Nin

A Farewell Feast

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.

[Gondramind(#32156)]
The DiNing Hall is dressed, at this dinner hour, for a feast. Glowing golden in candle light, garlands of silk and dried winter flowers strung merrily along the walls, the hall fair shimmers with mirth. Long tables are arranged with candelabras, and clusters of dried flowers and silver place settings and pitchers of ale and crystal flagons of wine that glitter like red and yellow jewels; baskets of bread too rest upon the table, with decoratively and carved cheeses resembling ships, swans, doves, even axes and banners.

The merry laughter of elves mingles with the deeper tones and of the naugrim. Elven serves wander among the unseated guests, carrying trays of prepared foods and drink. A trio of musicians plays in the far corner, lute, flute and harp.

And near these musicians, speaking in hushed tones to an apprentice cook, stands the Herald of nos Menelmen, Gondramind, clear grey eyes keenly scanNing the room. He wears his formal robes of safire blue, the symbol of his house embroidered in silver upon his back - the ship of Isil, sailing a sea of stars. His thick black hair is held back by simple leather strap, giving him a workman like appearance even in his formal attire.

[Aithilflass(#31869)] An elf clad all in green with shiNing black hair steps in, and, after incliNing his head towards Gondramind, examines the available delicacies.

Laurarien stands just within the door, to one side, and looks around the Hall for an empty seat. She spots one, near a couple of the dwarves, and makes her way around the tables to the seat she found, skirts whispering as she walks. Laurarien settles gracefully into the seat and turns to the naugrim on her right to greet him. "Well met," she says, her voice ringing with the clear tones of the firstborn.

A dwarf enters the DiNing Hall, and stops near the entrance admiring the beauty of the room. The elves had, indeed, paid attention to every detail in the decoration. Braldor, Thane Bundazanul and Military Advisor to King Dain, smiles broadly as his gaze wanders around the room. Groups of dwarves sit together talking, while some others talk to some elves; the bass voices of the dwarves can be clearly identified among the clear timbre of the voices of the elves.

Braldor advances, his leather boots tudding on the wooden floor. The thane is dressed in what finery he brought. His cloak is deep blue, and over the dwarf's heart the blazon of clan Bundazanul of Erebor can be seen, an axe flushed left inside a green circle. The open cloak reveals a snowy-white shirt, and dark leather breeches. On braldor's right hand, a golden ring sporting a big emerald shines. Braldor greets everyone he meets as he strolls into the room, and finally spots Gondramind near a corner. "Well met, Gondramind!", he calls, straiNing his voice to be heard over the buzz of the different conversations that are taking place in the Hall.

[Aithilflass(#31869)] After eyeing the various dishes for a time, Aithilflass seeks out one of his own, but finding nobody free of conversation, takes a seat near where the musicians are playing, apparently becoming so engrossed in the music he notices little else.

Duinlas smiles to Braldor and looks at the gathered folk with a strange glimmer in his blue eyes. He speaks to the Thane then, "A far cry from the makeshift meal I arranged for you when you arrived her almost a year ago, isn't it, friend?" He grins in fond rememberance, and then makes a beeline for the wine, becoming suddenly concious of his half-empty glass.

[Randinen(#10961)]
The door swings open, offering admittance to another elf - the Hirvaethor/Hirdan Randinen.

The feast has already begun and yet the elf enters with calm tread. His grey eyes glide through the room, as if to acknowledge every single face present in the Hall. Surprisingly, perhaps, his garb is not of a formal nature; 'tis one casual marked by a flavour of green and brown. The only mark on the Hirvaethor is upon his chest, a burst of flames rising to meet an argent star; the emblem of Nos Olormaranwe.

Overcoming his short pause, Randinen walks onward. In his hands he holds a small parcel of sorts, wrapped in linen, fitting into one palm of his hand.

[Idhrendae(#31338)]
Dressed in his finest white robes, Idhrendae stands to one side amid a bustling gathering of cooks. Keen eyes flitting over the preparations, he directs the elves to the various tasks of the feast, be it to refill a container of ale or to replenish the trays that the servers carry. At last he manages to break free of their questions, leaving them for a moment to come stand near to Gondramind. "Does all go well, mellon?" he asks, though his eyes do not leave the room.

[Gluin(#8287)] The doors to the Hall are met by the soft touch of dwarven hands, Pushed open, one dwarf, tall and proud, strolls through the open doors. A smile lies warm on his lips, and his eyes gleam in content. T'would be difficult for one to miss his entrance, for his garment is strong and bold, red as the quaking sunset. Pleased with the arrangements made on this night, he is seated beside two elves, opposite to where Thane Braldor is seated.

[Gondramind(#32156)]
Gondramind nods greeting to both Aithilflass and Laurarien as they enter and waves a cheerful greeting to Braldor. "Well met indeed, Thane," he calls then speaks a few final words to the apprentice bathron before joiNing the Thane and Duinlas. "A meal a year ago? Yes, this is a far sight from that, is it not." He smiles courteously toward the guests, an equally kind smile for both edhel and naug alike. "Perhaps we should make our way to the tables? There is no formal seating." He looks up and smiles toward Idhrendae. "All goes very well, mellon."

[Narauk(#4552)] Sitting in the midst of a group of dwarfs is Narauk, a veteran warder of the Lonely Mountain. The glitter and gleam of the silver and crystal settings reflects in his eyes as he gazes around the hall, amazed yet somewhat afraid of all the elvish decoration. FrowNing abit he resembles the grumpy picture of a typical dwarf while talking to his cousins.

[Groth(#22594)] The disposition of the creature standing before you instantly belies its race. Its stern, purposeful gaze and stance combined with a height which is hardly imposing make an odd combination, but one which an unworthy foe would find strangely intimidating. At a glance this broad shouldered khazad seems as any other. A hardy, grim fellow nearly as wide as he is tall. Like all the dwarf folk a beard is a particularily prominant feature on his face. The fiery red beard that is the envy of of every dwarf on this side of the Misty Mountains. The face from a short distance looks heavily tanned though as you get closer it becomes apparent that it is not only this way because of the sun. A long, white scar onto his face, you all of a sudden notice that his Eye is not their. The lines of the scar across his eye, wich you but it is so intricate and vast that the whole face appears darkened. The pattern of scars on his arms appears to be telling the tale of a life of battle. Before you stand the one they call Groth One-Eye...

He is entirely clad in a hauberk of steel ring mail that hangs to his knees, and his legs are covered with hose of a fine and flexible metal mesh, the secret of whose making was possessed by Dain's people. His caps are of iron and they are shod with iron, a short broad sword at his side and a round shield slung at his back. He wears a smelly grey cloak that hangs over his broad shoulders...

The dwarf starts, for the welcome that could be heard in the room and that voice caught him unaware... his mind was elsewhere, further East maybe, in the lands he calls home. He turns his head, and sees the elven lord who has spoken .
"Mae govannen, Gondramind", he says with a corteous nod of his head. "A mighty fine party ya have her!" he booms...

Eddir strides into the room with pride as he sees his comrades both elven and dwarven. Across his back is not strapped his customary axe, but a drum. He walks over toward the musicians and sets it down with a loud thunk. He then takes a seat behind it and takes in the elven harmonies. After a while he begins to add the deep booming of dwarven drums to the lilting notes of the elven tune, creating an interesting counterpoint.

[Gronir(#32425)] Through the door slips another figure. Small and ugly, tries not to turn anybody's attention. This is Gronir. Sitting silently he looks around suspiciously.

Aithilflass finally takes his attention back from the music to the room. Looking around, a slight smile appears on his lips to see so many good friends, and so many potential comrades. A bit of light glimmers in his eye now, as he seems to consider a song. He gets up and strides towards Gondramind.

[Istawen(#31067)]
The door to the DiNing Hall opens and Istawen appears at the door, green eyes quickly surveying the scene with an excited smile. She turns, holding the door open for another behind her, quiet words passed back to the one that follows, before she looks around again, gaze quickly following the soft light and charming decorations. She straightens her blue dress with her free hand, absent-mindedly, smile lighteNing at the sight of the musicians playing nearby.

[Gondramind(#32156)]
Gondramind looks to the door as the Hirvsaethor Randinen enters, and raises a brow towards him. "Excuse me, mellyn," he says to the others and strides toward the Hirvaethor when he is pulled up short by the familiar address of a naug. "Hello Groth. It is a fine party indeed. And laid out for your enjoyment. I hope you will partake of all there is to offer. Now if you will pardon me just a momen."

Drumming begins and Gondramind shakes his head with a smile and continues on his way toward Randinen, "Hello Aithilflass," he says as the eldhel approachs, but he continues on. "Randinen," he says at last eying the package in the awardan's hands. "You finished it?"

[Ilfwen(#7905)] "Thank you, mellon!" Ilfwen says, stepping through the door held open for her by Istawen. She pushes back a stray strand of golden hair and grins, remarking, "I am glad to have happened upon you in Maple Hall, else I might not have known about this feast, and spent the entire day in the forest!" With a gleam in her eye, she adds, "I cannot wait to see the food that has been made for such an occasion!"

"Indeed, it does seem a far sight of that feast, Duinlas", Braldor replies, as his smile broadens, remembering the fine feast offered by Nos Menelmen to the visiting dwarves, during the Council of Elrond. "But, by all means, let's be seated", he then adds, looking for a place in the crowded room. "Ah, mae govannen, Idhrendae", he says, as he eyes the elvish cook. "If this is some more of yer marvelous cooking, then we dwarves will be greatly indebted to ye!", he adds, as he gives Idhrendae a friendly cuff.

[Eddir(#20259)] Suddenly the elven musicians change the tempo of their song, trying to trip the dwarf up. Eddir is only fooled for a moment and speeds up keeping pace. The excellence of the elven tunesmiths cannot be denied though for their music seemed to dance around the beat of the drum, taunting it playfully.

[Gluin(#8287)]
The red dwarf's gaze is steered in direction of musical Herald. He lets go a light chuckle, and slams a light fist down onto the table. "Those elves, not half-bad at singing are they? Though their music is none to match ours." He smirks and bows his head slightly to the elf seated beside him, who is obviously offended. Yet he is not prevented from letting a light wink be slipped off to meet Narauk's gaze.

[Gronir(#32425)] Gronir looks at Groth and whispers (or just imagine he is whispering): "Do they have something to drink here ?"

[Laurarien(#15260)] Sitting across the table from Gronir, Laurarien answers. "Of course we do...Wine, both red and white. And ale. And there is stronger as well, if you need."

[Gondramind(#32156)]
Gondramind, waiting for Randinen's reply, overhears Gronir. "Why yes friend. THere are pitchers of ale and flagons of wine on the tables before you."

[Randinen(#10961)]
As he was looking away when addressed, Randinen turns his head. A slight nod, afore he smiles faintly, "Yes, 'tis done, Gondramind." fleetingly the Hirvaethor glances at the small package in his palm. Then a furrow stirs a darkness in his mien.

"With what strength I could muster... I fear time was a difficult adversary to struggle with." And in an afterthought Randinen muses, "I will not stay long."

[Idhrendae(#31338)]
"It is indeed, Braldor. Thank you for words, and I do hope that it is to be enjoyed." Idhrendae smiles, though he glances quickly to where all begin to sit at the table. "Though I fear that now it needs more supervision, if it is to be of any good taste at all." With an inclination of his head, he steps backwards, and turns to the cooks, watching a moment the guests, before organizing the next round of foods.

Silothiel rushes in the doors. When she sees the amount of people, she says quietly, "Oh, I hope I am not to late..." But soon all fears of being late have vanished, and she walks into the room with a great smile on her face, happy that all of her friends, edhil and naug, have gathered in peace and joy. "Mae govannen, mellyn!" she calls to any that will listen, and she looks for an empty seat at the table.

[Gronir(#32425)] Gronir looks slightly puzzled. "Ehem, forgive me miss Laurarien, I'm just an old soldier, such a noble feast, making me uncomfortable..."

Laurarien laughs, not unkindly. "Tell me then what you wish...and I will see that it is found for you. Ale, perhaps? Or a good red wine?"

[Gondramind(#32156)]
Gondramind looks to Randinen again, a furrow to his brow. "Not stay long? Is all well, my friend?" He is interrupted by the enthusiastic arrival of Silothiel and smiles toward her. "YOu are not late mellon," he says, then turns back to Randinen. "Shall I take this then? Or can you stay at least for the honor of bestowing this yourself?"

[Narauk(#4552)] Still not looking overly comfortable, Narauk helps himself with another ale. DrowNing half of it in a great gulp he continues his silent conversation with the small squadron of dwarves grouped around him.
Yet wether it is the rising music or the consumption of a great amount of ale, slowly the merry feeling and joy within these halls get a hold of him. Now and then you can make out his feet swinging to the rythm of the dwarven drums or see him raise a crystal glass giving it a approving glance.

[Glasiel(#31797)]
There beside the Hirvaethor Randinen, as though she had been there all along, now stands the Hirilin Glasiel. She extends a slender hand toward his arm, a smile on her lips as she nods to those close by. "Mae govannen," she greets all, though then her gaze travels toward Randinen, there to stay.

[Gronir(#32425)] Gronir looks even more puzzled now. "Ehem, ale if you are so kind .."

"Indeed, Gluin, not half-bad", Braldor says, as he listens to the other dwarf's words. "But to each their own... you cannot deny the beauty of the music of the elves. And also, cousin", he adds, eyeing Gluin intently, "look how well Eddir's drum sounds with the elven instruments? 'Tis a sign, cousin. For the elven music will loose something of Eddir's drum, as Eddir's music will loose some of its beauty if the elven musicians weren't there. And so it is with everything else, cousin. Together, we complement each other, and create a music worthy of mahal himself...", he adds.

He then turns back to Idhrendae, a smile again on his face. "Well, if it's as good as in the last feast I enjoyed in Rivendell, songs of great praise will cross the Misty Mountains, talking about the skill of a cook of Rivendell", he says. Seeing Glaiel enter the Hall, he bows low to the elven maiden. "Mae govannen, Glasiel".

Laurarien rises and goes into the kitchen. She reappears a moment later, holding the door as two of the cooks put out a small cask of ale, setting it up on a table at the side of the diNing hall. Laurarien waits for them to finish, then draws a jack of the dark amber drink, and brings it back to the table to hand to Gronir. "There...and I will join you with some wine," she says, pouring her wine.

Aithilflass stands silently beside Gondramind, a glimmer of curiosity in his eyes, but that is quickly replaced by joy to see Glasiel, the Master of the Guild of Singers. He attempts an elegant bow to her, but falters. He looks slightly embarrassed, and just says, "Good eveNing, Glasiel."

[Duinlas(#27187)]
Duinlas drinks mightily from his glass, and under close examination, it might seem Duinlas has taken one of the bottles of wine and has the entire thing on his person, skillfully filling his glass to the very rim each time it gets low. He looks across the room to Braldor and then back over to Gondramind. With a few steps he closes the distance toward Braldor, "Hopefully the memory of the food will last until you make it back to the lonely mountain. Once there, you might be able to wash it away with your ale."

[Istawen(#31067)]
Istawen turns to smile at her friend, "Aye, Ilfwen, I know that Idhrendae has spent long hours preparing for the feast, so I'm sure it will be delicious." she says, her gaze still upon the decorations that have transformed the Hall. "Perhaps we should have some wine, mellon?" Istawen asks.

[Arwen(#30248)] Moonlight accompanies a new arrival in her pale features and argent eyes, even before night has fallen fully upon the vale of her father. Though Arwen's steps may be softened beneath silken skirts, they sound a slow cadence across the polished floors as she enters the hall, a subtle nod for those nearest to her.

[Gronir(#32425)] Gronir takes and ale. "Heh, thank you miss, that is a great pleasure to meet such a lady. Or... I don't know Elvish ranks, I don't know if you are noble, every Elf seems to be noble some way..."

[Randinen(#10961)]
"I shall await the hour." Randinen says in curt words, nodding anew toward his friend the Hirdan, "And worry not, mellon, I am merely hard pressed with tasks at hand. The Tirith... combined with a demand for a large quanitity of lumber; a number not in our storages."

Then the Hirvaethor gestures towards the table, "Yet let us neither tarry nor digress." And half turNing Randinen smiles upon Glasiel at his side. Then the Heryn enters.

[Gluin(#8287)] The mention of ale awakens the red dwarf's blurred stare into nothingness, and he looks up. "If ye have ale, then one would be dearly accepted around here, and I bet my braided beard that I speak not for myself alone. Who will have some?" He looks to both elves and dwarves, for upon this merry night nothing can spoil his good mood. To Braldor he merely chortles, and shakes his head. "The ale has risen to your head, cousin, for you speak nonsense as usual, untelligible blabber."

Laurarien smiles at Gronir. "No matter...your courtesy does you well, so there is no need to trouble with titles that have little meaNing to the listener. Though if you wish, I'll be glad to tell you the tale of my family."

[Duinlas(#27187)]
No elf, nor indeed dwarf could miss the entrance of the Evenstar. Such a presense she has that Duinlas' eyes seem to turn even as his words to Braldor leave his tongue. And then he smiles widely, for he had not known the Heryn would attend, and he shifts the bottle carefully behind him... mustn't be seen carrying around such a thing...

Gronir says, ""Heh, I always liked tales, especially about great battles and Orc killing, have your family battled Orcs ?""

[Gondramind(#32156)]
"I am glad, Randinen," utters Gondramind. And standing near the door, Gondramind well notes the arrival of Elrond's daughter to the DiNing Hall. He places his hand over his heart and bows to her. "Mae govannen, Heryn. Tis..." he looks out over the crowd with a wry grin "A merey gathering. If you would take a seat my lady, we can begin the meal and the formal activities"

Gondramind steps forward into the room and raises his voice. "Mellyn!" He calls, deep baso resonant and clear even in that crowd. "Friends. Let us sit and enjoy the meal that Idhrendae has prepared for us!"

[Narauk(#4552)]
sAlthough his senses are already somewhat blurred by the elven ale, Narauk's attention gets immediately drawn to the slender elven maid entering. The moonlight reflecting in her hair, a soft tone seems to lighten the room. Stunned by her beauty, his mouth open wide, he does nothing but stare at her, holding his mug of ale in front of him halfway to his mouth.

"Wash it away?", Braldor replies, a mockery of astonishment plain in his voice. "But why would I do that? And ale will not wash away the joyful flavor of Idhrendae's food... it will enhance it, and sweeten the memory of it", he adds, as he takes a pitcher of ale and pours some in a mug. He then turns to Gluin, and adds, "Blubber it may seem to uneducated ears, cousin. But it seems that ale has risen to /yer/ head... I wouldn't like the events with that Easterling to happen again", he adds, lowering his voice so only gluin can hear his words. "I know King Dain wouldn't want to be embarrassed". A movement catches Braldor's eye, and he turns to see... an elf maiden, or so she seems, beautiful as a fresh summer morNing. Braldor's eyes widen, and he grows silent, admiring her beauty.

[Eddir(#20259)] More and more revelers enter the room. Some follow the lead of Gondramind while other stand around, enjoying past company. In the back ground, thou, there goes on a minor skirmish between elven and dwarven music. The war between the beats and the harp and lute rages on, but is not uNinteresting to hear. The elvish music holds the offensive while the deep dwarven resonance of Eddir's drum tries to hold the small ground it has gained.

[Glasiel(#31797)]
Glasiel's gentle smile turns to return Aithilflass' greeting with a graceful nod, as well as Braldor's. Her gaze then returns to Randinen, though as Arwen enters the Hall she turns once more, to incline her head in deference to the Heryn.

The words of those nearby bring a wider smile to her lips. "All have arrived at just the right moment, it seems!" She waits to follow Randinen to the table.

[Idhrendae(#31338)]
A gracious smile marks Idhrendae's face upon Braldor's words, though he shakes his head slightly. "You do praise such creations far more than their worth, friend." His attention is now firmly upon the meal, though a small smile still is upon his face, and he turns back to the cooks. At a word, several disappear into the kitchens.

[Gronir(#32425)] Gronir is drinking his ale patiently waiting for Laurarien to start...

Gluin's face moves from merry to grave, as Braldor's words slip through his ears and onto his velvet thoughts. "Pray do not speak to me of education, Braldor, for it is I that is a Loremaster and not thee. And as for ale, I have not yet had one, whereas you are most definetely past your third. The incident with the foul folk of the East has naught to do with the events taking place tonight, so do not bring folly into the house of the merry. Pray be quiet and let the meal take it's course." He pours ale to the brink of his glass, his first, and is once again seated by the table.

Silothiel nods to all that greet her, and she decides to take a seat by Laurarien and Gronir. "Mae govannen," she says. "Ah, all this food looks wonderful!" At the entrance of the Heryn she falls into a respectful silence, and pours herself a glass of red wine.

Laurarien laughs a bit at the question. "Yes...my family has battled a few in our day." She quiets a little, saying more soberly. "We kept the watch for many years...." Laurarien shakes her head. "Grim tales though. I was at Nargothrond, and also marched in the Last Alliance, though I fell there. But yes, Finarfin's house has battled our share of orcs."

Duinlas grins at Gondramind as he calls the orders to be seated. Taking a seat beside Braldor's. He looks at the pitchers then whispers to the dwarf in a voice meant to be overheard, "I think we should have simply brought pitchers for you and your kinsmen." Then his mouth breaks into a grin and he laughs gaily.

Aithilflass looks around. He finally decides it is time he takes his place near the musicians. He grins to hear the dwarf drummer battling the elven musicians.

"Indeed, let's sit down!", Braldor roars, as he takes a nearby chair. His eyes, though, wander to the elf maiden to which all elves seem to pay some deference to... she must be someone important. His gaze turns sour for a split second, as he listens to Gluin's words, but he quickly regains a cheery face. "I merely wanted to make sure we all understand where we are, cousin", he says, his voice dripping honey. "As well as our duty to our King... that was all. But I shall not mention the incident anymore tonight, if that's yer wish, Loremaster".

[Gondramind(#32156)]
As the guests begins to file toward their seats, Gondramind steps toward Braldor, a fond smile on his face as he sees the Thane's reaction to the Heryn Arwen. "Braldor, son of Braldon, Thane of Clan Bundazanul... Let me introduce you to the Heryn Arwen, Lady of Imladris, daughter of the Herdir Elrond. And if you would be so kind as to lead the lady to a seat at the head table"

[Gronir(#32425)] Gronir shakes his head in disbelief. "You have marched in the Last Alliance? Eh, forgive me but I canot imagine such a pretty lady killing at the battlefield.... I meant rather your father or brothers..."

[Istawen(#31067)]
Istawen nods subtly at Gondramind's words and goes to find a place among the long tables. Espying Aithilflass, she steps lightly toward him and seats herself with a smile for her nos brother, "Mae govannen, Aithilflass, I hope you are hungry." she says, with a light smile upon her face.

[Groth(#22594)] LeaNing back in his chair, Groth One-Eye raises his head from his plate of meat wich he was busy to empty in rapid speed. He has small parts of meat in his thick, perfectly-groomed fiery red beard... Seven empty mugs of ale, and an utterly drained pitcher of the same -- as well as a half-empty eigth -- are set before him. By some awful miracle, he's still conscious, as well. Such endurance as only a Dwarf can have... As he wonders back to the barral of ale once more but that he finds empty, Groth's eye, his only eye, falls upon an elf maid who just arrived and seems to be rather important. "Elf Lass!" he booms, a wide grin splitting his face as he turns to Arwen "Refresh my palate then perhaps I can continue me diner" he laughs, innocent, not knowing what he just did...

Aithilflass nods greeting to Istawen. "Mae govannen, Istawen. Indeed I am hungry. And I enjoy hearing my musical companions. How goes your day?"

[Arwen(#30248)] Perhaps the Lady of Imladris bears a smile more graceful and modest than befitting of her noble bearing. Nevertheless, it is elusive to none, and drifts to regard the guests of honor, unfamiliar though some may be. Her last silent regard is for Naurauk, the weight of whose gaze is not likely to be missed. Then is Arwen's focus again stolen.

Gondramind's introduction earns a quiet aside. "So I am to meet the Thane at last. Indeed, those of the Hirdan's company have had much to say to your credit." Her words to Braldor ring of merry laughter, or birdsong of a Spring yet to come.

[Randinen(#10961)]
Upon the outburst of a dwarf, the Hirvaethor Randinen averts his step. No longer he makes way towards the inviting tables... instead his pace ends with the dwarf with the one eye and a calm hand falls upon his shoulder, "You do not bid the daughter of Elrond Half-Elven to refresh your plate, master dwarf. Would you not rather offer some respect, as we would show your King if a guest in his halls?" Randinen speaks curtly, although there is a sharp hint to his voice.

[<#27187>] Duinlas slips up from his seat quickly and smiles to Groth approaching him quickly, 'Friend, I will refil your pitcher, and fetch you anything else you wish...' then he leans down toward the dwarf's ear and whispers, "... us ... ... daughter ... Elrond to ... seated ... ...." He glances to Randinen and smiles apologetically.

[Gondramind(#32156)]
Gondramind deftly steps between Arwen, the... erm... over-merry Groth, and Randien. "A server shall refil your tankard, friend Groth," he mutters kindly. "If you will but take your seat, ale shall be forthcoming. The Lady of Imladris is not to be addressed so"

Gluin remains silent, keeping his tongue safe behind his teeth. He leans back in his chair, and lets his gaze fall quietly upon the fair face of the Evenstar. Quiet, thoughtful he looks, seated there by the table. Yet in his eyes may be caught the glimmer of memory, a faint light hidden in a misty sea of darkness. So he rises to bow, and finds himself kneeling before her. "M'Lady," he says, speaking softly, in a low voice.

Braldor quickly stands up, and bows deep to the elven maiden. "I am at yer service, Heryn Arwen, and yer family's", he says. Braldor seems about to continue, when the rude words of Groth are heard. Quicker than lightiNing, the Thane of Bundazanul stands tall again, looking for the one who so insulted the Heryn Arwen. His eyes soon fall upon Groth, and his eyes blaze with anger. "Groth!", he calls, his voice chill, "I should have ye leave this place, and be punished for yer words. But that will wait... now i will have ye apologize to the lady, and to our friends", he says, approaching Groth. Braldor's mien is cold as the ice of Forochel. Lowering his voice, he growls to Groth, "I will have ye flogged, for this behavior is that of orcs. you'd better behave, cousin... or suffer the consequences".

[Gronir(#32425)] Gronir looks suspiciously at the Elves near Groth, and starts to look for his warhammer...

Glasiel does not move with the ellyn toward Groth, though her pointed gaze does follow them to their destination. Seeing all in hand, she releases a slow breath of satisfaction, and again waits to walk at Randinen's side to the table.

Silothiel does naught but shake her head at Groth's words, and leaves the scolding for the others. But she does smile a bit with approval at Braldor.

[Istawen(#31067)]
Istawen smiles lightly, taking a moment to look up and down the table at the many seated there, "My day has gone well, mellon. I would like to hear you sing again, mellon, but today we shall listen to another kind of music. Never have I heard dwarven song like this before.." she says, voice quiet as she listens to the music. Her attention is distracted, however, by the words of Gondramind to the dwarf Groth, "What do you think..?" Istawen murmurs to her companion.

[Gronir(#32425)] In the lack of his weapon, Gronir looks at the table, silently checking its weight...

[Narauk(#4552)]
As the lady Arwen's gaze rests on his face for a moment, Narauk's face lightens with joy and amazment. As if touched by the last rays of the full moon, he feels a warmth and confidence he never felt before. He seems to notice the beauty of this valley for the first time. His mind lost in thoughts he raises his tankard and while trying to take a great gulp he lets half of his ale drop down his beard.

[Gondramind(#32156)]
"FRIENDS!" Gondramind's voice booms as it rarely does, rarely has... A thin smile follows. "For such we all are, here, merry or sober. To table. Misunderstandings are bound to happen." He gazes upon the Lady Arwen and bows again. "My appologies, Heryn, for the discourtesy of certain of our guests. I am sure none of it was intended."

[Gronir(#32425)] It looks Gronir could use this table instead warhammer ...

Aithilflass nods again. "Indeed, mellon, I would appreciate the oppurtunity to sing again, but I am content listeNing to this new..." He stops, startled by Gondramind's outburst, then turns back to Istawen. "Yes, I am interested in this new style of music."

Braldor growls menacingly to Groth once more, before turNing his gaze from him. His eyes are quickly drawn back to Arwen. "Indeed, please excuse the harsh words of a dwarf who's brain is too deep inside his mug of ale", he says, his eyes glancing again to Groth, a menacing flash in them warNing Groth that he's in trouble. "But let us forget this... small incident, shall we? And let's do as Gondramind says, and let's get seated, and be merry!"

Gluin rises from the kneeling and returns to his seat by the table. Ever he remains quiet and fades into the background, no longer taking interest or an upper hand in the matters of Groth. Emptying the glass of ale in his hand, he leaves the music to be heard and closes his eyes. LeaNing backwards, he falls off into a gentle snooze.

[Arwen(#30248)] Undomiel has but a fleeting smile, and crystalline words lacking even the faintest sharpness around the edges, though a delicate brow may raise as she looks to Groth and the bustle now to surround him. "I am sure it is one to be easily overcome, and soon forgotten," Arwen muses quietly to Gondramind and Braldor before turNing a smile again to the latter. As a flaxen-haired server indicates with a bow, two seats stand empty at one of the frontmost tables. Already the Lady moves toward them, the subtlest extending of her pale hand inviting Braldor to join her.

[Idhrendae(#31338)]
Yet perhaps not, for Gondramind's speech has only just faded from the air as the kitchen door swings suddenly open. Through it come several cooks, and large trays do they bear, silver and sparkling, though of more interest, perhaps, are the great meat pies that come upon them, or the leafy greens as well. They approach quickly, weaving through the crowd with effortless grace until they stand aside the table. A pie and salad are placed at each seat, and drinks are filled as well, wine and ale freely poured. With a quick glance to ensure the wellness of their work, the servers step back quickly, and with a nod to Idhrendae return to the kitchens.

Braldor follows Arwen to the seats, his face a bit flushed... well, what can be seen of his face, for his beard, moustache, and hair cover most of it. However, the Thane Bundazanul strides confidently behind the elven maiden, as doors bang open and elven cooks come forth, bringing food. Braldor's smile widens, taking almost to his ears, as he eyes the plates and trays. TurNing an amused eye to Idhrendae, Braldor winks, as he waits for Arwen to sit.

Aithilflass eyes the salad and pie hungrily, merely taking a small sip from his glass of wine.

[Gondramind(#32156)]
Gondramind follows the lady Arwen and Braldor toward the foremost table, At that moment, the servers arrive with the formal meal, setting it before the diners. "Excellent," he mutters. "Please, everyone, let us enjoy this feast as friends, for so you have become to us in your long stay here." He pulls out a chair for the Heryn, and awaist for her to sit.

[Groth(#22594)] Groth One-Eye staggers to his feet, by all the people surrounding him. FrowNing deeply, he mumbles, "Lady of Rivendell? Bah!" With a jerky, convulsive movement of the right hand, he drains his seventh mug. Then he nods, still surprised, and claps Braldor on the back--a little roughly--the hand with the mug is used. "Well, lad, good! No harm intended aye" he exclaims, beaming his own share. "And my excuses to thou, Lady Arwen!" he laughs." Now where's me ale?" The battle-scared veteran blinks into the audience, and then shrugs. While moving back to his seat his broad shoulder hits Randinen, not hard but a clear sign of his dislikeings. "You'd better stay out of my way laddie" his grim voice sounds as he returns to his seat...

Aithilflass sits quietly at his place, a clearly disapproving look aimed at the one-eyed dwarf.

[Gronir(#32425)] Gronir sudennly remarks that this nice elfie is gone. "Heh, perhaps she was offended by my disbelief" - he murmurs to himself - "These elfies are so delicate".Next he starts to look around and catches next lady in green, she has a bright yellow flower braided into her hair, which for Gronir is little funny. He starts chuckling....

[Randinen(#10961)]
"If you will not bide to the wish of your Thane..." Randinen smiles placidly, responding with words to the act of the dwarf, "Perhaps your peace can be found outside. Still your tongue with ale if you must, master dwarf, yet please, we ask you kindly to not spill unkind words. This gathering has been declared merry. I have no desire to contest that decree."

The Hirvaethor folds his arms, he shakes his head in fleeting disdain. Yet he is true to his own word, stepping back.. not taking a seat, sadly even now forced in the role of 'guard'.

Glasiel's eyes widen at Groth's next actions, and she takes one step closer toward what may soon become the center point of trouble....

And here there is no cause for concern! Her green-blue eyes shimmer with pride at Randinen's actions, and she moves to stand beside him, to keep him company.

Arwen descends gracefully into the offered chair, a grateful nod over her shoulder to Gondramind. Then to Groth's rough address does she turn. "Be your apologies sincere, I am not one to refuse. Please sit and enjoy this food and company." Although stately poise indeed straightens her shoulders and colors her words, approval fades gradually from Arwen's gaze as she follows the dwarf's interaction with Randinen.

Aithilflass tries his best to ignore the conflict, and starts chewing his salad thoughtfully. After swallowing, he turns to Istawen. "Perhaps now would be the time for a song..."

Duinlas returns to his seat now, a smile of amusement on his face, he turns to Gondramind, and looks as he would speak, but is silent instead, merely smiling all the same. His eyes are distracted, however, by the arrival of the trays of the main feast. And he places the bottle of wine he has carried in front of him on his spot on the table. He turns to Braldor as the dwarf helps the Lady Arwen seat, and pulls out the dwarf's chair, "Now come sit, son of Braldon, so you may place the memory of our food on your tongue."

[Narauk(#4552)]
The serving of delicious food and more ale finally draws Narauks's attention away. Following the discussion of the cousins around him again, he gladly thanks the server and starts to eat the offered pie and salad. Still now and again his gaze wanders to the front table, looking at the Lady Arwin.

[Gronir(#32425)] Gronir takes another mug of ale and tries to rememeber how many he has before. The situation in the hall seems to be quite nervous, so he decides to resolve it in the only way he knows. Gronir stands up, raises his mug and cries "I have a toast! To the Lady Arwen!"

[Gondramind(#32156)]
Gondramind's eyes flash with a glint of steel as Groth continues his ill mannered behavior. He gently pushes in the Lady's chair, and then takes one himself. Sitting, watching the naug with cool impassivity as Randinen speaks to him. "Indeed, excuses should be made," he says "and unkind words taken elsewhere. This feast is for your honors all, please," he indicates again the repast laid out before them all. He then raises his glas as Gronir offers a toast. "Indeed. To the Heryn. And to you all, as our guests," he intones, hitting the word "our" a bit heavily.

Braldor chuckles easily at Duinlas's words, eyeing again the trays laden with food. "Well, it will be my pleasure, Duinlas", he says, as a chuckle escapes from his lips. Braldor sits in the place offered to him, and turns to Gondramind and Duinlas. "And i will ask that Gondramind, Duinlas, and Idhrendae also sit here... so we remember the Feast in the fair caverns of Nos Menelmen, and the spirit of friendship and merryment we have had since then". Although his tone is merry, his eyes flash as they regard Groth... another warNing, and maybe the last. But braldor can do nothing now, and he gives a little sigh. "Although darkness spreads in the outside world, trying to separate us who are friends; may the light of our friendship dispel it. And as Gronir says, let us toast... to lady Arwen, and the elves of Rivendell! May our paths cross again soon!", he says, as he lifts his foaming mug of ale.

Aithilflass raises his wine glass to the toast, looking very relieved now that the threat of conflict is past.

Duinlas turns to Braldor and smiles, "True words, Braldor. But know also that you sit among those who do not look upon the actions of few as representation of all. Just as we asked you and your kin to do when similar words were passed between our races..." he does not elaborate, but all who were at the council surely know of what he speaks.

[Arwen(#30248)] At this, Arwen lifts a slender goblet from an offered serving tray. "To all who attend so merry an occasion, that it might not be the last." This the Heryn adds to sentiments already spoken by Gronir, Gondramind, and Braldor, before taking a delicate sip of her wine.

Duinlas lifts his wine glass and salutes the toast, sipping his wine and smiling at the Heryn's words.

[Gronir(#32425)] Gronir, seeing the toast is raised, takes a deep breath to make a speech. Unfortunately he has no idea how to make a noble speech for Elves. In that case he decided to speak straight from his heart: "Yea, I know that Elves don't trust Dwarves and Dwarves do not trust Elves. But we were NEVER, I repeat, we were NEVER be ENEMIES! And moreover, we fought in the battle on the same side - this make us brothers! Yea!".

Silothiel lifts her goblet as well. "Aye, to newfound friends, and hopes that we will meet again." She glances sideways at Braldor as she speaks.

[Gondramind(#32156)]
Gondramind raises his glass at Braldor's toast "And to that I add, 'To the Thane of Clan Bundazanul and the Dwarves of Erebor." He smiles, eying Gronir. "Never enemies indeed. Never enemies indeed." And he takes a deep, long draught then of his culyave. TurNing then to the Lady Arwen, he says softly, "Shall we to bestow the honor now my lady?"

[Eddir(#20259)] The music has changed many times, each time the dwarf keeping up with the pace, but as the next course of food is brought to the table, the fatuge and hunger takes its toll on Eddir. As the elves speed the music to a crescendo the dwarf looses time and slams his fist down on the drum head, breaking it with a loud crack and it falls over. Looking up the son of Oddi looks up sheepishly, and nervously picks the drum up, and dusts off the sides, as if that were going to fix it.

Aelin looks expectantly at Lady Arwen

[Randinen(#10961)]
A hint of approval brightens Randinen's mien, nonetheless he does not lift a goblet. His arms remain as they are, folded. His eyes roam past the guests, lips curling into a greater smile.

Glasiel lifts a goblet, retrieved from the tray of a passing server. "To the Heryn," she murmurs softly, and then, "To our guests." She then holds out the goblet toward Randinen in silet offer, in case he would wish to share in the toast.

[Arwen(#30248)] With a passing glanced shared between Gondramind and Randinen, the Evenstar needs but nod her silent assent, and stands slowly with inherent grace. Then through a smile, she lifts her gentle voice in more open regard of the entire hall.

"A noble toast, and aptly spoken," she lilts in effortless address, her eyes flickering brightly to Gronir, its originator. " Would our guest then let it be continued by one of Elrond's house?"

[Finweg(#31414)] As the feast goes on, Finweg walks in to the DiNing Hall. He seems in a hurry, not wanting to miss the feast. He smiles at the elves and dwarves, and bows. "Mae govannen, mellyn. I am sorry I am late. I was in the forge room and lost track of time." He sits down at the table.

[Groth(#22594)] His mug is empty, and Groth looks down into it, a puzzled look on his grim ruddy face, unawere of the words spoken towards and against him. Groth One-Eye, as he was more commonly known among the Dwarves that inhabit frequently the infamous Dragons Breath Tavern in the Lonely Mountain. Goth raises his hand long enough for a server to bring him yet another tankard of ale. Pouring the contents of the vessel down his throat in a matter of seconds the thanked the elf with a curt nod...

[Idhrendae(#31338)]
Idhrendae looks up from his preparations as he hears the toasting. Noting the murmured speech between Gondramind and the Heryn, he smiles, and upon her words leaves his food more fully to watch, expectantly.

Duinlas turns his eyes toward Arwen as she rises, he glances toward Gondramind with a curious look, but speaks no words, instead looking curious at the Evenstar.

[Gronir(#32425)] Gronir bows deeply to Lady Arwen. "As you command lady, ... never be the best speaker..."

Braldor also regards the Heryn Arwen as she stands, her musical voice asking to continue the toast. Expectantly, and with a smile on his face, Braldor regards the elven maiden.

[Gondramind(#32156)]
Gondramind smiles and looks up as the Heryn stands and prepares to make her toast. He flicks his gaze then toward Braldor, trying to conceal his mirth, then quickly toward Randinen, before settling his attention, finally and at last, upon the Lady of Imladris.

[Narauk(#4552)] Raising his mug Narauk gazes at Arwen half turned on his bench, awaiting her toast.

[Eddir(#20259)] Taking a decanter from a passing elf servant, confusing it for a mug, Eddir walks up to an empty seat at the table regarding his neighbors with a nod but quickly sits as he notices Gondramind preparing to toast.

Finweg turns as the Lady stands. He raises his glass in preperation for her toast.

[Arwen(#30248)] "I thank you," Arwen breathes quietly to Gronir, over the rim of her glass tipped slightly to him. Then with scarcely more clearing of her throat than even the closest to her might hear, the Lady continues.

"Welcome are you, as friends from afar, all who have been companions of kin to this House upon the passes between our lands. For your craft and for your companionship, we would not have you depart unhonored." A pause in passing, as her even grey gaze sweeps over the faces of those gathered before she continues.

[Glasiel(#31797)]
Even as she holds her goblet out toward Randinen, the Hirilin Glasiel turns her gaze to hear Arwen's words. As the Evenstar speaks, Glasiel's smile grows, and she waits for what more may be said.

Duinlas listens to the last word she speaks and a smile spreads across his lips, his eyes flick down toward Braldor beside him only briefly before returNing to the Lady at the head of the table.

Finweg watches as the Lady makes her toast, a smile spreading on his face. He then listens to the Lady, awaiting what she may say next.

Braldor's mug of ale lies in his right hand, the foam tipping it with a white crest. The emerald of his golden ring shines, shedding Braldor's hand with a greenish cast to it. His gaze, however, remains fixed on Heryn Arwen as she speaks, the dwarf seems spell-bound by the elf-maiden's musical voice. "Honor enough is to call the elves of the Hidden Valley friends, and to have walked among the trees, and to have admired the beautiful caverns that the Valley has", Braldor says at last. "Merry has been our time here, and we shall never forget the courage of the courage of Elrond's Folk, nor the dedication of the healers in seeing us back to health", he adds, glancing at Glasiel and Silothiel.

[Gondramind(#32156)]
Gondramind smiles placidly as Arwen speaks, gaze flicking to Braldor again. Then leans over to Duinlas and whispers to him as Braldor interjects.

[Randinen(#10961)]
Randinen declines the offered goblet with a gesture of his hand. It appears he is not thirsty. As the Heryn words her speech, his eyes are drawn towards her figure. The conversation at hand returns some merit to his visage; for therein shines enjoyment, set in his grey eyes and the sharp lines of his features.

Duinlas smiles and nods to his nos-brother and leans back and whispers but two words before he brings his attention back to Arwen.

[Gronir(#32425)] Gronir stares for a while at Lady Arwen, then sits and looks at the lady with a yellow flower in hairs. "Do you know, miss, why we don't trust the Elves ? Because you use powers we don't understand. Brave fight, good craft - this is a real world for me. You are causing strange things with the people. Look at this for example: I don't find Lady Arwen attractive at all, I'm not one of these 'elf-lovers', but when she looks at me I feel strange here in the heart.... What witchcraft it is ?...

[Iaurnen(#31315)]
Idhrendae stands still to the side, and yet now all preperations have ceased throughout the ranks of the cooks. They stand watching, awaiting the coming of the Heryn's next words, and their eyes flit between the dwarves and elves.

[Narauk(#4552)] His mug still raised in front of him, Narauk awaits the Lady Arwen to continue. As Braldor interrupts her shortly, he first looks rather puzzled, but he nods to his words in agreement.

[Arwen(#30248)] "And yet..." the Evenstar adds, her eyes betraying a brighter smile than even her lips allow to show. "...There is one among King Dain's most esteemed that I would see so honored as with a title we of Herdir Elrond's House may give. By the account of many, it is well-deserved that you, Thane Braldor and Advisor to your King, be henceforth known as Elf Friend to the Imladhrim. I thank you for your friendship, as do the many whose paths have crossed yours."

Here her focus drifts to Gondramind, Randinen, and those of their closest company, before the Lady lifts her goblet aloft. "As shall your courage be remembered in this House, Braldor," she replies, now to the Thane alone, allowing the room to show their sentiments openly. Again now does her focus return to the the Hirvaethor and Hirdan. "I would allow you to continue, if you wish."

[Randinen(#10961)]
"Hear, hear!" Randinen speaks in louder voice, to add a voice of approval to the honor bestowed. His hands produce a modest applause as he finally forsakes his static stance. Thus the Hirvaethor strides toward the table, posing himself to the right of Braldor. Curtly he pats the dwarf on the shoulder, "Naturally our folk is familiar with the wills and ways of your people, Thane... Titles your hands can not grasp." a secretive smile as the Hirvaethor silences a moment,

[Gondramind(#32156)]
Gondramind stands then and raises his glass to Braldor and smiles as Randinen stands next to the Thane. "My friend, you will be long remembered for your courage, your honor, and your friendship. By the elves of Imladris, the elves of nos Menelmen, and I am sure the elves of nos Fithurin as well. Our memories are long and never fail. And in honor of this," he smiles. "Randinen has crafted a gift for you."

Duinlas raises his glass and speaks over the din, "Given it may be, but more simple acknowledgement it is, ellon mellon. We in Menelmen have known you as such since you first set foot in our halls, and now may all know you and acknowledge you." He drinks his glass wine down in one gulp. But shortly afterward he slips from the table and moves toward the musicians, who stopped playing when the Lady Arwen began her speech. Now he speaks quietly to them. Two of them slip to the hallway with the broken drum, and Duinlas remains standing by the others.

[Glasiel(#31797)]
Again Glasiel's goblet is raised, and she sips her wine in honor of Braldor, her most winNing smile aimed in his direction as she watches the ceremony.

Finweg raises his glass in approval of the toast, smiling broadly. He then takes a sip of his glass and sets it down.

Braldor's face remains composed, but his eyes now shine with amazement, and merryment, and friendship... A smile finally creeps into the dwarf's face, as he's struck speechless by the words of Arwen. He gazes at Arwen, then at Gondramind, Duinlas, Idhrendae, Glasiel, Silothiel, and finally to Randinen, who has come towards him. His gaze continue to go about the room. It would seem a bit strange to anyone that a dwarf will name so many of the Firstborn as frineds... but Braldor does. Braldor can feel the friendship of the elves, and the dwarves gathered there, blanket him, washing away some of the worry that the dwarf has felt at the perils that he and his friends have faced. Finally, Braldor manages to control his emotions. "I... I am deeply honored indeed, lady Arwen", he says, "Honored by yer friendship, and by the friendship of those gathered here. Merry was the hour in which I first came to Rivendell, for I was able to get to jknow ye all. And I have found courage, and friendship, and beauty in this Valley; and I am grieved to part with ye. But Erebor is my home. And as long as the dwarves remain upon Middle Earth, the wisdom and courage of the Folk of Elrond will be remembered in Erebor, and songs shall be sung in praise of ye".

[Narauk(#4552)] Sharing the honor his cousin received by the noble folk of the valley, Narauk raises his mug and toasts to Braldor. He then turns to the gathered khazads at his table again and continues his meal.

[Glasiel(#31797)]
Another smile graces Glasiel's lips as Braldor speaks, and she sips some more of her wine. Later on, perhaps it may be noticed that she is no longer standing there watching the feast, though when she slipped out may be unknown.

[Randinen(#10961)]
"A modest piece, I assure you." Randinen murmurs, and in his hand lies visibly the small parcel, "The Tirith and Artisans agreed a token must be made. For elf and dwarf stood together as they have done in a time long ago - forgotten by some. Yet I was present then and witnessed the sacrifice of the Naugrim to protect both their own as the elven home that was once Eregion. So stood you with us upon our return from Erebor. These ties of friendship are strong and I pray they will aid us in the times to come."

Thus the Hirvaethor stretches his hand to undo a wrapping and reveal the 'gift' to Braldor, "Cherish it, as it is the only of its kind." And caught between elven fingers, lies a crest; a green circle with a wood grain border - therein stands tall and firm an axe, its blade facing left. A mark doubtlessly well known among the Naugrim, were it not for an addition by elven make... For, there, perched atop the circle is - fair and fine - a white dove; her wings spread, as if she were in flight, the dwarven emblem safely carried in her claws. And verily, the dove is resemblant of the white bird born by the Tirith Imladhrim of which some are present within the Hall.

"A gift well earned." Randinen declares and he falls into a formal bow, afore he steps back.

[Duinlas(#27187)]
Finally the two young musicians come back in, a new drum in their arms. They smile to Duinlas and the three speak quickly. Finally the group of musicians begin to set up a new arrangement and begin to retune their instruments... all the notes seem tobe going deeper. Duinlas then turns to the gathered and smiles and speaks:
"Gronir, I believe you spoke a toast of the friendship of elves and dwarves. And of the time when we fought together. I have here a song to sing that perhaps you will all appreciate. A time when the dwarves fought with the elves... I now would offer this as a gift to you all, for some of your kin heard a song like it in the taverns of Erebor, I sing now with my kin, and my own instruments behind me."

[Gondramind(#32156)]
Gondramind smiles broadly toward the Thane as the gift is offered. "We shall be remembered in Erebor," he chuckles merrily. "That is well my friend, for you shall long be remembered here. As the bravery of Durin's folk is long rememberd after the fall of Eregion... so shall you be remembered. As Randinen says, the Artisans of Imldris, for whom you risked so much and so bravely, wished to express their thanks. And through Randinen's skilled hands, this thanks is made manifest. A symbol of friendship ever toward you."

[Arwen(#30248)] At length, Arwen takes one step back from the gathering of friends, remaiNing as one of the closest onlookers as Gondramind and Randinen approach the Thane and complete the ceremony. "A fine gift indeed. Care for it well upon your journey home." Then with quiet anticipation of Duinlas' music to come, her silent smile turns to him from the gathering of onlookers.

Braldor turns to Randinen, and his eyes open wider as he sees the gift. He then bows low to Randinen. "I shall cherish it above any other treasure, friend Randinen", he says, "Not only for it's uniqueness, but because it implies something I beleive firmly in. The union represented in this gift of yers brings much joy to my heart, and represents two things very dear to me: Erebor, and Rivendell. I shall take it, Randinen, as a symbol of our friendship, and it shall pass after me to all the Thanes of Bundazanul so we don't forget our ties". Braldor then takes the crest, and holds it aloft, so that all assembled may see it.

[Groth(#22594)] Groth has emptied yet another keg of ale. His red, bulbous nose is a clear indicator that he is a seasoned veteran to drink, but even he set quietly, now that is, on his chair, watching the events of the night pass by...

[Gronir(#32425)] Gronir again tries to whisper to Groth, hoping the Duinlas's song will jam his words. "What a shame, we haven't anything for these elfies as a gift... Perhaps I should go for my hammer... you think ?.... Or perhaps we should sing one of our battle hymns ? "

[Groth(#22594)] Tankard to his lips, Groth's brows lift as his name is whispered among many others present here. For a second he frowns, unable to place the owner of the voice, but his gaze lands upon that of Gronir and frown splits to smile. The now half-empty tankard of ale sloshes precariously about as the battle-scared veteran of the Barak Zirak shakes his head. "Nah cousin, let the elf sing" he whispers back...

[Randinen(#10961)]
As the crest is accepted, truly does a smile colour the Hirdan's face. "I am glad you welcome our gesture... to treat it akin an heirloom, is an honour for me in turn. I thank you, Braldor." Yet then Randinen steps further back, "Accept my apologies, however, for I dare not stay to share the merriment. There are tasks which can not wait..." Absently the Hirvaethor eyes the door, "Namarie, I might return at a later time. I heard when ale is their faithful companion, the dwarves are hard-pressed to leave a feasting Hall." and chuckling he strides away.

[Gondramind(#32156)]
Gondramind heartily pats Braldor on the back as the music begins. "Enjoy it my friend. And enjoy this feast for your honor, and for the honor of your commrades. Namaried, Randinen!" he calls, looking up as the Hirvaethor departs. He pats Braldor's shoulder once more, and then resumes his seat, quietly sipping his wine, the ghost of a thoughtful smile playing about his lips as he looks out upon the gathering of edhil and naugrim, enjoying every moment of the feast, from the drunken antics to the music, to the musical laughter of his brethren.

[Duinlas(#27187)]
Duinlas turns and nods to the musicians behind him and thus begins the song... a deep hearty rhythem of the drum fills the diNing hall. The sound vibrating deep inside each person as the drummers' hands strike the surface expertly. Then comes the sound of a harp, only it's deepest sounding strings resonating, the music a very deep sound...

And by contrast, Duinlas' voice rises into the air, a rich baritone gliding over the deep sounds of the instruments telling a tale within the music...
I sing now a tale of Khazad-Dum
Before the gates were shut forever,
or our house built in our valley...

Elrond Halfelven's host fell back
against bitter orcs of Sauron.
Outnumbered by hosts beyond count
The elves' doom looked close at hand...

Braldor sits again, but his eyes remain glittering as he regards the crest given to him by Randinen. A treasure indeed it was, finely crafted by the elven smith. Braldor blinks, as his eyes water with tears of joy. This moment indeed will remain in the dwarf's memory forever, and in the memory of all present. Dwarves and elves together as friends, fighting against the shadow... but the dwarf's thoughts don't linger much on alliances, and fights, and the Shadow. Indeed, nothing would be able to shadow this day, with the presence of so many Braldor holds so dear. Sitting again, Braldor enjoys Duinlas's song, his spirit soaring like the voice of the elven singer.

[Duinlas(#27187)]
And as the music reaches it's deepest part it suddenly rises, like the light of Earendil over the western horizon. The drum's beat quickeNing as the harpist brings her instrument's voice up as Duinlas' own voice rises higher. It is now the voice of admiration and gratitude, and it's tale goes on again, his eyes looking at each of the Naugrim as he sings of their forefathers an age ago...
But Sauron forgot Khazad-Dum...
Then came Durin, Father of Dwarves
With a host of allies in tow

He smote the flanks of Sauron's hosts
And thus the folk of Elrond fled
to live to fight another day...

And on another day fight they did...
to Sauron's ruin and bitterness...
But of the end, I cannot say...
For my song sings only the past...

And at once, the music ends with Duinlas' voice. His head gazing at those assembled and then he smiles to Braldor, "Intangible though it may be, perhaps you shall remember it on the road home, and it will give you renewed strength."

[Gronir(#32425)] Hearing the name of Khazad-Dum mentioned in a song, Gronir stands up with tears in his eyes and starts to sing silently trying not to disturb Duinlas's performance. The words of the song are harsh and strange, it seems he is singing in Khuzdul... But the tone of the hymn is very noble and proud...

[Aithilflass(#31869)] After hearing the wonderful song of Duinlas, Aithilflass continues on his salad, and starts work on his pie. After swallowing a bite of the delectable pie, he turns to Istawen. "Well, that was a great celebration, wasn't it?" asks he. "I do think those dwarves aren't so bad, despite what some may have said before this feast. And I shall sing a song now, if you wish."

Braldor seems to be lost in Duinlas's song, as he sees the Great gates of Moria open, and the proud standard of Durin's Folk come forth, followed by many dwarves. He also sees the battle, as Durin's army bought enought time for the elves of Ost-in-Edhil to flee North. Then the army of the dwarves slowly retreated, until finally they reached the Gates again, pursued by the Enemy. There, a cadre made the ultimate sacrifice, buying time for their kin to enter, and for the gates to shut. The 'Shields of Durin' the cadre was called afterwards, a mane honored by all dwarves. As the song ends, Braldor stands, and applauds noisily. "Intangible gifts such as this, friend Duinlas, are precious indeed", the dwarf replies. "As i shall cherish Randinen's gift, I shall also cherish yours. Maybe I will sing it to Thrak, the King's Skald, so that it may also be remembered in Erebor."

[Istawen(#31067)] "Beautiful, mellon Duinlas." Istawen says quietly, "Truly, the essence of the past captured within so lovely a song is a joy to hear." She pauses, relaxing back in her chair before nodding to Aithilflass with a smile, "Aye, mellon, please do. There is never too many songs to be heard."

Aithilflass grins, and seems to think which one he should sing. "There are so many!"

[Groth(#22594)] Groth's head sinks onto his plate of meat, presumably set before him to satisfy his hunger -- now, however, it serves as a headrest. And he has stew in his thick, perfectly-groomed beard ... Sixteen empty mugs of ale, and an utterly drained pitcher of the same -- as well as a half-empty seventhteen -- are set before him as he falls asleep...

Aithilflass stands, and commences to sing: "Gil-galad was an elven king. Of him the harpers sadly sing: The last whose realm was fair and free between the Mountains and the Sea." His tone captures a feeling of the ancients, and a little breeze almost seems to stir, bringing back memories of the past.
Aithilflass continues to sing, "His sword was long, his lance was keen, his shiNing helm afar was seen; the countless stars of heaven's field were mirrored in his silver shield."

[Istawen(#31067)] Istawen sits back with a smile, listeNing to the words of Aithilflass, carefully, green eyes centred upon the opposite wall, except for when they flicker briefly to the ellon's face.

Braldor closes his eyes as Duinlas ends his song, and another elf rises his voice in song. Indeed, Braldor can feel the warmth of the friendship these elves had offered. The roads of life are sometimes strange, but Braldor feels he has found a reward here for all his efforts. This will give him strenght to face the perils that lie ahead of him, and indeed, the perils all the dwarves must face soon, for the orcs of Sarn Goriwing still threaten them. But with allies, nay, friends!, such as these, the outcome cannot be other than victory, and the banishment of the Shadow. Braldor sighs as he sits back, and enjoys the ale offered by the elves.