The neat and orderly rows of grapes are just beginning to blossom, the tiny sour fruits
barely visible unless you happen to look very closely, indeed, but now in the pre-dawn
light it would be difficult to discern much of anything in such detail. A cool breeze
blows across the twisted vines that are just now starting to wind their way around the
poles and bits of twine used to keep them upright, but their stalks are sturdy and hardy
ensuring a good harvest should the warm months prove not to be too damaging.
One would think it is an odd place for one of the Order, but the Banneret walks along
the rows slowly with her hands outstretched, her fingers ruffling the large, flat leaves
as she passes. With the absence of daylight her purpose here is apparent, her fingers
leave a trail of subtle blue light where they touch and the plants seem to reach out to
her with thin, curling vines.
To the northern end of the Vineyard a single form stands silently observing Mia as she
makes her way though the rows. Elder Knight Kathalis stays motionless except for his
eyes which track the Bannere a slight smile playing across his lips.
Sitting on the ground nearby, Lothdaimoth also might seem a bit out of place - vineyards
are not a normal working place for the Arnpand. His dark head is cocked and he listens
intently to the low voice of another elf who sits beside him, occasionally reaching up
to touch one part or another of the grape vine. Crouched beside his elder cousin, a
small boy is digging in the dirt. On the ground within easy arm's reach is a brand-new
bow, the carvings still white from the chisel. Or mostly white. For the dirt that seems
to follow Rhibi around has already begun to find its way into the grain of the wood.
Wandering between the rows of grape plants with a book in hand, Vinyarod bends to
carefully inspect the plants and the beginnings of the fruit. For several long moments
he stares at the plant before him before opening the book and flipping through the pages
to compares what he sees to the text in the book. "Sugars, water, fermentation. How can
such a simple drink be so complicated." he mutters while reaching out to touch the
tender round forms of the immature grapes.
Shaking his head Vinyarod stands up. "Odd and confusing." he mutters. Catching sight of
movement, the Knight pauses and sees the Banneret wandering. Without looking he snaps
the book shut to catch his senior's attention.
Catch it he has, for without another second slipping by, Mia whirls her head in
Vinyarod's direction, a smile on her pert lips, her breath coming in excited gasps. A
thin sheen of perspiration has formed on her forehead and this she wipes away with a
casual motion of her hand while she begins to speak. "What brings you here today, Vinya?
Was the Naith still as quiet as it was when I left at sundown, or has anything exciting
happened?"
He stands about three rows away and a bit off from her, so she reaches out her hands and
moves the vines with a minimum of effort, stepping through the twine until she is only a
row away. With a startled gasp she stops and looks down, her foot an inch or so from the
small boy's hand, and she says with sudden shock, "Rhibi! Why... you nearly blend in
with the dirt... or has the dirt blended in with you?"
"Iaurfer," Rhibi begins automatically, his voice offended. "I am very big now, please
call me..." Looking up to see who has been so thoughtless, his mouth falls open and
bright scarlet floods over his face. Left speechless, he simply stares up at Mia, his
left hand creeping out to curl around his bow.
Beside him, Lothdaimoth smothers a chuckle and grins up at the Banneret. There is a
sense of ease in his bearing that has been absent for some time. "Mae govannen," he says
before turning back to his companion who has been watching the proceedings with
amusement. Regaining her pupil's attention, she continues with the lesson. "We prune in
early spring, you can see here the nodes that have been left to grow; they are already
beginning to sprout..."
"Of Naith I know not." the Knight says with a slight shake of his head. "I spent the
evening in the library searching for information on wine making." he says raising the
book in one hand. "The Royal Heralds Calriel claims that each wine is different
depending on where the grapes are grown and how the wine is prepared." he says with a
shrug of his shoulders. "Since bringing back the wine from Dale-Land and Amon Thraundil,
I find myself curious."
Reaching out a hand, Vinyarod cradles a cluster of grapes and prepares to ramble on
about the topic. Unfortunately the cluster of grapes are well in hand when the Banneret
gasps. The Knight accidentally pulls the cluster of grapes when he steps back in
surprise, ready to face whatever ill had startled the Banneret.
Hearing the name of the pesky child.... one who'd been a part of the group that had made
it to Fangorn, Vinyarod sighed loudly as he looks down at the cluster of immature grapes
that were not lost due to a surprise.
Mia listens to the elleth teaching the prefect, her smile expanding as Rhibi clutches
his longbow and almost seems to shrink back from her. When the maiden finishes, she
looks to Vinyarod and grins even wider. "Well it seems that you should have come here a
bit earlier, for the maid seems to know some of the secrets. And as much as I hate to
admit it, the Herald is correct, though there is much more that goes into it. The soil
and its nutrients, the amount and type of sunlight, the altitude they are grown at, and
the type of grape, itself."
She turns back to him, her eyes sparkling in the early light of dawn. "And then one must
think about the hands that tend them. We are quite lucky as the old ways are not
completely forgotten to us, and one of the gifts of our kind is the ability to
communicate with the life of Arda. Urging plants to grow is very similar to coaxing a
wound to knit itself together, though not nearly as complicated. That was where I got my
start in healing, with my mentor who was an herbalist and spiritual healer who taught me
how to seek the will of living things and add my own strength to them." She blushes and
crosses her arms, "But I'm rambling. You said you were in the library all night... did
you find anything of interest at all?"
As Mia speaks enthusiastically about plants and growing, the elleth talking to
Lothdaimoth suspends her words to listen as well. "Yes," she nods finally, looking from
the Banneret's face to her student. "She is correct. And you will be learning much of
this as well; even healing for there can be injuries and ailments to the vines as well
as to Quendi."
Rhibi himself has lost all interest in the dirt city he was building, his cousin, the
vintner - everyone except Mia. His mortified flush slowly fades and by the time she is
half-way through her eager speech, he has regained much of his natural exuberance.
Scuttling backwards, he says excitedly, "Lothdaimoth, she liked my bow! I showed it to
her the other day. She said it was very fine and I will get to learn to use it properly
soon."
"I can sense things, as any other of our kind, but I can not urge it to do anything."
the Knight says with a chuckle as he chooses to answer the last of the Banneret's words
first. "I have my talents and that is just not one of them." Despite his tone, his eyes
sparkle with humor. He takes a deep breath and he smiles. Nodding to the Maiden she
referenced, Vinyarod shakes his head. "I did not wish to interrupt. She appeared to have
a great deal of work on her hands." the Knight says as he looks to the maiden. Bowing
his head to the elleth, he returns his gaze to Mia. Holding up his book once more he
nods. "Aye, she is correct." he chuckles. "To be honest I had expected her words to be
similar in nature to that of the Herald Erinstar."
"Speaking of which..." he says with a touch of concern. "I had the pleasure of meeting
his wife..... though I knew her to be my house minister, I did not realize that it was
Erinstar that she was wed." He shakes his head and takes a deep breath. "We really must
speak. Truth's were said of the Herald yesterday...... but I do not wish his lady's
reputation to be tarnished. I've already spoken with the Bachelor's and Squire's who
were present, but...... " he says with a pause. "I'd appreciate you're speaking with the
Elder Tercenyon to be sure that the words go no further than they already have." He
holds up a hand to stall any words. "Not that I think he would spread things that would
harm another..... I am just showing caution."
Mia furrows her forehead a bit as she leans towards the Knight, her arms gently leaning
her weight against the flimsy trellis. "The meeting the other day, you mean? With...
Althea, is it not? Interesting, for I was not aware of their union myself. Or perhaps I
was but time and... well," she glances down at the boy, her voice dropping to a loud
whisper she hopes goes unnoticed, "Let's be realistic here, he is hardly my favorite
person in Lorien, and his actions have done nothing but vex me for a long while now.
Quite uppity, in my opinion, for one who was stripped of rank in the Order. But I do
wish to hear what was said, but not for his sake. If his wife's honor is at stake then
perhaps we have a duty... but I am intrigued... how could she be tarnished by the
Elder-Knight's words?"
Mia pauses for a moment to turn her attention to Rhibi, her hands moving to her knees as
she bends only slightly to reach his level. "You know I was a grown elleth before I got
my first bow, so you must be quite the young edhel to have one so young." She cocks her
head to the side and querries, "How old are you, my little friend? I have never been one
to guess age well in the young... though it matters so little, in truth. Regardless, I
am impressed that you have been entrusted with such a fine weapon."
Lothdaimoth grins again, an easy, uncomplicated expression. "It is a very fine bow,
Rhibi - I mean Iaurfer. I am not surprised she liked it." Words spoken about Erinstar
bring a faint hint of discomfort to his face and he tactfully turns his head away. At
least he can pretend not to hear.
"Rosgwaen made it for me," Rhibi says proudly. He pulls himself up to his full height
and a little fear that he might be considered too young by his idol darkens his
greenish-hazel eyes. "I am eight. That's old enough! Isn't it?" His tone loses its
defiant certainty on the last question, and he searches Mia's face anxiously.
Vinyarod sighs. "I do not think that the Elder would intentionally harm Erinstar's lady,
but with the words spoken during the meeting I fear something getting out." He shakes
his head. "The Herald's indiscretions, such as those along the trip to Dale-lands.....
were made known to the Lady. She did not deny it." Vinyarod shrugs. "It is not right and
it is not our way."
With the words relayed to the Banneret, Vinyarod squats down. With both hands, he
spreads the leaves to peer through to the other side to find the lad. "May I see your
bow, young Master?" he asks.
Mia's eyeborws rise as Vinyarod speaks of indiscretions, but positioned as she is and
speaking with the youngster, she says only, "I would know more of this, Vinyarod. What
is worse than possibly causing pain to his own wife is how this could affect the Lady.
As her Herald, his actions do reflect on her in some way."
But now she speaks to Rhibi, a smile on her lips as she shakes her head, "Nay, it is not
too young at all. Why, I was your age once, though not nearly as much of a handful as
you seem to be." She toussles his hair and then holds up a finger as if reminded of
something spectacular. She sticks her tongue out from between her teeth as she rummages
in one of her pouches, finally producing a small wooden whistle. "I have a habit of
keeping things for a long time, and years ago I was given this... well, when I was
little older than you are. It is a special whistle which, when blown, cannot be heard by
yrch or human, though wargs and wolves can sense it. However, it seems to repel them as
it is too loud for their ears. It is just perfect for an elf, though, and very handy
should you find yourself lost." She holds it out to the boy. "Promise me that you will
not go wandering to test it and it is yours."
Rhibi's eyes go round and he reaches a hand out for the whistle. "I promise.." The words
drift out, a whisper barely louder than the soft rustling of grape leaves all around.
Once the whistle is given into his hand he holds it reverently, his eyes devouring every
detail. A few minutes pass before he looks back up to Mia, a grin of sheer bliss
transforming his rather grubby face. Vinyarod's request has almost been forgotten, but
finally the small boy holds his bow out for inspection. "My cousin made it for me." The
tengwar telling the bow's name are carved in a curving path down its length.
The Knight chuckles softly at Mia speaks of the child's behavior. "I was a handful."
Vinyarod admitted as he sat back on his heels and continued to peer through the grape
bush. "Worse maybe. I had an older brother who managed to drag me into things that I
shouldn't have been in." he says with a smile. He watches in silence as the Banneret
offers a gift to the child. "You'll be a good mother some day." he says without
thinking. It was after all true in his eyes.
Taking the child's bow offered, the Knight looks it over, his an experienced and critical
eye. "You'll need to clean and oil it." he says as he turns over the small weapon for a
view of the work. "It's very well made. Your cousin must be proud to give such a fine
weapon to you." he adds as he hands the bow back to the child. "Have you begun practice
yet? he asks.
Mia blushes at Vinyarod's compliment, her eyes dipping down before she glances at the
Knight. "My thanks for your vote of confidence, but your opinion is not shared by all. I
think there are more than one or two who would argue that I am a horrid monster in the
Order, though how I can be called such when compared to some of the Elders..." She
shakes her head and takes a deep breath, "And it remains to be seen if I shall get the
chance to prove them wrong. But it makes my heart lighter to know that someone believes
in me."
She shares a smile with Vinyarod before turning back to the child, her smile eager as
she tousles Rhibi's hair. "It IS a shame to let such a fine weapon go unused... an
insult to it's maker, if you want to be melodramatic. We will have to work on that and
see what sort of archer we can make of you. Alas," she says with a deep sigh, "It is no
spear, but it will do."
The murmur of voices speaking of grapes and their growing in the background curls under
and around the nearer conversation. "No," Rhibi says in response to Vinyarod's question.
"I tried, but I don't have any proper arrows and I couldn't make it work right." His
eyes drop to his bow and his voice slides up in worried question. "Oil? I didn't know..
I didn't hurt it or anything, did I?" Mia's careless gesture brings a glow to the boy's
face and at her promise to teach him to shoot, it deepens into a look of adoration.
Until she mentions preferring spears, whereupon the worry returns full force. And
looking almost as if he might cry, he whispers, "But it is ok? To have a bow? That is
what my cousin has..."
"A bow is fine." Vinyarod says quickly to prevent an outburst. "It's a good weapon to
start with, and one which brings an enemy down from a distance." He looks to Mia with
pleading eyes. "You will teach him right? I'll help myself if need be...... " He offers
the bow back to the child and stands up. "I must go now.... it's been a pleasure
speaking with both of you."
With that, Brave Knight Vinyarod of Lorien hurries off to avoid a child's tantrum. In
only a moment he was gone.
Mia calls out to the Knight as he leaves, her voice breaking the peace and quiet of the
vinyard and causing a group of bluebirds to take flight, "Fare well, Vinyarod! I will
look for you soon for clarification of our previous conversation, mellon!" And then he
is gone.
She settles down, moving from her feet to a seated position in a fluid motion, her
elbows propped on her knees while her fingers lace and support her chin. "A bow is a
fine weapon, and one that any citizen of Lothlorien should be familiar. But I favor the
spear as you are on the front lines, warring hand to hand with your foe instead of
perching above and firing from relative safety." She raises her eyebrows and hold out a
hand as if in warning, "Now do not misunderstand, I do not enjoy fighting." A quick
glance is given to Lothdaimoth and his companion before she leans towards the boy and
whispers, "Well, not exactly... I do not enjoy bloodshed, but there is something
satisfying about putting yur training to work for you. It is frightening, of that I will
not lie, but there is something about it."
Her eyes have grown almost misty, but as she looks at the boy she lets out chuckle and
wags her head from side to side. "I should not be speaking to you of such things, I will
simply put ideas into your head that should not be there until you are a bit older. So
back to training: I will be happy to help you learn to use your bow and, when you get
bigger, I will be overjoyed to teach you how to use a spear if you so desire. As it is,
a spear would dwarf you easily."
Alas for Mia's belated caution. For the crushing disappointment leaves Rhibi's face and
is replaced by fascination. Hanging on every word she speaks, his green eyes are filled
with dreams. His precious bow clasped to his chest, he only nods solemnly at each new
revelation until finally he dares to ask a question that could possibly be conceived as
criticism of his hero. "But isn't it safer to be in a tree? Everyone keeps telling me
not to go here or there because it isn't safe..." The discontent this thought brings is
erased immediately when she promises to teach him to shoot, and perhaps some day use a
spear. "You will?" Eyes shining, he holds his bow even tighter. "Now?"
"Well, it is definately more dangerous, to be sure, and while I do not laugh in the face
of danger... I do enjoy thumbing my nose at it every once in awhile." Mia grins
impishly, her knees drawing up and arms circling her legs. "New recruits often come to
us claiming that their reason for joining the Order is to protect the woods and the
people, sometimes you even get one that seeks revenge. But the ones I respect are those
that are honest... none of us would be in the Order if we did not harbor some desire to
be in battle. As I said, it's not to say that we enjoy the killing... but when performed
correctly, maneuvers with a melee weapon or accurate hits with a bow can be almost
beautiful. Let the poets write flowery lines for their loves and let the bards sing of
great deeds done long ago; but I swear that when I fight the sounds of battle are
musical and my feet dance across the killing fields."
She looks at the boy and giggles almost glirlishly, "I'm a horrible influence for you, I
think. What would your parents think if they heard me talking like this?" She reaches
down and draws a cloth and a small cake of some solid, oily substance and hands it to
Rhibi. "Your first lesson with a bow: Clean it well. I will watch and make sure you do
it correctly, but before you can learn to use it you must learn to care for it."
Most of what Mia says is incomprehensible to such a young boy, but he stores every word
in his memory nonetheless. The morning breeze stirs the grapevines, and tugs at Rhibi's
light brown hair. A cloth and something else are extended towards him; one hand is
peeled away from its clutch on the bow to receive it. For a minute, he turns it over,
peering at it curiously. "What is it?" he asks, plopping cross-legged onto the ground
and then looking up. "I don't know what to do." The bow certainly needs cleaning, Rhibi
has been carrying it everywhere with him and his hands are almost always dirty.
Mia motions to the cloth, "First, you need to wipe away all of the dirt until not a
speck can be seen. Then you take the oil," she points to the cake, "And find a clean bit
of your cloth. Rub the oil on there until it shines, but do not use too much or it will
be slippery in your hands." She stands up, her hands dusting the bits of clinging earth
from her legs. "Next time I see you I want that weapon to be in top order. Then I may
teach you how to use it." She leans down and places a kiss on the boy's forehead, a
small clean spot now plainly visible above his eyes. "But for now I must go." She turns
and is about to walk away when she has a thought, so she faces the boy again. "If ever
you need me, you can find me in three places more often than not: the Naith, the Talan
of the Healers in the city, and in the clearing in the forest off the Green Road. Do not
hesitate to call on me if the need is there." And finally she turns to go.
A small frown of concentration wrinkles Rhibi's forehead. He is beginning to follow the
Banneret's instructions, slowly and carefully when she bends down and kisses his
forehead. Embarressed, again, he ducks his head sending loose brown hair flopping down
into his eyes. The tips of his ears, where they poke up are bright red. An inaudible
mumble is the only response he gives, even when she tells him he can come find her
whenever he needs to. But as she leaves, he peeks up again; watching her receding figure
until it is lost in the woods. Only then does he fall to polishing with a vengeance. By
his energy, if not his skillfullness, this will soon be the cleanest bow ever seen in
Lorien.