall man's interest still lays upon the Dwarf.
Runir stops as he watches an elf come, and start saying something in an alien language, although the elf quickly changes to Westron. "Maer guv'nenn, mellon", the dwarf replies to the elf's words. "Or hail and well met, as we use t'say", he says. "This be Elrond's Huse, right?", he says, as his dark eyes flicker from the elf to the house, then back at the elf. "I have travelled long seeking Elrond's House, and I was told I'll find it this way. So, is this it, Master Elf?"
The last rays of the sun through the gorge are lost as the night begins.
Duinlas stops and bows low, recognizing the familiar accent of those recent visitors from Erebor. As he rises back up he nods, "Indeed you have found the Last Homely House and the home of Elrond Half-Elven. I must make assumptions for we have had word of your arrival for some time, we knew not the exact day. You are here for the Hirdan Gondramind? If this is your task, you have the exceptional skill of meeting exactly the right elf, For I am close friends with the Hirdan."
The form of Tuoreden simply remains as he was, casually observing the dialouge between Elf and Dwarf. Wandering seemlessy lost in his own thoughts through the yard, he seems to edge closer to the conversation as if not sure how to edge in sideways, but hoping his presence might stir up a conversation. For his eyes do betray one thing about him, a great air of curiousity always abounds about him.
Runir eyes the elf, and his face seems to lose a bit of the tense wariness that it had before. "Ah, good to hear... as i said, I have been travelling for some time now, seeking this place", he says. Although much of his face is covered with facial hair, there is a weary tenseness in his eyes. "Oh, and please excuse me manners... I be Runir, son of Braldon o' Erebor", he says as he bows low. "And yes, I be seekin' Master Gondramind, o' Nos Menelmen", he adds. "If ye can direct me to him, master elf, I'd be much grateful".
As Runir's dark gaze wanders a bit, he notices a tall form nearby. "Hail there!", he says to the figure, a tense wariness coming back to his eyes, his hands unconsciously clutching at the empty sling he carries.
Duinlas laughs at the scene before him, and shakes his head, "Always so quick to business, Master Runir..." his grin widens, "Why, the time for introductions is at hand, as it should be amongst friends." He offers another sweeping bow to the dwarf as he speaks again, "Celdir Duinlas at your service, I am a retainer of nos Menelmen, and Gondramind is my nos brother. I shall take you to him at your earliest convience." As he finishes he gives a slight gesture to the nearby Ranger, sure he will catch the meaNing to introduce himself.
"Mae Govannen Runir son of Braldon, and Celdir Duinlas.." offers the Ranger with a deep bow of his own, his long locks of raven hair falling in front of his face, though as he straightens, they seem to find their way back in place. "I am Tuoreden, Ranger of the North, a pleasure to meet both of you." he pauses for a moment and then offers his hand in greeting to the dwarf first and then to the elf. "Forgive my curiousity..." offers the Ranger, "But may in inquire into your business here in Rivendell, Master Dwarf?"
"Ye're nos brother o' Master Gondramind? You two then.. err, belong to the same clan?", the dwarf replies, a bit of puzzlement showing on his face. "And then yer name is Celdir Duinlas? Hmm, well, a pleasure to meet ye, master Celdir Duinlas", he adds. "I appreciate yer offer. In fact, I was told to make me way to Rivendell with all haste possible. I would have been here sooner, but had to lose something that followed me after I came down the High Pass. I ne'er saw what it was, but i thought it better to avoid it", the dwarf ays, as he looks over his shoulder.
TurNing to the Ranger, he says, "A pleasure to meet ye, Master Tuoreden. Although I'm surprised to find a man in the House o' Elrond... I thought only elves lived here. As to my mission", he says, as he adjusts his belt a bit, "well, i be a courier, sent by Thane Bundazanul with a letter to Master Gondramind. A letter, and something else", he adds, as he eyes a pack carried by the pony.
From the meadow to the North, a fair Elven song can be heard, drifting on the breeze to those gathered on the Front Porch. The song becomes louder, and little snippets can be heard, and understood by one who speaks the Elven tongue. It tells of Ithil, and the chase after Gil-Estel, never catching up, to be chased by Anor when day comes, and of the same chase when night returns again.
The song is followed by a slender Elven figure, and some recognize him as the Glindir Lamathinn, the source of the song. He is walking in the same pace as the rhythm of his song, but that rhythm, and the pace, ceases when he sees the party gathered on the Front Porch, and his mouth drops open in surprise. Pulling himself together, he snaps his mouth shut, and then a smile comes to his lips, and wonder in his gaze. "Mornaer," he mutters under his breath, but as he walks closer, he shakes his head. "Ah, no...", he says, still speaking to himself. When he reaches the group, he says, "Mae govannen, mell...", and then stops. He smiles broadly, and continues in Westron with, "Hail, Friends on the Porch of the Last Homely House! Welcome!" He inclines his head to those he knows, and to those he doesn't, he bows with a flourish of his cloak. "Hail, and Well met, masters, Glindir Lamathinn, of House Ruiganno, at your service. Am I disturbing you in a private conversation?"
Duinlas raises an eyebrow at the dwarf's response, "Well. I certainly would not object to be known as Celdir Duinlas, but the title may change. Surely as King is a title, Celdir is the same, but much lower. But it is of little import." He chuckles at his own explaination, but goes on, "The Hirdan, Gondramind, is indeed in my same clan. Although much longer than I've walked under the stars." His glance is distracted by Lamathinn, but he finishes speaking to Runir, "You could go straight to meet Gondramind, but surely he won't mind if I were to feed you and give you drink. We have some Ale, as well as plenty of food, for the kitchens would have just finished preparing the eveNing meal."
"I do not live here m'friend.. simply find refuge here when it is needed." he offers with a slight bit of a smirk, his eyes though travel to the pack upon the pony and then curiously to the form of Duinlas, and then back again to the figure of Runir, "Your secrecy intrigues me Master Runir..." inquires Tuoreden, "Though if you find the time over drink and food perhaps you could share the identity of the mystery that your fine pony carries." the smirk turns into a friendly smile as he looks upon both Duinlas and Runir.
Though the song that seems to rise up into the air like soft summers breeze, catches his attention, his stormy grey eyes settling upon the form of the Edhel that approaches the group. With a wide smile and another bow he offers a similar greeting, "Hail and Well met Glindir Lamathinn."
"Ah, a good meal and some ale is what me belly's needin', Master Duinlas", Runir replies with a chuckle, as the slight misunderstanding of elven names and titles has been cleared to him. "I have not eaten much recently, cause I was warned that the High Pass is full o' globlins, and that after I got down I might find orcs and worse... much o' me eatin' has been done o'er old Sirius 'ere", he adds, as he pats the pony.
"And well, Master Tuoreden, no mystery i carry. Tis some kind o' rock that i be carrying all the way from Erebor to this place... some important rock I deem, for Thane Bundazanul to have asked me to come with all haste", he says. "But I was told to give the rock to Master Gondramind, and to him only". TurNing to the newly arrived elf, he bows. "Ah, a good voice ye have, if I might say so, Master Elf", he says. "Runir, son o' Braldon o' Erebor at yer service", he adds as he bows again. "Ye be intruding in no private conversation, so do not worry about that please", he adds as he flashes a friendly smile.
Lamathinn's smile beams around the small group, youthful mirth and eagerness upon his face. "I thank you for your praise, Master Runir, son of Braldon of Erebor, most gracious of you." His smile broadens, and he spreads his hands. "As long as this seems to be a merry gathering with no official business other than food, drink and friendly talk at the moment, may I join you in your meal?" He looks at Duinlas from the corner of his eye, and raises an eyebrow, as if to make sure that it is truly so that he is not disturbing, and mere courteousness that prevents someone from saying so.
Duinlas laughs and nods, approaching the pony and stroking it softly, speaking quietly to it, "Sirius, is it? With your leave, I would have Sirius placed in the Stables across the meadow. It is not far, and there is as hearty a meal as any beast of burden could enjoy." At his words, a young Steward hurries forward and steps nearer to the pony, awaiting Runir's word. Duinlas adds, as an afterthought, "The wagon will be dropped at our Guild of Artisans, as that is the appropriate spot." And turNing to all, "It is time for eveNing meal, all would be welcome, of course!"
A chuckle escapes the lips of the Ranger, "A rock is a strange thing to send from Erebor all the way unto the Last Homely house with such haste that only a single dwarf and pony were sent as to worry about time." another chuckle and then an short apology, "You will forgive my inquisitive nature, i have found that knowledge is a valuable commodity, and it is always good to have a few stories to tell friends when they inquire as to what you have been up too.." Tuoreden turns to Duinlas and with a nod, "Thank you friend..." in response to the invitation to the eveNing meal, "I think i will take you up on that invitation."
"Well, Master Duinlas, I be looking forward for this meal. And thanks for good ol' Sirius here", he says, as he pats the pony once more. "The poor thing has had to run a lot lately, as we tried to lose whatever was chasin' us yonder", he says, as he takes another look back. "I'm sure he'll appreciate a fine meal and a good night's rest as much as I do", he adds with a chuckle.
TurNing to the Ranger and the singer, he adds, "Well, I'd be much honored with such company for a meal. And worry not about your inquisitiveness, Master Tuoreden... I have some things I'd like to ask ye to, maybe while we share our meal", he adds.
The elleth strides up the path leading from the Valley Shore, grey hood pulled over her head. One of her hands is brushing dirt from her clothing and the other is up to her face while she nibbles on her fingernail pensively.
She stops for a moment to glance up at the sky, and her hood falls back. She brushes her red hair away from her face and glances about herself - especially at the wagon, pony, and the small group congregated there. "Mae Govannen," she says quietly, and continues to walk.
Lamathinn smiles, and says, "Well, we seem reluctant to go and have a meal for real. Shall we go then? All this talk of food makes me hungry, and I thirst for tales even more than I do for a good glass of wine." Then he espies the elleth walking by, and he calls, "Ho, mellon, care to join us for a meal and some drink as well?"
Duinlas nods and notes the look over his shoulder, "Do not worry, friend," he speaks as the Steward walks toward the stables, the pony following with no more than a glance back at Runir, "Nothing evil can enter this valley. Had you not been looked for, even you would have been waylaid long before. Though I do find it odd you were not escorted. Perhaps your follower kept the Guard busy." He gestures toward the house, "By all means, we should go. Although we mainly have wine," he glances at Runir, "which you call grape juice, we also have some store of Ale, for the Dunedain seem to enjoy it."
With another smile he nods to the Dwarf, "Very well then Master Runir, i would be delighted to answer as many questions... as i should.." a smirk crosses his friendly countenance as he looks about the Front Yard, his eyes turNing upon the newcomer and he offers with a friendly smile to the Elleth, "Mae Govannen.." his words ending softly. His attention turns back to Runir, "It has been long since i have traveled near your lands friend, perhaps you can entertain me with some tales of the latest news to come from Erebor."
Slowly he begins to walk towards the Front Porch of the Last Homely House, "I do indeed grow hungry, so let us friends gather and find food and drink, and tell each other tales !."
Runir opens a pack, and takes out something wrapped in a green cloth. "Tis this that brought me to the vale. Thane Bundazanul instructed me not to lose sight of it... so if ye don't mind, I'll be taking this along", he says, as he pats the wrapped object. "And now, by all means let us go to this meal you speak of... If ye'll just lead the way, I be sure to follow", he adds as another smile makes white teeth flash.
Caralwen stops again to let her eyes rest on Lamathinn. She beams him a hesitant smile. "I would like that, thank you. If you do not mind my company." Her smile widens as she glances at the Last Homely House, "Where to?"
Duinlas' hand waves the company into the house, heading toward the diNing hall, while his mind tries to remember where they keep the stewards ale in the kitchen.
*They Walk to the DiNing Hall*
DiNing Hall
This is the Imladris DiNing Hall, where most meals are served. The kitchens are right next door, and usually busy since Elves don't sleep at all. So, there are usually a few Imladhrim and their guests having a meal here. There is a buffet set over near the doors to the kitchen and it is kept continually stocked. The appetizing aromas of many foods you recognize, and many you don't, drift towards you. Several round wooden tables with 4 to 6 chairs each are spaced evenly around the room. A door connects to the Bell Tower stairwell, providing easy access for residents of the upper floors, and another door connects to the First Floor North Hall.
As Duinlas enters he gestures toward a large table, and pulls a few more chairs up to it, "Sit sit, I'll make sure the stewards get us some suitable food," and no more than a minute passes before he comes back to the hall, followed by a small group of elves with platters of food. Hot steaming bowls of stew and soup are placed in the center of the table and bowls are laid out, although you can see a few of the kitchen staff think loading extra chairs to one table is highly inappropriate.
Runir enters the DiNing Hall, thumbs plucked into his belt as he slowly walks behind the elves. His dark eyes gaze at the fine craftsmanship of the Last Homely House, admiring all the detail of the construction. "Hmmm, good, good", he mutters under his breath, as steaming platters begin to be put on the table, and chairs are gathered around it. "Ahhh, Master Duinlas, some hot food and good ale is all my heart desires right now... and now I have to thank ye all for supplying this fine meal. I stand in yer debt", he says, bowing low once more. He then starts looking around for a chair that would fit his size, as the elven chairs would be too high for him, and maybe not wide enough.
Caralwen steps in behind the rest, walking quietly. She seems to be in a pensive mood after a day out in the wilderness. She takes her time taking off her coat and shaking off leaves and other debris from her hair. It takes her a moment to decide to sit, as if she were afraid she is too messy at the moment to sit at the table.
Lamathinn unfastens the clasp that holds his cloak together at his neck, and it drops down on the chair behind him. He drapes it around the back of the chair, and rubs his hands. "Well, then," he smiles, "Let's eat. And if there is enough to go around, let me try some of that ale as well, then. I never drink anything but wine, and this is a good occasion to try some." He keeps standing, motioNing for all to sit. He sees Master Runir's predicament, and raises a questioNing eyebrow at Duinlas, while he motions with a barely visible gesture to a high stool, which at this moment supports a pot plant, standing along the wall. It seems the right height. He seems uncertain if that would be the right choice.
Duinlas sees the situation and glances around, spotting what he's looking for, he grabs a small chair, indeed this is slightly too small for Runir, but Duinlas places a thick cushion on the chair, "This will have to do, we were not quite prepared enough," but as he speaks, a harried looking steward enters from the hallway carrying a bucket. Duinlas winces and speaks calmly to him, although it's in Sindarin, the elves pick up the word "cleansliness" being muttered and a sharp nod and the bucket is thrust into Duinlas hands, he hurries into the kitchen, and comes back with a large mug filled with some frothy liquid and a wineglass filled with the same, he sets it down in front of Runir, and the wine glass in front of Lamathinn, "Blow the white stuff off, or it gets on your face," he whispers in advice to the elf.
"Ah, good... ale!", booms the dwarf heartily, as he watches the mug of foaming liquid in front of him. "But aren't ye havin' some too, Master Duinlas?, he says, as he sits on the chair offered by the elf. The chair, it seems, is a bit low, but the dwarf seems to pay no attention to that detail as he takes the mug into his eager hands. "Or do you prefer wine? I know those... errrr... ahhh, those elves that live o'er there in the Mirkwood like wine, or so I'm told", he says inquisitively. Glancing at Lamathlinn, he smiles. "Ah, be sure to get enough foam and liquid, Master Elf... the blend is what gives ale all its flavor", he says, gesturing to the elf's wine glass.
Lamathinn sits down, now the guest of honour is seated, and picks up the wine glass, and looks at the dark yellow liquid with the foamy substance on top of it. Confusion is in his eyes. "Blow it off? Is it some part of the ale that is no longer good?" Then he hears the dwarf's advice, and seems even more puzzled. He inhales deeply, than blows with force, sending a thick blot of foam sailing across the table, which lands with a soft "Splat!" on Duinlas' breeches. Lamathinn's mouth forms an 'O', as he stands, embarrassed.
Duinlas chuckles and shrugs at the Dwarf's question. He does, however, fill his own glass with some red wine, sipping from it carefully, "Wine is more to my tastes. And a glance down at himself he raises his eyebrow, "It is also a simpler drink." His hand wipes the foam away with a smile on his lips. But even as they speak, another set of plates arrive, this time freshly roasted beef and mutton lay together covered in their spiced juices.
Runir almost chokes, as he watches the foam splat on Duinlas's breeches. "Careful there, Master Elf... and do not waste good ale foam like that", he says as he smiles. "That's not ale gone bad... but a part of it", he says sagely. He them raises his mug of foaming ale, "To ye all, and the kindness o' Elrond's folk. May Ma.. errr, Aule light yer way", he says. he then takes a goodly pull from the mug, easily emptying half of it. As he sees the platters of mutton and beef being set in front of him, he then gets some of the beef, and greedily wolfs it down. "Ahhh, this is good indeed", he adds contentedly.
Caralwen rests her foot at the edge of her seat, and leans her elbow on her knee. She seems to relax a bit as she feels no attention is drawn to herself - instead she looks at the dwarf with interest. A pale, grubby hand reaches for the bottle of wine and a glass, while she chuckles at Lamathinn's fumbling over the ale.
Seeing that his action has no results other than a wet spot in an embarrassing place on Duinlas' breeches, Lamathinn sits again and studies the glass once more. Than he brings it to his nose, which wrinkles with the strange smell. He seems to reach a conclusion, and then takes a large gulp of ale, which promptly causes him to cough and splutter. "Argrmmm...," he mutters, wiping his mouth with a sleeve. "That is.... interesting," he says with a contorted face.
He seems to consider putting the glass down, as his hand motions to the table, but then a look of resolve comes to his eyes as he sees Runir clearly enjoying the broth. He takes a sip this time, and circulates it in his mouth. His face looses some of the strain that was visible on it, and as he swallows, he says, "This is indeed... Interesting." Yet again, he drinks, and now he drains the glass. "A big smile comes to his face. "Interesting!" he says.
Duinlas nods and smiles graciously to the dwarf as he eats, only taking a little food for himself, "I will pass you compliments on to the cooks. They often enjoy praise," his eyes twinkle at the thought, "I'm sure there will be time for many to speak with you, and many may wish to, but tonight I will reserve you for rest from your journey, lest you feel put out by rudeness." He gestures to the ceiling above him, "We have a room for guests, here in the house, on the second floor," Then he hesitates for a bit as a smile crosses his face, "Or you may wish to stay in the halls of nos Menelmen, which are hewn from the stone caverns to the west."
Runir now seats back, as his hunger and thirst have been taken care of by the elven food and the ale. "Ah, thank ye, Master Duinlas. Indeed, I have slept little the last couple o' nights. I think I shall retire now, and get a good night sleep. Maybe we can meet tomorrow, so ye can introduce me to Master Gondramind, and then i'll be done with me job here". The dwarf takes another large gulp of the ale, finishing with the content of the mug. "As for quarters, well.. I'll appreciate any that you can come up with. I don't want to be a bother. But I'm sure ye know we dwarves sleep better in caverns, like the ones of our homes", he says with a wink. Standing up, he adds, "It has been a pleasure and an honor to dine with ye all. But now I'll retire, as I have much need of sleep. But I look forward to talking to you all at a later time". The dwarf bows low, and waits for Duinlas or some other elf to guide him to his quarters.
Duinlas nods and with a wave to the door, "Then to halls of nos Menelmen. I believe Gondramind will be quite surprised if he happens past our guest quarters. His laughter is merry as he leads the dwarf out of the hall.