Nin

An Exchange Of Gifts

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.

[Duinlas(#27187)] The stars of Elbereth burn brightly in the night sky above the Valley of Elrond. Linnors raise their voices in the night, welcoming the quick-coming spring. As the song and light fills the Valley, Duinlas enters the Great Hall of nos Menelmen. The roar of the waterfall echos through the stone hall as a few figures slip in. Duinlas turns and closes the door behind him, dulling both the music of the fall and the singers.

Then he turns to one of the companions, as the others wander off on their own, "Well, Braldor. Share a mug of ale before you depart tomorrow? It will be the last for some time."

Braldor is sitting on a chair in the Great Hall of Nos Menelmen, his eyes staring into a goodly fire, the wood cracking every now and then. The dwarf's things lie nearby ordered neatly, as Braldor prepares to leave Rivendell after his long stay. The dwarf's blue cloak hangs from a perch, and he is dressed in a snowy white shirt and dark leather breeches. Supple leather boots cover his feet, and his legs are crossed.

As the murmur of water can be heard, Braldor turns his eyes towards the Golden Door of the Hall, and notices Duinlas enter. He then stands, and approaches the elf. "Indeed, I will share more than a mug of wine with ye, Duinlas", Braldor says, as a smile blossoms on his face. "Indeed, it will be long before I get to have some ale again, for the BeorNings don't like it, and they prefer mead. It's not bad, but ale is better", he adds, winking at Duinlas.

Duinlas laughs and settles into a chair beside Braldor. Duinlas looks comfortable, fully healed from his battle and only the slightest hint of nervous expectation for his upcoming wedding. "Well, Thane Elf-Friend, it seems each to his own. The elves drink from wine aged for many years. The dwarves of ale, aged with less time. And the BeorNings the shortest wait. But what more would you share with me?" He casts a curious eye toward his friend.

Braldor grins, but says nothing as he goes towards the back of the cavern, where his things are neatly stacked. He then rummages there for a bit, looking inside a pack, then another, his hands moving things. "Now, where did I...", the thane's voice is lost in an uNintellegible murmur, as he looks for... whatever it is he's looking for. After a while, a small cry escapes from his lips, as his right hand seems to be holding something inside one of the packs. Braldor carefully brings it forth, and then makes sure it is indeed what he was looking for. "Well, friend Duinlas... I imagine ye're right. Men have always seemed a bit impetuous... maybe due to their short stay in these lands", he says, as he approaches again to the fore of the hall, where Duinlas sits.

Duinlas watches the dwarf curiously, but a smile slips onto his face and he thinks he guesses Braldor's mind, "Perhaps this is true. Perhaps. But the Children of Iluvatar we all are..." his voice trails off as he watches Braldor return to the front of the hall. And as the dwarf approaches, the elder elf folds his arms and raises his eyebrows in curiosity.

"Aye, friend Duinlas, that we all are... Dwarves, Elves, and Men", Braldor replies, as he sits on a chair facing Duinlas. "But... well, I have... something I wish ye to have... a memory, if ye wish, of yer stay in Erebor", he adds. Braldor then places a small box on a small table. The box is of dark wood, and unadorned... well, unadorned by anything other than the lustrous wood itself, for the box has been polished, and the wood seems to sparkle. "I wish ye to have this, friend", he adds, as he slides the box towards Duinlas.

Duinlas leans forward his face alight with surprise and delight, "Braldor! How could I ever refuse anything from you? You are both honorable and great. The Bards of both our people shall sing your praises for many ages, I deem." Then he reaches out and takes the small box in both hands, his long fingers gliding over its surface. "I am no Awardan, but truly this is a remarkable work..."

"Thank ye for yer kind words, Duinlas", Braldor replies, his smile broadeNing, "but indeed the Brads will also speak of the elves of Elrond's Folk, and their kind speech", he adds. "But not only the box is my gift to ye... also the contents", he then adds with a wink. "I had not much time to work on the box, because what is in it took me a great deal of time... more than I thought. But I wouldn't have left without finishing it, and giving it to ye".

Duinlas' eyes twinkle as a grin spreads across his face. He pulls at the top, and the lid opens easily, revealing....

The contents of the small wooden box catch the light given by the fire, and reflect it with a golden hue. Indeed, inside the box lie two delicately wrought chains of gold, meant to be used around the neck. Each chain also sports a fine pendant, leaf-shaped and made also of gold. On the front of the pendant, a depiction of the Lonely Mountain can be seen in a bas-relief, a pair of crossed axes at the base of it. On the back, a small design can also be seen: a circle with a wood grain border - therein stands tall and firm an axe, its blade facing left. 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. This seems to be the mark of the artisan who wrought the pendants and the chains. The chains also seem to have some kind of gems wrought between the small links, and they also twinkle with the firelight.

[Duinlas(#27187)]
Long fingers reach down into the box and lift both up into the air, the light of the torches glimmering off the gold, "Mellon..." Duinlas' voice speaks and fades as his eyes gaze at the detail and beauty of the works. He turns them over, blue eyes taking in each detail. As the pendants twist on the end of the chain, the light plays off each detail... and Duinlas remains silent.

Finally he sets them down into the box again, and he speaks, "Not only is your skill worthy of praise and renoun, but your attention to even the smallest detail is commendable..." he lifts one of the chains up and with a skill that is not easy to master, he fastens the chain behind his neck without tangling it in his hair. And the golden emblem rests against his fair skin, "I shall now have a gift of great worth and beauty to give to my most desired treasure..." he lifts the other chain and smiles at the dwarf.

Braldor's smile takes almost to his ears, as Duinlas inspects his gift. "Well, I am glad ye like them", he says in a cheerful voice. "I hope Dairwenraiel likes it too, and that her memories of her time spent in the Lonely Mountain are all fair and bring warmth to her heart. Tis sad I cannot remain here for the ceremony of yer wedding, Duinlas", he adds then with a small sigh, "but matters keep moving, even while I linger here in this fair place. But duty calls, my friend, and I must leave ye. i have messages from King Dain to the BeorNings, and to our allies the Bardings too. So, even though i wish to stay here, I cannot", he says, as a sad look takes on his usually cheerful face.

Duinlas closes the box, but the words of Braldor remain in his head as he does, "Dairwenraiel shall be delighted. And you would be welcome to our wedding, but many things delay it. Though perhaps the love delayed burns stronger in the long run. I do not know..." his eyes regard the dwarf kindly and he rises silently, moving toward a small alcove, after a brief moment he comes back with two mugs almost spilling over with white foam of ale. The elf's movement is graceful and nothing spills as he sets both mugs down on the table, "You shall ever hear the songs of elves in your ears, Braldor, son of Braldon, and we firstborn do not fade so rapidly yet. We shall again return to the Lonely Mountain, and bring song and wine to you and your kin. Though you may be older, indeed older than your elders now, we shall return to again remember the honor you have paid to us in deeds, words and blood. May the stars never dim on you or your kin!" He lifts the mug as he completes his toast.

Braldor raises his mug of ale too, as Duinlas speaks his toast. "May they shine on ye and yer kin too, duinlas", he adds. "May ye go again to the fair Halls of erebor, in times less dark and troublesome. I shall await ye there, friend, till I have to leave to gather with my longsires. But know that ye have a true friend in Erebor, and I will know joy the day I see ye again in our Halls". With that, Braldor takes a long draught from the mug, foam staying on his beard and moustache. He clears it away with an arm, and smiles kindly to the elf.

Duinlas does the same, the ale tastes strange to the elf, who never got the proper taste for it, but he drinks down half the mug and sets the mug down on the table again. He carefully wipes off the foam from his face as he smiles, "Aye, Braldor... And friends you will always have here in Imladris. The sons of Durin have long helped us. And while the darkness goes on, we all need each other's help."

The elf stands and takes the box up again, opens it, and gazes at it for a while, then closes it again, "This is wonderful, Braldor... perhaps then I might fetch something of great use to you..." and without waiting for an answer, he sprints to his own room, and comes back with a parchment and quill in hand. He sits back down at the table, and opens the parchment, "This is my original writing of the song I sung to you and your kin at the feast. You spoke that you would tell it to your loremasters. So I shall give you something that you may give to him as proof of it..." And then he signs the bottom with his own name and draws the crest of nos Menelmen next to it, Isil sailing a sea of stars...

"Ahhh, a great gift indeed, Duinlas!", Braldor replies, his eyes glittering. "I shall have the text given to our Loremasters, so that it can be taught to our young. And then the friendship between Erebor and Rivendell will be remembered by all dwarves, and honored. Thank ye, friend", he adds, as he takes the parchment and carefully rolls it.

Duinlas leans back, satisfied, "So you are set, friend? Springtime will make your journey easier, I hope. Though I know little of the ways, I've never planned the travelling I do."

"Aye, the spring thaw must have made the High Pass available to us... I plan to move swiftly, and hopefully arrive to the Outpost of the BeorNings soon and unscathed. Stealth and speed will be our friends during that time, and hopefully we won't find any orcs or trolls patrolling the area", Braldor replies. "And it would be good for ye if ye plan yer travel. in such dark times as these, planNing of the road ye'll take can be the difference between a peaceful travel and one where ye find some unwanted surprises onthe road", he adds, winking.

[Duinlas(#27187)]
Standing at last, Duinlas rises and smiles, "I shall not keep you up later than you must, friend. Your journey will find sleep scarce enough, I deem. May things be better in the world when we meet again..."

Braldor also stands. "Thank ye, friend... I also deem sleep will be scarce inthe coming days", he replies with a bitter chuckle. "I will retire to get some sleep, as ye suggest. Thank ye for yer gift, friend. May Mahal light yer way, and protect ye from harm". With that, the dwarf bows, and retires towards the back of the cavern.