Brethil's Roleplaying Logs

Council Chambers of Finrod Felagund
You are in a large room, an oval shape being twice as long as it is wide. The curved walls are set every few feet with elaborate pillasters, carved as if vines were twining around them through the stone walls. The walls themselves are a marvel, faced with the richest golden marble your eyes have seen, polished to a shine. The pillasters themselves are of a white marble, offsetting the dark walls. An oval of full, rounded columns is in an oval perhaps ten feet in from the walls supporting the roof. They are also made of pure white marble with golden guilded carved vines twining up them. The capitals of all the columns are carved like fronds of curly-leaved plants, embracing a golden ceiling set with sparkling gems. The rooms itself is furnished with great chairs in the center, soft and well-stuffed. The largest seems to be reserved for the King himself. There is a thick red carpet covering the entire floor and bright lamps flicker happily. Dark, wooden tables made to curve with the form of the room are placed against the walls and they are laden with fruits, mushrooms and sweet wines. The only apparent exit is a set of double wooden doors leading out into the hall.

There is a quiet conference going on in the Council Chambers. Finrod sits in his great chair at the head of the room with several of his advisors seated in a half-circle around him. From the expressions on their faces, they are clearly discussing a serious issue, but their murmured voices do not carry as far as the door. Finally, Finrod leans back in his chair and shakes his head. "We have too few," he says in a normal speaking tone. "It will not be enough, I fear."

The double doors open and a shadow crosses them before Finnabair appears framed beneath their wide space. Dressed in the same, simple manner as before, the garments look little better than they first did after days of hard and hurried travel and the pallor of her face speaks of it too. Paused there, she looks up the length of the room to where Finrod sits amongst his counsellors, the quiet, concerned tone of their conversation holding her from stepping further into the room though their talk is too distant to be heard clearly. Taking opportunity of her unheeded presence, she peers about the room, her cautious eye remarking upon the fineness of its make before drawing back to the King, abiding silently until notice is taken of her.

It takes the king only a moment to notice the human woman. He holds up a hand to quiet the elves around him and rises to his feet. "Finnabair," he calls to her with a smile. "Please come forward and join us. We were just discussing how best to deal with the problem of the illness that has stricken your people."

The door opens again, and in rushes Elwen, clothed formally in counsellor's robes, formal, save that her feet are bare and her hair is damp, and against her shoulder is her child, hwo is merrily drooling upon and mouthing the embroidered velvet brocade. Elwen pauses before the king, dropping into a curtsey, and then sinking to her knees before Finrod, waiting with head bowed.

Finnabair lifts her chin when the King beckons her forward and quickly strides the length of the chamber till she is only a few paces from where they are seated. "Nom,", she says, lowering her head and looking up at him again, "When will we leave?", she asks, "You had said on the morrow when I arrived, bearing the news and it is now more than a week since.", she reminds him, her words halted abruptly as she turns and lets her eye follow Elwen, who hurries past her with child in arms.

The king smiles to Elwen and her baby momentarily and motions for her to take a chair. Then his smile fades as he listens to Finnabair's words. "I know there have been delays," he sighs, "and I begrudge every moment it takes us beyond that first day. However, there have been difficulties gathering the healing supplies. Although the yrch do not usually travel this far south, our healers must go cautiously in the woods lest they reveal the location of this realm to the enemy. We have gathered what we may, but I do not think it will be sufficient."

Tiptoeing, tiptoeing up to the door, an imp of a young elleth, her tumbled crown of raven curls whispering softly about her smudged and mischievously curious face. This child, Lothluin, does not rush in, or do anything of the sort. Instead, she pushes the door open with one small hand, enough so that she might peek inside and be aware, in both sight and sound, of the going-ons inside. All that is visible of her, should anyone choose to look that way and inspect closely, are two sparkling emerald optics, and a bit of her face and hair. With an embarrassed smile, Elwen rises, nodding to Finrod. "Thank you, Aran Finrod," she says, and seats herself in the indicated chair, trying to keep the child quiet while more important things are discussed

Just moments behind Elwen, a tall figure appears in the hall and strides toward the throne. Droplets of water drip from the cloak held closely about him...it appears that this person has just come in from some sort of patrol or scouting mission. Whichever it is, he obviously has been on the outside. As he draws nearer he stops and removes his hood...thus is Fingon revelaed to those gathered. He looks first toward the throne...nodding a greeting to his cousin...

Finnabair's grey eyes are set hard upon Finrod and her expression remains unreadable but for the slight tinge of colour that leaps up high on her cheeks. With but a nod of her head she withdraws a step, the distraction of the curious, elven lass and the sudden appearance of the Elf-lord filling her brooding silence, observing the drenched figure with veiled thoughts, watching him quietly address Finrod.

"Mae govannen," Finrod says, nodding in geeting to his cousin. For a brief moment, his gaze travels to the doorway and he gives a half-smile at the sight of the green eyes peering around the corner. A trace of the humor remains as he remarks to his cousin, "You must have been scouting. Unless someone pushed you into the Narog?"

Lothluin shies away from the door slightly when Finrod's gaze falls upon her, but a child's curiousity is oft too great to be scared away like that. Again, she peeks about the door, staring mostly at Finnabair.

A stifled laugh comes from Elwen's lips, and she shakes her head. "Not the river, she murmurs very softly, perhaps loud enough to be heard. "Turgon was not here to do it/..."

And yet another, comes to the Hall, silent and on steps masked by slippers, still showing evidence of sandy remains. The sound of voices, lingers about the great doorway and Alquawen pauses, as if debating her entry. An uncertain, smile curves her lips, the green eyes alighting on the peeping child and bending she, stifles a chuckle, fingers moving to lift a few wisps of the dark hair, from the child's ear. "What...have we here.."this whispered in a teasing tone , the seindan taking a tentative step into the room. Her presence is announced by a soft clearing of the throat, and deep curtsey, the customary word of greeting tumbling unabashed from her lips. "Suilaid, Aran ...Ingaran..Hiril..Lady.."

A wry grin crosses Fingon's lips and gives a sideways glance at his cousin. "I might has well have jumped in cousin...the rain is enough to soak one beyond his skin..." he says with a chuckle and a wink to Elwen. "It does appear though, that it will let up soon...and thus we may be away." His visage changes a bit top a more serious expression as he utters the last. Obviously he holds something back. As Alquawen enters, he nods a greeting to her and turns back to Finrod.

A small gasp from the mischievous little 'Queen,' but Lothluin only steps aside and smiles sheepishly so noone might see her as Alquawen enters. Of course, she is back at her post by the time the seindan greets the others in the room, ever inquisitive.

Finnabair turns a stoney gaze upon the mischievous and bright-eyed elven lass who peeks round the door at her; no smile softening her expression as she regards the child with bare tolerance. The chamber receives another, this one a tall and quiet spoken Elleth who greets first the child and then the rest. The Elf-lord's jest follows quickly after and Finnabair begins to draw away from them a few steps and after a last mixed look at Finrod she turns, stalks across the red carpeted floor and out of the chambers.

At Elwen's mention of Turgon, Finrod's eyes flicker in amusement and he laughs softly. He is still laughing as he nods in greeting to Alquawen. However, the humor is short-lived and fades at Fingon's words. "You will be leaving today, then?" he asks his cousin. "I had thought as much, though I am loathe to see you go. I would ask a favor of you when you depart. Would you escort the healers from Nargothrond northward to Brethil? There are supply wagons going with them and we can spare too few to guard them." He glances up toward the place where Finnabair had been standing, but realizes that she has departed. His brows draw together in concern and he glances around the room.

"Finnabair!" calls Elwen, rising as the Ranger stalks away.'Finnabair, please, come back..." She bites at her lip, then lowers her head, not knowing what else to say.

Soft, even footfalls fade down the hall from beyond the chamber doors.

Silently, Alquawen lets her gaze wander the length of the room, the sharp gaze, following the Beorian 's movements. A quirk of the eyebrow and furrowing of the healer's brow, tells of her concern but she bides her silence, awaiting word on the departure, herself. Reluctantly, she turns, eyeing the doorway from which Lady, just departed, with eyes troubled.

Lothluin does not shy away again as Finnabair looks upon her. Instead, she mimics the lady's stony gaze, though the result is overly theatric, nearing comical. As she leaves, the imitation is dropped with an ever so slightly haughty sniff, and again the child resumes her...watching. Impish, of course...though perhaps she would not be so if she knew the situation around which the conference concentrates.

Finrod's expression grows grim as no response comes to Elwen's call and he hears the woman's steps fade into the corridor. However, he does not speak his thoughts aloud and instead turns to Elwen and Alquawen, managing a sad smile. "I wish you a pleasant journey back to your homes. May the stars shine upon you until we meet again. Finduilas and her ladies have prepared lembas for your journey. You will find them with your horses when you depart."

Elwen rises, and then gives Finrod a warm smile. "Aran.... thank you... so much... for all your hospitality..." She sighs, shaking her head. "There is no way we can repay..." Her voice trails off, and she smiles of a sudden at Finrod. 'Aran... you said once... that I was almost as a sister.... I am not so high and grand as that... but... you have never had a chance to hold my child, lord."

"Thank you, Aran...for all that you have done..for us.."The seindan's words are warm, but yet a wistfulness shapes each drifting from her lips, and she curtseys once again, the golden head dipping slightly. The green eyes, gaze quietly upon the noldo-lady and the King, and she smiles at the babe.