If ever a sunset so lovely is seen, it must be in visions that one sees when a beautiful story is told. Arien's jewel, bright and white as the stars, has turned into layers of orange, crimson and purple, casting warm hues over the golden roof of Lothlorien.

Indeed, the fairest of land in which elves still dwell upon Middle Earth was the center of this year's Bardic Congress. Here in the large garden, walled by many elegant, silver-barked trees that call this land their home, the famous silver lights are ever-lit. The elves of the land, and of many lands far away, have gathered here in pompous and elegant costumes.

One such elf makes her way along the tables that are over laden with fruits and wine, and bread, and much more. It is, indeed, a night for feast, a night to be contented.

[Golden_Eagle(#24093)] The elf, whose costume is of a deeper gold than her hair, represents a golden eagle, the beak mounted on her skullcap cast slightly over her face. (Calriel)


A serene silver light is moving slowly up and down as something is perch on the same branch that it is link to. Little elleth bare feet are soon seen as the responsible for this movement prepared to land. When she does, here is a Nightingale standing there, politly bowing and greeting left and right till she get sit on a bench.

The costume is simple. Nothing too glamorous! Feathers, feathers everywhere! Rusty brown is the back entwined with her natural copper hair and a hat of same colored feathers. Hazel eye on both side of that hat are melancholic. The brown beak pointed like it is a proud sadness. The anterior part of the outfit is gray and the throat is covered with pale ash feathers. In same tone is the face of the elleth. Now, up to you to learn if this elleth costume is just a cover up or if she sings as soft and melodiously than the Nightingale she incarnates today. (Olathlinn)


Another elleth meanders through the crowd, her sleek, smooth copper hair catching at sunset light and flaming with a life of its own. Her face is smooth, bright green eyes nimble and tripping through her mask from Quende to Quende. The many hems of her gown drifts and flutters like the ocean's waves, and her mien is serene and mysterious as a calm day upon the water. Slowly, as if she really does not care if she makes it there or not, this maiden makes her way toward the tables as well, bare toes pressing the earth as though wistful for sand. (Caelwen)


Hail enters from the south, his cloak waving slightly on the breeze. Without revealing his face he inspects the surroundings and quietly takes a seat in a corner. He takes a few berries that lie in a plate in front of him and eats them. (Helegrhofel)


In black and gold and (appropriately) peacock blue, a tall edhel moves towards the tables. He is smiling widely, dark eyes wandering over the different costumes with appreciation. No jewelry does he wear to catch the last rays of the setting sun, but tiny glittering gems along his mask spark and flare in whatever light they catch. Stopping beside a little brown Nightengale, Peacock transfers his smile to her. "Mae govannen," comes the soft deep voice. (LothD)


[Panther(#31075)] A tall elleth stalks into the garden, her costume simple but chillingly effective. She wears a skin-tight tunic of midnight black, with long sleeves and long full length legs. Even her hands and feet are covered in the black cloth, with holes cut for her long fingers and toes. To her finger and toenails have been carefully glued long curving claws of steel....gotten from a friendly armoursmith. Her face is hidden by a mask in the shape of a panther's head, the ears and top of the muzzle (for the lower part of her face is bare) wrought in intricate detail. To complete the effect, the upper jaw is set with wolf's fangs. Her hair is hidden under a black bandanna and a long furry tail hangs from her waist, brushing the floor.

The face twists in a grin as Panther apporaches the two birds.

She licks her lips with a red tongue and speaks in a low, snarly voice. "Ahhhhh, three days I have fasted....now here meat comes right to me!" She crouches down by the Nightengale, one clawed hand raised and half-clenched. "Mae govannen, my dinners!" she hisses. (Calabrethil)


Lanterns hang down from the gates, green and red in assortment; but one gives off a slender beam of silver, to highlight the figure descending the grassy steps of the garden's entrance. Her grey, wavy hair is long, and she wears a gown of the same color; but that would be the only elegant feature of this elleth. For red-streaked feet waddle, and elbows stick out awkwardly, proudly displaying scales of silver and deep blue. Passes an elleth enveloped in an ocean blue, she grins; and a voice, small and croaky sings out, "Sea, sea, come to me!" (Caranna)


Nightingale giggles. "oh... I am so scare!" she said to the panther, making her feather shake.


The graceful Butterfly raises her eyebrows at the Panther's antics as she maneuvers her way amongst the gathered elves, resplendent in their colorful and often elaborate costumes, towards the refreshments. The starlight filtering down upon the garden glistens off of her gossamer wings, casting them in shimmering pastel shades. Sipping at a glass of wine, she watches the other partygoers, admiring their costumes and smiling at their antics. (Tarasiriel)


One stands apart. Tall is he, clad all in white, and from the carven crown of his mask spring deer's-horns laden with garlands of verdant. Now the sun sets, and now he harkens to it, his proud head turned to the West as the Sunship's last rays paint him in hues of crimson, and his hoar antlers cast forked shadows upon the mould behind. But he speaks not, and moves not, but for the sway of his white-fell cloak in the light breeze: a White Hart, still and silent, standing at the Garden's edge. (Rosgwaen)


The golden Eagle gracefully ascends the small dais whose illustrious illumination makes the material of her dress shimmer in golden brilliance. "", a sounds as a chirp comes from her throat, as were they words... '


Already the serene air of Ocean is shattered, for Fish's voice sings to her and a laugh is the answer, high and merry and tripping away to end in a flourish of giggles. She followes the grey-clad maiden now, hastening to walk beside her, schooling her face to a more sombre air again as her gown trails in wavelets behind her. "Mae govannen," comes her light greeting.


[Flame(#31021)] An elleth clothed in fiery red enters the garden, moving with elegant, yet raw grace. Her raven hair is piled on top of her head, with a few tendrils hanging across her face. Her gown is made of numerous layers of the thinnest silk, each one a different shade, from pale yellow to deep crimson, such that she truly looks like a single flame, standing dangerously beautiful. Her flowing skirt trails behind her as she moves around, gray eyes shining with self-contained light. "Mae govannen, mellyn!" she greets to those she meets. (Fairithiel?)


Panther laughs softly and speaks again in the snarly voice. "Mae govannen. You are one of our guests here, aren't you? You speak a bit differently than a Galadhrim would." She smiles, carefully resting a clawed hand on the Nightingale's arm and making a playful swipe at the Peacock with the other. "And mae govannen to you to, speechless one!"


Golden_Eagle says, "This is a last farewell to the Bardic Congress, in which we shared our emotions through love and song, and were tested in skills of mind, of hand, of spirit. On behalf of the Lord and Lady, I bid you all a farewell, a good journey, or...", the maiden's eyes glance over the crowd "an extension of your stay, as you please. We have enjoyed your presence and your talent!""


Threatened by a cat and so soon. Peacock pulls his face (what can be seen of it) into a grimace of mock fear and pleading. "At least, M'lady Cat," he says. "You could wait until the end of the ball for your dinner... having already waited so long a few more hours surely will not hurt."


[Rose_Bud(#28080)] Entering the garden, a young lady dressed in a gown of red and pink walks with light footsteps into the scene. A crown of roses upon her golden head, Rose Bud's green eyes glitter as they dance from one face to another in the crowded garden.

The light seems to flicker upon this young lady as she moves with careful steps across the garden. The rose red lips of this lady stay silent, as she moves without word though the group. (Merilwen)


Alone, walking slowly and quietly, yet another guest of the ball enters the garden. As the flickering lights of the lamps gets reflected by the gold and silver of his Mallorn_Tree dress, creating a thousand of sparks and reflexes, he looks around, trying to tell who is who under teh costumes around him. Wondering if he should have weared a mask as well to cover his face, he ends up finding a glass of wine and standing at a side. (Annagil)


[Hail(#22136)] Soon the berries disappear and Hail, in search of another bunch, stands up and heads to the Ocean, spotting a new plate behind her. "Mae Govannen", he greets, his voice sounds low and peacefull. "Have you seen any bottle of wine, preferably white?", he asks politely the elleth.


[Silpion(#31797)] Slow and stately is the entrance of Silpion, as befits the Silver Tree also known as Telperion, and Ninquelote, and many other names besides. From the tree's branches (arms) trail long fringes of 'dew', made of glass. Stopping near the entrance of the garden, the elleth wearing this costume looks around, taking in the beauty of the moment with a smile on ruby lips. (Glasiel)


Panther laughs again. "Ah, but I am hungry NOW!" she leers, moving in a playful threating forward, playing her part to the hilt. "This is my first time at a ball." She purr-giggles. "Alone, anyway. Mayhap the nice birds will show the hungry panther something more delectable than a mouthful of feathers?" she asks shyly, very mindful of her manners.


[Fish(#26420)] "So you did come!" Still the voice retains its croaky manner, but as the Fish slows her step, her arms fall to her side, her posture is graceful, more alike to Elf than pirahna. The sleeves billow and flap about, and the scales entangle themselves with the grey hair falling from above. "You..."


But the words are cut off, as a prominent figure from the dais begins to speak; her tread pauses, and an emerald glance flickers off to regard the eagle. As the chirpy words float in the air, a smile forms, and quickly does the Fish regain her pace, heading towards the tables laden with food. No speech does she offer towards her companion, as she tips her head to look upon the costumed crowd.


[Nightingale(#11282)] The /meal/ on the menu decided it will be better if she takes the panther near the table where food and breuvage is serve. She pointes at it."Please, join!"


[Btterfly(#9985)] Hearing another guest approaching, the Butterfly turns, to see a towering Mallorn standing nearby, also sipping a glass of wine. Setting her own glass aside, she crosses over to the tree and smiles, curtsying gracefully. "Hello, o great mallorn!" she says in greeting, playing the part of hostess. "I trust you're enjoying yourself?" [Panther(#31075)] Rubbing against Nightengale's leg as a happy cat will, Panther gives another giggling purr. "Yesssssss" she hisses, gray eyes behind hte mask flickering hungrily. "Lead on. Is the second course coming?" she laughs.


And adding his voice to Nightingale's, Peacock also hastily directs the starving Panther towards the tables laden with food. "Have as much as you like," he says. "But don't eat me." Through the mask, one eyelid flickers in a wink.


[Ocean(#31319)] Ocean's head turns in concert with her companion, her attention given to the elleth-eagle for a moment, a long, thoughtful pause given after the short speech. Then back to Fish, when it is done, and she does not comment on what was said. "Care for some wine?" she asks conversationally, then moves slowly toward the table without waiting for a reply.


[Panther(#31075)] Rearing up onto her hindlegs, the tall panther playfully snaps at the peacock. "Oh I don't know, you look most tasty!" she growls good-naturedly. "What have we to choose from?" Panther adjusts her mask, trying to get a better view out of the slanted eyeholes. "I can't see too well in this thing. Only what's straight ahead!" She swishes her long tail....very realistically.


"I couldn't say, my frail and iridescently winged friend, I just arrived, but I trust I will find myself at ease pretty soon, as I figure out who's who" the Mallorn answers politely to the butterfly, giving a smile to he collegue "And how are you? Feeling at ease among such strangely looking friends? I can't remember last time I was involved into something like this, maybe last time I visited teh Halls of Thranduill..."


Golden_Eagle says, "I shall keep it short, indeed, for today is no day for words or formalities."

She brushes with the beak, mounted to a skullcap, over her shoulder, as if ruffling her feathers. "But I would like us all to honor the masters of the contests of song: Faerlin - for Autumn: the Waning, Haithdiinen and Erynsil-thir - for Shaping Memories, Rosgwaen - for Odes and Songs of Love, and Glasiel - for Jewels of the Night. For them to remember these days under the eaves of fair Lothlorien, the craftsmen and women of the Golden Wood wish to present you with these flutes of ashen wood, carved, as a gift of the Lord and Lady!"

The female gestures to a small table, on which the five elegant instruments lie."


[Nightingale(#11282)] "Hey!" exclaim the Nightingale."Keep your fur for you!" and she steps aside to escape the rubbing black cat, glancing toward the peacock.


[Ocean(#31319)] Ocean trills her fine fingers in a wave to Hail as well, inviting him to come along to the wine-table.


Nightingale claps at the hearing of the name, still untrusting that stranger in panther costume. She move toward the table and take a glass of wine,slowly sipping in it.


[Ocean(#31319)] The Ocean's hands to come together in merry applause after the mention of the songsmiths, a wordless cry of cheer lifted from between her parted lips.


[Flame(#31021)] Gray eyes shine with pride as Flame applauds the winners of the contests, most of them companions of hers. The same eyes sweep the garden, hoping to recognize a kindred soul, yet this is done in vain, for all the quendi have outdone themselves this time. She turns once more towards the dais, waiting in anticipation, and resuming the cheer for the winners.


[Hail(#22136)] Following Ocean to the tables, Hail finally takes a seat among others, near the berries plate. He takes the bottle of wine in front of him and pours a glass. "Would anyone want some?", he asks his company.


But Peacock has turned to listen to the great Eagle as she tells of the song-masters and the gifts they will receive. As each name is told, his smile grows wider and wider until he too begins to clap softly at the finish.


[Rose_Bud(#28080)] Stopping in her tracks, the young lady dressed as a rose smiles, listening to the one dressed as a grand eagle announce the winners. A smile grows upon her red lips; as a new rose bud opening to the world.


[White_Hart(#30212)] And still the White Hart stands, tall and silent, horned head turned for a time toward the Golden Eagle as she speaks, and the last fingers of Anor's rays stretch across the Garden, and darkness grows, and the silver lamps of the Galadhrim shine as do the first stars above.

Still-- until the Eagle speaks once more, and the Hart's proud head gains a tilt. Silence falls upon him yet. But to the flute-table now he strides, footfalls graceful and even as his way is made through the gathered crowd.


[Eledurima(#12228)] No disguise this lady wears as the comes within the Mithril Gates, but a shining white gown of light and pearl set for contrast against the garden's color, her pale and roseflame features left uncovered. The most she wears upon it: a little crescent of a smile and eyes of intense regardant turquoise, the soul of serenity, a scimitar in posture, gracefully sweeping, at ease, ready. Her step is gentle as the snow falls upon flowers. She halts her smooth progress just inside to observe the company here gathered in fine attire and list unto the speaker.


Panther turns to the Peacock. "All...what I can see of it...looks so good. Wither to start? I have not eatten all day in preperation for this night!" The tall elleth licks her teeth, slapping her tongue softly against her cheek.


"Aye, aye," the Fish responds, back in a croaky tone. The chirpy voice is upon her ears again, but her head turns not; instead, hands rise to push the eyemask up. A frown, as her emerald eyes close for the moment; but in her haste to follow she bumps into a furry black panther. The scales wiggle from her arms as they wave about, in sync with her backsteps.


Panther turns lithely at the bump, her keen eyes looking at the fish. "Ah, a nice plump fish!" she purrs, advancing. "Mae govannen! Excellent work, by the way, if you were my heart's desire I would not know you!" She purrs again, arching her back. "A fine night, isn't it?"


"Anywhere you like. Perhaps at that end of the tables?" Peacock points. Someone bumps into his current companion and he grins a little, waiting to see the Cat rescue the Fish, before looking around for Nightingale. "Were you hungry?" he asks her, gesturing again toward the tables.


[Ocean(#31319)] The Ocean stops beside Hail, and does not seem to notice the Fish's troubles with the Panther. "Aye, yes please!" she replies to her companion, and looks further down the table. Bright peridot eyes flash briefly at Peacock, ere her attention is returned to Hail.


[Blue_Bird(#31078)] Illuminated starlight filters through webbed branches, the glowing laterns of silver hue casting a subtle, yet majestic radiance over the verdant garden. A winter breeze, swirls listlessly through golden tree-tops as another ventures upon the garden's path. Veiled in a rich feathered cloak, tied with silken ribbon to her wrists, an illusion of graceful wings is given as the fresh current lifts the downy wrap. The graceful creature ceases in motion at the perimeter of the gathering, her silver mask crowned in noble feathers as she surveys the colourful scene. Topaz eyes search the assembly, of any indication of those she might know, but swiftly they linger upon those going approaching the flute-table. (Oerwen)


[Flame(#31021)] Still watching the flute table, Flame pauses, licking her dry lips. Thirsty, she moves towards the wine table, where other quendi are gathered, talking. As she pours herself a glass, she quietly listens to the conversation, her eyes still going from time to time towards the flute table.


[Silpion(#31797)] After a moment spent scanning the crowd, a knowing smile twitches on the lips of Silpion. She moves toward the elleth dressed as the Ocean, murmuring a gentle, "Mae govannen," as she arrives alongside her and her companions. The Tree's reaction to the Eagle's announcement, oddly enough, is a blush on her cheeks and a quiet gasp. She looks at the table where the prizes lie, but does not step toward it. . . yet.


[Nightingale(#11282)] Turning her head toward the Peacock, the Nightingale shake her beak. "Me? no...the only hungryness I have is toward good company and fun!" Some ash feather moves as the elleth smiles under her costume.:"And some wine, do you want a glass?" she offers.


[Btterfly(#9985)] "Indeed?" is the reply of the graceful Butterfly to the tall Mallorn, clapping as the Golden_Eagle announces various commendations. The gaze of her blue-green eyes falls upon the other partygoers, guessing by their movements and modes of interaction as to what their true identities might be. "In any case, it is as interesting to just observe as it is to mingle with the other guests." She takes a sip of her wine. "In any case, I'll leave you to your wine for now!" she says, giving the tree a playful bow before waltzing over to the next group of guests.


[Fish(#26420)] Hers suspicious glance to the panther is given by the Fish; her shoulders hunch, and fingers raise up to grey hair nervously, as if in fright. "It may be, if not for the felines that stalk about in my watery home... Ai!" She gives a laugh, throaty in exaggeration. "But, oh, where has my watery home wandered to?" Verdant glance falls upon the Ocean, and she gestures towards her with another laugh.


Hail takes another glass and pours some fine white wine for Ocean. "Here you are my friend", he says and a burst of laughter is hidden under his hood. His gaze is turned for a moment to the surrounding quendi then back to the almost filled glass.


Peacock's smile widens. "Surely." Black hair falls sleekly down his back, stark against the blue shirt, almost lost when it crosses black silk instead. He holds an arm out in a courtly gesture and starts to walk towards the drinks. "Shall we get some then?"


[Panther(#31075)] Moving to block the fish, the panther growls again. "ah come now, stay with me a bit. I have never been to something like this before." There is a purring plea in the altared voice.


Mallorn_Tree chuckles softly as the butterfly flies away, even imitating the peculiar flying way. He sips his wine slowly, looking around once again, trying to understand, in the chaos apparently, and maybe not only apparently, reigning over his surroundings. He nods here and there, any time he thinks he recogized someone, while lending a ear to the music and another to teh conversations happening around him.


[Ocean(#31319)] The Ocean nods her head to Silpion, her straight fiery hair whisking across her naked back. "Mae govannen," is her reply, and she reaches out a hand to take the white wine from Hail. "I thank you." Her voice is overly-calm, she bows a little toward him, then asks both. "Have either or you guessed anyone yet? Although.." a chuckle. "Don't tell me who if you have." A sip is stolen from her cup.


Nightingale nods, upping the glass she already have in hand. "It will be a pleasure!"


[Tweety(#30719)] And the lamps that line the borders of this garden cast their light upon another garbed alike to she in blue -- but where Blue_Bird's feathers glisten like the sunlit ocean waves, Tweety's garments shimmer like the stars. No, they would be not of Daernoss Aderthad. Indeed, their stance and bearing --

tall and proud and noble -- would not even name them both Sindar. So they stand there side by side, two birds walking in a garden already filled with diversely-garbed edhil. (Hyardoel)


[Hail(#22136)] "I think I know _you_", Hail says, "but I won't tell you what I think", he giggles. He takes down a sip of his glass and continues, "I indeed have guessed a few, merely because they bothered not to change their costumes since another Masquarade Ball", he says in a whispering tone.


Silpion smiles wryly at Ocean, nodding. Her voice is as of silver as she replies, "Aye, mellon, I believe I have. And what about yourself? Are you enjoying the game of guessing?"


[White_Hart(#30212)] Now come to the flute-table is the Hart, his antlered head bowing in a silent, deep nod to the Eagle. From behind the mask of the white-clad edhel comes a voice: soft words upon which lies no accent of foreign lands, muffled in slight by the carven hart's-head he wears. "I thank you." Pale hands reach for an ashen flute, long fingers trailing the paths of its blond wood-grain. "'Tis an honour, indeed... and one wholly unlooked-for."


Flame bites her lip, sipping from her glass. "I surely have not," she says in answer to Ocean's question, joining the group by the wine-table. Her gray eyes blink in confusion, and she shrugs with a smile. "Mind if I join you, mellyn? I seem to have lost track of my companions, although I'm really not surprised."


Almost to the table, Peacock reaches out to snag an opened bottle, turning then, ready to fill Nightingale's glass. "I hope you like red," he says as an after thought, smiling at her.


[Bruinen(#31678)] Soft steps carry a faintly shy figure into this merry scene, blue and silver silks billowing silently about her. She carries a small lilypad with a candle at its center; the warm light reflected in the silver of her mask, and reflected again in the embers of this Lady River's eyes. The Bruinen pauses a moment, surveying the scene, a smile slowly curling up the corners of her lips. (Ailiell)


River slips into the scene lightly, his constume very much at home amongst the throng of masquerading elves. Unsure of what goes on, he spots a small group of figures of an Ocean, Hail, and Silpion. He walks quickly toward the group, saying quietly, "Mae govannen." Wondering what to go about now, he stays where he is. (Melhend)


[Rose_Bud(#28080)] Light footsteps lead the maiden dressed as a rose through the crowd, soon she finds herself just a few steps behind the Peacock. A questionable grin forms upon this maiden's red lips as she takes a few steps more until she is right behind him.

Taking a few rose petals from her belt she raises her hand and lets the leaves flutter down over his head.


The Butterfly waltzes over towards the the Peacock and the Nightengale, glass of wine in hand. "Greetings, my dear peacock and nightingale!," she says, once again playing the gracious hostess. "A beautiful night, is it not?"


[Fish(#26420)] "Have you been released from the cage? Oh, I must flee from you then!" A short gesture towards the Panther, however, before the Fish waddles off again; her arms bent, back crooked. She only goes a few paces, to join the Ocean and her companions again, but this time her attention is focused on the crimson Flame. "Mae govannen," comes a squeaky voice, yet somewhat wry are the words.


Blue_Bird's eyes of crystal ice melt as she notices her companion enter beneath the shadowed mallorn, and in a swoopin motion, her foot-falls hardly caressing the emerald grasses she stands before her kinswoman. A deep smile apparent below the glinting silver of her mask, Blue_Bird tilts her golden-tressed head as she speaks, words tumbling forth like a tune-ful warble. "Cousin, shall we go and seek some refreshment...a glass of wine perhaps?"


[Ocean(#31319)] "Two edhil I know for certain who they are," Ocean replies, the cup taken from her mouth long enough to reply. She nods once or twice to those who join the throng at the wine-table, but her attention is mainly to Silpion. "Others I have guessed, but I cannot say as surely." Green eyes peer through mask-holes at Peacock and Nightengale, then return to the elleth beside her once more.


[Nightingale(#11282)] Giggling and looking like she enjoy herself for a moment, Nightingale nods."Red are more strong and .." she searches her word as she does often."I like red, thank you...". The bird also nods to the Butterfly.:"Yes madam!A wonderfull one!" She poses her glasses on the table. :"Would you excuse me a second?" she ask to the so kind peacock. She walks toward the Panther and make a little discrete gesture to her tofollow. She thenwalk with her toward the gate.


Panther looks a bit surprised, but swiftly moves to follow


Eledurima 's gaze flies across the gathering, and she easily finds space to move between rose and butterfly and hail and ocean and panther and peacock and flame to seek an open space of garden and grass. There she spreads her pale garment and seats herself, quietly watching the melee of partiers.

[Lindesul, a harp(#706)] The slender fingers of the sea-eyed harper move as fast as raindrops, dancing a quick, gay tune across the strings, but ever so softly so as not to interrupt the conversation.


[Flame(#31021)] Flame turns to the Fish, surprised. Her gray eyes blink, and she smiles in amusement. "Mae govannen?" she greets tentatively, biting her lip as she does so. She takes a step back as Eledurima weaves through the quendi, her eyes trailing the elleth and watching as she takes up her harp. Turning back towards fish, she shrugs and grins.


The glass where it sits on the table is filled, red wine curving in a sparkling stream out of the bottle. Just then, one petal, then another and another slide out of his hair and down his face. Dark eyes cross in an attempt to see what has landed so briefly on his nose and now floats gently towards the glass of wine. One hand, unencumbered, snatches out and catches the rose petal, and Peacock begins to laugh as he turns to find the culprit.


[Ocean(#31319)] "Don't talk to the flame!" Ocean calls suddenly out to Fish. "You'll be roasted for supper, and I am always sad to see fish die." She giggles at her own joke, then laughs more when she catches a glimpse of the cross-eyed peacock. Her face turns hastily back to Silpion.


[Bruinen(#31678)] Indecision past, a decided merriment very present, the Lady River, wends her fluid way through these familiar strangers. A pause as she starts to speak to one honey-haired elleth, another as she realizes her mistake. Falling silent, flushing both with laughter and giddy confusion, she flees towards the wine.


Silpion's gaze follows that of Ocean, and she too glances at Peacock and Nightengale before turning back to converse with the waves of blue. "Have you another glass nearby, mellon? I too would enjoy some wine, the better to guess with. I fear it may be thirsty work." Behind her silver mask, a wink of gray eyes may be discerned.


Dropping his first glass and quickly finding another filled, the Mallorn_Tree walks aimlessly around, dropping a glance now and then, appreciating the details of the customes and the general atmosphere, yet, apparently unsure about what to do or whom to approach.


[Ocean(#31319)] The Ocean snatches another cup of white wine from the table for Silpion, then nods her head to a bench across. "Come-- it is getting too crowded here at this table for my tastes. Sit with me, and talk to me, and let me guess if I know you or not." She winks to both Silpion and River, then silken waves lap at her naked heels as she crosses the garden.


[Fish(#26420)] "Which sort of fish do you prefer to cook, fire?" A wide grin, and a push of the eyemask that adorns the Fish. Yet I am not all for wine tonight, unfortunately. A fine night it is, but there is something missing. Not wine. Grey hair shifts about her shoulders as she turns her head, looking around her.


[Tweety(#30719)] "Aye, wine." The Tweety's voice is soft and low towards the Blue_Bird, and she nods and starts to stride towards the table. Brushing past a figure dressed perhaps as a tree, she shakes her head and turns to her companion, "If indeed aught may be left, what with so many." A gay tune ripples quickly through the hum of conversation, and Tweety's small smile returns once more.


[Rose_Bud(#28080)] Quickly clasping her hands behind her back, a smile grows upon the roses' face. Trying to hold back a laugh herself, she grins, "I suppose you want to point the blame at me." The rose clad maiden says with a smile, "Well, I know what you're thinking..." Her eyes look down at herself and all the rose petals, "You see, it wasn't I. It was...Faye!" Rose_Bud then quickly looks down at her feet; a smile still upon her lips.


[White_Hart(#30212)] A second nod, and by a tall White Hart is an ash-flute taken, and tucked carefully into the lordly beast's hithlain belt beside a rune-graven dagger. Silver seems he now in the lamplight, his verdant garlands grown dark, his unbound locks blanched from gold nigh to shimmering argent. Yet here for a time he stands, the breeze ruffling once more the fine fur of his great mantle, eyes deep beneath carven hollows gazing out upon the costumed throng.


Laughter catches Peacock's attention and he looks up to direct a mock scowl at Ocean as she leaves - though not much of it can be seen behind the bright mask. And his eyes are filled with laughter. Then his eyes fall on Rose_Bud, widen at her apportionment of the blame, and a laugh rings loud and clear even through the noisy garden. "Alas, M'lady Rose. For I know that Faye is not here..."


[Flame(#31021)] Flame joins in the laughter, her gray eyes lighting up wickedly as she glances towards Ocean and back towards Fish. "Ooohh, I have a choice!" she says, glancing in mock-thoughtfulness. Nodding, she says, pursing her lips, "Why, I'll take what's available!" A grin covers her face, and she shakes her head, her eyes darting to River. "On second thought, perhaps not. I might find my flames quenched prematurely." She shakes her head again and laughs.


[Blue_Bird(#31078)] Shaking her feathers of a midnight hue, the rippled light of Elbereth's glory flashing from the occasional crystal that adorns her raiment, Blue_bird follows her cousin to the table. Cradling a goblet of wine in her elegant hand, the elleth narrows her gaze to the sight of a tall, wandering tree. A light laughter breaking through her words, she perks a golden brow. "Forgive me Sir...but pray tell me that Ents have not tarried into the gardens of Lothlorien..." Winking, Blue_Bird glances at her silver feathered companion and smiles.


Silpion follows the ocean waves, moving with stately step across the lawn to join her. She does not sit, however (Trees don't sit, do they?), but stands beside the elleth on the bench. She smiles again, after a sip of her wine, and speaks once more. "How shall we guess the identies of those here, mellon? They have all done exceedingly well with their costumes, have they not?"


[Bruinen(#31678)] The Bruinen reaches for one sparkling glass of wine, dark eyes trailing after Ocean curiously; though a bright laugh brings her attention snapping back to the others around the table. A light breeze sends soft layers of silk drifting about her, and she carefully holds her lilypad flame away, studying the raven-haired edhel and merry rose with utmost focus. 'Mae govannen," she says slowly, with an uncertain laugh hidden away in each syllable.


[Fish(#26420)] A curious glance, to the parting bodies of water--and then a shrug. "I might suggest dancing, but I cannot recognize anyone here!" A frown tugs her lips. "Is it the same with you?" Wavering for a second, the fish-maiden's gaze falls upon the Flame.


Mallorn_Tree chuckles softly, turning to teh Blue_bird addrssing him "My lady, you should know that ents have been living in this wood, and from time to time teh youngest of them come visiting us, just as much as some of our people at times wander towards Fangorn, even if teh reciprocal visits have grown scarce in the years, sadly enough" He answers smiling and sipping his wine

"But of course, had you asked that to a real ent, you would wait a long whilefor an answer, because he'd take a while protesting about how you could have called them ent, a name that says so little of their story, and then another two deciding about teh appropiate use of the word tarried, then he'd proceed for a few months telling you teh story of the two woods and how once they were one and thus how entes have tarried Lorien a long while, even before we elves came... be careful addressing a ent, or you might get a whole new concept of the word time"


[Nightingale(#11282)] Not long it take for Nightingale to reach back her place toward the table, gesturing to Panther.:"Come and enjoy the wine Madam!" she invited, taking back her glass and sipping on it. "Where were you!" she offer a bright smiles to the Quendy she was talking to, Peacock among them.


[Ocean(#31319)] The Ocean settles herself on the bench, missing Peacock's scowl and not glancing at him again. She leans toward Silpion, voice lowering. "Do you think it is cheating if we tell /who/ we have guessed at, but not who we think they are?" Her glance goes from one companion to the other.


[Panther(#31075)] More than a little dismayed at the reactions of those she has already tried greeting, the panther stalks over to the wine table. Her eyes under the black metal mask are hooded, her head low. She stands mutely next to the Nightengale, then growls very softly: "what would you reccommmend, o tinuviel?", wishing the turmoil of her emotions was not so obvious in her voice.


River notices not the approaching Flame, but follows the Ocean, sitting upon the bench a bit from te Ocean's waves. Chuckling lightly, he says, "Yes, it shall be quite difficult to figure who 'tis who. But it would not hurt to attempt it!" With a smile he glances toward Ocean, and says lightly, "Though I have no intention of beginning the guesses. It would not do to try before the much larger Ocean, as I am but a River!" He waits expectantly for the Ocean to guess.


Hail giggles, "Well, I don't know but I would like to hear what you've guessed. Anyway, nobody will learn", he giggles again.


[Rose_Bud(#28080)] Cheeks upon her ivory face turn nearly as red as her gown as she looks back up to the one dressed as a peacock. "I suppose you have caught me on that one, Lord Peacock." The rose maiden smiles, "Though, you never know where Lady Faye may turn up." Her grin linger upon her lips.


Nightingale says, "all the wine are excellent Panther, please choose anyone of them, but if you insist, I prefered the red one."


[Flame(#31021)] Flame smiles, her eyes trailing the bodies of water as they move around. "Nay, tis the same with me," she says to fish, shaking her head, "I cannot for the life of me tell who is who!" She glances towards Bruinen, and then her gaze lingers curiously, as if in faint recognition, but then she seems to realize that she shouldn't even try anymore. With a wry sigh, she shrugs and turns back to her companion.


[White_Hart(#30212)] Now again do the footfalls of the White Hart press stately and silent into the trodden mould, and beneath the silvern stare of lamps of the Galadhrim he passes from the midst of the throng, robes set to billowing, leaf-garlands flickering in the breeze of his passing-- until, the edge of the Garden reached once more, he stops, and turns to look upon the revellers, strange shadows by him cast by from the lamp he stands before.


Tweety chuckles softly at the Mallorn_Tree's words. "Aye, they say they tarried here once, not very long ago...and speaking of tarrying, 'tis good to see you here, sir Ent, though it seems you wish to ever be with the mellyrn. Or shall I say that your words do not betray you?" Her half-filled cup of wine is swirled in an almost absent motion that sends her feathered mantle aflutter.


Nightingale returns for her wine, trailed by the Panther and Peacock looks up to smile at both of them. "Your wine is there," he says to the smaller brown bird, and then grins at the large cat. "Would you like a drink?" The wine bottle still held in one hand is lifted along with an inquiring eyebrow. And he turns just a little to include Rose_Bud in his offer.


Silpion's glance once more travels around the garden. "Perhaps that /is/ an idea, my dear Ocean. Whom have you guessed so far? I have spied a few birds this evening, and while none have yet attempted to roost in my branches, I have spied a Nightingale who might think of it, for she loves nothing better than to climb trees..."


[Nightingale(#11282)] If it where not for the feather hiding her cheek, the Nightingale will surely be blushed. She sip in her glass, waiting for the other to answer the question of Peacock.


[Mallorn_Tree(#16502)] "Betry my intention of staying in our Talan? Maybe, in the back of my mind, that might even be" the mallorn replies to Tweety "And yes I'd like something more to drink" he says, finishing his globet with one last sip "Would you be so kind, my dear?" he says, handing out the glass


[Fish(#26420)] Noticing Flame's errant glance towards Bruinen, Fish tilts her head. At the sigh, she raises an eyebrow. "Know you that... that... river?" Green eyes squint, and red-streaked feet shuffle amongst the grass idly. "Come, will you not? Look at those beads! I would like to speak with her."


[Lindesul, a harp(#706)] Ele quietly plays a soft sweet tune like water running over rills as a counterpoint to the conversation.


[Blue_Bird(#31078)] Bowing her rich feathered crown to Mallorn_Tree's humorous, yet truthful words a gentle tone of mirth escapes the elleth's rose-bud lips. "Then if you do transcend from that very same species mellon, I thank you for your hasty answer my Indor..." Lifting the crystal goblet to her lips a glint in her veiled eyes, Blue_Bird enjoys the warm trickle of claret, its aromatic and fruity taste lingering on her tongue, before she speaks again, this time her words directed to the silver-feathered elleth beside her. "I recognize so few here, as the costumes are so creative...have you spied any familiar faces as yet?"


Panther fills her glass with some of the nightingale's recommended beverage, her eyes glancing over the two birds beside her. "An excellent vintage, and a fine night, is it not?"


[<#31319>] 'That stag I know,' Ocean gestures with her cup at the White Hart, then leans closer to her companions. "... the Peacock ... know ... ..., but I ... ... ... ... ... I ..., ... ... ... ... away." She winks, then leans back again, looking to River. 'And you? Do you know any here?'


The evening sky is fading, the brilliant sunset almost gone. Near the wine table, Peacock at last takes a moment to fill his own glass, then holds it up to admire the color before taking a swallow. His eyes behind the mask shut as he tastes the wine, and then open a moment later. "It is quite good," he agrees. "I'm glad you like it."


[<#22136>] Hail +whispers to White_Hart, Ocean, and Silpion, "... ...... ... I ... ... is someone ... Imladris. But ... cannot ... ... ... this ... ... ... ... ...", Hail whispers to his company, leaning over them and trying not to be suspected by others."


[Lindesul, a harp(#706)] Ele's graceful fingers move tenderly across the harpstrings, coaxing a sweet and melancholy tune, soft and reminescent of the gentleness and joy of times past.


[White_Hart(#30212)] A head of forked horns is turned, a glance is cast from deep within a carven mask-- a gesture is caught, as the Ocean motions to the Hart, and the great stag-countenance can be seen to gain a tilt, perhaps in query. And though long now the antlered lord looks upon the copper-tressed elleth clad all in shades of blue, he steps not to her. Nor indeed makes he any movement at all.


River says with a mock frown, "Nay, I have indentified none of the many here, which is a great disappointment to me...though perhaps.." The River seems to float backward for a moment, looking intently upon the Ocean. "I believe I have identified one, now!" He grins ahppily and looks across the garden at the Hart and Peacock, and seems to ponder and come away with naught.


[Nightingale(#11282)] Nightingale giggles."I dont know if we can be certain of my taste!" The bird glance around."That call for a dance, but it seems that no one have ant in their legs for it!" Saying that, she pointe her little white feet."Or maybe am I too imprudent to have come bare feet here." she laughs."I need to warm them up!"


[Bruinen(#31678)] Her smile widening and turning inwards, Bruinen silently watches the Peacock cherish the wine. She starts to speak, breaks off as her name reaches her ears. Dark laughing eyes float towards Hail, also familiar, and her chuckle spills over. "Know me, do you?" she calls in a sweet, alto voice, heavily written with teasing.


Panther smiles under her mask, eyes shining. "Your own vinting, my fine feathered friend?" She drinks again, eyes on the nightengale. "You would not mind dancing with a feline, would you?" She grins. "It is a fine tune, and deserving of our skill."


[Tweety(#30719)] Tweety turns towards Blue_Bird with a shake of her head, grey eyes flitting briefly to Mallorn. "Just the one. But in truth there was no guessing." The brief shake of the head is meant for Mallorn as she gestures, and her glass touches his. "Aye, come, sir Ent. The tables welcome all. And surely you can suffer but one more night of walking after your recent sojourn outside the city."


[Silpion(#31797)] Falling 'dew' shimmers in the lantern light as the Silver Tree Silpion turns to follow the Ocean's gaze once more. Her wreathed head tilts as she spies the Peacock appreciating the wine, and a slow smile spreads on her face. "Ahh.... Lady Ocean, I believe I can now guess that same Peacock's identity as well. Worry not, mellon, I will not give you away."


"I really don't know, besides, I'm not supposed to sit without breaking my my back, as trees, not even the young willows, are so flexible to do so" the Mallorn answers with a smile to Tweety and the Blue_Bird, following the nevertheless

"As for thr guessing, I wouldn't know, I've really not spent time investigating and I wouldn't have known of you, had I not recognized the voices... ah, no, another of our house, whom I spoke briefly when I arrived, but I shall not say" he adds with another smile


A low chuckle nearby brings Peacock's head around, and his eyes sharpen, head cocking a little at the voice. "I think I know you, lady," he says quietly. "A .. friend of mine hopes to see you again in the future." Then he looks back to the other two beside him. "Go and dance," he urges them. "Tis a fine night for it. I think I will as well in a little while."


[Rose_Bud(#28080)] Light footsteps lead the lady dressed as a rose, away from the peacock and the group around him. Light dancing in her golden hair, the maiden of roses finds herself standing nearest one of the lantern lights.

Few petals from her costume flutter to the ground near her feet. She holds nothing; her hands clasped behind her back. As folks pass by she gives a nod and a soft smile to them.


Nightingale bows to the wild black cat. "Let me finish my glass, first, then I dont mind to dance with a Panther, just take care of those claws of yourrs!" The bird warbles. "I dont want to loose a feather in it!" and she winks.


[Ocean(#31319)] A grin spreads below Ocean's white mask, and she leans back on one hand, the sleek mass of copper hair nearly falling to the ground below the bench. A wink shutters one elfstone eye, and laughter dances behind her word. "But I would dare to think that no one knows who /I/ am," she boasts a little, and does not look beyond River and Silpion for now.


[Panther(#31075)] Grinning the Panther swishes her long tail behind her, and bows. "I will take care," she growls. "Shall we go? A nice slow song, well-suited to a Panther and a Nightengale."


[Silpion(#31797)] Tiny silver bells of laughter float across the garden from the Silver Tree, Silpion. "Nay, you have not gone undetected, mellon. By at least one here. . ." The Tree's glance strays once more toward the table bearing awards, but she still does not move, seemingly rooted to her location near the bench.


[Bruinen(#31678)] Her attention drawn back to the raven-haired peacock, Bruinen smiles slowly, quizzically, suddenly unsure. "Wants to see me?" Suddenly noting that her candle is sputtering, she takes up her lilypad again, sending tiny rainbows scattering as the light flickers through her beading. "...who?"


"Of course Madame Cat, at the moment!" say the bird of the twilight while drying her glass out. She offers a wing to the Panther.


[Blue_Bird(#31078)] Settling at a free table, her pale eyes cast to the glimmering heavens momentarily as the haunting notes of the harp drift on the errant breeze, Blue_Bird rests her half-filled goblet atop the oaken surface and glances to her companions. "Thus, the Bardic Congress come to an end...how quickly the time has passed... did either of you get to see or participate in many of the events?"


River cannot help but chuckle and say, "I believe I do, fair Ocean! I believe I recognize some of the features that show from your wonderful costume...though I am possibly incorrect. I doubt I myself have gone udnetected." The LEarn again mock frowns, and glances across the garden, enjoying the sight of the dancing Firstborn.


Eledurima sits upon the grass as light as rime upon a cool morn, playing her harp all night, if need be, so that those here gathered may have the time of merriment and laughter. She looks upon her acquaintances and friends with gentle gaze as she plays, resting in the songs of the harp and the stars until the dawning of the golden morn within the Golden Wood. Shimmering white melody caught, as delicate as a moonbeam, only for a moment. But memory is eternal, especially among the elves, and there are many who will remember this night and the nights that led unto it. And so the songs are bid to continue into the night and wind their way up to the stars and the ears of the Ainu and, perhaps, of Iluvater himself, as the quendi, the people of the stars and of song and of light upon the face of darkness, wait with patience and serenity for Hope to awaken in its day.


[Panther(#31075)] Taking the wing carefully in a clawed hand, the Panther also holds the other wing. Then she starts a slow, graceful, distinctly feline dance, carefully moving around the bird in slow, stately circles, always keeping paws gently on wings and coaxing the tinuviel to follow her lead.


[Ocean(#31319)] "Really?" The Ocean's anxious glance is cast toward the wine table, and from her wine she takes a fretful sip. "By who? Ai!" Her head shakes, skiffing strands of fiery hair behind her to dust the flowers. "Do not answer that, mellon. 'Twould give it away, aye?" Bare feet start to pat the ground to harp-notes.


Mallorn_Tree nods to the Blue_Bird "I was at the debate, and turned out to be fiercer than I expected, with an interesting twist at some point when a young Imladhrim decided to.. um... forget manners in general and the respect due to an elder in particular" he pauses, taking a sip "but that was interesting nevertheless... and teh two of you?" he says, turning to Tweety too


Peacock grins wider at Bruinen's uncertain tone. "Ah, now that would be telling," he says teasingly. "Perhaps I should give you a clue?"


[Bruinen(#31678)] "A clue, but not a riddle, mellon," she answers, with a light, running chuckle. "Or I shall never work it out." Hesitating a moment only, she takes up her glass once more, smiling into her wine. "Go on, then..."


Taking another mouthful, Peacock rolls the wine around his tongue and swallows. Bending his head near to hers so that his hair falls across one shoulder, he says much more quietly, "Perhaps you might remember a certain evening not so long past... and something that one edhel asked you to keep untold?" Bright eyes look for hers.


[Silpion(#31797)] The Silver tree Silpion laughs once more, dew-dripping branches reaching down to hug the Ocean gently. "Fear not, mellon. I will not reveal the secrets of the Ocean's depths."


Nightingale ear catches the talking of the Mallorn_Tree. Although she is now leading a dance, that does not occupied all her mind so now, she wonder what had happen after her sudden depart from the debate, forgetting that the cat have not just claw on hand, but also on their feet. By chance, those are blunt-tipped, and only little scratches are done when the elleth uncarefully pass her little white feet to near of it. She does not reacted, to lost in her tought. The Nightingale twirl the cat around, following the music rythm.


Panther continues the graceful whirling, then leans to whisper in the bird's ear. "Have a care for your feet, mellon...I cannot see yours in this mask. Now, come...shall we go up a tree, so that you can sing and I can stare at everyone? Or just continue?" She carefully continues, adding some more intricate steps.


[Blue_Bird(#31078)] At Mallorn_Tree's words, the blue-feathered elleth cannot help but allow a smile to creep over her pert lips. "And you gave this young edhel no provocation my leafy friend?..." Then does Blue_Bird nod to his question, her silvery locks heightened in the shimmering light cast by over-hanging lanterns. "I participated in one of the bardic contests...and watched a few of the others, including the riddle competition, yet I am sorry I missed the debate, it sounds like quite an interesting occasion.."


[<#31678>] Her curiosity and confusion redoubling, Bruinen meets his gaze. A question quirking in on corner of her lips, she abandons her wine, searching what can be seen of the edhel's face. "I...am not certain, no." Pausing then, she lifts idle fingers to the crystal about her throat, seeming lost in a faintly uneasy bewilderment. "Forgive me, mellon... I keep many secrets. But do not remember holding one for you. If you are the you I believe you to be." Smiling then at the odd and unintentional philosophical nature of her last statement she continues, "Unless you mean only a few nights past?"


[Tweety(#30719)] Following behind Blue_Bird and the green-and-gold Mallorn, the Tweety fills her cup with anew with elven wine. She takes a seat across the Blue_Bird at the table, thus flanking the unmasked indor. "Save for this, and the riddles at Amroth's Mound," here she tilts her gaze up to the stars, "Gilrowen and I were at songfest within the Laiquendi's mallorn. She has her mother's voice, though she'd deny it." But here lips purse, though perhaps the mood that it names is hard to tell as the feather-rimmed mask hides her eyes.


[Ocean(#31319)] The Ocean reaches up to embrace the sacred silver Silpion, and something in her comment makes the blue-clad elleth laugh merrily indeed, eyes twinkling in the silvern lantern light. "Well, thank you! And now I must figure out who /you/ are." She leans back from her companion, and behind the white mask, a green gaze squints.


[Nightingale(#11282)] The voice of the Panther reaches the Nightingale in her realm of dream.:"Humm, hu?" She looks at her feet and hisses before gigling."That is nothing...I dont feel to climb in a tree, but I cant force you to continue to dance if you dont want."


And the Peacock nods again, the edges of his mask flashing in the light. Softer yet he speaks, "Tis no more secret though, perhaps this will clear matters up some?" A swift glance is cast over his shoulder towards where a tree goes accompanied by the Ocean.


Panther smiles gently. "Then I am sorry to leave you, mellon, but my heart is on other matters. Good night and have fun." She bows, then squeezes the bird's hands before quietly making her way out of the garden.


Mallorn_Tree smiles "I'm sorry I missed Gilrowen singing, that is something I've rarely witnessed" he says, looking at tweety. He sips his newly filled glass for a moment "Does anyone kows if something is planned to happen during this ball? Looking at the masks and all is funny, but this is starting to be slightly chaotic fro this old edhel" he adds.


Silpion smiles under the scrutiny of the Ocean, raising her dew-bedecked branches to pose for the occasion. While she waits for the waves to guess her identity, a melody comes unbidden to her lips, and she starts to hum softly, a tune of leaves rustling in the breeze.


Nightingale is surprise, but take that for a pause and walk toward a bench. Overhearing the Mallorn_tree again, she clear her throat."Sorry to get into your chatting like that mellon, I dont want to be impolite." She speak rubbing her feet."I dont know if something is planned, but maybe that we can do something, have you precise taste?"


[Rose_Bud(#28080)] Standing still silent near the lanters, the maiden of roses watches a few petals from her belt flutter to the ground. The light glittering though her golden hair. Braids hang down on either side of her face, interwoven in which are deep, red rose petals. Eyes of emerald flickering across the garden as the evening unfolds. Here stands the Lady of Roses.


[Ocean(#31319)] The Ocean bursts into merry laughter once more as Silpion begins to hum, the sound glittering in the lamplight like shattered crystal. "Oh, you Cheat!" she accuses, pointing up at the silvery maiden. "You knew all along!"


[Tempest(#25455)] Slipping through the high mithril gates without announcement, another figure arrives amidst the fray. Almost as if in ironic coincidence, the air itself grows still and quiet in the gardens upon his arrival, though the characterized Tempest glides betwixt the gathered crowds with unnatural grace and ease - just as if a summer breeze.


[Bruinen(#31678)] Her bewilderment falling swiftly away, Bruinen follows his gaze, glass beads tinkling with the movement of long locks and braids. For a long silent moment she stares at the pair, unable to work out the puzzle of one, but sudden recognition striking with the other: copper hair gleaming, as sure as any beacon. A silver-framed gaze flies back to the dark Peacock, mirth and wonder stamped clearly therein. "Oh!" she cries, gladly. "Honestly?"


[Btterfly(#9985)] High above, the darkness of night has begun to fade into blue, a new day about to dawn above the towering mellyrn of Caras Galadhon. The last light of the moon casts a soft glow down upon a gathering of elves lost in merriment within the Garden of Silver Lights.


Maneuvering with customary grace among the revelers, a willowy Butterfly, clad in soft silk, her gossamer wings shimmering in the last light of the moon, makes her way to the platform in the center. Ascending the platform, she claps her hands to gain the attention of the guests present.


Peacock grins still and raises his glass to Bruinen in a salute of sorts. Unlike her clear voice, raised in surprise and pleasure, his is still a murmur. "Truly. Not many have yet been told, but she wishes you to come, you know. In the spring of the next year, we will look for you." A noise catches his ear and he straightens, looking around. Dark eyes fall on one dressed all in white and then go beyond him to the platform. 'What do you suppose it is,' he wonders aloud, no longer whispering.


The Ocean cranes her head around to catch a peek of the speaker, then finally stands in a befittingly fluid motion to catch a better glimpse of her, wineglass abandoned to the bench.


[White_Hart(#30212)] From his vantagepoint upon the edge of the Garden, lost not in merriment, perhaps, but in thought, the White Hart turns now his great, horned head toward the platform. But still his quiet is unbroken, and still, but for this turn of his head, he moves not. No breeze now finds his leafy garlands, nor the argent hem of his white fell-mantle. And silence lays about him like a heavy cloak.


[Blue_Bird(#31078)] Raising a highly arched golden brow, the elleth clad in feathers of blue smiles slightly as her companions speak of their recent experiences during the bardic events. "Gilrowen, singing?...Indeed as you say Indor that would have been a treat..." Yet, her attention is soon drawn by another, clad in feathers who addresses Mallorn_Tree and thus, pale eyes are cast towards her leafy friend as she awaits his response. This however, is not forth coming before one dressed as a Butterfly of many hues ascends the raised platform, so the elleth inclines her masked visage, to aee what might be announced.


[Btterfly(#9985)] "My friends," says the Butterfly, once the background conversations have died down, "The hour is late, and the new day is nearly upon us. On behalf of both myself and Herald Calriel, I extend my gratitude to all of you for attending our little masquerade and participating the Bardic Congress." She pauses for a moment, the gaze of her brilliant blue-green eyes sweeps across the assemblage. "For those soon to depart for far lands, I thank you for having travelled such long distances to the Golden Wood to attend our festivities; may you all have safe trips home. I also extend my gratitude to all of you who organized events for your hard work, and to all of you who participated by gifting us with your crafts and talents. It is my hope that these last days were enjoyable and memorable for you all.

"Now continue and make merry; enjoy the hospitality of the Galadhrim for as long as your heart desires." Smiling, the Butterfly bows to all and removes her mask, revealing the face of Tarasiriel, Lady of House Aderthad and Handmaiden of Galadriel.


[Silpion(#31797)] Bedewed branches rise in protest, and the Tree of Valinor looks shocked. "I? Cheat? Mellon, you must take that back at once." She can't keep it up, however, and soon she begins laughing once more. "Shall we refill our glasses, lady Ocean?" She winks at the waves, and nods her head toward the wine table.


At the words of Tarasiriel, Silpion inclines her head gracefully toward the Handmaiden in thanks.


Mallorn_Tree is about to answer the one dressed as a Nightingale as attention is called to the stage, and thus postpone.. as Tarasiriel ends her little speech, he applauds softly, before finally turning to teh newcomer "Well, my lady, I really wouldn't know, but after having heard teh closing speech, I think it suits better the elders like me to retire and leaves the field to the youngers ones" He says, so raising "Yet, I wish you much enjoyement, and to you two" he says, turnign to the Blue dressed one and to Tweety


[Rose_Bud(#28080)] Emerald eyes of the rose clad lady now turn toward the Lady's Handmaiden as she speaks. Bright eyes flicker, though she still, even upon this moment, speaks nothing. Hands of ivory still clasped behind her back. A light breeze tosses her rose petals around; strands of golden hair as well. Reaching up to tuck a few strands behind an ear, she manages to catch one of the red rose petals as well.


[Bruinen(#31678)] Too gleeful to stand silent and still, Bruinen nonetheless listens to the Lady's fair words with a tame mask laid over...or under... her already masked features. Smiling, she moves to lightly applaud, and finds to her astonishment a candle still in hand. Fitting it distractedly into the top of an empty wine botttle, she quietly claps her appreciation, and then promptly glances sidelong to the Peacock, with laughing delight. "Well done," she says quietly, dark eyes dancing. "Well done."


[Tweety(#30719)] But a short nod is afforded to the newly-approached Nightingale as Tweety turns to Butterfly as well. She listens...then following Tarasiriel's lead, she too removes her own mask, and releases the fringed cords from her cloak. "It seems then your question is answered," says Hyardoel to the green-faced, leaf-ringed indor, "and the masquerade has ended so soon." A pause, as the Mallorn Tree turns. "May I accompany you to the talan, then? For we start on the matter of your flet."


The Ocean's fiery head leans closer to Silpion. "... discussed ... ... ...-- ... we ... ... for ... ... the ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ..., so ... /.../ ... ... come, ... ... ... ...." She kisses the Tree's cheek, then leans back again, nimble green eyes scanning the gathering, lingering again at the wine table.


A pause, and the Ocean glides away from her companion, calling over her shoulder, 'Nay, mellon... in a moment I'll be there.' The same green eyes have turned sharper as they search the crowd again, and lips quiver with laughter held back. To a white-clad edhel this lady makes her way, and stops near him. Her hand lifts to touch his arm, and she winks once to him, gaze warm. 'Now, I do believe I know who /you/ are, for certes.'


Nightingale grins at Tarasiriel spoke. She tilt her head to the Malharn and grin:"Merriement have no age!" she softly adds,"But if your wishes are to retire in you Talan!" she bows."I wish you a good rest mellon!" She turns to Tweety."Too you to!" and bows again, a bit sad to be deserted.


[Btterfly(#9985)] Stepping down from the platform, Tarasiriel makes her way to the tall figure of the Mallorn, whispering warm words of farewell to each reveller she passes. Linking her arm with that of the Mallorn, she asks "Indeed, shall we retire, Sir Tree?" she teases jokingly, maneuvering him towards the mithril gates.


[Blue_Bird(#31078)] As Tarasiriel's words flitter on the cool night air, Blue_Bird raises her gaze to the gathering of Quendi, a pale flicker of memory is ignited in topaz hues. Standing, as her Indor and cousin decide to depart, the elleth nods and follows their lead, her feathered cloak billowing back as the winter air swirls in the noble tree-tops. "To the house talan then mellyn?..." The elleth does not wait for a reply, before raising a palm to the Nightingale in farewell and following her kin through the colourful crowd to the glinting gates.


A second sidelong glance is thrown across the crowd, where the Ocean has apparently decided to make waves. But Peacock returns dark eyes that now sparkle with amusement to Bruinen. "Thank you. I take it you are no longer confused and," he grins a little wider, "you are pleased by my simple words?"


[Tempest(#25455)] Halting in his erratic path towards the dais, the towering white figure turns towards the one who would seek his attentions, and a curious cant accents the crowned helm for a moment as he considers the Lady of the Sea. At last his reply is heard, though muffled by the mask, "Even so, fair maiden? Pray then, to what do I owe my betrayal?" (Erinstar)


[Hyardoel(#30719)] Even as the Blue_Bird does, Hyardoel stands, turning briefly from the stage to the Nightingale. "Your pardon, mellon," the erstwhile Tweety replies, "But I wish you well for what is left of the night." And she is gone, across the garden, through the gates and to the roadway with the other three edhil of her house.


[Moon_Guider(#30821)] And from the edge of the garden, perhaps one begins to stand out more than he once was... For, aye, perhaps he would have near blended into the darkling shadows but for the small lantern which he holds. Silvern rays are cast upon ebon raiment, as this edhel draws a bit closer to the others gathered. (Andeldaiel)


[Btterfly(#9985)] Saying their final farewells to the nearby guests, the four Aderthads - clad not in the usual blue and silver of their house, but rather as two birds, a tall mallorn, and a butterfly - take their leave through the mithril gates and depart from the garden.


[White_Hart(#30212)] Now at Tarasiriel's words the horned Hart turns, and silent footfalls carry him away between two mallorn-boles; a lord among beasts vanished once more into his dark forests. Silver light catches his mantle for a time, and flickers-- and he is gone.


Silpion laughs once more, silvery laughter, as the Ocean decides to make waves. The Tree of Valinor, on the other hand, heads for the wine table.


'Why, your eyes, of course, and the very way that you carry yourself,' the Ocean replies to the white figure, then steps closer and raises herself to tip-toe to whisper nearer, "Was ... ... ... thinking ... did ... ... ... ... ..., ...?" She drops back to her heels, eyes twinkling merrily in the starlight.


River glances from where he sits, noticing the figure lit by his lantern. Standing, he slips toward the figure quickly, greeting him with, "Mae govannen!" With a grin he looks over the darkling's costume, and says quietly, "Ah! Another costumeI cannot see through! I have guessed the identity of but one, how sad!" He chuckles lightly at his comment and grins wryly.


[Nightingale(#11282)] The brown back bird bows and gives her farewell to the whole group departing. Then looking at her feet again, she hisses.Nightingale glance around then walk toward the brook, taking a tissus from under her costume, she discretly wipe what the claws of the cat left on them. Great care to not be remarked as she do that.


[<#31678>] Shaking her dark head solemnly, Bruinen lowers her eyes, "I am not pleased, mellon," she says softly, in grave tones. "I...I am..." But, though the silver-clad face she lifts to him is serious yet, scarcely repressed mirth falters her words. "I am terrible at deception." Laughing then she continues, "And some overwrought sense of propriety is all which keeps me from tossing my arms about you in congratulations." As if to add weight to her words, she knits her fingers behind her back, looking to him with a wry and deeply merry grin.


For the second time this night, Peacock's laughter rises above the noisy crowd. "Then let us amend that at once," he says, still chuckling and, setting his nearly empty glass down on the nearby table, he wraps both arms around the elleth in a brief embrace. "You will come?" he asks as he takes his glass again and looks around for the abandoned wine bottle.


[Bruinen(#31678)] "A horde of rabid wargs could not keep me away," Bruinen assures him, lightly untangling a strand of beads from where they have caught in his hair. Another quick study of his face, and she grins, bouncing once like an elfling, before scanning the crowd for the other whom she must accost at all costs.


[Nightingale(#11282)] Moving now away the brook, the feathered elleth go and sit on a bench, observing people around. Perhap that the choice of the Nightingale as a costume asmore in it than the artistic side of it. She stay quiet, some sparks in her eyes when she hear the peacock laughing, but yet no more.


[Tempest(#25455)] "Hmm," comes the airy reply of Tempest, and a gloved hand rises to trace a copper tress of the elleth before him idly. "I suppose that would depend... How upset would you be if I said that beauty such as you posess cannot be hid so easily? For in sooth, though I would deign to please thee, no garment may mask a radiance so glorious as to humble the stars themselves."


[Moon_Guider(#30821)] "Mae govannen," returns the shadow-clad in a mysterious-type tone. He swings the lantern a bit, perhaps a bit absently, darkling cape hitting at his ankles. "Ah, but is it important that you know the face behind the mask?" And if one's eye were quick enough, they would catch an azure eye close in a quick wink. (Methenauth)


Suddenly serious, Peacock looks at his companion. "Do not say such things..." His voice trails off and then he turns away a little; apparently at last spying the long sought wine bottle. For a moment he busies himself pouring another glass, and then he looks back up.


For a moment, the Ocean's wide eyes blink in surprise up at Tempest, ere a humored smile begins to twist her lips. "By your words, I would say that you are not the one that I guessed you to be." And again she winks up at the tall edhel, laughter barely kept to tease the corners of her lips. "But that I like you anyway."


[Bruinen(#31678)] Biting her bottom lip, glee sputtering into ashes as quickly as it was kindled into being, Bruinen nods once. "Of course. I...forgive me, please." Taking up her wine glass and setting it down again, she settles for slowly, absentmindedly shredding the edges of her lilypad. "A ridiculous thing to say." Looking back up with a smaller smile, she scans the crowd once more for copper hair.


[Tempest(#25455)] Broad shoulder shudder slightly in what might be mistaken for, if one did not know better, indication of silent laughter as the pristine white hand of the wind falls away. The helm straightens from its quirked angle, and once more he offers query to the maid, "And this one who you had presumed me to be... Is he less kind in his words, or perhaps more skilled?"


[Nightingale(#11282)] Nightingale is now talking with perfect stranger to her, at least under heir costume. She smiles and seem to enjoy herself, gazing once in a while toward Quendy she is certain to know more and their merry conversation.


Turning quickly at Bruinen's changed tone, Peacock's dark eyes behind the blue mask are worried, apologetic. Again, he dares to slip an arm around her shoulders and squeeze slightly. "I am the one who should beg forgiveness. Do not let my thoughtless words ruin your enjoyment."


[Ocean(#31319)] The Ocean's hands flutter down the silken belly of her gown in silence as she considers her reply to Tempest. "For all that which you said in so many fair words, he would have said, 'I would know you.'" Her voice gains a teasing light, and her eyes twinkle in the mask like elfstones set in mithril. "And for this I deem him both more skilled and kinder, perhaps." A laughing, fluid curtsy she places before the tall edhel's feet.


River stands for a moment and then replies, "Not so important, I suppose. But still, quite enjoyable to try and guess! But as no face comes to mind from the one hidden by your mask, I shall merely ask how you have enjoyed the Ball so far." He smiles and looks about the Garden,grinning. "It has been wonderful, has it not?"


[Lightning_Flash(#31075)] An elleth walks into the garden, very late, but that lateness due to the complexity of her costume. She is tall, and shimmers almost blindingly. Her undertunic is glistening white, her overtunic of golden cloth with metallic golden disks interwoven with fabric, so it shines like the sun. Her long cloak is silver, again with the discs interwoven for the shining effect. But the silver cloak is nearly hidden by the long golden mane that ripples down to her knees. On her face is an elaborate mask of gold, with silver accents. At each corner of it rise jagged towers, symbolic of her name, but behind it, gray eyes flash.

Lightning_Flash walks easily to the wine table to claim a goblet of white wine, her eyes sweeping the crowd. She makes her way cooly over to the rose-bud maiden, a smile forming bewteen the downward-pointing pair of horns on her mask. "Mae govannen, mellon!" she greets with a low bow, her costume glittering dazzlingly with the movement.


[Bruinen(#31678)] More flustered by his discomfort, Bruinen quickly lifts a hand to bid the Peacock peace. 'Mine were the thoughtless words,' she begins, a faint flush rising inexorably. 'Silly and...' but here she breaks off, with a chuckle, realizing they are beginning to apologize in circles. Leaning briefly into his arm with a fond nudge of her shoulder, she continues on with less fluster and more content. 'All is well. And nothing could dampen my happiness for your for long.'

Another moment as she considers him, and continues on more softly, "Honestly, if anything it was a realization that our journey is once more at hand. My words were, indeed, thoughtless and have brought to my own heart worry for the travel...and a rememberance of the trouble which met you last. Nothing more." Leaning back then, with a smile, she firmly takes up the wine, and enjoys both the present and these peaceful moments.


[Tempest(#25455)] "Mm, I think I know of whom you speak... Though I imagine four words is more than he might have spared you." Pausing to return the lady's gesture with a reverent bow of his own, the Tempest winks one silvered eye beneath the helm before excusing himself with a minute wave of the hand and hopping up onto the stage with casual grace. To the crowd then he turns, and his voice rises from a muffled murmur to a thundering echo not unpleasant to hear, "If I may borrow your attentions for but a moment, I wish to make a brief announcement." Waiting then for the idle chatter to still, he turns his own gleaming gaze towards the peacock lurking at the wine table.


[Nightingale(#11282)] "Pardonne me!" is suddenly heard by the maiden disguise in Nightingale, as she excuse herself to pace away to the group of Elves she was talking with. She moves toward Bruinen, at first, as she seems beginnig to walk around in order to properly deliver her farewell.:"I am living toward the camp mellon!" she annonce to Bruinen."I wish you a good eve to both of you!" she bows to her and the chatting compagnong of her.


[Moon_Guider(#30821)] The Moon-Guider chuckles softly at the River, a flicker of mirth sprung from the cerulean eyes of the ebon-clad. "Ah, indeed. 'Twould be amusing to guess, but as I have not inclination as to your indentity, I shall not guess just yet." The edhel grins, then replying to the inquiry of the River. "Of course it has been enjoyed! And I trust you have found it to be a lovely time as well?" But the gaze of the lantern-holder is turned toward the Tempest as he calls for attention.


"Ah. I hope for you that your way home will be swift and untroubled." With these few words, Peacock also seems content to let the matter drop. Leaning back against the table, he raises his glass to drink and surveys the swirling costumed crowd.


[Ocean(#31319)] The Ocean straightens again with a smile, and turns to face the Tempest as he calls out. And though it seems little waves only lap at her feet, it also seems that she drifts closer to the trio at the wine-table.


[Bruinen(#31678)] Her attention drawn to the Nightingale with curiosity, Bruinen begins to speak to the mystery maiden, and reluctantly turns her face away, to attend the Tempest.


[Rose_Bud(#28080)] A few light footsteps lead the rose clad lady over to the table of drinks. The words of the journey at hand find their way to her ears as she draws near. Bright brbs of green find their way to the Bruinen one, and a hint of a smile tugs at the croners of her rose colored lips.


A nod of her golden head is given to the both of them. "This talk of the journey at hand seems to be nearly everywhere." The rose maiden smiles to her, "Though I must say, I am not looking forward to leaving, I suppose my time here has all been spent." The rose looks between her and the Peacock as the announcement comes to her ears.


[Nightingale(#11282)] As the elf disguise in Tempest annonce he have something to say, the Nightingale stay near Bruinen, waiting.


River replies quickly, "Truly, I can gain no face from mask, but manner truly gives a face. Ah, but the Tempest is going to speak, so I shall stay my guess upon my tongue until he has finished!" He chuckles happily and glances once more at Moon_Guider's mask before turning his gaze to the Tempest, awaiting his announcement.


[Silpion(#31797)] The Tree Silpion, with her dew-dripping boughs, turns from the wine table to listen to the one called Tempest.


Lightning_Flash turns as well, wishing she had come a bit earlier. Running her hand over one of the up-pointing horns on her glittering mask, she gives ear to the speaker as well...hoping she will not be unmasked before she has a chance to even speak a bit.


[Calriel(#24093)] The slender figure of Calriel, this hour in a fair green dress, enters the garden through its legendaric gates. The glimmer of starlight is in her long golden hair, unbound, and upon her brow is bound a white jewel, set in a circlet of silver. Long is the sheath of the sword that hangs from her belt, shaped as a chain of mallorn leaves.

[Calriel(#24093)] She slowly steps amongst the elves gathered, her eyes glancing from left to right... could she be looking for anyone?


Nightingale shiver under her feather, but she stay, too nosy to quit before the annoncement.


The Ocean still edges closer to the wine table, her straight copper hair ruffled by a breeze.


[Calriel(#24093)] It is in that moment Calriel's eyes fall upon the man on the dais. A brief smile comes to her feminine face - stirring her features as if a small pebble was cast into a pond. It takes her but a few paces (and of course pushing through a small crowd here and there), to get to the dais. Another sword, held in both the maiden's ivory hands, is extended at the figure. Long it is also, and of a seemingly similar make as her own. A gift... or not?

"Would you care for this trinket, Lord of the storms?", does her light voice ring out in a daring laughter.


Silpion finally gives in to temptation (despite the desire to keep her costume a secret), and heads for the table where several flutes still wait to be claimed. She reaches her dew-laden arm down to retrieve her prize and, with a tender smile, she returns to the wine table for a taste of another vintage.


Dark eyes follow Calriel's passage through the crowd, curiosity stirring in them. But another's approach catches his attention then and he smiles. "I could pour you a drink?" he asks softly. (LothD)


[Nightingale(#11282)] Silpion as passed in front of her, and Nighingale nods here her greeting, politly respecting the icognito of her costume. "I could be wrong after all!" she mutter for herself.


[Ocean(#31319)] A masked face turns from Tempest to the Peacock. A smile curls. "Yes, please," Ocean murmurs, low enough to not interrupt any announcement.


[Lightning_Flash(#31075)] Almost glowing from her own light, the Lightning_flash makes her way over to the winetable, her eye again lighting on the rose-bud elleth. Dazzling silver and gold light leaps from her arms as she reaches for a bottle of light golden wine. "Mae govannen, o walking rose garden!" she greets, setting down glass and bottle to bow low, light rippling from her body's every movement.


Silpion's eyes twinkle along with the gem in her crown and the dew trailing from her branches. "Aye, if you would, Sir Peacock. What do you suggest?"


The red he has been pouring is set aside and Peacock reaches for another bottle, his lips curving in a sly grin. And a glass is filled with a clear golden wine and held out to the lady, before he turns. "This?" he says, just a hint of question in his voice, and holds up the bottle. "It is quite good, I have been assured by many."


Nodding first to Calriel as she approaches, and then to the crowds as they quiet, the white figure withdraws his helm at last. Long, luxurious silken locks of chestnut tumble free and down across the shoulders of his pale tunic, and the chiseled countenance of Galadriel's own Herald rises into view. Finally, he speaks once more in solemn tones, "I regret to announce that the one known as Lothdaimoth has forsaken, by his words and actions, the title of Counsel." Once more to the Peacock he turns his gaze, but now commands, "Step forth, and receive your punishment."


"Hmmm..." the Ocean squints at the bottle. "I shall have to try it." But Tempest's words ring through the air, and peridot eyes suddenly grow wide as she looks up at the Peacock. A step is taken closer to him.


Pulled from the wreckage of her jumbled thoughts by these words, Bruinen glances up, light sparking from the silver of her mask. A quick glance darts to the Peacock, and then to the Ocean, mouth opened in startlement.


Now Calriel's face, too, grows dim - the smooth elven features that were like a fine sculpture seem as if a dark cloud is cast over them, a tempest of billowing thunderclaps.

Ascending the dais, she stands next to the other, as noble and fair of bearing, yet shorter in height. Her two eyes of blue, lack of hue so that they are almost white, yet a keenness shines through them like the flash of lightning of a summer's night. What, pray, could cause this grave look on a face so fair, on the last night of this Bardic Congress?


Caught in the middle of pouring, Peacock looks up, astonished, at the sound of his name. Almost the wine overtops the glass, but at the last minute he remembers and sets the bottle down. It is followed by the glass, carefully. And with a glance to each of his companions, he shoulders through the crowd towards the Herald.


"Ai punishment?" repeat the Nightingale softly and almost imposible to hear. Surprise and unsure how to reacted, she glance all around.


Silpion arches a curious eyebrow, watching the Peacock head for the dais. "What next," wonders the Tree of Valinor to the Ocean beside her.


Toward the silver Tree of Valinor the Ocean edges closer, her hand reaching for the other maid. The intensity of her gaze upon Peacock is such that it is a wonder that the edhel does not burst to flames


Accepting the fell Anseregurth from the hand of his fellow Herald with a gracious bow of the head, Erinstar unsheathes the glittering blade in almost the same motion. To Lothdaimoth now he turns, expression grim as he directs, "Kneel." Almost as an aside he murmurs, "Tis a pity that House Aderthad had not the strength to linger, else they might have had some stones to throw from the shadows..." Clearing his throat then, he continues, "Lothdaimoth, I hereby revoke your rank and title as Counsel. You have proven unfitting for the position, and as such I would now make you Minister of the Royal Court. Do you accept?"


Under the glittering mask, the tall elleth's eyebrows arch, her eyes bulging. Lightning_Flash starts backing slowly away from the dais, not wanting to see the poor peacock publically humiliated, her skin crawling. She lowers her head, nearly completely closing her eyes...and not noticing when she backs right into the Ocean...then raises her eyes again, and they shine with joy. But lightning and water don't really mix and in her attempt to move in the crowd, she bumps heavily inot the poor Ocean again.


Calriel brings forth her ancient blade with a his from its golden sheath. The silver Hirilorn on its hilt glinting fiercely in the starlight. With a smooth motion she lays the tip of her weapon on the opposite shoulder, in a similar fashion as the other Herald.


Silpion stands rooted to her spot, in order to be a support for the Ocean at this moment, should she need it.


Despite the gaudiness of his attire, Lothdaimoth moves with dignity. Dropping to one knee, he looks up, through the blue and gold mask at Erinstar's face. A bare flicker of a smile might be seen to cross his face at something the Herald says, but his voice is perfectly sober. "I do." For a second, his gaze moves to Calriel and then back again.


A squeal begins to build in the Ocean's throat, perhaps like the cry of a sea-bird aloft, or the scrape of... no, it is really just like an excited shriek from a young elleth. She bounces to her toes, is backed into, and darts around Lightning to avoid the second bump, eyes on Lothdaimoth and dancing on her toes again.


Nightingale grins. Waiting from this news have taken more time than she expected, but she his happy for Lothdermoth.She nods and whisper.:"Well deserve it is!" But cant wait to congratulate him. As she did often during the Bardic Congress, she must now leave the event before its conclusion."Bruinen!" she calls softly to the maiden upon departing."Offer him a toast if you please for me!" she bows."Namarie!" and she try to desappears as discretly as she can, without revealing her tru identity!


As befits nature, the Bruinen moves towards the Ocean, hesitates as Lightning intercedes, and falls back to laughter alongside a sturdy tree. A quick glance to that elleth, followed by a longer one of dawning recognition before she turns her silver face back to the dais with a silent, bright grin.


"..., ...," calls the Moon-Guider with a half-chuckle, an aside to the River, "If ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ..., it ... ... that the Peacock ... ...!" Another wink lends the darkling-clad, and his lantern swings a bit with a merry chuckle he then emits.


River +whispers to Moon_Guider, "..., ... ..., ... my heart ... ... ... throat ... the ... ... ... ... .... ... I ... now ... ... ... guess, ... ... ... ... ...? ... ... ... ... ... ... ... well, ... ...!" The figure smiles slightly and then finally glances away from the figure towards the dias."


The distracted Ocean suddenly remembers being bumped into, and smiles vaguely at Lightning Flash, though her eyes remain on Lothdaimoth.


Light flashing and metal clinking, the tall Lightning_Flash smiles at the Ocean. "Wonderful isn't it? He truly deserves such an honour...though now I don't think I will ever be able to speak to him informally again!" The gray eyes twinkle and the gold-clad hands lightly rest on the Ocean's waves. "I am sorry for bumping into you....and grabbing you now..." She drops the Ocean's waves, not knowing exactly where to put herself for delight. "Mae govannen," she says, belatedly remembering her manners. "Some wine to complete this fortunate occasion?" she offers.


Completing the ritual with practiced ease, the Aracarachs move in almost unsettling harmony as they lay the flats of their ancient blades upon the edhel's shoulders, and then sheathe them in unison. A full smile flickers across Erinstar's features then, and he bids of the vintner, "Rise, Lothdaimoth, Minister of the Court... May Eru have pity upon you." Another brief wink, and the Lady's Hand steps back, slipping into the shadows without another word as the crowd's attention shifts away...


Two benevolent eyes glance over the peacock-figure as the Herald sheaths her sword again. "May Varda guide you on the path laid out for you, Lothdaimoth. Go with the blessing of the Lord and Lady, and fulfill your tasks with pride and compassion."

With that, she looks over at Erinstar. "Wine at my talan after the feast.", she says, with a grin.


Light though they be, the touch of the blades seem heavy on Lothdaimoth's shoulders and under their weight, his head bows just a little. For a second longer, he kneels there and then stands, looking after the Herald who has turned into shadow himself and disappeared, before turning towards Calriel. "Thank you," he says quietly, a grin spreading across his face.


"I shan't be able to speak to him informally again either!" the Ocean gabbles excitedly. "Don't worry, mellon. No wine, please." Her words are so hastily thrown together that it is hard to tell what she is saying, and she dances a few more steps forward on pale bare toes.


Silpion watches the ceremony presented to Lothdaimoth, pride for her friend playing on her features.


"Indeed!" cries the Moon-Guider, his identity learned by the River. Another azure eye winks in the direction of the other. "Perhaps too predictable I have become! And though I have an inkling perhaps of your true name, oh River..." The shadow-like holds his lamp near to the face of the River, as if this would help him discern better. "...I will not guess, for the guessing was won by you!"


River grins even wider and says, "Ah, but you shall not have a chance to now, as I must away! So I shall reveal my face now!" Slipping his mask off quickly, the face of the Learner Melhend is slowly revealed. "Namarie, Methenauth! Enjoy the remainder of the Ball, for I shall inquire of it when we next meet." He then walks quickly from the Garden, a wry grin still lighting hs face.


The Silver Tree, overhearing a nearby conversation, now turns her glance to one dressed in costume which seems to befit the friend of the tree Telperion. She steps closer to the Mood Guider. "Mae Govannen, mellon."


The Lightning_Flash grins, seizing a bottle of Lothdaimoth's favourite red wine. "Oh stop it, mellon! We are alike in this, wanting to congratulate him! Come! Come!" She gently tugs the Ocean's left arm with her free hand, dancing forward on light feet, hardly able to restrain herself from breaking into run. She carefully slips the bottle up one voluminous sleeve, to be out of the way and yet be comfortably carried.


One hand rises slowly, almost unconsciously, to pull off the bright blue mask with its glittering edges and golden feathers. Lothdaimoth stands on the platform, bemusement in every line of the smile that wreathes his unmasked face. Dark eyes go unerringly to one young elleth in her sea-like costume, and humor lights them. But still he doesn't move from where he stands.


A cry as if frustrated at something, and Caelwen tears off her mask, dashes ahead of the Lightning flash, leaps atop the platform and crashes right into Lothdaimoth, both arms strewn about him as tight and fast as possible. Another cheerful squeal is muffled in his shoulder.


Despite the warning, despite his knowledge of Caelwen's habits, Lothdaimoth is still take a little off guard when she cannons into him. Staggering backwards a few steps, the hand holding his mask goes out wildly for balance; the other wraps around her shoulders. "Careful," he says, laughing now. And then, "You should have more respect for me now."


Slipping off the stage, it is Calriel who leaves Lothdaimoth with in a sea of congratulations and cheers. She herself makes her way to the tables with wine.


And as the Silver Tree draws near, the Moon-Guider bows, lantern held out almost stiffly before him. "I would that you say I guide thy light well, lady Tree." The shadow-clad straightens again, only holding his solemnity for a moment before a usual grin breaks through, mirth sparking within his eyes.


Surprised indeed, the glittering elleth stands still for a moment, then slips the bottle out of her sleeve again. She approaches with stately strides, then bows in a shower of silver and gold light. "Congratulations, my lord," she says as she kneels. "Would I had something better prepared...but this is all I can offer." She offers the bottle in cupped hands, laying flat on its side as if it was a blade and she was the new lord's page.


One long-fingered hand rests lightly against her lips, as Bruinen watches the Cennan fly in a blur of gold and blue. A quiet laugh follows a silly grin, and she leans against the table, upsetting a half-empty wine bottle as she does so. Quick hands dart out to catch and right it, before she turns her eyes back to the imprompty entertainment.


"More respect for you?" Caelwen's face lifts from Lothdaimoth's shoulder as she cries this in indignation. She smiles behind her at the glittering elleth kneeling and offering the wine, then back up at this edhel she has known for as long as she has drawn breath, and must smother giddy laughter into his shoulder again. "Elbereth, Lothdaimoth!" her breathless, muffled words are garbled by his tunic. "People will /kneel/ before you now?"


And taken aback a little by the sight, Lothdaimoth waves his free arm at Lightning Flash. "Please get up," he says, unstoppable delight tugging at the corners of his lips and filling every word. "Thank you for the wine, mellon.. Caelwen, let go of me, I can't walk!" But despite his words, he hugs her again before reaching out for the bottle.


Lightning_Flash gives it up willingly, her eyes shining. "You are most welcome....but how shall I rise to my feet in the prescence of great a lord? It is well my mask is still on, for otherwise I would have no right to speak to ye!" She smiles a bit, glad indeed that the dazzling light from her costume probably prevents anyone from recognizing her features. She makes no move to get up, but does shuffle backwards a few steps to give the pair room, staying on her knees...and the sound of her movement is like tinkling bells.


Silpion inclines her head gracefully, with a smile for the Moon Guider. "Indeed, Lord Tilion. Your efforts are always appreciated." Her smile grows, and soon turns into laughter. "Mellon, in truth I have heard this voice before, have I not? Are you not a fellow Laiquendi?" And with that, she peels the silver mask from her eyes, revealing herself to be the Olvaristdil o Imladris, Glasiel.


Caelwen stubbornly lifts on her toes to press a kiss to Lothdaimoth's cheek ere she finally releases him, only to wrap both hands around one of his elbow and look down in astonishment at the still-kneeling glittering elleth. A pause, and she lifts on her toes to whisper to the edhel, "I love you, and I am so proud of you, nin-belegil." Satisfied that perhaps this is enough congratulations, she drops to her heels and into silence, smiles still enwreathing her pale features.


"I am not a lord of any kind at all." Lothdaimoth begins to sound a little embarressed. "Please do get up. Come and have a drink." Caelwen's whispered words bring a flush to his cheeks, and widen his smile. Walking back towards the wine table, surrounded by friends both new and old, he holds the bottle high. "Drinks are on me!" And he begins to laugh.


Distracted by the (anticipated) appearance of Glasiel in their midst, Bruinen laughs, suddenly aware of the silver still laying cool against her cheeks. With none around, and few left who have not yet guessed her identity, Ailiell unceremoniously draws away her mask, and sets it aside. Smiling up to Caelwen and Lothdaimoth then, she raises her glass in a silent, glad toast.


Lightning_Flash gets up and follows the pair to the table, her costume glittering. "Are you sure you would offer ME a drink with you, lord Lothdaimoth?" she asks. "Underneath all this, I am only a young elleth of no station."


If the grin of the Moon-Guider could grow, indeed, it does. "Lord Tilion, eh?" And the ebon-clad chuckles as the other laughs, and as she removes her mask, so does he: revealing, of course, the Master Methenauth. "Indeed, a fellow Laiquende! Well met, Lady Tree. Or shall I name thee Glasiel? Though I did not guess afore you revealed yourself," calls he, voice ringing with mirth. He winks, lending another bow.


Caelwen again strides faster than her companion, and unmindfully steps upon her mask as she walks back to those around the wine table. She throws her arms around Glasiel in another enthusiastic hug-- this one shorter-- and backs up to take up the abandoned cup of white wine that was poured long ago. "Can you believe it?" She boasts. "A Minister!" Her voice is so giddy it is as if the promotion happened to her, and suddenly she bursts into laughter as her eyes befall Ailiell and Methenauth. "I never did guess at either of you! Methenauth! Mae govannen, cousin."


Opening the bottle, Lothdaimoth pours a glass full and then another, setting both down on the table to be claimed by whoever wants them. Around the group he looks, grinning widely at each, before Lightning's words bring a renewal of red to pale cheeks. "I am no lord," he repeats firmly. "And I certainly meant it. Help yourself to as much as you like." He sets the bottle beside the glasses and quietly edges his way out towards the silver gates.


Lightning_Flash sips lightly, her eyes yet bright. Then, seeing she is the only one yet masked, slips off her own to reveal the delicate features of one Calabrethil. "Mae govannen," she says softly to the assembled ones


Glasiel laughs freely, offering her fellow Laiquende a warm embrace of kinship. "I shall miss your songs when I return to Imladris, mellon, and your companionship as well."


"Many congratulations," Ailiell laughs, lifting a hand to the new Minister. And with a softer, yet just as gleeful grin, shifts her focus to Caelwen. "And many congratulations." Impulsively throwing her arms about the elleth, with a whirl of glass beading, she murmurs, "I knew it!" and laughs once more. "Every happiness."


Caelwen steals a few steps to follow after Lothdaimoth, but stalls to throw her arms around Ailiell in return, laughing. "Knew what?" She giggles, then twin fiery brows arch. "Oh! He told you?" Her smile widens, and a flush crawls over her face.

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