Nin

Released!

Infirmary
This room contains many bunks, placed around in an orderly fashion. Each bunk has thick blankets and pillows upon it. Some of the bunks are occupied, mainly with victims of accidents, although most of them are empty. The southern wall is composed mostly of windows, which are blanketed by heavy curtains that let through some light. On another wall is a large cabinet, contaiNing many jars, flasks, and other containers, as well as bandages, splints, and other first-aid equipment. Beside the cabinet, a small hearth burns intensely.
There is always a young healer or apprentice here, passing from bunk to bunk and verifying that everything is in its place. If you are in need of treatment, perhaps you could ask one of these apprentices to summon a healer.

[Gondramind(#32156)]
Late afternoon light slants through the tall, south facing windows in strongly geometric lines that seem to paint the air with shafts of gold, the floor with parallellograms of gold.... Healers busy themselves with preparing for the eveNing meal. And with a dozen or so naugrim as patients, along with the very few remaiNing elven patients, all wouned in the attack on the way home from Erebor... well, preparing for the eveNing meal is no small task. Side tables are clear of flowers and water pitchers. Those that cannot sit are assisted.... Those that grumble are quieted.... And merry laughter mingles with the deeper rumbles of the naugrim...

Sitting up in his own bed, raven's dark hair loose about his shoulders, his legs covered in parchement and plans, is one of the few remaiNing edhil, the Herald of nos Menelmen Gondramind. Sits as best he can, that is. He fidgets. He flicks through the parchments. He scribbles in his scetch book. And he looks for all the world as though he would crawl out of his own skin with impatience.

Among the dwarven "guests" of Rivendell's Infirmary is Braldor, Military Advisor to King Dain. He lies on a bed with eyes closed, but soon he stirs, an open an eye. Noticing it is meal time, and also noticing the grumble his stomach makes when he sniffs the scent of food, he opens his other eye, and sits up. Braldor's chest lays bare, a white cloth around his chest. The bandages on his arm and neck have been removed, for now only scars mark where the cruel orcish scimitar dug into the dwarf's flesh. Even the wound on his chest, marked by a purplish tinge to his skin, has almost mended completely, and the dwarf is now able to breath normally, without any pain. Noticing Gondramind sitting on a nearby chair, he winks to his elvish friend. "Hail Gondramind! I hope the eveNing finds ye in good spirits!", he calls.

[Glasiel(#31797)]
Over by the herb cupboard stands, as usual, the Olvaristdil Glasiel. She grinds fragrant leaves, flowers and stems into useful remedies for the convalescents here in this Hall, while a cheerful healing melody spills forth from her lips.

...and from the corner of her merrily sparkling eyes, she watches the Herald nos Menelmen.

Soon she turns, holding up her mortar with its pestle resting inside. "Shall I prepare you something for those unfortunate twitches, Dolgonn-mel-Nin?"

[Olathlinn(#11282)]
Long ago passes from the time when she lays down feet in that place, that being that just enters. Her arms are packed with books and her eyes bursting of dreams. As Olathlinn take a pace forward, the pile vacillates like the flame of a candle under the breeze. "Pardon me", the glirieth says on a sing-song manner, with a blushing. And she does the move allowing her to gain back the balance needed to avoid the impending catastrophe. "I brought light food for the mind". She announces quietly, lingering with the stack at the doorsill.

[Tinnulanthir(#13943)]
A nethrodur walks slowly from bed to bed, insuring that all are prepared for the eveNing meal. He offers smiles,nods, and calm words to each before moving on to the patient. He pauses momentarily at Gondramind's bedside, sharp eyes taking in all the parchment and work. "Greetings, Hirdan, how does your work progress?" Tinnulanthir asks polietly, removing a vase of flowers from his table. TurNing to the nearby Braldor he grins, "Hungry, Master Dorf?"

[Benamar(#31197)] "Look, I told you that yesterday. I will be fine, now go back to your canvases and I will tend to it - see, it has almost gone already! Honestly." There is a slight bout of resonant laughter from an edhel who is, currently, just on the other side of the wooden door. Then there comes the sound of an elleth's voice in response "That is what you said yesterday, Amar. You promised then also, your stubborness is beyond me almost but still.." This conversation, and those conversing, is almost identical to one that happened only a few days previously. Benamar and sometime companion, Benuial, are close but then the male of the two adds: "Besides, mellon, you should know - I am curious."

The dark-haired edhel shoulders the door open and draws in a breath of the appetising aromas, at least patients in an elven infirmary are fed more than gruel, and steps lightly across straight towards the Naugrim Braldor's bed and any who happen to be close there.

Duinlas sits up on his bed, swinging his legs as he looks toward Glasiel. His cuts to his face have healed much, and though still visable, they are fading each day, and shall be gone completely very soon. He calls out, "Glasiel! I should be released! I have much to do! Much to plan! And Idhrendae is about and free to be with HIS meltha! I think the same is only fair!"

[Gondramind(#32156)]
"Good eveNing to you master dwarf," says Gondramind, shifting on his bed and near spilling the parchments that cover his legs atop the blankets. He smiles fondly upon the naug. "The eveNing finds me hail, and in better spirits, now that I can work. And you? Your people heal slower than ours, and yet you do heal... Though it is possible you shall be released before I am," he chuckles ruefully, slipping a glance toward Glasiel. "And my twitches, Glaisel, are my own. Companions of a sort. Their only cure, I can tell you now, is /release/" And though the words are firmly spoke, there is great merriment and fondness in his tone. Olathlinn arrives with the food and Gondramind grins broadly. "There now. Dinner." A gaze and a smile are offere Duinlas and Tinnulanthir, to the newly arrived Benemar as well, but his focus is upon the arriving meal. (repose)

"Indeed, Master Healer!", Braldor says, eyeing the plates greedily while his mouth waters. "It seems I woke up exactly at the right time. But with such wonderful scents of the fine plates offered by yer cooks, I would have been roused even after runNing for a full day!", he adds, as he's given a plate. TruNing to Gondramind, he adds, "Well, we dwarves have been accussed of stubborness and being wayward at times... but I'm glad to see we're not the only ones with such behavior", he says, chuckling. "Patience! Although that a dwarf counsels patience to elves seems strange indeed", he says, as a fit of laughter silence him for a while.

[Olathlinn(#11282)]
The move of the door in her back send Olathlin forward against her will."Oh..nooo!" she says managing all she can for nothing of the big sandwiches of books can spread on the floor. When she finally gets it back to its normal position, she glares at Benamar."Your mother did teach you to knock before entering?" the glirieth said in between her teeth, most to release pressure than to really attack the poor ellon.

[Gondramind(#32156)]
Gondramind laughs at Braldor's words. "Beyond strange, my friend. Patience I possess in most things, aye, long and slow patience, but where something seems beyond reason..." Again he flicks his gaze toward Glasiel, but the teasing light still shines bright from them.... "and where it regards confinement..." The deep rumble of a chuckle issues from his chest, "You see, Tinnulanthir, my work would progress better if I were allowed to truly do it."

[Benamar(#31197)] "Greetings Hirdan and Master.. Braldor" Benamar glances between the beds, that of the bare-chested Naugrim and that of the Hirdan in particular, and then chuckles at such a stark constrast of forms but then he blinks as the unique voice of an annoyed elleth reaches his ears. If it is possible for a quendi to look sheepish then this one does so now as he turns on the spot to gaze upon Olathlinn. He swallows and rakes back a long strand of black hair with a clay smirched hand "I am sorry, mellon, but one has never needed to knock to enter a public room - if you had not been behind the door then..." He frowns suddenly realising that this is not helping the situation and so he adds "My apologies, of course."

[Glasiel(#31797)]
Setting down her mortar and pestle, Glasiel crosses the space between herself and the sickbeds of Arphedor and Thane in a few floating steps. There she begins to gather Gondramind's parchments and other clutter, with a soft clicking of her tongue. "Be mindful of your work, Hirdan... else perhaps the windows of that House you build end up resembling... the stain from spilled gravy." She avoids the conversation regarding the release of prisoner... er, /patients/... (depending of course upon whom you ask), though her eyes still sparkle with amusement.

[Tinnulanthir(#13943)]
A soft rolling chuckle issues forth from the nethrodur at the constant demands for release. "Were truley allowed to do it? What do you mean by that?" the nethrodur replies, eyes dancing merrily. He shakes his head and turns toward the Olvaristdil, hiding a smirk. "Nethril, is there anything that I might be of some assistance with?" Tinnulanthir stands still, awaiting a relpy and watching the scene unfold before him, glad to see such things as to bring mirth back into the ifirmary.

Braldor turns to Duinlas, regarding the elf with amusement in his eyes. "And Idhrendae is up and about with his... meltha? Well, I don't know what the word means, but surely Idhrendae was not as badly bruised as ye, Duinlas. I now Glasiel would not keep us here, if she thought we were fit and hale. Isn't that so, Glasiel?", he says, turNing his eye towards the healer. Braldor also feels the impatience to be up and about, to see the wonder of Rivendell before he leaves. But he also feels the urge to go... after all, he had important messages from King Dain to his allies in BeorNing and Dale, messages that needed to be delivered with all due haste. He then sighs. Patience, as he had counselled... more a counsel for himself than for the elves. He then eyes his plate, and takes a mouthful of food.

Olathlinn nods from behind the pile of books. "I was just having enter and I was searching for a place to put it. My bad to be slow with it." Saying that, the elisthir place the heap of book in three neat separated pile on a table, then let herself fall down on a chair with a sighs. Her eyes get on each faces, one by one in a deep examination of each detail, silently approving the progress made."Someone that can complain being in there is definetly near full recovery, no?" she chukkles with a childish tilt of the head and a bitten tongue out.

[Duinlas(#27187)]
The impatient singer turns to Braldor and thinks for a minute before replying, "Ah... Lover. Beloved... something along those lines. As Dairwenraiel is to me!" he offers as a translation.

Then Duinlas shakes his head and stands up, "Shall I hop on one leg, Nethril?", he pauses to whisper to Braldor how he never got hit in the leg anyway, "There is no reason for me to sit in here any longer. I shall give hope to those who still linger here, that you healers actually have success!"

[Gondramind(#32156)]
"The windows, Glasiel, are already built. Only the roof remains." And at that, Gondramind pins the Hirilin with a sharp glance, which he immediately sutters. "That, mellon nethordu," he says, addressing Tinnulanthir, "is the work that needs doing, that I cannot do from a bed." He idly watches as meals are distributed among the naugrim, as Braldor eats and talks with Duinlas. A smile quirks the corner of his mouth when Duinlas threatens to hop on one leg. "You shall never be with Daiwenreail that way, mellon. Idhredae was barely wounded in the battle. You nearly lost your life. And hopping on one foot will only cause the nethryl to bind that foot, and you to the bed."

[Olathlinn(#11282)]
"Then delegate..." suggest Olathlinn, raising from her seat."Or be patient...in any case...being valid..count on my contribution." She peers at GOndramind that is not looking at her at all, except when he thought she was carrying food."DO not forget it. Namari Mellyn!" and saying that, she disapears leaving the book.

[Benamar(#31197)] "Perhaps you should, elleth." Benamar offers to Olathlinn as he watches her fall onto a chair relieved of her burden, but he smiles and the apparent harshness os his words is not deliberate nor intended to hurt, it is simply his manner. He has never been known for his way with words, except perhaps on odd accasions when the mood takes him. Again he rakes back a strand of black hair and then sighs. This edhel is a curious mixture of seriousness and mirth, or so it seems, as he takes a deep breath - his expression might lead one to think that he were preparing for something terrible- and asks loud enough for a good portion of the Quendi at least to hear: "Is there one who has a moment to save an edhel from the chidings of an elleth? I have a light .. burn and mellon-Benuial will not give me peace till I see someone about it.." He blinks as the Glirieth suddenly departs.

"Tis better to listen to Gondramind, Duinlas. Better to stay here until you're again fit to go, than to return because yer wounds have not healed right. And I'm sure dairwenraiel will also counsel this. Patience, friend, patience", Braldor says, eyeing Duinlas. He then turns to Benamar, and laughs. "Save ye from the chidings of an elven maiden? Friend, we're here so as to not suffer from that", he says as he chuckles and quickly glances at Glasiel. "So I'm afraid ye'll have to ask a healer for help with that burn of yers... It seems that elves are stubborn folk, and they won't budge until ye do their bidding".

Duinlas spreads his hands helplessly, "Surely you can all see that I am healed? The line upon my face fades, it shall not last past the ending of the week! Nothing hinders my healing, and I need no further attention! I have waited patiently while others protested from the start, but now I have to be released. I must arrange more than could possibly be imagined! I have four quendi who are even more demanding than I!" the singer seems exasperated at the thought of delay now, and seems to think invoking the names of his and Dairwenraiel's parents will help speed things along.

[Tinnulanthir(#13943)]
The nethrodur's attention is suddenly grabbed by the mention of the burn and he glances toward the Nethril as if asking for permission before turNing toward Benamar. "Aye, I can aid you with such. Allow me to see it. How was it done?" Tinnulanthir asks, approaching the edhel.

[Gondramind(#32156)]
Gondramind slides his gaze from the edhel nearest him and looks to Olathlin when she speaks, her words carrying over the hum of the infirmary to him. "Delegate?" he intones, his voice and eye firmly impassive, a mask of politic concealment. "Delegate," he mutters again, but now cants his head to the side and looks toward Glasiel, as though listeNing to her... He nods, slowly, significantly, obediently. "Aye mellon Nethril. Aye." he says, as though addressing a direct question. "Duinlas.... my friend. Tempt not the wisdom of healers. They work on their own time, and schedule, the best interests of our hroa at heart. Now tell me Braldor.... How soon do you and your folk hope to begin the return journey home? How will you go? The high pass is likely to be closed still to you." His gaze flicks toward Benamar and Tinnulanthir, and he narrows his eyes, trying to see the cennan's injurry.

Glasiel sets Gondramind's work papers aside, then turns with a glittering swirl of her skirts, to face two elves and a dwarf with the sharp eye of the Nethril who means Business. Her slender hands, folded into fists, rest on her hips as she fixes each in turn with his own personal ... piercing stare.

"You shall remain in this Hall until that moment when it is determined you are ready, by myself, or by the Arnethril, or by the Hirnethron. Not before." As Gondramind seems to already understand this point, she pauses to smile, and nod. "Well spoken, Arphedor."

[Benamar(#31197)] "I insisted that it was nothing, really, it is only slight. See.." Benamar stretches his left hand out so that Tinnulanthir might observe the red, sore, area of skin that runs between wrist and first knuckle on his hand. "It was a simple slip of hand with a cooling kiln ... it was not as cool as I had thought that it should have been." He shrugs as if such things are common place accidents but then a smile grows on his lips and he adds "The pottery, however, was fine - though I still say that the blue did not have enough Summer about it." The potter pauses and then adds "Not enough cobalt in the glaze." Judging from the way that he says the last words it seems as though, in his mind at least, that explains everything.

[Gwamdir(#32187)] From the doorway, a voice emerges and fills the room. It is the voice of Gwamdir, as can be observed by not only the tone of the voice, but also the jovial manner in which it is spoken, as is customary for the self-proclaimed songful spirit. "I side with Gondramind on the issue, Duinlas. Stay yourself here, and allow the healers to work what magics they will, whether they be magics of the mind or body. Behold, I am a testament to their skills!" He strides evenly into the room and regards Duinlas with eyes ablaze with exuberance.

Duinlas sits back down with a resigned sigh, "Now you praise him! He is the worst of our lot!" He gets into his bed, grabs his covers and pulls them up to his chin, wrapping himself tightly, so he looks like a wrapped sandwich. He looks out with bright blue eyes, "I will get out of here, Glasiel. If you do not find me ready, I shall go to Ailiell. She'll be convinced, I'm sure!"

Glasiel can but laugh at Duinlas' assertion. "Pray, do you try that, mellon! I ask only that I be there to enjoy the ... performance."

Braldor furrows his brow, deep in thought. "That is a good question, Gondramind. We know the Gladden Pass is watched by the Enemy... of this we have proof here", he says with a dark chuckle. "I think I'll stay here till the High Pass opens, and then depart with haste to the lands of the BeorNings. I'll have the lads make a forced march, and not sleep until we get down to the other side of the Misty Mountains. Once we reach the safety of the beorNing lands, we'll have time to take things easy and rest", he says, although his voice says Braldor is still dubious of the road to take.

His eyes then dart to Glasiel, and an apologetic smile forms on his lips. "Oh, I wouldn't dare to cross ye, Glasiel, in something pertaiNing to yer Art", he says, as he puts both hands in front of him, palm outward. "See what ye have done, Duinlas?", he says in a jovial tone, turNing his gaze then to the elf. "Ye have brought the fury of an elven healer to this most-innocent of her patients!"

Glasiel says naught in reply to Braldor directly, though she does stop a nearby Nethordur to send him on an errand. "Do you fetch Master Thane some ale, to wash down his meal. Such neglect is truly scandalous..."

[Tinnulanthir(#13943)]
Tinnulanthir studies the other's hand for a moment before smiling. "Aye, you are right, tis not bad. Would you care to sit for a moment?" Though phrased as a question, it is clear that tis more than a suggestion. He walks over to the herb cabinet and begins to prepare a wash for the burn. As he does so he hums softly, mind focused on his work.

[Gondramind(#32156)]
Gondramind smiles, like a distant break of sun through clouds. "Aye, Braldor. You should not attempt the Gladden, not now... Then we have you here, friend, till the spring thaw it seems. Will your people tolerate such a stay? Have we enough ale?" He chuckles and then flicks his gaze between Glasiel and Duinlas as they speak and all he can do is shake his head. "I am not the worst. I've heard tales of the Hirvaethro Randinen... I think, perhaps, he bested me in the category of difficult patient. Or am I wrong Glasiel? Listen to Gwamdir, and Glasiel, if not me Duinals. And," he chuckles softly, "seek not a reprieve from Ailiell. They march in lock step, you know," And here he nods significanly toward Glasiel.

[Gwamdir(#32187)] Now fully into the room, he walks to the bed where lays the Hirdan and looks upon him from above. "Mae govannen, Gondramind. How goes your healing?"

Benamar finds an empty seat, which just happens to be along side Gondramind's bed, and sits down on it as he was instructed to do. In the wait for Tinnualanthir to return and administer whatever treatment is deemed necessary he licks the tip of one of his fingers and mildy rubs at a stain on his non-burnt hand. The stain is a dull grey though if it is a splash of dried glaze then the chances are it would be a vivid blue - if it had been on a pot and fired instead of splashed on the edhel's hand.

Duinlas chuckles and looks to Gondramind and Braldor, unravelling himself from the covers which make him uncomfrotably hot, "I will see. I will see," he repeats. Then to Braldor he furrows his brow, "If you went further south, you could take the path of Caradhas. It would be warmer sooner. But that would bring you nearer to Elvenhome of Lothlorien." he sighs, "They are not overly fond of Dwarves..."

"Aye, I'll be here till spring thaw... as soon as the High Pass can be travelled by us, I'll have to depart. I, like Master Duinlas here, have important things to do yonder East, in the lands of the BeorNings, and in Dale. To such places I must go before finally seeing again the fair halls of Erebor. But duty imposes such a road on me, and I must tread it then. But now I will enjoy the Hidden valley, and yer company. Things are moving in the east, and soon we shall begin...", he then stops, unsure of revealing this piece of information. Braldor then rests his gaze to each and every of the elves and dwarves that lie in the room. No treachery can he expect from any of them, for they had proven time and again to be truest of friends. "We'll begin building a hidden outpost in the lands of the Bardings, to harass the Enemy. Such was the counsel of Elrond, and the agreement of the Council. We will honor our word", he says, eyeing Gondramind. Something lies in the dwarf's look, but he says naught more to Gondramind.

Instead, his gaze turns to Duinlas. "Near Caradhras? Ah, i long to see the three peaks of Moria! But that will take me too much time. And we know not if the ancient home of my people is watched too. Besides, if that road takes me near Lothlorien, I will not take it. I have spoken with elves that hail from that land... and deem that I'll be safer by my own, trudging the High Pass, even if a full army of orcs barred my way. To that land, or near it, I shall not go".

[Glasiel(#31797)]
Now that she's had her say... for now... the Nethril steps lightly over to Duinlas, reaching out with one slender hand to raise his chin that she may get a better look at his fading scars.

"How fare your arm and chest, Duinlas?" Her question is quietly asked, while her attention is focused on the lines crossing his face.

[Gondramind(#32156)]
Gondramind offers a curt nod of greeting to Gwamdir, "My healing proceeds apace, mellon. I would say that hroa is very nearly mended as a matter of fact, but for a more detailed analysis of my state I think it best you querry the Nethril..." A sly, quirked grin then is offered Glasiel.

At mention of Caradhras, however, Gondramind's smile fades. "It will be a higher elelvation, thus colder, a longer journey, and.... nearer things more dangerous to dwarves than the Galadhrim." Of this he says no more, but turns as Benamar sits next to him. "Cenan," he says by way of greeting. "Careless again with your firings?"

[Tinnulanthir(#13943)]
A few minutes later, Tinnulanthir returns to Benamar's side, carrying an array of supplies. Carefully he places all on a nearby table. "Allow me once more to see your hand, mellon." Gently the ellon cleans the burn with a cool yellow tinged wash. Fingers gliding just over the reddened skin, the nethrodur coats the burn with an aloe salve, smiling as he does so. Finally, he takes a small role of linen from the table and wraps Benamar's hand loosely but securly. "All finished, mellon, does it feel better?" he asks, cleaNing up the supplies.

[Gwamdir(#32187)] "Good Tinnulanthir, how goes the healing in these halls today?" asks a curious Gwamdir. It seems odd for him to be wandering about for no readily apparent reason, but he seems to have no worries with the world in general. "I pray all is going well here?"

[Duinlas(#27187)]
In answer to Glasiel's question, Duinlas raises his right arm, and then puts it behind his back and then back in front, "It works, mellon. What more could I want? It will work well enough to place a ring upon a finger. And I can sing, so my chest works for my purposes. I will not bust any seams, for there are no seams in me to bust."

"A ring on a finger?", Braldor asks, eyeing Duinlas. "But what is this, friend? Are ye gonna... tie the knot with Dairwenraiel?", he asks curiously. "And it seems it would be soon, too... or else ye wouldn't be so hasty about getting out of this Infirmary. Please tell me more of this, Duinlas".

[Benamar(#31197)] "Perhaps a little over eager to see the results of my latest work, Hirdan.." Benamar smiles a little guiltily as he holds the burnt hand out for Tinnulanthir to tends to. The salve does feel good on the stinging skin and he nods to the healer "Aye, it feels better and I feel better for knowing that a certain elleth will have no further cause to chastise me." He laughs quietly before glncing bck t the Hirdn.

[Glasiel(#31797)]
But briefly does the Olvaristdil's bemused glance flit toward Gondramind, the vast majority of her attention still on Duinlas. "Mmmm..." she notes, to the enlightenment of all, no doubt. One finger traces the most prominent of the remaiNing lines, appraisingly.

Duinlas turns his head out of Glasiel's grip to look at Braldor with wide eyes, "You didn't know?" He offers his right hand toward his view, on the index finger is a silver ring with beautifully detailed engravings on it, "We have been betrothed over a year. I would be mad to wish delay."

Glasiel frowns as her patient proves uncooperative... though perhaps there is a sparkle in her eye as she scolds, "Be still, Duinlas, else you will not hear me when I tell you that you may leave..."

"I thought a year meant nothing for an elf, for ye always seem to regard the passing of years as the passing of days to the rest of us. But it seems I have misjudged ye", Braldor replies, as he chuckles. "I knew of yer bethrotal,
Duinlas, but not about yer marriage to Dairwenraiel would be this soon. A good gal, if I can be a judge of elvish maidens", he adds, as he cuffs Duinlas's shoulder in a friendly and careful way.

Duinlas turns back to look at Glasiel, wideNing his eyes to look into hers, "Yeeeesss? You think I'd make this up? I've been here for over a month, and already the land outside is stirring, I am the same."

[Tinnulanthir(#13943)]
Nodding at Benamar, Tinnulanthir smiles and finishes cleaNing up the supplies. "Aye, Gwamdir, the healing goes well. However, I must now ask your leave for I must go on some errands," the ellon explains, nodding farewell to each of those gathered before walking out the door.

"Namarie, Tinnulanthir", Braldor replies to the departing elf. TurNing his gaze then to Glasiel, he says, "Ye spoke something of letting Duinlas go? Surely, if Duinlas is free, then... well, maybe most of us can also leave this room to enjoy the wonder of the Valley?"

Duinlas continues to talk to Braldor, half-paying attention to what Glasiel is doing, "We do count the passage of time, likely more carefully than many others. But it means little to us. We are unchanging, while everything else is not." He hesitates for a brief moment as he masters himself before tears can well up, then he turns to Braldor again, "Even you shall pass on, friend, yet I will remain as I am."

[Glasiel(#31797)]
Glasiel shakes her head gently, with more soft clicking of her tongue. "See you? Already you have missed it, mellon. I just said you may leave, and here you are still arguing with me! Best hurry, before I change my mind..."

[Gwamdir(#32187)] Gwamdir has a seat next to Duinlas and turns his head to the singer. "Love is not a trifle, this is certain, but healing is also of importance. I'm certain that maiden Daiwenrail

[Gondramind(#32156)]
Gondramind sits in stunned awe as Glasiel announces Duinlas' release. "Namarie," he mutters absently to the departing Tinnulanthir. He raises a cool brow and arranges his expression to one of studied impassivity. "Glasiel...." he ventures in a rather sing song tone. "If love can cure one, work can cure another. And the 'wonders of the valley'," he almost winks toward Braldor, "can cure a third."

[Gwamdir(#32187)] Gwamdir has a seat next to Duinlas and turns his head to the singer. "Love is not a trifle, this is certain, but healing is also of importance. I'm certain that maiden Dairwenraiel would prefer a fully healed...ah!" He cuts himself short as Glasiel speaks, for his words now would be wasted. "Behold, you are free! Go ye forth..."

[Duinlas(#27187)]
This time Duinlas catches the words and his head snaps back to look at Glasiel, he jumps from his bed, but is careful not to knock over the elleth, and he raises his arms in the air above his head, "Yes!" but then he casts a gaze towawrd Gondramind, "Oh, Mellon, I think you would be wise to not argue with the healers in their arts," he says in too jovial a voice, turNing the advice Gondramind just gave him back onto the Hirdan.

[Gondramind(#32156)]
The raided brows remain and if anything rise higher at Duinlas' words. "Oh, I argued nothing," Gondramind says in a light tone that attempts merriment. "I merely... querried." And with this he turns his gray regard again toward the Nethril.

[Glasiel(#31797)]
The Olvaristdil has already stepped back as Duinlas leaps from his bed, anticipating his reaction. She moves next to examine Braldor, arriving at his bedside just as the errand-Nethordur returns with a large mug of ale. "Ahh, mellon Thane... here is ale to wash down your dinner. And do tell me, how feel /you/ this day?"

[Benamar(#31197)] The Potter rises, when standing he is a hairs bredth short of seven feet tall, and then glances back at the Hirdan and murmurs smoothly "I must hurry back to my kilns, a few moments to long and the glazing can be ruined.." Benamar tilts his head and then hastily departs.

"Well, Glasiel, I feel strong again", Braldor replies. "The cuts in my arm, legs, and neck have healed, and my ribs don't trouble me anymore. In fact", he says, as he takes a deep breath, and carefully pats the cloth on his chest, "I must say that I feel no more pain", Braldor says, eyeing Glasiel.

[Glasiel(#31797)]
"You must, hmmmm...?" The Olvaristdil valiantly keeps her lips from rebelling as they threaten to break into a grin. She examines the bandage covering Braldor's chest for a prolonged moment, then nods.

"Aye. You are well enough to be granted the freedom of the House, mellon. Aye, and even of the gardens. Though..." She pauses briefly, to make undisputable eye-contact with the dwarf. "... you must still be seen to, daily, in this hall. And you may not yet engage in strenuous activities. Perhaps soon, but not yet."

"I will do as ye say, Glasiel", the dwarf says, grinNing. "No strenous work is to walk in the fair halls of Elrond's House, nor to tread in the winding paths of the forest that lies yonder", he says. "But I shall come daily here, I promise, to be tended, until ye or any other healer deems I am completely hale. I thank ye for yer care, Glasiel, and please extend my thanks to all the healers of this fair Hall", he adds, as he stands up, looking for his shirt.

[Gondramind(#32156)]
Gondramind watches intently as Braldor is examined... the judgement given. "Congratulations, Master Dwarf," he says softly. A nod of farewell is offered Benamar as the cennan departs, "Do not rush your work, mellon, and so avoid injury...." he calls as the potter walks out the door. "And so avoid these halls as well." He takes a small breath and turns his steady gaze toward the Hirilin.

As Braldor looks for his shirt, he stops and takes the foaming mug of ale into his hands. "Now, this is to celebrate that we made it to Rivendell, and that now we're able to enjoy it!", he says, as he takes a long pull from the mug. The dwarf then smacks his lips. "Ahhhhh, truly a fine brew! Is this too a brew from the town of Bree, perhaps?", he asks in a loud voice. "I ought to go there sometime..", Braldor quietly adds.

[Glasiel(#31797)]
Finally, the Hirilin does indeed arrive at Gondramind's bed. She slips gracefully into the chair beside him, taking a moment to arrange her skirts just so.

Duinlas smiles as Braldor is released, "Ah, and surely the caverns of nos Menelmen are not too strenuous an activity for you, friend." He glances to the Hirdan, lingering a bit as he wishes to hear what Glasiel says to him.

[Gondramind(#32156)]
Gondramind smiles slowly.... very slowly, very patiently, as Glasiel arranges her skirts. "Very pretty dress, old friend." He says, an impish light fair dancing from his eyes with a kind of restrained impatience. He listens absently as Duinlas and Braldor celebrate their freedom, mutters "Aye, and Hir Silvarion's ale is plentiful there as well, Braldor...." But all his gaze, all it intent and attention are fully focused on the healer.

"Indeed, visiting those fair caverns would only speed my full recovery, friend", Braldor replies to Duinlas. "And maybe some lads will come to admire their beauty with me", he adds, as he eyes Gondramind, and waits for Glasiel's judgement on his friend's health.

[Glasiel(#31797)]
Glasiel looks up then, with a gentle smile, as though she has just noticed the Hirdan's presence beside her. "Tell me, Dolgonn-mel-Nin," she queries, at her most soft-spoken, "Would you see that roof installed as soon as possible, or do you wish its completion to be postponed indefinitely?"

Duinlas tempers that bit of news on ale with a bit of reality, "Plentiful for a few. But our supplies run low, and I deem that they will be almost nonexistant by the time you and your kinsmen leave our valley, Braldor..."

"Oh, we shall then be careful, so as to not leave Lord Silvarion without some brew after we leave", the dwarf says chuckling. "But we dwraves may be without ale for long periods of time, and still endure such a thing. But we'll rush if the sight of caverns as fair as those Nos Menelmen has is promised to us. Expect visitors if you extend that courtesy, Master Duinlas!", Braldor says. The dwarf smiles as he listens to Glasiel's question to Gondramind, but waits to see what he will reply to her.

[Gondramind(#32156)]
Gondramind's easy grin remains, the level light of his gaze... remains... The casual air of him remains as well, and yet all now seem slightly pulled, thinned. Though only one that has known Gondramind very well, and for a very long time, could notice this. Unfortunately, Glasiel is such a one. "I would of course wish to see the project completed as soon as possible. Fithurin needs its home. And this journey..." he pauses and softens his gaze "needs and end, mellon. And quickly. But carefully, of course. Always carefully," he hastens to add, feeling very much as though he has walked into with eyes wide open into a spider's web.

Duinlas smiles down at his Dwarf friend, "The offer is implied by you setting foot in the valley. And it will always be open to you or your kinsmen." But he looks up at Gondramind's words as he speaks to Glasiel.

Braldor bows low to Duinlas. "Thank ye, my friend... but then again, nothing less should be expected from such honorable hosts as the elves of Rivendell", he says. He then also eyes Glasiel and Gondramind, and how they seem to fence, albeit in a fiendly manner, with each word they say.

[Glasiel(#31797)]
The Olvaristdil then nods once, her expression that of satisfaction. "You speak wisely, old friend." Her keen eyes -- the eyes of both healer and friend -- linger for a moment on the Hirdan's face, the light within them tempered with the gentleness of her nature. "And as you well know, the advice of the Healers is not to be gainsaid in such cases as these..." Ahh, his own advice come back to rest at his feet...

"Therefore, as thou love thy Hir and find satisfaction in thy beautious art..." Her hand moves forward, gently to rest on the Arphedor's shoulder. "...allow an old friend at last entrance, behind the fortress guarding thy fea. For until that time, never shall thou recover thy strength." Her eyes remain fixed on his as she speaks, her words sounding more like music than speech, for in fact her words are woven within a healing melody.

[<#32156>]
Lips part as though to speak, but no words are forthcoming. Gondramind looks upon her with a cool, even stare, the grey of his eyes roiling like mist. A small wrinkle pinches his brow as he gazes into the green of her eyes. 'I know,' he says at last, words soft, barely audible. He leans toward her then and whispers for her alone "... ... ... .... ... ... never ... how, ... ... ... this my .... What ... seek ... ... is ..., ... ... ... us... Work heals .... Let ... .... ... ..."

[<#31797>] Glasiel's melody continues to drift through the air, to wrap itself gently around the Hirdan. 'A few more days... with thy heart willing and open to the efforts of the healers... will not harm thee.'

Still, the light in her eye is gentle as she lowers her voice to murmur things meant only for Gondramind's ears. "Aye, my friend. ... ... ... ... .... ... ... ... ... my ...." the Nethril's hand rises from the Hirdan's shoulder, to hover, palm up, before him. "How could ... ... ... ... ... territory ...? ... ..., ..., let ... be ... .... ... ... ... ... this ... ...."

Braldor's ears perk up as he listens some of the words exchanged by Gondramind and Glasiel. But he then clears his throat and moves away a bit, giving them more space to continue their conversation more privately. Still, the dwarf's eyes linger on Gondramind, for indeed the elf is up to something.

[Gondramind(#32156)]
He looks away, aye, and a fair growls his frustration in a soft uttered sigh. "A few more days.." he mutters.. And then her hand is before his downturned gaze. Gondramind looks upon the small, slim fingers with an assessing, almost critical eye. "Imladris was not built in a day. Nor were certain other defensive structures." He takes her hand and looks to her at last. "They cannot be torn down in a day - or even a few - for both were well built. And sturdily. But I will, of course be ruled by you. I have no choice, have I? Only.... let me go to the building site. I can ride now. Let me /work/ mellon. The other healing will follow the course it follows.... "

[Glasiel(#31797)]
Glasiel's smile is warm, and she nods again. "Aye, mel-Nin. You speak truth... and yet, does not the construction... or the demolition... of any structure have at its beginNing a first step? Therefore, let us take now the first step."

Her smile grows, turNing into a grin as she adds, "What say you, Hirdan? Shall we take a stroll together? I imagine there is much in the Valley you would wish to see, after so long parted..."

[Gondramind(#32156)]
As old rivers will follow their courses so the sea, so Gondramind follows his. And her hand, her offer now before him, is perhaps a bend in that course. He blinks slowly, shuttering the light of his grey gaze. "Aye," he says soft, firmly. "There is much I have longed to see, for many months now." And holding her hand, he slides his legs over the side of the bed and stands, still revealing a stiffness the manner in which he holds his torso. He takes a deep breath and smiles now, returNing to that courteous, mirthful self, the self he shows the world. "I would see Menelmen, if I could, and pour an ale for my dwarven friend and my nos-brother. For you, Glasiel," he grins brightly, "we would offer wine, if you prefer."

Duinlas clears his throat, "And for me, Gondramind. Wine is for me. Save the ale for the Naugrim." He grins at the prospect. A look of delight on his face. Finally, things move forward with his friend.

Glasiel chuckles softly, with a gentle squeeze of Gondramind's hand as she leads him toward the doorway. "Nay! For have you not heard? Even now, the rumor of the Elf-maid Who Enjoys Ale is being told to disbelieving ears throughout all the taverns of under the mountain."