The starry late night sky above the cliffs is clear except for a few thin wisps of high clouds. The Misty Mountains loom against the clear sky in the east, shadows against the stars. Only a rare wisp of cloud floats across the waning crescent moon as it hangs over the valley. Its glow makes the cliffs all around stand out in the night, and they seem to illuminate the valley all the more.
The trees break, the meadow opens, and cups a bowl of starlight to it. Like a frame to midnight the night-darkened leaves look black against the gaudy sky, as the moon wanes to horns and Elbereth's fair gems twinkle more profusely for it, star upon star overlapping star. The world below seems so hushed that the toneless singing of the heavens can be heard, the low hymn of the Ainur.
Meadow grasses turn silver where shadow does not touch them, but a great shadow is cast by the hoar oak, whose branches reach up as though longing to pluck a diamond from the sky. Not even the breeze whispers.
Ilwin walks along the meadow path, carrying a small package with her. Looking up at the stars, she sees a bit of movement in the oak, and with a small smile goes to investigate. Climbing nimbly up the tree, quiet as a breath of wind.
A song come from the path...:"I am a willow, wipping and whiningTHe more inconsolable tree.."
A sad tune signing by Olathlinn that pass under the branches of the oak.
From in the treetop Aramir peers down to see who is gathering below.
An elleth is thickly hid in the veil of summer leaves, cradles in a cupping limb where it mates to the trunk. Caelwen rests her head against the tree-bole, her circlet knocked crooked, and only idly glimpses down at something. She lifts her legs to tuck beneath her, and a green slipper falls. Either she does not notice or does not care, for her eyes fall shut as she curls herself smaller into the oak.
Feeling spying on, Olathlinn continue to sing but at a slower pace. She move slowly toward the oak and tries to looks up in it.
Doing that, the elisthir mourns softly, but with a groan quickly dries up so that it does not pass her lips,rather it lay in her throat.
Rubbing her head, Ilwin climbs up a few more branches, and spots Caelwen, who's missing a slipper. "Hello, is this your slipper?" she asks quietly, holding out the slipper that hit her head.
Bright eyes snap open in the scattered shadows, and Caelwen blinks once before she offers a warm smile to Ilwinterhofal. Her gaze slides down to the slipper, and the Cennan unhides her toes from her skirt with a quick hand-- one foot covered in green leather, the other wriggling pallid toes that gleam in the darkness. "Erm... yes, it does look like it." She peers at the elleth's hand rubbing her head, then offers in a more abashed tone, "I am sorry about that, mellon. I am Caelwen o nos Dinlom o Lothlorien." A slim hand reaches out toward the slipper held by Ilwinterhofal.
Olathlinn looks carefully to see who is talking."Oh, Ilwin, Hi!", she turns to the other elleth, "Caelwen, if I heard it right, I am Olathlinn, elisthir o glindis a Imaldris, welcome here!"
Smiling broadly, Ilwin nods. "I'm Ilwinterhofal, Nethordur a Tellenistril a Bathril o Imladris. Don't worry about it, my head has suffered worse injuries. You can call me Ilwin by the way if you like." Looking down, she spots Olathlinn, and grins again. "Hello Olathlinn! How are you this morning? Come on up."
Olathlinn says, "A bit stiff but I can try if you help me, please!"
The elisthir up her arm to be hold up.
Caelwen eases the shoe back onto her foot, then leans well over to look below, night-darkened hair swaying. "Mae Govannen, Olathlinn! I know you-- I don't believe I've heard your name yet." The Indiri slips down another branch or two, bits of bark clinging to her fine dress, and leans well over to offer a hand to the other elleth, her circlet barely hanging on to her hair.
Ilwin leans down, and offers her hand to her friend, and pulls her up with the help of Caelwen.
Even the simple weight of your friendly palm on her skin makes her mourns softly, but she seems ignoring her own reflex and grab the offered hand."I thanks you both!"
She smiles, and looks at Caelwen:"Be carefull with your circlet, mellon, it almost ready to fall of!"
Walking quietly through the meadow, starlight glimmering faintly on a chain at his neck, a tall stranger turns to contemplate the solitary tree - then turns his steps as well. In the dimness beneath the enormous oak is a little movement; someone climbing up, perhaps. But when Lothdaimoth finally arrives whoever it was is gone. And as if whatever impulse prompted him to come here has died, he simply stands beneath the spreading branches, not even looking up.
Ilwin settles herself on a branch, but stops suddenly when she spots Lothdaimoth below. With a slight giggle, she beckons the others here with her closer, whispering something with a few occasional soft giggles.
What ever the state of her body, her mind is sharp and happy, so Olathlinn is prone to participate in the prank.
With a careful heave, Caelwen pulls on Olathlinn's hand, helping to settle her above. Her eyes grow wide as Lothdaimoth moves nearly directly below her, and a giggle pulls her closer to Ilwinterhofal. A higher giggle bubbles from the mouth of the Galadhrim,but she muffles the sound with her hand and leans closer to the other ellith. Still she does not look up, distracted by her companions.
Whispering softly, the three elleth make some secret plans that are apparently very funny.
Faint giggles sift down through the night whisperings of the oak tree and still without lifting his head, Lothdaimoth says, "I wouldn't." His voice is stern, deep and forbidding; but although no one above can see, dark eyes twinkle with amusement.
A loud laugh bursts out from Caelwen, shaking her form and kicking her feet. The trio of ellith nod one to another, and suddenly a rainburst of shoes is falling all around Lothdaimoth, none close enough to hit him, although one green slipper slices through the air right before his nose.
"How odd," comments the Gwaipedir idly. "There are no clouds in sight and yet it rains." Stooping swiftly to gather up the shoes, he turns one over in a hand while the others remain tucked firmly in the crook of his arm. Still absently, as though merely talking to himself, he says, "Rain generally runs downhill to the stream, which runs down to the river and hence to the ocean... but these poor droplets will get no where on their own. Perhaps I should help them..."
Hearing the talk of helping the shoes to the river, Ilwin scrambles out of the tree with a squeal.
Olathlinn was giggling in her squirrel ways, but hearring Lothdaimoth reply effraid her:"Eek! give me back my boots!"
Wandering from the southerly direction is Tellenistril Faerlin, though her manner is casual she is always alert and the sight of Lothdaimoth examining shoes, that seemingly don't have any obvious origin, intrigues her. A little more cautiously and with a little more care she approaches the edhel. "What's happening here?" she enquires but her hazel gaze soon drifts up to the tree's dense foliage, for often does it harbour mischievious quendi.
Caelwen blinks for a moment, brow furrowing in confusion. Suddenly she gasps and jumps down to the lowest branch after Ilwinterhofal scrambles down. "But I haven't any other shoes save my travel boots!" she protests in a high voice, swinging her bare feet in the breeze. After a moment, a single, fiery brow lifts, and her tone gains a challenging ring to it. "You wouldn't dare anyway, Lothdaimoth." Her face, pale and moon-like in the darkness, turns to Faerlin. "Shoe thieving by a disreputable edhel."
Looking up at Faerlin's approach, Lothdaimoth grins. "It is the strangest thing.." he gestures with his head towards the clear starry sky. The sudden appearance of the shoe-throwers is completely ignored. Shrugging helplessly, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, he continues. "Tis raining, though there be no clouds. And I thought, these poor lonely raindrops have no way to get to the river on their own.. and I should help them." At the tree top the Barrunnur Aramir who before had been reading quietly closes her book and decides to climb down. But as she climbs on to the branch below she slips and falls with a loud scream.
Hearing Aramir fall suddenly catches the attention of Ilwin, who forgets all about her shoes. Running over to where she landed, she reaches out with tender hands, and a concerned look on her face. "Are you alright?" she asks quickly.
Caelwen falls to the ground, her laughter and her sash trailing in her wake. "He won't do it," she speaks, struggling to hide the uncertainty that quavers beneath the words. She walks closer to her cousin, "Will you?" A scream tears her attention from the shoe-battle, and gripping her skirts, the Indiri runs toward the noise on silent bare feet. "What happened, what happened?"
Faerlin blinks as quendi seemingly fall from the tree "Maybe its more like how acorns fall in autumn, yet its still Summer isn't it?" The dark haired elleth laughs as she surveys the collection that have tumbled to the meadow. She brushes a tendril of hair behind her ear and grins broadly.
A shriek interrupts Lothdaimoth's teasing tone and he whirls around. But seeing the fallen appears to be well cared for, he looks back to Faerlin and winks. "I think I will just take a little walk. Perhaps to the bridge."
Here we moved a little forward in time and to the bridge.
The mid-day sky above the cliffs is clear except for a few thin wisps of high clouds. The Misty Mountains are visible in the east. A haze seems to hang around them.
================== Eldarin Calendar in Sindarin ===================
IC time is: Early Afternoon About 1:12 PM
IC day is: Ormenel Heavens-day
IC date is: 65 Laer Summer
Moon phase: Waning Crescent HIDDEN
Earendil: Gil-Estel is not visible.
IC year is: Loa 3 o Yen 22, Nelandran o Endor TA 3027---------------------------------------------------------------------
RL time: Thu Oct 24 12:24:11 2002
=====================================================================
On the bridge
The bridge is of smooth grey stone. It seems to have been carved from a single piece, even though it spans over 50 feet. Far below, the river gurgles and rushes on its course toward distant lands. In the upstream direction, the valley curves to the north and you can't see where the river enters, although just above the bridge you can see almost directly below you a shallow pool on the north edge of the river, created by large granite boulders. The steeply rising bank above the pool is hidden by the tangled tops of birch trees, even in winter. Downstream, you have an excellent view of the sheer gorge where the river drops off the valley floor into the descending rapids. It is not more than a few hundred yards away, and you can hear the falls quite clearly. Even an occasional trout leaps out of the river, pursuing some insect, and splashes back. The sun glints off the foaming water, making droplets look like glittering diamonds.
Far above the rushing river, a grey arc of stone stands. Caught betwixt earth and sky, Lothdaimoth sits on the edge, his legs swinging idly; his arms filled with shoes and boots of various kinds. A breeze rising from the gorge, borne by the moving cooling water; ruffles black tendrils of hair at his temples. The sky is clear, summer sunlight bathing the bridge with warm and cheer.
Ilwin walks along the path to the river, quickly and purposefully, quiet as the summer breeze.
Spotting the captor of her boots, she slows down, and takes cover behind a tree.
Caelwen slips closer, her bare feet not even making a patting sound as they slip over sun-warmed, eyeing the perched ehdel out of the corner of her eye. "You know..." she says, hands demure on her belt and voice deceptively gentle. "I sat with Rhandirceleb as he was making those slippers from me. He told me of when he first learned his craft in Doriath." She stops not far from her cousin, waist pressed to the rail, and admires the water below. A corner of her mouth quirks in the rumor of a smile, and she betrays no knowlege of Ilwinterhofal's presence.
Deciding she doesn't want to startle Lothdaimoth into dropping the shoes into the river, she starts singing quietly, as if she were innocently walking along. "Hello again Caelwen. And to the captor of my precious shoes. I hope you are enjoying them." Ilwin stands near Calewen, and looks at the water herself, deep in thought. Maybe making up a plan to get her footwear back.
"Did you really, cousin?" Lothdaimoth shakes his head in mock grief. "How careless you have been to lose them then." He leans out over the river precariously and considers the foaming water. "It is a lovely day, is it not? And the water looks so refreshing... Doesn't a swim sound pleasant?" Surpressed mirth tightens his voice and wrinkles the edges of his eyes.
"Mae govannen, mellon. I think I haven't the pleasure of having met you?" The counsel looks up from the river.
"I'm Ilwinterhofal, though you can call me Ilwin." Ilwin smiles. "And I believe that is my footwear you hold so delicately."
Caelwen's face turns briefly from the contemplation of water to Ilwinterhofal. "The captor's name is Lothdaimoth," she informs her, "And he won't do it." She then sighs and returns to the inspection of glittering spray playing, and watches a fish leap, the sound lost in the low din. Her mournful voice continues, "The work of a master, they are.. did you look at the designs and how soft they are? .. and Mother must have helped in the raising of the beast that gave the leather." Her gaze slides aside to the Cousnsel-Vinter, and at last she dissolves into giggles, giving a brief wink to him. "But at least they are not pottery or wine, right? Toss them in, then! I have other shoes." Still shaking with laughter, she leans well over the railing, copper hair swaying below and wetted by flying drops of water.
"Oh really? I wonder if Lothdaimoth is ticklish then. Maybe he would give them back with a threat of that? You may throw them in if you'd like swimming in the river is wonderful. But from what I know, you would be likely to take my clothes and throw them in as well." Ilwin smiles mischieviously, a gleam of something in her eyes.
Lothdaimoth looks down at the things he holds, surprise prominant on his face. "Really? If they are truly yours, how have they come into my keeping?" For now, he speaks to Ilwin, seeming to ignore his cousin. A barely surpressed chuckle interrupts his words. "Alas. If you tickled me, I might accidentally drop what appears to be so precious." Now he slides a sly glance at Caelwen. "Perhaps, my young friend, as Indiri of your house, you should take more care of your clothes?"
Ilwin nods, and her face clouds up with a frown. "Surely you remember how you were rained upon by them early this morning don't you? Yet still, you are welcome to throw them in the river, for I would be glad to retrieve them, with or without clothes waiting on the bank." Ilwin smiles a bit, and looks out to the water once again.
The younger cousin blushes a bit, the tips of her ears turning bright red. Caelwen slips a long glance to Lothdaimoth, and takes a step closer to the perched edhel, but finally recovers her composure enough to speak. "Ai! A house full of crafters. They wouldn't notice if I wore my clothes inside out every day." A contrast her words make with her fine gown and gems, but a giggle trickles out afterwards. "Mellon! Do you know? I do believe I have not tried to tickle him since I was little. We should try! And I /still/ do not think he would drop them." A hand reaches toward Lothdaimoth's ribs as though to make good Ilwinterhofal's threat.
Ilwin giggles and reaches out and grabs a shoe or two while Lothdaimoth is distracted by Caelwen's reaching fingers. "Aha!" She shouts in triumph. Setting the shoes out of reach, she reaches in to help with the tickling, laughing like she is the reciever.
Two shoes, neither matching the other are snatched from one side, while Caelwen moves in to attack from the other. And Lothdaimoth twists a little to avoid the teasing, tickling fingers. His laughter can no longer be denied and breaks out deep and merry. The footwear is gathered a little closer, and one arm lifts to ward off Ilwin - but in his attempts to avoid one catastrophe, another is caused. For, off balance and not paying attention, he begins to slide off the edge of the bridge. Both eyes open wide when he realizes his problem, the shoes are cast wholesale upon the air to land where they will; and the counsel reaches behind him even as he falls to drag his tormentors down as well.
Laughing, Ilwin tickles away, but her laughter changes to a scream as she is pulled into the water.
Caelwen's laughter plays harmony to Lothdaimoth's lower melody, and rings high above the water as she tickles his ribs more determinedly, stepping closer. As he begins to slip, she makes an instinctive grab for his shirt to steady him, but peridot eyes are widened as well when his hand pulls at her and a shoe knocks her shoulder. The Indiri spins head over heels as she falls past the railing, a loud shriek matching Ilwinterhofal's scream ere it is silenced again by a noisy splash.
Coming up for air, Ilwin takes in a big breath, and paddles about, looking for Caelwen and Lothdaimoth. Seeing her boots bobbing in the water, she takes them and throws them to the shore.
The small pool grows larger and larger. Arms windmilling wildly, Lothdaimoth disappears beneath the surface of the water, sending a wave of water high into the air. A few seconds later his dark head appears, sleek and bobbing near the shore. A green shoe floats past his nose and one hand snakes out to grab it and toss it ashore.
Ilwin spots Lothdaimoth, and smiles. Diving under the water, she swims in his direction, coming up right behind him splashing and yelling, giggling in between.
A gentler splash and a gasp is heard in the aftermath as a bright copper head surfaces, hair streaming before her face in bumps and waves. Caelwen thrusts back her tresses, eyes nimble and searching, giggles returning when they alight on Lothdaimoth and Ilwinterhofal. "You... you... Aiya! You are never clumsy!" this is all she can say, and adds another wave of water to the torrent splashed by the elleth, slowly struggling against her skirts as she nears the shore, laughing all the way.
Hearing splashing noises coming from the river near the bridge, Naralgos darts in that direction. He materializes out of the woods in time to see boots flying towards his head. Instinctively, he snags them from the air before they hit him. The hunter lets out a laugh. "I've always liked rain but flying boots don't are not quite my idea of an afternoon shower." Still shaking with mirth, Naralgos surveys the scene, trying to figure out what could have happened to deposite several quendi into the cold waters.
Ilwin climbs out of the river, and collapses on the bank, laughing herself out. Spotting Naralgos up near the bridge, she waves. "Mae Govannen Naralgos!"
"Nor mine!" Lothdaimoth calls in reply. "Yet I have been rained on by these shoes not once, but twice." With a wide grin, he flips water back at Ilwin before turning his attentions to his sodden cousin. Suddenly, he disappears - only his boots showing, and that for but a brief second. In the roiling water, disturbed as well by playful splashing, a hand that reaches for Caelwen's ankle can't be seen.
"Aye, mae govannen, mellon!" Caelwen replies cheerfully as she walks toward the bank, her greeting fit right after Ilwinterhofal. "Personally, I find shoes mid-flight to--" A squeal cuts off the Indiri's voice, and another splash cuts it off. She vanishes underwater.
Laughing, Ilwin dives back in to help Caelwen out of her 'predicament'.
"Indeed!" Naralgos replies to both Ilwin and a quendi he had never seen. His laughter redoubles as Ilwin and another elleth dive back into the water.
One tug and then Lothdaimoth releases Caelwen's ankle and stands up. In water to his waist, a good portion of the stream pouring off of him, he simply stands and laughs, waiting for his cousin to reappear..
Hearing Naralgos laugh, Ilwin aims a splash at him, that soaks his feet and legs up to his knees. Giggling, she ducks below the water to avoid his wrath, coming up behind Lothdaimoth, using him as a shield.
Hand gripping Ilwinterhofal's, Caelwen arises from the water with her help, feet fumbling briefly for the river bottom. Fine dress sodden, copper tresses hanging in lank waves until they disappear into the water above her waist, she catches her breath between giggles and peers at her cousin through her hair. She blushes well, peering abashedly at the Imladhrim for a moment ere her gaze returns to linger on Lothdaimoth. Finally, she launches herself at his chest in an attempt to knock him over.
Seeing Ilwin aim a splah at him, Naralgos trys to escape but this time, he is too slow to save his pants and boots. The hunter rewards the hidding elleth with an irritated glare before tugging off his boots and unfastening his cloak. "I had hoped to avoid getting wet," Naralgos begins as he sets his things in a neat pile well away fro mthe water. "But it seems that Ilwin has made the choice for me.
Jumping back, Ilwin loses her footing as she tries to dodge the push aimed at Lothdaimoth. As she falls out of the water, a phase or two is gurgled as she swallows water going under.
With that said, Naralgos launches himself into the water after Ilwin.
Grinning, the counsel watches Ilwen and Naralgos - not even noticing Caelwen's dive at him until a weight barrels into his chest and knocks him backwards. Both arms go around her as he instinctively tries to keep the two of them from falling again - but fails. Backwards he goes into the deepest part of the pool.
By falling over under the water, Ilwin gets caught in the current of the river, and comes back above a way downstream, with a strangled yell for help. She tries to swim back, but only succeeds to go downstream a little slower.
And Caelwen puts her arms around Lothdaimoth in a brief embrace as they fall into the water, ere she kicks away from him and bobs toward the surface. Her laughter now holds the distinct ring of victory to it as it bubbles from her, and she scrambles away from the counsel, watching for him. A shout steals her attention away, and the Cennan catches at her skirts, keeping from their legs as she follows after Ilwinterhofal, gaze quickly gathering panic to it.
Not finding Ilwin in his tackle, Naralgos surfaces and peers around for her. A yell catches his attention. "Ilwin!" he calls in surprise. Letting the current take him towards her, Naralgos no longer thinks of vengance. The swift current moves him past the elleth. Feeting hitting a large rock beneath the water, he braces himself to catch her.
Ilwin tries to put her feet down and find purchase in the sandy bottom, but her feet cannot reach them. Going under again with a large breath, she looks under the water for something to hold on to. Finding nothing, she swims back to the surface, and rests, bobbing in the water, gasping for breath.
A second time dunked, Lothdaimoth floats to the surface sputtering. Long black strings of hair crisscross his face and one hand pushes futilely at them while with the other, he paddles his way shore-wards. Underwater when Ilwin's shout rang out, he is unaware of her peril until Naralgos is already in place to catch her.Spotting Naralgos between her and the waterfall, Ilwin does her best to move herself in line with him.
Caelwen freezes in the water, watching Naralgos and Ilwinterhofal. Slow, unminded footsteps bring her closer to shore, eyes never wavering.
Leaning into the current for better stablility, Naralgos wills Ilwin into line with him. A mutted roar behind him serves as a constant reminder of what would happen should he fail to stop her and lose his footing. The elleth heads straight towards him, now, having manuvered herself into his path.
Coming into Naralgos' reach, Ilwin reaches out to grab hold of him. Coughing and spluttering, she thanks him, and rests herself in the temporary security of Naralgos and the rock holding them from death.
A second green shoe is caught in the backwater near the shore and Lothdaimoth scoops it up as he drips his way onto dry land. "Caelwen!" On the heels of his words, the shoe comes flying through the air towards the elleth; end over end, droplets glittering in the sunlight. "Next time," he says with a chuckle. "Might I advise you to make certain of the safety of your prize /before/ tossing its holder off of bridges?" He winks before turning to watch Ilwin float into the edhel positioned to catch her.
Nearly onto shore, her skirt trailing behind her like ripples of liquid mercury, Caelwen rips her eyes from the now-safe Ilwinterhofal to where her name is called. A wide grin pops onto her face as she watches Lothdaimoth, her hand lifting almost casually to pluck the whirling slipper from the air. "Never did I think to see the day!" her teasing voice lilts. "My skillful cousin made a thief, and defeated by a pair of ellith. 'Twas well worth my own dunking!"
She throws the shoe to the shore, near to its mate, and looks down to her fine, sodden gown as she squeezes water out of her curls. Bare toes on dry land, her hands suddenly begin to worriedly feel at the top of her head.
Catching Ilwin, Naralgos sways between falling off his precarious perch and keeping his foothold. The latter winning, Naralgos expells a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. Acknowlegding her thanks, the hunter thinks quickly on how to get out. An idea struck him suddenly. Grinning maddly, Naralgos calls out to Caelwen on the bank. "Mellon! In my bag is a rope. Get it for us, will you please? I fear the current is too strong here to swim to shore in."
"Thief? Not at all. I was gifted these shoes..." Lothdaimoth grins unrepentantly at his cousin. As she begins to sqeeze water from her hair, he looks down at himself, sopping wet as he is and then shrugs. It will dry soon enough, and the air is warm.
Pulling herself up with the help of Naralgos, Ilwin has caught her breath. Smiling gratefully, she watches a few sticks and leaves float over the waterfall. Swaying a little with the thought of herself or the others falling over it. She takes a precarious seat, making sure not to fall off, or knock her rescuer off either.
"Lent!" Caelwen parries back to Lothdaimoth, but her head is turning toward the pair downstream already. "Oh! Aye." She scrambles toward the back, slips out the coiled rope, and hurries along the bank. One hand wrapped in rope, she tosses the other upstream from the pair, content to watch the length float to them. Suddenly she gasps at a thought and braces her feet sturdily. "Cousin? Would you come, please, in case I cannot hold them?"
Two long strides take Lothdaimoth to his cousin's side, where he takes up the loose end of the cord and wraps it around his hand. "I have it. If you cannot hold, I will catch you."
"Hold tight, Ilwin. I need to let go," Naralgos says. After waiting for her to get a firm grip, he lets go of her to snag the rope. Hearing Caelwen's call for assistence, he simply hold the rope til she's ready. Naralgos would fall off just yet.
Caelwen, braced with her cousin beside her, calls, "Go on, then, mellyn. We have you!" An encouraging smile is sent over the water.
Ilwinterhofal +whispers to Naralgos, "hehehe ... ... ...! :... lo"
Ilwin watches the rope throwing process with a held breath, willing it to work.
Nodding to the quendi on shore, Naralgos wraps the rope around his wrist and holds tight to Ilwin. "Ready! Here I go!" Lowering his voice for Ilwin, he says, "Deep breath!" before releasing his hold on the rock.Taking a deep breath, Ilwin nods and lets go of the rock too, hoping and praying that their plan will work. With the current tugging on them, it doesn't seem like they are going anywhere, but it's obvious that they are getting closer to the shore, as their feet occasionally touch the ground.
Peridot eyes widen a bare moment before a determined mien sets her face firm and Caelwen grips the rope with both hands. The line grows taut, she stumbles a bare step forward, and holds there as they swing in. A couple of nervous glances are cast to Lothdaimoth through this.
Caelwen's uncertainty doesn't go unnoticed, and Lothdaimoth spares a moment to reassure her. "I have hold. Don't worry, I won't let go." She may move forward at the ropes tug, but he does not; in fact, he begins to pace backwards, drawing the rope with him.
Finding foot hold in the rapidly shallowing water, Naralgos pulls himself and Ilwin into a standing position and nearly fell down again. He was shaking, though from the cold or strain of holding Ilwin and fighting the current or perhaps a combination of both he could not tell. Moving himself and the elleth onto shore, Naralgos gives a breathless word of thanks to those who had held the rope.
Letting herself be dragged onto the shore, Ilwin on the shore and smiles thanks to Caelwen and Lothdaimoth. "Thank you." Slowly, tries to stand up, but it doesn't work and she falls again.
Caelwen eases in her stance and drops the rope as soon as the pair are ashore, then sweeps a wide and rather comical curtsy, gripping her sodden skirts. "You are quite welcome. Never let it be said that Dinlym do not give aid to Imladhrim." A giggle trickles quick from her at this as she arises, but her hand returns to her brow. "Lothdaimoth! I have lost the circlet Gilrowen made for me." An eye is given to the Imladhrim again as Ilwinterhofel falls. "Do you need to get to the house, mellyn?"
The two stragglers are safe ashore - although rather shaky, indeed one falls and Lothdaimoth drops the rope and kneels beside her. Reassured that it is only exhaustion, no injuries; he helps her up. "Mellon, you should go and rest - and dry off." His eyes go to Naraglos. "Can you help her? Or do you need assistance as well?" A swift glance to Caelwen, "Just a minute and I will help you look. Let us make sure these two are all right first."
Grimancing, Naralgos glances around the bank. "There, my lady. On the other side, in the mud," he gestures tiredly. Steeling himself, he nods to the edhel. "I have strength enough," he said, his voice much stronger than he felt. "I'll get my things later. Come, Ilwin. Let's get you dry." Naralgos pulls the elleth up and loups one of her arms around his neck. Surprising himself, he picks her up in his arms. "Thank you for all your help, mellyn. I am indebted." The hunter nods his head in the suggestion of a bow that would have been made had his arms not been full of Ilwin.
"Ai! Of course, cousin," Caelwen takes several steps closer, but hangs back enough to be out of the way of the edhil as they take care of the tired elleth. "Of course. And I thank you." she darts a brief glance to the other side of the river, ere returning to the Imladhrim. She wraps her arms around herself, chewing on her lip faintly worriedly.
"No thanks are needed." Lothdaimoth grins. "Had I not allowed these two to push me in, you would never have found yourself in such a predicament. I should rather apologize." A sparkle from the mud gives the proof of Naralgos' words.
Giving a small laugh, Naralgos shakes his head. "No fault, mellon. I place no blame." Glancing at the sky, the hunter gives a mirthless smile. "You too should think on returning to the House. It will be dark soon. And might I suggest avoiding falling into the river?" His eyes twinkle in renewed jest. "Namarie, mellyn!" he says as he heads up to the house with Ilwin nested in his arms.
"Namarie!" Caelwen lifts a hand to wave to the departing quendi and watches them go. A brief pause, and she turns her face to Lothdaimoth, speaking seriously. "You're right, you know. It is all your fault." A wink shutters one sparkling eye, and she turns to walk toward the bridge, skirt-hem dragging in the mud.
Smiling, Lothdaimoth watches the two bedraggled Imladhrim as they head towards the house. Caelwen's accusation brings his head around, strings of wet hair flying out behind him. "MY fault??" For several minutes, he stands still watching her before starting after. "Hmph."
By the time Lothdaimoth has started after Caelwen, she has already crossed the bridge and is pacing down the shore on the other side. His comment beckons more half-chortles and giggles from her, and it is not until she has crouched down to fish her circlet from the mud that she is calmed enough to reply. "You said it was your fault!" She straightens, then bows deeply toward her cousin. "I do only admit to your superior wisdom and years, mellon," she replies with an innocent lilt to her voice, eyes sparkling fondly up at him and lingering on his face as he approaches. She straightens slowly, her muddied circlet held by its thin chain as the peridots hang pendulously. Her smile trembles along the curve.
"I was being polite," the tall counsel retorts. But he is still smiling and one hand is extended down the bank towards her. "Come. Shall we take our hosts' example and go inside to dry off?" In the direct sunlight (warm even as it lowers toward evening), his damp clothing steams faintly.
Caelwen's eyes had drifted toward the water as though she was thinking of cleaning her jewelry there, but at Lothdaimoth's offered hand, her own immediately goes to it, holding firm. A wide grin spreads on her face as she returns her gaze to him. "Aye, yes, let's go. I hope I haven't ruined anything." She follows him as he heads for the House, her slippers abandoned behind and her muddied circlet still dangling from her hand, forgotten.