Nin

Swapping Stories

Front Yard
Despite your not possessing a light, the scene here is far from dark. Lights within the Last Homely House twinkle out through many windows and give a gentle glow to the scene like starlight intensified. The grass near the house is not very high, perhaps because of being trodden on so often, but some higher tufts grow around the nearby trees. You can make out some trees standing nearby, and two paths can be seen leading away from the house, one southwest and one north. Down the steep bank to the south you can hear the chuckling of the Bruinen.

[Wendelas(#27296)]
"No, there was no offense taken, Yavie. It was quite amusing actually." He turns from the fire finally and takes the remaiNing wad of clothes from her. "Here, I'll hold the wad, you hang. At least I know I can do that part correctly." He winks and stands there, his face reddened by the fire. He casts a glance over his shoulder as there is laughter briefly from one of the camps, but it only lasts for a short moment.

[Yavie(#23156)] The elfmaid nods and moves along the line, the work going much faster with help. "Of course, it was silly when I found out...As far as Sulas goes, I mean..." She flushes. "Well, she knows /my/ sorry history, its not as if he ever thought of me that way... and of course I wish for her to be happy. But I will be lonely if Serendriel is well and truly in love. She might not have the time to spend gallavanting through the woods anymore."

[Wendelas(#27296)]
"I don't think you have anything to worry about there, Yavie. She seems to enjoy spending time with you. I'm sure she'll still have plenty of time for galavanting." Wendelas chuckles at the thought of Yavie and Serendriel galavanting through the woods. "Besides, maybe this Sulas of hers will join you."

Yavie wrinkles her nose. "I rather doubt that." She says with strange accent. "Not after what happened..."

[Wendelas(#27296)]
Wendelas looks at the elf quizzically after her last comment kind of trailed off. "What happened? I'm sure I may be sorry I asked, but now you've got me curious." As he moves along the clothesline with her, he watches her face to make sure he hasn't hit a nerve or anything.

[Yavie(#23156)] The elfmaid's cheeks flame and she stabs a pin savagely onto the line, looking slightly bereft when she realizes that it is the last one. Lacking anything better to do with her hands, she stalks to the fire and prods it again. "I...sort of...possibly...had something of an *interest* in him once." She says, the flush growing deeper with every word.

[Wendelas(#27296)]
Wendelas raises his hand to his face to cover his smirk. Thankfully, she's not looking at him at the moment. "I see," he says after a short pause, then walks over beside her and says, "I know how that feels, Yavie. And I'm sure you will find someone for yourself." He looks at the fire for a moment, then turns to look at her again, "Do Serendriel and Sulas know of this ... interest?"

Yavie giggles, in spite of herself. "How could the NOT know?"

Yavie shakes her head and sits beside the fire, warming her hands in the fresh-stoked blaze as she indicates that she will tell the story.

[Wendelas(#27296)]
With an interested look on his face, Wendelas sits down and waits for the story, his hand darting inside his cloak for his pipe as he checks the wind to make sure he chose a spot down wind from her. He quickly lights the pipe, the cloud of smoke finally turNing into but a small trail, periodically interrupted by a larger burst from his mouth.

Yavie bends down to set a kettle of tea over the fire, more to remain busy than for any other reason. "Well, have you met, Sulas? He's a winemaker you know..."
She grins secretively. "/Very/ handsome."

[Wendelas(#27296)]
"No, I never met him actually, though Serendriel told me about him once or twice." He smiles at her last comment and shakes his head with a chuckle. "I wouldn't know, and even if I did, I probably wouldn't comment." With a wink, he goes silent again for her to continue.

Yavie says, "Well, he brought the summer vintage to Amon Thranduil one summer...oh....it has been many years now. A century if it is a day, but it does not seem so long ago. He borrowed my bruNing shears." Yavie rhapshodizes, as though this request were supremely romantic."

[Wendelas(#27296)]
Wendelas smiles as she starts her tale, his eyes gazing into the fire as he listens and puffs on his pipe. Resisting the urge to chuckle, he manages only a smile as he continues listeNing.

[Mia(#15493)] Stormclouds forming on the horizon could not be more imposing than the slight figure coming down from the porch, a maiden of the Galadhrim walking with purpose and determination towards the gathering of tents arrayed on the front lawn. Mia strides with her eyes locked on her own temporary dwelling, but the sight of others milling about, some of them people she has met before, causes the ex commander of the Galadhrim forces to pause. She glances at the curiously, her forehead marred with lines of concern, and she changes direction to intercept them along her path. "Good day to you," she calls as she nears them, human and elf alike. "What news is there today? Anything of import from the House of Elrond, or simply more of the same nothing before this meeting of the council?"

[Wendelas(#27296)]
Standing to greet Mia, Wendelas smiles and says, "Good day to you as well. I've heard no new news myself. As a matter of fact I was thinking of taking bets on whether or not the council will happen before spring." He grins at this last statement, then resumes puffing on his pipe.

Mia shakes her head, a soft sigh issuing from taught lips. "I have never been one to enjoy the formalities of diplomacy, and with no real reason for my own participation in the matter, I have found that I long to continue with my own journey." Her eyebrows rise a tad as she draws another breath. "I had hoped to delay no longer, but it seems that now I am forced to do just that. My escort... my friend, seems to have disappeared. I say that, but I do not think he has really vanished, if the rumors are true, but... but I cannot bring myself to believe such... news." She scoffs at the last word, then looks to Wendelas with keen interest. "I assume that your knowledge of elves is as limited as mine is of humans, meaNing that you all tend to look quite alike to me and, perhaps, the same can be said of you. But it is my hope to find someone... anyone with word of my companion." She shakes her head, her hands clasped before her and twisting nervously, her expression one of perplexion and bewilderment. "I have heard that he has been sent away, but I know he would not have left me without proper reason. Tell me, have you heard of the whereabouts of one of the Galadhrim... the Knight-Warden Vinyarod?"

Yavie startles a little bit at this pronouncement. She steps up from her seat by the fire.
Yavie says, "Forgive me the intrusion, fair lady, but I have heard a little of that which you speak. Tales were carried forth this morNing that the Knight-Warden was indeed banished from this valley, though for what reason I do not know.""

[Wendelas(#27296)]
Wendelas' eyes open a bit wider as he looks to Yavie, then back to Mia. "Oh, I just heard the news you speak of from Yavie. But I have not seen him since several days ago. I've been quite busy taking care of some issues in the Barding camp." He pauses and then brightens a little as he smiles at Mia. "Oh, and thank you for your work on my shoulder. It has been healing quite well. Almost as good a new." With that, he nods to the two elves and excuses himself. "Pardon me, but I must attend to something back at my camp."

[Mia(#15493)] Hearing Yavie's confirmation of the news, Mia is aware of naught else. Her face grows pale, her eyes wide and, now, worried, and the twisting of her hands becomes more intense. She shakes her head, denying the truth as it has been presented to her time and again this day. As Wendelas speaks to her, she is as distracted as she could possibly be, smiling at him weakly though she could not, in ten minutes, say for certain what was said.
"No, no, no... this is not right, at all! What evil has taken hold of our kin that we turn upon one another, calling another Quendi a liar..." She raises her hands to the sides of her head, her fists clutched as if they could defend her from this news. "I must have heard wrong... there MUST be some misunderstanding, else... else we are doomed!"

[Yavie(#23156)] "A liar?" Yavie's moss-colored eyes grow wide."I had not heard that- thoug I assume the reason must be grave."

Yavie notes that the sun has come up and, still waiting for a response from Mia, steps toward the clothes line and begins removing the now-dry garments.

Mia shakes her head, "I know this man as well as I know myself, and a liar he has never been." She seems near tears, but with firm resolve she keeps control of her emotions, though the battle is waged clearly on her face. "I cannot for a moment believe what I have heard, else he is not now, nor has he ever been, the person I know so well... the person I have fought beside many hundreds of times." She shakes her head, "No... it simply cannot be. But days, you said? It has been days since this passed?"

Yavie stops what she is doing and looks toward the other elfmaid with concern. "Lady, I do not know for certain. The only knews that came to my own ears was last morNing, and that was the words of some Imladhrim whom I overheard while going about my tasks. They said only that your friend had been sent away, and that their kinsmen had gone to bar the way of his return."

[Duinlas(#27187)]
Stepping out from the birchwood, Duinlas comes empty-handed, smiling at the gathered visitors and marvelling at their stay, "Mae govennen, mellyn," he greets them, confident that they have all heard the elven greeting numerous times. He catches some of the words and raises his eyebrows, "Of who do you speak?"

Yavie turns toward the edhel, and dips into a sketchy curtsey. "Mae Govannen, edhel." She says, incliNing her head so that some of the auburn curls spill over one eye. She refrains from answering his question.

[Celemir(#27624)] Approaching from northern meadows, the figure of a grey-cloaked elf appears, head crowned with shimmering golden hair, tied back with tight braids. A gentle breeze causing the light material of the cloak to flap ever so slightly. As he draws near, not a sound do his footsteps make and each movement leaves the soft, dew covered grass looking as though it is untroden. The expression upon the ellons face however does not match the relaxed fashion of his walk, crystal eyes have lost their glitter and grown deeper, every detail of the normaly pale features has become darkened as though a great weight rested upon unprepared shoulders. Celemir acknowledges only those of elvenkind with a distant "Mae govanane" yet he does not meet gaze with a single one.

Mia glances up at the sky for a brief moment, her eyes scanNing the horizon as she thinks quietly to herself. Her lips move, but only a whisper emerges, "Honorable" being one of the few words that is clearly audible. As more and more people approach, Mia pauses to nod to each in turn, her eyes finally falling on one she has not met before. "A companion and close friend of mine," she answers the stranger, "Though I seem to have misplaced him."

Duinlas narrows his eyes and folds his arms, frowNing at the silence and guard that seems to have decended with his arrival, "Come now," he says, "Why do all speak in hushed tones and now riddles when I come to converse with you?"

A door of the dwarven wagon bangs open, and a blue cloaked figure comes down, closing the door behind him. His breath can be seen in the chilly air, whisps of whitish air escaping from the dwarf's mouth. The dwarf turns his head to one side, then another, as if looking for something. Shrugging, as if not finding what he sought, Braldor makes his way to the House. As he spots the elves and Men present, he bows. "Mae govannen... well met", he says in both elvish and common for the sake of all present. "How fare ye all this fair night?"

[Mia(#15493)] "Apologies if it seems that way, mellon," Mia replies, "but I can say for certainty that, not knowing you from many of those gathered here, that it is not directed at you. If I am evasive on the subject of my conversation, it is simply from confusion that it is so." As the dwarf nears, she nods to him as well but says nothing more.

[Duinlas(#27187)] Duinlas nods to Mia, although the look of confusion does not leave his face, so instead he turns to Braldor and waves in greeting, "Greetings, Master Dwarf. I seem to see you more and more in our valley. But good fortune it is, I deem it."

Braldor turns towards Duinlas. "Indeed, master Elf, indeed", he says with a chuckle. "With this Council drawing near, it seems that I find myself now more inside the House or wandering through this fair valley", he says.

[Blane(#10740)] From the front porch the figure of Blane wanders into view, squinting in the light and rubbing his head as he walks. Halting on some steps he glances around the front yard, seeing who is there before he takes a seat and rubs his temple. "Damn elvish wine." he grumbles.

Duinlas scoffs at such insult to his beloved favorite drink and turns to Blane, "Hold that tongue! Surely you cannot curse such wine that has brought you so much pleasure!" But his voice is mirth-filled and he does not truly scorn the BeorNing.

[Blane(#10740)] It takes a few moments before Blane realises that Duinlas is talking to him, rubbing his eye he offers a short smile, "I doubt the pleasure was worth this, i've had a hangover for 3 hours now and is isn't getting any better" he grunts quietly, 'and I ate 2 of those lembas bread things, my stomach hurts.." he sighs and leans back against the steps, "whats your name? I don't recall seeing you before, my names Blane"

Yavie peers at the other elves curiously and then, with a shrug, returns to her task of taking down the wash and folding it into her basket.

Duinlas laughs at the recounting of the food and drink Blane has eaten, but shakes his head, "Duinlas, at your service," he says, not sure if he hasn't mixed up cultural greetings again, but realizing Blane is likely not to notice. "Did you wander into the kitchens unaccompanied?"

[Blane(#10740)] Blane rakes his hand through his hair and stands up, extending his other hand to shake Duinlas' hand, "nice to meet you, and no.. the wine was in the Hall of Fire, and my friend gave me the lembas.. told me only to take one bite after i'd finished it all.."

Braldor chuckles at the BeorNing's words. "Well, Master Blane, I'm sure your outlook on elvish wine was not the same while you were partaking of it", the dwarf says. "Although this lembas bread you talk about... I've never tasted such a thing, or even heard about it. Is it any good?", he adds curiously.

[Blane(#10740)] "You're right" Blane says with a grin at Braldor, he squints for a moment, "it's Bramfloor right?" he asks as he places the dwarfs features, "and it is very good yes.. just very very filling for such little lumps of bread".

[Mia(#15493)] As the conversation has passed around her, ebbing and flowing like a river of voices babbling as different subjects are broached, Mia pays them little heed. Her thoughts swirl about her more frantically than the passing nicities of dwarf, elf and human, alike, and so she says little as the moments slip away. But she has lingered long enough, as evidenced by the determination now set in her features. She glances around the circle, not really suprised to find that those she had originally spoken to are gone, and nods to those gathered. "Again I must offer an apology, and excuse myself of your company. Alas, there is much I will have to do if I am to find my friend... a task I think will be... difficult. Perhaps." She smiles, if not a little stiffly, and curtsies deeply. "Good day, gentlemen." She says as she turns on her heel.

"My lady", says the dwarf, as Mia seems to depart, "maybe we can be of help in finding your friend? Who is it, if I may ask? For maybe one of us has seen him, and can tell you where to look for him".

Duinlas nods as Mia leaves, and leaves himself, but very briefly, coming back in 30 seconds with a bottle of wine and glasses. He settles against the porch steps and begins to stip wine heartily, smiling at Blane with some amusement, "Now... which wine did you taste?"

[Blane(#10740)] "Who is your friend?" Blane asks, as Mia begins to depart. "I've met quite a few elves here, maybe i've seen him. Unless it's that Vinyarod.. banished" he shakes his head sadly.

Mia pauses, her head tilted slightly as if in thought. "Perhaps..." she responds, not commiting herself just yet. "There are few that have not heard at least something, it seems, and yet I have not found anyone who could give me a straight answer. I seek..."
She is about to say more, but Blane speaks for her. Eyes now quite wide, indeed, she turns to them all fully and says, somewhat breathlessly, "Aye! Vinyarod, Knight Warden of the Galadhrim! But then, you have not seen him, either?"

[Blane(#10740)] Blane looks at Duinlas with a smile, "I had a bottle of the white, a bottle of spiced red.. and some different red." he smiles, "was all nice.. just very very strong" he turns to Mia and frowns, "Vinyarod was banished last I hear, thrown out of Rivendell"

Duinlas' eyes widen at the mention of Vinyarod and the large concern surrounding it. But he keeps his silence, merely letting his mouth move in a silent "Ah" of understanding, but the topic seems to find him looking more stern and less merry, so his reply to Blane seems cooler, "Really, so many bottles. I've not drunk that much in one sitting for more than a month. But I've been busy"

"Well, Master Blane, it seems you tasted quite some of the elves' wine", Braldor says with a chuckle. "Indeed, mixed some of their different vintages... no wonder you have such a dreadful headache. I'd advise more care when dealing with such strong stuff", the dwarf adds. TurNing to Mia, he says, "Ah, my lady, I'm afraid I cannot help you, for I haven't seen Vinyarod for a while. Maybe Master Duinlas here, or some other elf of the Vale would have some information on his whereabouts, though", he says, turNing an inquisitive glance to Duinlas... and his wine.

Duinlas sips from the glass and raises his eyebrows at Mia, seemingly waiting for her to ask the question.

Mia shakes her head as she, once again, turns to leave. "What I have heard disturbes me, but it is rumor... nothing more. And I thank you for your concern, but I can find him. I know the edhel well enough... well, let us just say," she says with a wan smile, "That I taught him most of what he knows. May your day be bright and merry." She nods and turns to leave once again.

"What is this ye say, Master Blane? Vinyarod has been... thrown out? Why would Lord Elrond order such a thing, if I may ask?", Braldor asks, as he turns towards the elf Duinlas. "You know something of this matter, Master Duinlas? I know any information you have would be of help to the lady here"

Duinlas calls to Mia before she leaves, "Do not seek for him in the valley..." but says no more on the matter.

[Blane(#10740)] Blane smiles and nods, "I will be sure not to mix wines again, my head still is pounding.." he watches Mia leave with a frown, "I haven't seen him for days.. I really believe it's true." he shrugs at Braldor, 'I don't know why. Just heard that he has been thrown out of Rivendell"

Mia pauses one last time before departing, her gaze falling on Duinlas. "I appreciate your advice, but as I said, I should have no problem finding him. Then, perhaps, I shall have the answer I seek." And without another word or glance, she turns and leaves the lawn.

Duinlas raises his hand, "Well, let no one speak ill of those not here. Although I should contact the guard and have them know another visitor may be leaving the valley." He turns to Braldor, "Perhaps later you would like to tour some caverns as we have here in the valley."

"Caverns in the Valley?", the dwarf asks, his eyes alight. "I didn't know there existed any... but yes, yes, by all means! I'd very much appreciate some sight-seeing, specially if there are caverns involved. This Valley has much more than meets the eye, it seems", Braldor adds with a smile.

[Celemir(#27624)] Understanding but a words of elvish yet spoken, the knight-batchelor stands to the side of the gathering, carefully eyeing each assembled person regarding them with a suspicious look his expression clearly one of contained anger.

Duinlas grins with a twinkle coming to his eye addressing Braldor, "As one knowledgable in your race's skillful arts, surely you know there are many tricks to creation of things." And then he chuckles and remembers something, "Master Braldor, you once discussed the battle of five armies... perhaps you would like to see the tale in a book I recently helped in the creation of."

"Ah, indeed, Master Duinlas... I would be glad to see it. The battle of Five Armies is still a topic we dwarves of Erebor makes songs of", Braldor replies with a smile. "I'd be happy to see such tome as you describe. And yes", he adds, "there are many things to create things, and to conceal them. Great was the lore of our forefathers in this, and stories of long past tell us of the making of Great Doors that were invisible to the casual onlooker, and other things of wonder. Yet, many years have passed, and some now think those things are beyond our skill".

[Celemir(#27624)] As though he can bare the presence no longer, Celemir turns sharply, grey cloak flowing out in a radial movement before falling neatly into place as he strides away toward the last homely house, shaking his downcast head in disbelief.

Duinlas doesn't comment on whether the skill is lost, but he is delighted to hear of the interest in the book, he sets his wineglass down and grins, "If you will excuse me then, I will fetch it. I have to search for it now. It should be in our library, but I believe we have put it on permanent loan to an elderly halfling who resides as a guest here," he grins and begins to head off.

"Well, Master Duinlas, I shall wait for ye then. And if not here, I'll surely be in our wagon", the dwarf says, as the elf turns to head back into the House.

[Duinlas(#27187)]
With a silent step, Duinlas comes back out of the house, a tome wrapped under his arm, and a smile gracing his lips. He approaches Braldor and smiles, "It was found in Bilbo's room. But it is much of my own work." He unwrapps the binding and shows it to the dwarf, an elegant leather-bound book, laced with designs and elvish runes. He flips it open to the index, which has similar calligraphy, and while it is delightful to look upon, it is written in Sindarin, "My own writing, but I did not realize it until I stepped from the porch that you will be unable to read it, but rather simply look upon the illustrations."

"Yes indeed... I seem not to know this language in which it is written, Master Duinlas", says Braldor as he curiously leafs through the tome and clearly not understanding anything of what is written there. "I think I shall start to learn the language of the elves, since much lore seems to be written in such a language. But maybe you can tell me about what is written there. I am interested indeed to know of your findings of such an event", he says, looking at the elf.

Duinlas chuckles and shrugs, "I know the journey as told by the good hobbit, and I saw Thorin and company arrive many years back. But that is the extent of my knowledge. This is merely a retelling of mine by my interviews with Bilbo Baggins," he flips the pages and stops on a page which is mirrored by a portrait of a dwarf, "This is Balin, as you might guess... Bilbo insisted on drawing it himself and putting it in..." each page is adorned with much decoration.

Braldor looks at the picture, a good rendering indeed of the dwarf lord. "Tis a good picture, this one of Lord Balin made by Master Bilbo. But then again, they are very close friends", Braldor says. "Lord Balin indeed went once or twice to the shire before... well, before retiring in the Mountain" the dwarf adds hastily, trying to cover his almost-slip. "But I'm interested in Master Baggins's point of view of the whole situation, Master Duinlas... would you be so kind as to make a summary of it for me? Not so much about the journey, but what happened after Smaug was killed and Lord Thorin and his companions entered the Mountain"

Duinlas glances sidelong at Braldor, a wry smile spreading across his lips, "Well, indeed you might get a better glimpse if you were to sneak a look at Bilbo's own writings, written in Westron, but he would not give them up, of that I am certain." But then he turns attention back to the book, flipping forward several pages near the end. There are two pages filled with an illustration of the lonely mountain, and what could be the hosts of the elves, and hosts of Dain's dwarves approaching, "Ah! Here we are..." he flips the page and skims a bit, "Well... there is much to do with the treasure and there is mention of the barring of the gate and the standoff... Which does not please the hobbit one bit."

"Ah, yes... the arrival of King Dain was quite timely... ehhhh, and yes, tis said that the hobbit Baggins was not pleased with some of the decisions assumed by Lord Thorin, concerNing the treasure. But his concerns were valid, as were his arguments that supported such decisions", Braldor replies, looking intently at the picture in the book and speaking almost absent-mindedly. "I'm sure he says something about them, Master Duinlas, does he not?", he asks, as he gazes upward at the elf.

Gwamdir emerges from the path to the north, walking slowly. He has been at the Artisan's Guild all day, but needed something from the house. As he walks, he stares intensely at a single sheet of paper, erratically etching little somethings into it with a utensil he borrowed from the guild. His hair is all amess and his cloak isn't in the greatest condition. He hasn't been this way in weeks, and anyone can tell: he's been spending late nights writing again. As he makes his way to the house, he nonchalantly regards the two figures in the yard, making no eye contact. "Mae Govannen, mellyn." and he continues his walking. One word, however, catches his fancy. He is almost on the porch when the name of Bilbo Baggins slips into his thoughts, and at it he turns and listens, trying to figure out what's going on.

Duinlas chuckles and reads from the book, "And the Arkenstone was taken as his 14th share, to do with as he would, and so Master Baggins was of mind to settle the standoff and go home, for his lust for adventure had worn well away and so he stole away in the night to the camp of the elves and gave away his 14th share, and all who saw the stone marvelled." He shrugs and grins, "It has a more fluid sound in the native tongue."

"I guess it does", Braldor replies, although his face has turned a bit sour. "We have been told of this... although story has that Master Baggins got something for that 14th share that he claimed... and the Arkenstone was valued for more than that. And he gave it to...". Braldor cuts his phrase short, as he realizes what he was about to say. "Well, this is past history, and the hobbit's point of view of what happened. And the standoff was not actually cut by Master Baggins giving the Arkenstone to the elves... but by the appearance of Bolg and his rabble", he adds.

Gwamdir draws a bit closer to the two, trying in vain to fold the paper with shaky hands. He doesn't smell very clean, of which he is aware, and he stays his distance from the two. He notes the face of Duinlas. "Mae govannen, duinlas, how does the day greet thee?" His voice quivers and is weak, he is in obvious need of food, bath, and sleep.

Duinlas nods in agreement to Braldor, and then in greeting to Gwamdir, but is still reading as he flips the page, "Thus it came that the Great Dwarf Thorin threw poor Bilbo from the gate and spoke ill to him, and so the elves and men again demanded the opeNing of the gates and the Great Dwarf Dain and his host approached, their feet thunder upon the ground." he flips the page again, and reads of the coming of Bolg and the beginNing of the battle.

[Gwamdir(#32187)] Gamdir's eyes suddenly become very wide, as if an idea of great magnitute crosses his mind, and indeed, one did. He takes the paper and pen in hand once more and continues his trek to the house.

"Ahhh, yes. King dain's army came, and when the armies were facing each other, the sky went dark, as many fell birds blotted out the sky, and Bolg came riding wargs with his host. And then Gandalf summoned all for Council, and their quarrel was put aside to face this new threat to them all", says Braldor, repeating the story that he had been told when he was a young dwarf, before his family moved to Erebor with the King. "Out came the swords of Men and Elves, glittering like stars in the night, and out came the mattocks and axes of the sons of Durin, which glinted coldly as they faced their foe..."

Duinlas takes up the tale as Braldor recites from memory, reading again from the book, "And as the foes of the Goblins took to the mountain slopes, the armies of Bolg grew near. The elves charged first, into the fray, and the dwarves behind them, with cries of "Moria!" and "Dain!" But fortune turned against them as the Goblins scaled the sides of the moutain and came upon the defenders unawares!" He flips the page, his eyes alight with pleasure, "But all had forgotten Great Dwarf Thorin Oakenshield! He and his 12 companions charged from the gate clad in armor of old, 'To me! To me! Elves and Men! To me! O my kinsfolk!'"

"And so came forth the Heir of Durin, the battle lust of his fire runNing like fire thorugh his veins. A great axe he wielded, and he was mithril-clad. Forth too came his companions, Ori and Dori, Balin and Dwalin, Bifur, Bofur and Bombur, Oin, and Gloin, and his nephews Fili and Kili too. Like thunder they came, and fell upon their foes, their axes slashing and cleaving in great sweeps. Black ran the orcish blood down the Mountain slope, and they started to waver as the Heir of Durin came in great wrath...", Braldor continues, staring into the night sky.

Duinlas narrows his eyes at the description, understanding the words and lapsing into Sindarin as he begins reading, but then stops and starts again translating to Westron, "Yet Thorin Oakenshield was cut off from friends and allies, he assailed the bodyguard of Bolg, and unable to retreat was routed, and the attack upon the mountain redoubled, and the day grew darker, for it seemed all would come to naught and the Orcs would win the gate and the treasure. For so thought our Master Baggins, until his gaze caught the distant shapes in the far-off sky. Giving up a cry 'The Eagles! The Eagles are coming!" And a host of Manwe's might came upon the goblins from the sky. But our Baggins was struck by a stone, and slept off the remainder of the battle!"

"And the Great eagles came flying from the west, and fell upon the orcish host, which began to waver. And lo! A great bear also appeared, and the orcs wavered at this sight. For it crashed into Bolg's bodyguard, and slayed all of them, and raised Thorin's body so that they would not defile it. And he also protected the bodies of Fili and Kili, who had died defending the body of the Heir of Durin, their kinsman. And the Men and Elves and the host of Dain reformed and launched again an attack, and this time the host of the orcs was run over, and dispersed. And so ended that day, that brought us great joy and great sadness. For Thorin was killed and many others, but Erebor was at last open for us once more". Braldor sighs, as the story comes to an end. "Tis a tale of great deeds, Master Duinlas. And it seems you have a fair account of the battle itself", he adds, not mentioNing the events just prior to the battle.

[Gilwen(#6559)] An elleth wearing a deep blue cloak steps out of the Last Homely House, and decends the porch steps. Her dark brown hair is tied in a low braid, a few wispy strands curling around her pointed ears. She gazes east, towards the Misty Mountains. Her cloak billows slightly in a gentle breeze. She turns her attention to where a drawf stands, recounting a story that sounds familiar to her. As he finishes, she approachs him. " 'Tis good to see thee again, Master Braldor. What story, may I ask, were you telling?"
Gwamdir makes his way from the house, going back to the Artisan's Guild. His hair, though combed, is still considerably scruffy and he is still in need of a bath. He has, however, eaten a small amount of food. He moves the paper he holds from his face long enough to see those two gathered figures again, still engaged in conversation. He puts his pen in his ear and draws closer to them. "Ahh, mellon duinlas. Praytell what goes on this hour, you and your cohort here have for much time been engaged in this book." His voice is still weak with lack of sleep.

Duinlas puts his hand on the younger dwarf's shoulder, smiling and nodding, "Indeed, but the book goes on... to tell of the forgiveness given by Thorin Oakenshield, and the repenting of Dain and just dealing he gave to all. And on the last page, a splendid poem..." he turns the book around to show the Sindarin calligraphy surrounded with illustrated dragon flame which seams to crackle in the morNing sun, the lonely mountain indeed looks realistic and the image of Smaug which adorns it sparkles in contrast, gold and silver laced throughout this final page. Duinlas recites the words from memory...

Of the Thirteen Dwarves and Bilbo's Tale brought many a great deed
Erebor restored and Smaug was slain. But among the joy came a deadly greed
When the Edhil and Edain came to the door, and spoke of smaug that they slew
Demanding payment for their hurt! King Thorin answered that would never do!
Up came Dain and a large host too. It looked like they would come to blows
But before good blood could be spilt, the scouts spied a great host of foes!
Yrch and crows below the sun! Yelling and charging, sent our friends runNing!
When hope seemed to dim, brave Bilbo shouted above the din: The Eagles are Coming!
Then when all the Yrch were slain, Dale rebuilt and gifts of mending given.
Clanging again are the smiths of old, and the memory of mistakes is forgiven.

[Dairwenraiel(#30888)] Melting out of the vegetation about the yard, an elleth clad in colors meant for winter camouflage approaches the group. In a soft voice, Dairwenraiel teases. "Working towards being an ambassador. I can see why it fits you so well now. You do enjoy speaking." The elleth moves to Duinlas side then dips her chin is a bow of her head to Braldor. "Good day."

Braldor turns to the elven maid, a smile on his face. "Good eveNing, Lady Gilwen. Indeed, Master Duinlas here brought a book of lore, and we began discussing about the Battle of the Five Armies. Such tale was what we were talking about when you came. Tis an account from master Baggins's point of view, of course... but fairly accurate". TurNing to Duinlas again, he adds, "Forgiven? that may be, yes... although relations with the elves of the Wood are... tense at times. dwarves are long to forget, as are elves, for what I've heard and seen in some quarters".

Gwamdir focusses attention on the dwarf. "Do forgive my rudeness, Braldor, son of Erebor. I am Gwamdir, a songful spirit." He extends a hand in friendship, a look of kindness upon his face.

[Elenare(#17456)] The shadows outside the large house are now angling farther east, their contours sharpp on the cool ground. An elf approaches the house from the meadown, a few branchescarried upon her arm.

Manidir says, ":Manidir, now finished with his chores, finds himself now walking into the Front Yard. Over yonder he sees the dwarf speaking with other elves. Manidir walkes over to Braldor. "Hello," he says. "I don't believe we've met. I'm Manidir.""

"A pleasure, Master Gwamdir", the dwarf replies, taking the elf's hand into his and pumping it a couple of times before releasing it. TurNing to the newly arrived elf, he bows once again. "Braldor, son of Braldon of Erebor at yer service, Master Manidir. i hope this night finds ye well"

Duinlas turns to Dairwenraiel and lets a wry smile creep on his lips, he offers his hand to her and speaks softly, "Aye, Talking is what I do best, so it seems."

[Gwamdir(#32187)] "And well it does find me indeed. Tell me, what is this book you and Duinlas are regarding tonight?" Gwamdir looks at the book, then smiles at Duinlas. "Is this of your handiwork, Duinlas?"

[Gilwen(#6559)] "Master Baggins? Do you mean that sweet perian who tells stories about his adventures with Dwarves?" Gilwen smiles happily. "He lives here in Imladris." Gilwen chuckles, and looks towards the Misty Mountains again. "He told me a most magnificent story awhile ago..."

Dairwenraiel takes the hand, her expression softeNing as she regards Duinlas. "THat and dinners on lakes, but I'm not sure how useful a skill that is to put to use for the Valley as a whole." She gaze moves to Gwamdir and she nods a greeting to the edhel then returns her attention to the guest.

"Ah, indeed, this is Master Duinlas's work. Tis a book about the trip that Thorin Oakenshield and his companions undertook, and how it ended in the Battle of Five Armies, at the Gates of Erebor. We were remiscing the Battle itself, both how Master Duinlas has it in his book, and how us dwarves of Erebor tell it. I was just telling Mastr Duinlas what a fine job he had done, as there appears to be no differences on the account of the Battle itself", Braldor replies, still looking at the pictures of the book. "If ye think about it, tis a bit inspirational for the upcoming Council. For it seems we also need to come together this time... or fall".

Duinlas chuckles at Dairwenraiel and squeezes her hand, "Well, I shall reserve my laketop dinners for you, and my talk for others." He chuckles again, and looks to the newcomers, nodding in greeting.

From Front Porch, Serendriel walks through the large door and enters the house.
Gwamdir is suddenly awe-struck with another idea, and before the thought can escape him he rips the pen from behind his ear and scribbles a few words upon the paper he hold. "Yes, yes indeed. Eternity and...yes. Very good, this'll be better than the last!" He suddenly realizes that the words in his head are escaping his lips and he looks around to make sure nobody thinks he's talking to himself in madness. "I had heard that Duinlas was one for history. I hadn't heard he had written a book, though. I must say, I'm thoroughly impressed." He flashes a smile at Duinlas.

Gwamdir turns to the newly arrived elleth with a wry smile upon his dirty face, scraggly hair waving in the breeze. "You may, if you wish, wander the paths beneath the brances of the trees. Some prefer, though, to leap from branch to branch, tree to tree. Those are they who touch the sky, and are ever blessed."

Braldor's eyes seem to be lost in the night sky, after sharing such a feat of bravery with Duinlas. The dwarf seems to be in trance, his mind far away from Rivendell. After a while, he sighs, and he gazes to those present. "Worry not, Lady Gilwen... ye shall tread the paths of Thranduil's realm soon enough. For King Dain has said that we shall make haste back to Erebor after the Council is done. Ye can come with us, if ye like, as we shall be going through the elven realm. But think not of that yet, and enjoy the splendid night that we have. And maybe share the story that Master Baggins told you, as we're swapping stories right now. isn't that right, Master Duinlas?", he says.

Gilwen turns to the quende who had adressed her. Annoyance is clearly written upon her face, and irritation shimmers in her eyes, eyes the color of a cool mountain lake. "How did you get so...dirty?" she asks keeping a - barely- civil voice with the rather rude elf.

[Gwamdir(#32187)] The smile upon Gwamdir's face shifts position a couple of times, trying to reverse the situation. "Dirty? I...oh. Well, I suppose I am. Forgive me, I've been without sleep and care for many a night, working on a new verse. It's coming along, though I should be along now and cleanse myself."

Gilwen chuclkes, and sits down beside Braldor. "I am not a storytelly, Master Braldor." she says softly, smiling at the dwarf. "I could sing, maybe..." She shrugs, and leans back, looking at the the stars. "I cannot see Earendil in the sky tonight..."

"Earendil? Which star is this you talk about? For i have heard the name, but not related to a star. A great Man was he, I think, and some great deed he performed in the long years of the First Age, while Durin and his people built Moria and grew there", the dwarf asks, as he also looks at the night sky.

[Gilwen(#6559)] "Earendil was no ordinary Man...He was of both Kindreds, Men and Elves." She smiles slighty. "He had twin boys. Elros, first king of Numenor...and Elrond."

Braldor's eyes grow wide, the only outward sign of his astonishment. "Ahhh, so this earendil was Master Elrond's father. But still yo do not explain why you mention his name as the name of a star, for as you said, he walked the lands of Middle earth long ago", the dwarf replies.

[Gilwen(#6559)] "I do not know the full tale...But Earendil sailed east to Valinor, to ask for the aid of the Valar, in the war against the Great Enemy, the fallen one..." Gilwen shudders as she speaks this. "The Valar agreed to help the Two Kindreds. But Earendil was not allowed to return to the mortal lands..." She pauses. "The Valar took one of the Simarils, the great jewel that Beren and Luthien Tinuviel had captured from Morgoth's iron crown, and bound it to Earendil's ship. He nows sails in the seas of the sky, a light of hope to the people of Middle-Earth..." Gilwen sits up, and smiles softly. "I am not sure if I remembered the tale correctly."

"Ah, a great tale that is, I'm sure", says Braldor. "I would also like to know more of it, for we keep our own lore, but know little about others. But if Earendil indeed does carry one of the Great Jewels, of which even us dwarves have heard, then it must be the most brilliant of all the stars in the sky. Great are the tales of the times of yore", the dwarf adds, a bit wistfully.

[Gilwen(#6559)] "Great are the tales of ages gone by, joys and sorrows long past..." agrees Gilwen, a small tear rolling down her cheek. She quickly brushes it away, hoping that Braldor doesn't notice it. "I did not know that the Dwarves knew about the Three Simarils of Feanor...."

"We don't know much about the great Jewels... but our cousins that lived in the cities of Gab... I mean, of Belegost and Nogrod, in the Blue Mountains before the world was cracked, had many tales. One of them is about how an elvish King robbed them of their treasure, and how they went with wrath to do war with him. Although some others from Belegost say this is not the true story. We, the Kin of Durin, don't really care much, since it did not involve our House. But tis said that Durin led a great force of our people on a Great Battle, in the lands that are now sunk. And tis said this war was caused because of the Great Jewels that the Enemy brought from the West. And tis also the reason why some of the elves that had gone there came back to these lands", the dwarf adds.

[Gilwen(#6559)] "Feanor created the Simarils. In them, he captured the light of the Two Trees of Valinor..." says Gilwen, looking at the stars. Morgoth stole the Simarils, and placed them in a iron crown." She sighs. "My brother used to tell me all sorts of tales. He's very good at remembering long tales..."

"Well, maybe then you should visit Master Duinlas, Lady Gilwen. He seems to be interested in history, although the book he wrote is about the Thorin Oakenshield's trip. But it seems it's a bit late, my Lady. I must retire for the night. T'was a joy talking with you, and I look forward to doing so again soon". With that, Braldor begins to walk towards the dwarven wagon that sits in the yard.

[Gilwen(#6559)] "Fare thee well untill then, Braldor, mellon Nin..." whispers Gilwen. A silver tear slips down her face, as she watches Braldor leave.