================== Eldarin Calendar in Sindarin ===================
IC time is: Mid Afternoon About 3:37 PM
IC day is: Ormenel Heavens-day
IC date is: 2 Rhiw Winter
Moon phase: New HIDDEN
Earendil: Gil-Estel is not visible.
IC year is: Loa 3 o Yen 22, Nelandran o Endor TA 3027
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RL time: Tue Dec 03 13:52:40 2002
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Golden Roadway - Flagged Terrace
Here, midway up the hill, the main stairway path running from hill foot to hill crest levels off and joins a narrow terrace before continuing upwards. Wider than it is deep and flagged with marble, the terrace on the Golden Roadway serves as a rendezvous point where many smaller paths converge. Large mallorn trees, whose golden leaves have still yet to fall with the spring budding, border this piazza with each containing sizable flets. From one of the largest of such flets, perhaps a tavern or common room of sorts, clear sounds of elvish singing and mirth drift pleasantly to your ears. It is night, and the tree tops of Caras Galadhon twinkle from a multitude of lamps.


Afternoon sun gleams down warmly from a pale blue sky. A soft breeze plays with tree branches, setting bells hung there to jingling softly and scattering shadows across the flags of the terrace. From the Mar above, soft laughter and happy voices drift down, mingling with the laughter and voices of the crowd gathered here.

Several long plain tables, wooden but covered with simple white cloths, stand beneath the towering mallorn trees. On each are bottles of wine (with more of like kind below if needed) and empty glasses. At one end sits a young elf, watching the crowd that ebbs and flows around the tables. Now and then, someone approaches her and leans down to whisper something in the youngster's ear. And with a bob of her curly head and a huge grin, she pulls a tablet from beneath her chair, makes a mark on it and stashes it again. A most important personage today, she is the keeper of the votes.


Standing near one table is a tall neatly dressed elf with long black hair. Lothdaimoth keeps one eye on the tables and those who pour, and another on the crowds. A silver pin shaped like a bow sparkles on his shirt, and long bare feet tap against the cool stones. From somewhere in the trees, cheerful bouncy music lilts - neither too soft to risk going unheard, nor too loud to overpower conversation. And above all, not too loud to interfere with proper tasting of the varied wines laid out here.


Though sunlight reigns beneath a canopy of gold, flaxen locks are all that it touches upon the lady who now enters; both argent eyes aged of millennia and the pale silk of her raiment speak of moonlight. A faint smile warms fair features of an otherwise wintry visage as Eryndae of Elrond's Miruvorthaeri lets her gaze fall from the Mellyrn above to the terrace below, the last steps of her ascent slowing gracefully.

After a moment's pause on the topmost stair, the elder vintner weaves through crowd towards the table, a pale hand lifted protectively to a left shoulder nearly hidden beneath burnished gold waves.


An elleth in the crowd lowers a glass from her mouth, already tasting a pale wine and licking a drop of gold from her lips. Copper curls jounce with each step as Caelwen strides languidly alongside the table, her fingertips tracing the edge, and her eyes jump from one bottle to another.


For one long moment a tall, mahoghany haired elleth lingers on a bottom step, breathing in the sunlight and music, and festival atmosphere of this place with a delighted, slow-blooming smile. With no further delay she makes what could only be described as a bound into the crowd, quickly scanning it for familiar faces. (Ailiell)


Atheliand walks into the room with Olathlinn beside him and he says, "Ahh, this must be the contest, no?"


Olathlinn smiles."Indeed, it seems to be!I thank you for getting me here!"Atheliand nods bowing and kissing her hand, "A pleasure of course."


Finding the dark-eyed sinda before Ailiell finds her, Dairwenraiel slips up to the older elleth's side with a grin. "I plan to try every single one if it is allowed. What are your own intentions?"


Among the swirling talking elves, Lothdaimoth's gaze lights on several he knows from afar and his smile widens. And as Eryndae draws near enough to speak to, he greets her with a small bow. "Mae govannen, mellon. I am glad to see you again." Lowering his voice, he continues, "The wines you entered are there, on that table." Black hair slides across his shoulders and is pushed back as he nods towards one particular white-draped table.


Glasiel approaches the gathering, and heads for the display of wines, looking them over. She nods greetings to this elf and that as she walks along.


Nearly as though she's in a whole different world, a tall elleth sits alone in a west corner of the terrace. A grey cloke adorns her slender figure, and here she sits; sits alone. A moment passes...and then another, she lightly slips from a glass on the table in front of her, rasing it slowly to her lips as she peers outward. Eyes, brown eyes dances all around, resting for a moment on many different faces. Something different than the rest lingers upon her. She says nothing, not even much of a movement does she make.


Upon reaching the table Eryndae finds Lothdaimoth, and a smile slowly blossoms. "Ah, mae govannen," she breathes, the eternal spring of the Golden Wood finding its way into her crystalline voice. "It has already been so long a time. Glad am I to have made the journey this year." Her eyes flash then to new arrivals she recognizes, a shadowed smile last to Ailiell and Dairwenraiel before she turns her focus to surveying the various wines. "And what of your craft, Lothdaimoth? Is there aught that we might sample of your making?"


Not used to be treated like that, Olathlinn blushes and giggles, turning her face toward the display. She seems to vanish in a dream. Odor are pleasant here as the elves surrounding her.Wondering a moment why she ever wanted to quit this wood, she suddenly think to Silivren and all her doubt desappears in a smiles."I wonder what she is doing right now, back in our new Homeland?" she mutters.


Caelwen nods and smiles as Glasiel passes near her, and abandons her first glass to beg a taste of the next one in line. A small amount of another gold wine is poured for her, and again the young Indiri raises a goblet to sip, eyes sharp.Hesitating briefly, Ailiell considers the young Dairwenraiel rather sternly. "All?" she asks before a grin quirks at the corners of her lips. "Aye, that is my intention as well," she concedes, laughter finally bubbling over. "For how should we judge fairly otherwise?" And with a sly wink, she goes to make good on her words, fully expecting the elleth to follow.


Atheliand winks at Olathlinn and then goes toward Lothdaimoth and Eryndae. He smiles at Eryndae, "Mae govannen, Eryndae, it's been long since we talked in Imladris." he turns to Lothdaimoth (overhearing his name told by eryndae), "Mae govannen, Lothdaimoth, I'm Atheliand. I was once a resident of the Golden Wood just before my brother died and I sought to see more people and also I've pondered the stories about the Hir Elrond. That was 500 years ago, now I return to Lorien for a short time before I return to my home. What is it you do, Lothdaimoth?"


Lothdaimoth's smile turns somewhat shy. "Mine is here." He waves towards the bottle on the table nearest where he stands. "I think it is not so good as the others, I have not had much practice. But the masters said that I might enter it, so it cannot be too bad either." And he turns towards Atheliand. "I'm glad to meet you. I am a Counsel in the Arnpand, and also I have just begun an apprenticeship as a vintner."


Dairwenraiel hesitates at the stern words, thought the uneasiness slips away at with Ailiell's laughter. The maiden does indeed follow at Ailiell with a smile of anticipation of her own.


Atheliand nods in amusement, "Very well, I am of the Imladris Guard, Thandir o Tirith Imladhrim. But to keep the evening lightened with music, I am also a Glirion o Imladris. If anyone cares for a song, I shall be most pleased to sing."Another lick at her lip, and Caelwen strides to the vote-taker with more confidence. A curly-haired elleth bows her head to another curly-haired elleth, and after a whisper is passed, they both smile and the Cennan moves back to slip into the crowd once more.


A light gait and merry smile mark the entrance of another edhel to the growing number upon the Flagged Terrace. This one is the Methenauth, Master Minstrel, clad all in green, as is his wont. His azure orbs espy his cousin at the wines, but the gaze is distracted, as is his path, and instead his step leads toward Glasiel. He gives a bow, saying, "Ah, I must congratulate you on your lovely performance at the contest. Though I did not learn your name. I am Methenauth o nos Laiquendi."


Behind the tables, servers who are never still bend and turn and pour.

"Yes, try some of this."

"Drink as much as you like, there is plenty."

"Would you like some more?" come their mingled voices. And wine splashes into glasses.


A maiden garbed in the blue and silver of House Aderthad slips around the back of the elves grouped at the table, dark hair held by a circlet laced with pearl streams down her back framing a pale high cheeked face almost severe in its austerity. A smile lights her eyes when she catches sight of another maiden - fiery haired with emerald eyes and she surreptitiously signs to her.


Despite her discretion Gilrowen also catches the attention of the Master of Ceremonies and she nods, pursing her lips and shrugging by way of apology.


"A fair day to you, Thandir," Eryndae replies with a subtle nod to Atheliand. Hands fair, though worn by many years of labors untold, hover gracefully over the assorted bottles. A discerning gaze settles last upon the one Lothdaimoth indicates, white silk whispering about her fingertips as the Miruvorthaer lifts a goblet in her delicate grasp. "And as for you, Counsel... if tastes of the Masters of your Lord and Lady be of equal finery for wine as for song, we shall surely not be disappointed." Thus with a faint murmur of laughter, the lady seeks to pour a half glass.


"Oh, do you sing? Have you an entry for one of the contests then?" Over Eryndae's shoulder, Lothdaimoth catches sight of Ailiell and grins at her before Gilrowen's apologetic shrug draws dark eyes towards her. But he is too far to say anything to the Miirdan save by shouting and so he contents himself with raising an eyebrow enquiringly; and then returns his attention to Atheliand.


Atheliand raises an eyebrow and says, "I'm afraid not. I am an excellent singer and wish to participate in this contest, but how?"


Humming softly to herself, Ailiell shrewdly considers the colorful bottles, lifting an empty glass undecidedly. Moving lazily along the table, she lingers over a pale selection and begs a quarter glass of an attendant. Lifting it to the sunlight --almost as though she knows what she is looking for-- she comes eye to eye with Lothdaimoth and grins in return. "Mae govannen! I trust your work will not go too swiftly to delicate heads...?"


Glasiel works her way slowly along the table, carefully checking out each entry.


Dairwenraiel tastes each vintage, or well, samples. There's little of deep consideration in the ethell's appreciation. The attendants seems to suspect her youth and are quite fugal with the amount they offer. The maiden drinks one offering then moves to the next. The Gilimiros is rewarded with a pleased smile. "oh, I like this one. I like the sweetness." Seems the poetic gift of description was not bestowed on this lass. But the maiden's enjoying herself all the same.


Although he tries to hide it under casual seeming, Lothdaimoth's gaze goes ever and again to Eryndae as she acquires a glass of his own entry, and a little hint of anxiousness lurks in his dark eyes. "I think," he says to Atheliand slowly, "That you can just go to the contest and tell the one who will judge that you wish to compete. I know there will be another soon, but I do not sing often and I am afraid I have forgotten just when."

Ailiell's question brings a laugh. "Of course not.. but when were the heads of the firstborn delicate?" Both eyebrows shoot skyward in amused and teasing question.


Atheliand smiles and says, "Where may I find one of these judges? I haven't done a contest in over 200 years."


Lothdaimoth looks somewhat at a loss. "I do not..." he begins, at the same time looking across the crowded terrace, when his eyes alight on Methenauth. "There," he says with satisfaction. "Methenauth yonder is who you should speak with, I am sure he will know."


A slow, long nod and wry grin answers Lothdaimoth long before Ailiell speaks, being rather occupied with a sharp mouthful of wine. The elleth winces slightly ere she swallows, covering the moment with a soft laugh. "True enough, and yet my own has been convinced of its fragility before." Setting aside her glass hastily, she reaches for another, looking up happily over the crowd.


Gently inserting herself into the elves crowded along the table Gilrowen stands smiling vaguely between two visitors drinking their wine with deep seriousness. When she reaches the destination selected well before she makes her way there - she smiles signing to the attendant for a small glass by holding her fingers a bare distance apart. She murmurs, "Thank you, mellon."

Like others around her she lifts her glass and swirls the golden liquid with a critical eye before taking a sip and holding it in her mouth. She swallows with a pleased expression and leans over the table to confirm her impression, "That was the Glorinlas." Turning slightly from the table she holds her glass up to Lothdaimoth, catches his attention this time with purpose and salutes, bowing her head and smiling.


Atheliand nods and thanks him and then walks toward Methenauth and then he asks, "hello, I'm a Glirion of Imladris, and would ask if I could compete in this Poem Contest."


Blue glass pours forth rich gold liquid, reflected as faint yellow sparks in silvered eyes as Eryndae lifts her glass to the sun. Admiring its hue against the leaves of the canopy, Eryndae comments only after careful study. "The clarity is to be admired," she muses, half to herself, although her smile flickers aside soon after to Lothdaimoth. A sip soon follows, then an invigorated smile. She stands aside, quietly following the discourse between Lothdaimoth and Atheliand, the arrival of Ailiell and Dairwenraiel is noted over the rim of her goblet.


Glasiel seems suddenly to realize that she's being addressed, and she turns away from the wines to smile at Methenauth. "Mae govannen, Methenauth. I'm truly honored to have been counted in your company in that contest, and I have looked forward to meeting you, as well. I am Glasiel, Olvaristdil a Nethril a Linnor o Imladris. Though my first home was here, beneath the mellyrn, and here my parents still reside, also o nos Laiquendi." She inclines her head gracefully, holding out her hand in greeting.


The Malindaer vintage is 'tasted' by spring-green eyed maiden last. Dairwenraiel's eyes widen at the taste, or perhaps more accurately at it's effect. Smothering a giggle behind a small hand, the elleth comments. "This must be the one you spoke of." She procures a glass and holds it with such glee her demeanor edges on greedy. The small maiden's form folds to perch against one of the large trees that border the terrace.


Soft though Eryndae's words may be, Lothdaimoth catches them, as well as the swift smile and he smiles eagerly in response. When a break in the conversation allows, he bends his head towards her. "What do you think?" And then suddenly abashed, adds hastily, "I do not ask which you would vote for, only..." and stops, an embarressed flush tinting pale cheeks with crimson.


A sudden, cautious glance darts towards Dairwenraiel, tinged with deep amusement. Stepping back slightly alongside the maiden, Ailiell murmurs, "... ... ... ..., ... ...?" Taking up a glass containing, apparently, a draught of sunlight, Ailiell lifts it expectantly, and sips. Practically purring her appreciation, she asks, 'The Gilimiros?'


A smile broadens on Eryndae's face, one not well bridled beneath the serenity inherent in her manner. At length, she speaks words carefully thought out. "It is most delightful, Lothdaimoth! Your masters deserve the credit for a fine recommendation, and you for the wine itself," she lilts, voice kept low. "The balance is delightful, as is the aroma... herbs are not easily included so effectively in the base. I wish to hear more of its making, be it not a secret." Argent eyes invite further words, though what weight her gaze may carry is softened by her smile.


Rose petals bloom in Dairwenraiel's cheek as her lips pull up into a sheepish grin. "Yes well, it's lovely is it not?" She cuddles the glass. "They would only let me have a full glass of one, so I chose this one." The maiden acts as though there were no guile in her choice, only the most innocent of intentions.


Lothdaimoth's smile grows even wider and the embarressed flush turns to one of pleasure. "Thank you. It is no secret, I would be glad to tell you whatever you wish." As if only just now realizing that among all these chattering drinking elves, he still has empty hands, he reaches out for a glass. "The vines you gave me grow well. If you wish, I could show you where they have been planted?" His voice goes up a little in question.


The miirdan returns her glass to the attendant and this time takes a moment to study the wines before lighting on one she may have recently encountered, "The Malindaer, please."

She looks at the crowd listening to the contented hum of conversation, clink of glass and laughter rising in high notes over their heads as the attendent pours her glass.

Pleasure is evident in her faint smile and the tilt of her head as she again examines the wine, swirling it in her glass, she tastes and then tastes again to confirm her impression. Moving through the crowd she searches for a face familiar to her and finds two at once - Glasiel and Methenauth.


The Laiquende Minstrel takes the offered hand a moment in greeting, a wider smile wrought upon his lips. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Glasiel. And Laiquendi as well? Doubly a pleasure," calls Methenauth, tone light and melodic. "I have not heard so much of Laiquendi in the Valley. Who here is your kin? Verily, I should know them."

But the azure gaze of Methenauth is turned slightly, to the second approaching. The Master grins a bit, words falling lightly. "Well met, Glirion o Imladris. Have you a name by which I should call you? And you may compete in a poem competition, though this current is of wines." A quick wink and he speaks again. "There are still some contests of poem and song to be held; fret not."


Olathlinn awake from her dreamer state she was drive in it short after Atheliand kissed her hand, she is still blushing, althought she is not quite reminding why. She looks around, completly lost as the elves around here have evoluate while her own time have stops. The elisthir tread toward Glasiel, taking a glasses of an unknow wine from a tray. "Mae govannen!" she said in general addressing the group around the herbmistress.


"It would do me well to see them, indeed," Eryndae replies, delight lacing the melody of her words, if faintly. "But first, there is much more drink to be enjoyed. I have tried one of many, and already the day wears on!" A light chuckle and a knowing smile leave Lothdaimoth to search the table, the lady again seeking to sample that which strikes her fancy.


Guileless, Dairwenraiel is not. Ailiell chuckles as she considers the elleth, before losing herself once more in her own glass. "Truly, I have never found a wine more to my liking." A pause as she considers her words, belatedly lowering her voice. "Oh dear... I do hope that didn't carry."


Smiling, Glasiel nods a greeting to Olathlinn before answering the Minstrel. "My parents are healers, Ellenna and Finedhel?" She sips her glass of wine, and smiles at the other elves gathered around.


Dairwenraiel smiles at Ailiell's admission, nodding her agreement. She glances about as well then lifts her slender shoulders in dismissal. "If it did? Complimenting the creator is not an insult, is it?" She seems honestly unsure but then takes another sip of the precious liquid cradled in her glass and ceases to care very much.


"I will take you myself," Lothdaimoth promises as Eryndae walks away. Ailiell's words, not quiet, catch his ear and he grins at her. "I will never tell, mellon," he says solemnly, a teasing glint lighting up his eyes.


A definite flush rising in her fair face, Ailiell chuckles quietly before clearing her throat. "Carried, I see." Searching Lothdaimoth's face briefly, she leans in conspiratorially. "I have my favorite. Might it be yours, I wonder?"


Atheliand smiles at Methenauth and then walks back to Lothdaimoth and says, "How fares Lorien nowa-days?


A sudden knot of servers collects behind one of the tables, and heads, dark and light bow together. One peels away from the group and runs lightly up the ladder into the Mar Van Tyalieva while the others return to their pouring.


Silently smiling, the glindis smells her wine a long time before deciding to sink her lips in the liquid. Between to polite sips, Olathlinn whisper to Glasiel, a spark in her eyes:"Have you the occasion to see them?" Her voice is so low, that she cant know if she hear here.


The pale, dark haired maiden stops short and looks back at the table glimmering in the sunlight before continuing on towards the newly made Master and her new acquaintance.A nod and a brief curtsey for the elves in the group around him and Gilrowen waits for the opportune moment, the smile sweeps over her face and she quickly flits in lighting a peck on his cheek, "Congratulations again." Standing back, she quickly casts her eyes down the colour mounting to her brows, "Both of you."


"Ah," says the Counsel with a chuckle. "But I am a little biased, you see. For one of them is of my own making and so I think it is my favorite..." He winks at her before looking down at the glass half-filled with deep red wine in his hand. "And to be truthful, I have not yet had a chance to sample them all."

Turning towards Atheliand, his smile lessens, his face growing a little grave. "Well enough, mellon. Within the borders all is peaceful." A small shrug wrinkles his shirt briefly. "Of the borders themselves let us not speak now, for this occasion is one of cheer and need not be marred by tales of woe."


"Your handiwork, I meant," Ailiell laughs, sipping once more at the golden wine. "But a judicious response, nonetheless. I will not worry it out of you."

Her smile fading slightly upon his words to Atheliand, the healer nods decisively. "Let us speak of nothing but light and laughter, mellyn."


A single trip around the table finds Eryndae now with two glasses in hand - one filled with a deep red, and the other of a similar hue, but darker. Peering intently between the two, her eyes lift from their study only as she finds herself back at Lothdaimoth's side, Ailiell, Atheliand, and others now nearer than last they were.


And Lothdaimoth's laughter joins Ailiell's. "Ah, I misunderstood your question, mellon. But still, I think I will not tell." With a grin, he raises his glass in salute and takes a small sip. His eyes go distant as he considers the flavors, rolling them from side to side in his mouth before swallowing.


"Then, well met again, Atheliand," says Methenauth with a nod. A cerulean gaze trails his form leaving the group, but soon his eyes turn back to the other Laiquende beside. "Ah, Ellenna and Finedhel. Indeed, fine healers are they..."Yet the swift approach is not lost in the minstrel's gaze. "Mae govannen, Gilrowen," says he, a bit quieter, a somewhat odd gaze sent toward the Sinda as perhaps he fights against a more openly odd glance. "Thank you, mellon, for your congratulations..."


"HmmHmm!"the elisthir is delighted. "taste like a long winter night!"escape from the lips of Olathlinn as she shivers.


Atheliand pours himself a bottle of wine and then he takes a sip and moves it around his mouth, and then he swallows softly and said, "My! This cools the much tampered and hottened souls of the elves!"


Glasiel beams with pride as her parents are spoken well of, and nods again, stepping away to further examine the wines and allow the others to converse.


The exchange between Ailiell and Lothdaimoth is observed through curious green eyes by Dai. Her head tilts to one side and can only mean one thing. The little maiden is thinking, never bodes well under any circumstance. Worse portent yet is the sly grin the curls up rose lips. A joke only funny to the one amuse brings Dai to smothered giggling.


"And that is fair, I suppose." Ailiell grins, affording Dai a deeply wary glance and sidesteps her, wandering towards the end of the table. A whispered word is exchanged with the curly-headed elleth, and she smiles up to Eryndae and Lothdaimoth once ere she slips from the crowd.


Her eyebrows rise inadvertently as she finds herself looking into the Master's azure gaze and she shuts her mouth quickly when she realizes that it had fallen open. Gilrowen just as quickly smiles, holding up her glass and then tossing off the last swallow steps back and bumps into an ellon crossing behind her. "Oh, oh excuse me." she says reddening even more. Again holding her glass up she backs away, "Ah, I would taste the red now. Excuse me." She turns and walks toward the table.


Althea climbs the final steps up to the terrace and pauses as she takes in the large crowd of quendi gathered there. Then she spots the wine table and smiles, much now explained. She moves towards the crowd, pausing by Lothdaimoth with a greeting "A fine turn out I see."


Atheliand sets down the glass and says, "I'm afraid I must depart. I hope we meet again. Namarie." and he walks off.


A sip from this glass, a sip from the other, and back to the first with a furrowed brow. "Hmmm," is all Eryndae speaks at first, the thoughts that circle behind pale features spoken naught beyond the sparkle of argent eyes. But Ailiell's smile is returned at length, and the vintner follows her fleeting gaze back to Lothdaimoth. "Even with my own vintage among those to be judged, I find it hard to choose a favorite," she claims, Dairwenraiel's disposition now noted with a curiously quirked eyebrow. "I say, mellon... I must try what you have tasted!"


"I like this red," Lothdaimoth comments, to no one in particular and takes another sip. The lowering sun slides behind the tops of the tallest trees, casting ever lengthening shadows across the terrace. Above, the sky is still a cloudless blue.


From the Mar, the server who had left a short time before reappears, clambering back down the ladder laden with a box. Setting it down, he opens the top and sets out a few more glasses.


The Counsel swallows hastily as Althea greets him and grins at her. "Yes, all seems to be going very well. You must try the wines, they are all very good. At least so I understand... I have not tried them all as yet."


Althea chuckles softly "Oh, I shall Lothdaimoth, I shall." She turns and gazes at the vistors and smiles "It is nice to see so many of our kinsmen gather here in the Golden Wood is it not?"


Ascending the steps to the terrace flagged, Bachelor o Raavindonserke pushes his cowl back, letting Anor's light shimmer upon his hair golden. Quick eyes scan the scene for a visage known to him, and his orbs of sea grey alight upon Methenauth, cousin to Bregedalagos. Slow strides do carry him to where his cousin stands, taking his ease. A sparkle gleams as his destination he approaches, slowing his steps, letting rich tones roll from his mouth, "Mae Govannen, mellyn." A nod and smile he gives to the ebony-haired Master, his cloak swirling in the slight breeze.


The glass is empty so fast, that Olathlinn is surprised.:"Well, dont do like a dwarf her young lady!" she comment at her own behavior. Seeing Gilrowen passing near by to fetch another trade, she smiles and nods to her a greeting. She stay in the shadows of the group, she clear her throat and tentativly addressing another greeting that chimes this time so clear that hearing her own voice make the glindis blushes.


Moving back along the table, Gilrowen releases a sigh and shakes her head in bafflement at the last few minutes. Murmuring to herself she says, "It was probably the wine." Catching the attendants notice she indicates a deep, burgundy red in a pale blue bottle and nods her head for him to pour. She takes the glass and again inadvertently looks over in Methenauth's direction, she ducks her head when he early catches sight of her. Glass in hand, she makes her way slowly over towards the Council.


"Yes." For a minute, it seems this is all Lothdaimoth has to say, but after another slow drink as he looks across the crowd, he goes on. "Especially to see again those I have met before. Mae govannen, Gilrowen, I am glad you could come."


The hasty step of yet another find the Flagged Terrace, the slight shake of straight, brown tresses accompanying. Nearer to the wine table strides the vintner Athrelei, dark eyes taking in the colours of the different bottles. To the side her eyes skew, finding the form of the Counsel-vintner, and they narrow slightly, a frow crossing her brow as verdant skirts swish slightly in a step closer.


A nod the Master lends to the retreating Aderthad, his azure gaze trailing her still even as she moves away. Only the call of his cousin moves the eyes of Methenauth, then settling upon the Bachelor's form. "Mae govannen, cousin," he says with a nod, eyes then moving to Olathlinn. "Well met, mellon. Have you fared well since we met at the Opening Ceremonies?" His words are complimented with a smile.


Althea nods politly to Gilrowen "Mae govannen mellon. How does the evening find you?"


The miirdan gives the Minister an even deeper nod of respect, "Me govannen, Althea. I fare very well" holding up her glass and smiling with a nod for the Counsel,"indeed, thank you."


A scowl, slight though it be, seems a bit out of place among the merry elves gathered here. Lothdaimoth's smile falters a little, perplexed as its weight falls on him, and he looks around to see the cause of his sudden unease. Athrelei's unbending figure brings a return of the lost grin. "Mae govannen, master," he calls. "Have you tried the wine yet?"


A simple smiles and nods is her answer. Respect ring in her voice when Olathlinn asks to the Master:"Yourself?".


Althea nods to both Loth and Gilrowen "If you will excuse me for a moment, I belive I will fetch myself a glass of wine.


Content in her cups, Dairwenraiel watches the gathering, nursing the glass of golden liquid. Oh yes, joy in hand for the young elleth. And with one so slight and young it takes little joy to make her happy. Her chin drops onto one knee as the maiden sits against one of the trees about the terrace, one leg folded against her chest.


The amusement - or concern - that lines Eryndae's features as she regards Dairewenraiel is short-lived, for soon she has resumed the simple pleasures of tasting the various wines. Whichever one had filled the glass in her right hand, now drained, brings a near-pucker to pale lips, a smile soon to follow.


"Of course." Lothdaimoth turns his attention back to the Indiri and smiles before looking to Gilrowen again. "Have you tried them all, cousin?"


Her nose is too deep in her glass for her to do more than try to shake her head no. She raise her gray eyes to those of her cousin and smiles, "No, I have one more I would like to taste before taking my leave. And this one," holding her glass high before taking a delicate sip, "is new for me. It is much bolder and rounder than what we are accustomed to here I think."


Where once arms were held relaxed at her sides, now the arms of Athrelei fold across her chest, her frown not softening despite the Counsel's smile. "Nay, I have not. I have but arrived." Deep brown eyes return to the line of bottles upon the table before her voice rings clear again, the tone a bit commanding and not lacking shortness in the slightest. "Which would you recommend tasting first, Lothdaimoth?"


"Quite well, lady," replies Methenauth to Olathlinn with a nod. "I thank you for asking. Have you yet tried the wines? I have been so engrossed in conversation that I have not made even made it to the table! Will you accompany me over there?" A hand motions toward the wine table. "Will you come too, cousin?"


Althea takes a glass and sips happily as she looks at the bottles. She glances at Athrelei and nods towards Melidaer "This is a good one, I would recomend it."


Smiling at the words of Methenauth, Bregedalagos comes to, as if startled out of reverie. "I would gladly accompany you, yet I came here only to seek out Ilmathen, for I much desire to speak with her. If you see her soon, please send word to me. I shall be around the Naith." Bowing slightly to his cousin, Bregedalagos turns on his heel, and strides out, his hair rippling out behind him.


Olathlinn is playing with her glasses,distracted in her carefull examination of the elves surrounding her, surely searching for feature in them that can remind her of an acquaintance. As Methenauth answer, she looks at him, still with a quiet smiles."I taste the white..." then she nods at the idea to have an other glass and to follow him. She wait for Methenauth to lead the way.


An empty goblet is set down on a server's tray with utmost care, leaving Eryndae with one of her former two. Silvered blue peers over the rim of her goblet, deep purple-red wine lingering stubbornly on her lips for a moment. Fluid strides swathed in the gentle drape of white silk bring the Master Vintner of Imladris to Olathlinn's elbow, a gentle tap there conveying a quiet hello. "Of white there are many, mellon. Will you taste them all?"


Lothdaimoth grins unrepentantly at Athrelei. "I would recommend my own, of course," he says cheerfully and then turns a little as Althea mentions one wine by name. "They are all good, in truth. All that I have tasted." he ammends and walks along the tables himself to change that. A new glass is picked and held up to the light, and he returns to stand beside Gilrowen.


Althea finishes her glass of wine and sets it down on the table. With a bow she smiles at the gathering and slips off


Glass in hand, Gilrowen stands in a reverie, one hand toying with the pearl pendant at her neck. Her eyes glide over the assembly and she finds herself looking at a tall, well-shaped ellon until she realizes who it is and quickly looks elsewhere. At Lothdaimoth's return, she asks looking out over the milling crowd of tasters, "How many do you think have come Loth?"


Her eyes was still looking to Methenauth, spy if he will move, but as Eryndae touches her, she turns to bows:"Oh, pardonne me I was planning to greet you, but since I was having matter to discuss with Glasiel, I went here." She grins to the vitner:"I can do that, but my tast will be impair if I had too much, dont you think? Which one is ours?


Meriden walks along the golden roadway, happening on the wine festival. His steps are languid and quiet, long hair flowing gently with the pale breeze. Pale eyes scan the crowd, a light sigh at seeing no familiar faces.


"Mmm." Lothdaimoth looks around again. "I don't know," he says at last, turning his glass absently in his fingers. "I have not been watching, but I did see someone go above for more glasses."


"It warrants no pardon, mellon Olathlinn," Eryndae chimes in crystalline tones. "I am glad to see you well." The Miruvorthaer too looks well, it seems, if for no other reason than the chance to partake of that which has brought joy to so many of her years. "Modest tastes is what I would recommend. I would not reveal mine own vintages to a friend, however, for I would wish your tastes to be your guide. Pass up no bottle though, for all are uniquely exquisite." That said, Eryndae looks back to the table, eyes narrowed with focus skimming over each bottle, making a note in her mind. Lips purse as she considers, a smile spreading at last before she bends down to speak to the young curly-headed elleth at the end of the table.


A new arrival is noticed (how among the ebb and surge of the throng, it is impossible to tell), and an elf all dressed in white steps up to Meriden and murmurs something in his ear, pointing through the crowd to the barely visible tables.


A nod the minstrel lends to his cousin. "Aye, when I see Andeldaiel, I shall be sure to tell her that you seek her." That is the extent of the words of Methenauth, and he smiles toward Olathlinn, who seems to have found a familiar personnage. Then his light gait begins toward the table, azure orbs looking at the row of wines. Thoughtfully, he casts a glance to the side, though it catches the figure of a certain elleth, and swift the gaze is returned to the table. He takes up a glass, the wine a reddish-violet colour.


The dark eyes of Athrelei soften not, gaze moving from the Counsel to the table again. With a slight 'hmph', she chooses a goblet with a pale yellow wine, taking a sip as her hardened gaze shifts to Lothdaimoth again.


With a cajoling smile Gilrowen asks, "Would you consider bringing back a taste of that red in the green bottle if you go back to the table Loth?" She holds her empty glass up and tilts her head with mock pleading.


Meriden nods to the elf softly with a gentle smile and a murmured reply. He moves towards the table, easily shifting through the crowds. He glances at each wine and chooses to try the third first, pouring himself a glass. Turning to face the crowd to search the faces from a new perspective, he raises the crystal to his lips and tastes the wine.


Laughing a little, Lothdaimoth takes the jeweler's glass and winds his way through the tables, fetching up beside Meriden. Both his own glass and Gilrowen's are held out, and he grins at the edhel beside him. "Mae govannen. How do you like it?"


Meriden smiles a bit at Lothdaimoth. "Mae govannen. It is very good, the aftertaste is surely angelic." He offers in a soft breeze-like voice.


Moving to the table, the elisthir longly hesitate, she have no idea on the wine she tasted before as she just grab a glass without looking."Would it be considere impolite if I take a glass of each, take a sib, but not finish them?" Olathlinn asks with embarrasment face to her lack of knowledge in that matters.


While they have talked and laughed and tried out the wines, the sun has slipped lower and lower into the west. And now the once blue sky is brushed with much brighter colors. Orange changes to gold to peach to rose, catching brilliantly on a solitary cloud and then fading fast to purple. And a few stars begin to twinkle brightly above them. Quiet rustling from the trees precede the flaring of small jewel-colored lamps that shine among the leaves like tiny earthbound echoes of the stars above.


"I would like to stay and talk," Lothdaimoth says after taking a sip of his own, his eyes widening with pleasure. "But I must return this glass to its proper owner. Perhaps when you have tried them, I will see you across there?" He nods towards Gilrowen before starting back.


Dairwenraiel folds her other leg against her, both pressed against her chest. The toe of each boot lifts and drops in an alternating rhythm as eyes full of childish boredom scan the crowd. And boredom is never good for the young elleth as it gives her mind free rein to plot.


Eryndae rises once more, sharing a knowing grin with young elleth before regarding Olathlinn once more in quiet aside. "Ask for but a sip of each, mellon. The stewards shall surely see that little will go to waste of such fine vintage." With these final sentiments to the Elisthir, Eryndae slips through the crowd to find Lothdaimoth once more. "Tis been a fine afternoon, mellon. I hope few days shall pass before you are able to show me those vines." Thus with a smile that shines through more in her eyes than upon her lips, Eryndae turns to depart, leaving nothing but an empty wine glass as she fades into the deepening dusk.


"No, no!" The elleth behind the table laughs happily. "That is why they are here, mellon. Here, try this one first." She hands a half-full glass to Olathlinn. "When you are done, give it to him." An airy hand waves towards an elf with a tray.


Meriden nods softly to Lothdaimoth. "I will see to it." He downs the rest of his glass with ease and shifts to try another, pouring himself a glass of the fourth bottle.


"I will look for you," Lothdaimoth says to Eryndae. "It will bring me great pleasure to show you my plantings." He watches her leave, a smile still on his face, and hands the glass to Gilrowen rather absently.


"That..." the servitor leans over to check the bottle, her hair sliding across her face. Shaking it back with a grin, she looks back at Olathlinn. "That is the Darthacaran. I will not tell you who made it.." A rougish wink and she turns to pour another glass. Red wine splashes against the crystal sides.


The glass in the hand, she smells and sample it. A grins come in her face."Sorry!" she blushes, trying to hide her reaction...she put the glass away, but change her mind after it bloom in her mouth. "Well..." she sips again in it, already looking for the next she will taste.


Almost as absently, Gilrowen takes the glass and tastes it without much attention. The first swallow brings her back to herself and she tastes again. A third swallow elicits a tilt of the head and she goes to the table to look at the bottle.


Meriden hmms gently as he finishes the tasting them all, and elects to pour himself another glass of the third, that being his choice of vote. He moves to Lothdaimoth and offers a bow to those around him. "Mae govannen. The Malthensuth is truely wounderful." He nods to himself, trying to make conversation.


*tap* *tap* *taptaptap* White stones bounce down the steps closest to Dairwenraiel. She watches each stone bound down the steps out of view with a bit of perverse satisfaction. As the last pebble tumbles to it's doom from her small hands, the maiden looks about for more.


In mid-swallow, Lothdaimoth can do nothing except smile for a second. "The Malthensuth.." he repeats softly then, a tiny drawing together of black eyebrows betokening inward rummaging through memory. "Oh yes." Illumination comes with a dawning smile. "Yes, it is very good."


Olathlinn looks then to the other red aside the Darthacaran, she takes a glasses of Gilimiros. Suddenly her attention is get by Dairwenraiel. She as seen her before, but the chain of event prevent her to join the young elleth." I can talk while tasting, if you want, or..." she sips in the glass. :"We can race toward the camp after I finish with that!" she winks."I will be slower!"


Gilnaurien walks slowly inot teh gathering, wondering what to do, but simply enjoying the light exercise. Drawn by the sound of speech, she stands on the edges of the crowd, keen eyes seeking for a familir face. "Olathlinn, mellon!" She calls. "You are here too?" She waves a slender hand so Olath will see her.


Spring green eyes look up at Olathlinn and Dairwenraiel grins weakly. She shrugs and lies. "I am fine." With one of the smooth quick movements the young take for granted, the elleth is on her feet. She plucks at the hem of her doublet, glancing about. "I am beginning to regret not bringing a gown." She whispers to loudly to herself.


Meriden smiles a bit at Loth and nods, nursing his glass. "I am Meriden." He offers in a gentle greeting. "Squire of the Lorien Order."


She stands near the table and scrutinizes the bottle, nodding softly to herself. Looking up at the attendant she smiles as she hands him her glass and walks to the judges table. She leans over the list, brushing her long dark hair back and then makes her final decision. Whispering her decision, she looks back over her shoulder at her cousin as he moves through the crowd.


Vote cast, Gilrowen catches up with Lothdaimoth as he moves through the crowd and tagging him by the elbow says a bit breathlessly, "Thank you, Loth for organizing this. I am so glad to have tasted your newer vintages, they are becoming distinguished."


This one, she finish it and take another glasses of the same one."Hummm. May be I shall cut it a bit with a sip of white?" she keep the glasses in her hand and takes another in her other hand. Cut like a little one, the hand in a cookies jar by Gilnaurien arrival, Olathlinn chuckle on her glass, projecting it on an edhel. She feel terrebly embarrassed. "I am terribly sorry!" she offers to the other edhel that laughs, rather. The elleth is relief."Hi Gilnaurien!Did you have taste those?", hearing Dair comment....she is now dizzy, not knowing to where put her attention. She glance around.


Athrelei makes a round of the table, sampling each though she knows one must belong to the Counsel-vintner, at whom still she has not lightened her expression. Finally after tasting at least a sip of each, she makes her way to the vote-recorder, arms still crossed, and tells her choice to the elleth there.


The Master minstrel, as well, makes a tour of all the wines, taking a sip of this one, a greater taste of that one. But his gaze comes upon the miirdan as she comes toward the table. A smile is lent her, the scene from earlier seemingly already forgotten (perhaps because of the wine or perhaps other matters busy his mind). He nods to her and goes to the vote-recorder, telling his vote. Then it is but with nods to those he recognizes, that he leaves from the terrace, with a light gait akin to the one he entered with.


Gilnaurien smiles at Olath and hesitantly moves closer. "No, I haven't. I was just wandering around ant thought I would see what was happening here. DO I interrupt something?" she asks, mostly adressing Olath but directed at any who want to answer. Sh e cuks her head shyly.


"Lothdaimoth o nos Raavindonserke. Gwaepedir o Arnpand, apprentice vintner en Gwaith-i-Thain. It is a pleasure to meet you, mellon." Lothdaimoth rattles off his titles with a little chuckle. "I'm glad you enjoyed it, cousin. And thank you.." Again, his face turns a little red, with pleasure at the compliment. "You are leaving now?"


Meriden smiles warmly to Loth. "Mae govannen, Mellon." He glances over at Gilnaurien a moment, noticing she's sort of in the same boat as he, not knowing many... He glances back to Loth softly. "Excuse me a moment." He turns and heads Giln's way, offering a light bow when reaching her, more of the nod of the head. "Mae govannen."


Gilnaurien starts a bit, and then offers a low bow to the edhle. "Mae govannen, lord. Have we yet met?" She fingers the sapphire and silver armband on her uper arm nervously. "I am called Gilnaurien, thandir o Imladris" She offers a hand, hopoing she doesn't look as nervous as she feels.


Meriden smiles warmly. "Please, do not call me lord, Gilnaurien. Nae, we have not met, I do not think... I'm Meriden, Squire of the Lorien order. Mae govannen, Mellon." He offers with a soft tone.


Still blushing over her last /accomplishment/, Olathlin move on one feet. She giggles nervously and lend both glasses on the table. "I am sorry Gilnaurien, you are not interupting, but I have to get back in the camp. Please do enjoy the wine." she point openly toward the table. "I just make my choice." she turns back to Gilnaurien,"And then you vote!" but the attention of the elleth is still upon another one and no more on Olathlinn, so the elisthir slowly moves away. "Do you race with me Dair?" she waits for her to answers.


Gilnaurien bows again. "It is an honour to meet you, Meriden." She hangs her head, her delicate ears reddening a little at the edges. "I am sorry. I come originally from Mithlond and my mother was of noble birth and taught me always to be formal." She flicks an ear towards Olath. "This is a wine tasting or wine festival?" she asks, the wquetion danglging halfwya between olth and Meriden, open to either.


Thileithel comes down the stairs to the Flagged Terrace. He has spied the group present from farther up the stairs and as he reaches the bottom, the Elf stops and glances around. He smiles as his eyes find a few familiar faces. Beginning his walk again, Thileithel moves in the direction of Olathlinn.


Meriden shrugs gently. "I believe it is a wine festival." He offers a warm smile. "It is a deep honor to meet thee as well, Gilnaurien. It never hurts to be formal, though I hold no title as lord." He sips at his wine, offering her a soft smile, his hair blowing gently in the wind, some blowing in his eyes, but he seems so peaceful in the soft breeze.


But the young girl who sits nearby chimes in eagerly. "Tis both, mellon! Both tasting and festival. Taste them all and then tell me which you like the best, and I write it down." She waves her pad proudly. "And there are prizes for the one that gets the most votes."


Giving his elbow a final squeeze, Gilrowen, smiling and slightly flushed from the wine lightly walks back across the terrace and wends her way down the stairs.


Upon Thileitiel approaching, Olathlinn blushes more.Have he seen what she just did...she wishes not. She bows of the head."Mae govannen Thileitiel!"


Dairwenraiel looks down the stairs. There lies an eve more abysmal boredom. Dai looks to Olathlin. "I am going to see if I might have another glass before I leave." She grins. "Maybe two. If Tiramen were about he would give me more." Slender shoulders lift in a shrug.


Gilnaurien almost laughs. "This is good. Something to take my mind of what I saw on the way hither." She eyes the wine curiously, then looks down at the little girl. "Oh indeed? I will certainly tell you. In Mithlond I was considered to have a good sense of taste." Her eyes return to the edhel. "What would you reccomend, Meriden? My tastes run more to the sweet and mild, though after what I have seen, a bit of something strong and harsh may do me good."


Thileithel notices Olathlinn's blushing, but ignores it. "Greetings, elleth. Are you enjoying the Golden Wood as much as you look to be?"


Lothdaimoth smiles after the jeweler. "Namarie," he calls softly, and then turns his attention over the thinning crowds. His glass, the last of all the wines to be tasted, is held at an angle in long nimble fingers.


Meriden smiles warmly to Gilnaurien. "I would strongly suggest the Malthensuth, a very good vintage." He offers in a soft tone. "'Tis what I nurse, currently." He softly salutes her with his glass.


"More after..." she lets her answer incomplete in word, but a spark in her eyes does the work to say it loud. Event that she do not want to talk about. She smiles and slowly her face return to a more whiter color. She looks to her uncle from head to toes, reassure as he seems well.:"And I saw Palanamra!" Olathlinn beams when talking about her dad."That is the best reward I get so far! And you?"


Gilnaurien smiles again, hoping the lingering sorrow in her eyes is not too obvious, but she knoews they are a light gray rather than their normal sparkling silver. "I am a stranger to Lothlorien's excellence and to protocol here. Would you show me?" She asks lightly, again her ears going red at the edges in her shame at look so silly.


Thileithel nods. "It is always a great pleasure to see one's kin after long separations. I tend to forget how many of our kin have settled here."


Lesser stars now shine above, the fading colors of sunset no longer bright enough to overpower them, and a cool evening breeze sets the colored lanters to swaying. Squares of yellow light mark out the terrace, streaming from the windows of the Mar, and little jewel-like circles dance across those who still stand here.


After a moment longer, Lothdaimoth begins to make his way towards the Imladhrim guests, stopping just at the edge of one small group and waiting for an opportunity to speak without interrupting.


Meriden smiles and leads her over to the table quietly and gently pours her a glass, handing it to her, reclaiming his own. "Here ye go, my lady." he offers.


Dairwenraiel sidles up the table with a casual air. Flippant even. She points to the malindaer vintage. There is a big production about how there is little meaning to a second glass. Ah no. Just wine. This act would be more convincing if she didn't look so triumphant when she's rewarded with a glass of the precious golden liquid. The maiden practically dances back to her previous location along the border of the terrace. One small hand shields the cup as though the ill gotten prize might be taken away.


Olathlinn nods to Thileithel affirmation."I was about to leave to retire in my tent, but I am curious, will you participate in any competition while here that I can come to encourage you?"


acceptin g the galss of sparkling red liquid eagerly, Gilnaurien studies it, nting the bloodred clarity. For a moment her eyes darken again, and a shadow passes over her delicate, strong face. Then she raises the goblet in a salute, then drains it in a long draught, licking a drop from her lip.. but her mind is far from the exceelnt taste of the wine right now. She brushes her forehead with her free hand, wishing it would be as easy to wipe away the shadowy memories.


Meriden watches her quietly, eyes showing a soft, genuine concern. He leans in softly to whisper gently.


Dairwenraiel's argument and subsequent gleeful look don't go unnoticed. Over the rim of his cup as he drinks, Lothdaimoth's dark eyes crinkle with amusement. And when she sits down near him, and he has finished his sip, he slides one step along. "It is quite good, is it not? Which did you get this time?"


"I think not. But at least Faerlin has won the contest she entered. We have much to be proud of." Thileithel smiles.


Leaning over so cloesly that her breath is warm on the edhel's cheek she whispers softly, so only he can hear. "Not pain of old, pain that is yet fresh. You would hear the sorrow of a total stranger, mellon?" she asks.


With a display of grace and maturity, the stealthy maiden in question, Dairwenraiel lets out a smothered yelp. Rose petals bloom in her cheeks as green eyes examine the fascinating floor. "The first...again." A soft voice admits. The young elleth risks a glances at Lothdaimoth.


Olathlinn jumps, overjoy!"She won!Oh, I was not knowing it!" She give a kiss on the cheek of her uncle then run toward the star, turning back once again,she repeat."She won!" and adds proudly."Then I should try to won my part then...either with my Ode to love or my tale!" She runs. "Namarie!" that fade away down the stair as she gets up.


Thileithel watches Olathlinn depart with a grin.


Meriden blinks at Olathlinn and chuckles softly, turning to whisper his words to Gilnaurien, the concern resting in his eyes still.


For a brief moment, Gilnaurien rests a slender hand on the edhel's arm. "Liek draws like, Meridne." She murmurs, then looks around. Ah a small spot on the fringes..near the wine but not near enough to distrub the others. "Over there, let us not mar the occasion more than we can help." She stands ready on teh edhel's side. "And please, I am no lady. My mother only was of noble birht. Gilnaurien willd o, or I shall go back to calling you 'lord' "


Crouching down, so he does not tower so greatly over the girl, Lothdaimoth bends his dark head towards her with a conspiratorial glance. 'I like that one very much too,' he says, and then lowers his voice with the air of one imparting a secret. "I made it... is it not good?"


Meriden nods softly and offers Giln his arm, offering a warm smile, letting her lead.


Passing through the midst of the elvish throng surrounding the table arrayed with wines, a young edhel garbed in the grey livery of the Order strides with casual purpose towardthe scarlet goblets waning russet and gold in the last lite of day filtered through the canopy. In short order, Nimwe is before the fragrant spread, smiling and and requesting a sample.


Dairwenraiel's lips pull up into an honest smile, thought the blush upon her cheeks seems quite set on displaying the maiden's disease.


Feeling a little strange to be taking the lead with such a handsome young edhel, Gilnaurien gently guids him ot the corner...after remembering to fill her glass wiht some of the wine indicated. "Do you konw of what happend when thous of us from Imladris came here?" she says in a low voice, unsure of what has alredy become common knoeldge in Lothlorien about her party's arrival and what has not.


"It is good. Ailiell thought so." Slender fingers spin Dairwenraiel's glass. "But I thought it was rude to show preference for one vintage over another."


Meriden is led to a corner with a young Imladhrim maiden, Giln. He is currently talking softly with her while nursing a glass of fine wine.


Grinning like a child, the curly-haired servitor lifts a deep blue bottle and pours some of its contents into a crystal glass for the Squire, a merry trickle dying on the air as Nimwe lifts the goblet, smelling of herbs, to his lips with a delicate sip.


Subtle nuances betray the minutiae of his reaction, cheeks puckering and brows furrowing. Laughing heartily, he says in general address to those nearest the table: "My! Such a potent flavor; akin to a slap in the mouth. This even to I, who most faithfully have tested the labors of the Lady's spirit-makers." A broad smile spreads his mouth again, finishing the sample with a polite final draught.


Gilnaurien eyes him quietly. "I think the Elves one runs into outside of Mithlond are far more handsome than the ones there..." she starts, then cuts off, blushing. "I am sorry. I never really noticed edhelyn before save my brother. Now I find myself looks at them a bit more..both here and in Imladris!" Then her eyes darken, going nearly black, and her voice is raw-edged as she sets downt eh wineglass so she canwring her hands. "We were ambused by Orcs.." she mutters softly "I...I..." for a moment she cannot go on and puts a hand in her mouth to suck the knuckle.


"True. It can be rude. But you don't have to tell everyone which you like the best." Lothdaimoth grins a little more widely. "And I admit quite freely that I am biased towards that of my own making."


The squire arrives running down the stairs, a look of fear upon his face. As he steps towards the group, the face is lifted and turned into a smile, "Ahh, so I havn't missed the wine tasting festival! You /do/ have Darthakaran!" Morchaint exclaims approaching the group. He quickly takes a glass and fills it with his wine of choice and starts glancing around at the group. His eyes fall upon Meriden, and he is swept off towards him. "Mae govannen mellon, I'm not interupting I hope?" He says taking a sip of his wine and grinning.


Meriden glances away from his conversation to Morchaint. "Ah! Mae Govannen, Mellon. How fare thee this eve?" He was lightly blushing for some reason, but his face is full of concern for the Imladhrim elf next to him. "Gilnaurien of Imladris, this is Morchaint, one of the order as well." He offers gently to introduce the two.


"Well, the Gilimros is sweet. I like sweet." Dai blushes anew at the admission, finding her own comment childish. "And the Malthensuth has bubbles. I did enjoy those." Perhaps she'ss teasing. If the maiden is, it's a miserable attempt at subtly as her features hide little.


Gilnaurien blushes furious crimson at the complement. "Truly? My family all said I am the 'black sheep'..too tall and gangly and pale and darkhaired...but then they are all differnt. I'm more of a throwback to my grandfaterh..." The dark eyes are stormy and she wishes he had not droped her hand..the touch was comforting. For a moment she looks at the other, without seeing him, for dark thoughts are in her eyes...but she bows politely and murmurs something about being honoured to met Morchaint and sory to be caught in so weak a moment. "Many were wounded, some even were slain," she syas softly, trying not to choke on the lump in her throat. "I had never seen battle before...." Sudeenly sorrow turns more to anger, and her eyes flash wiht crimson fire. "It wasghastly...and maddening!"She says. "I had to stand there! Stand there and watch people get wounded or sie, wallowing in thier own blood..and I could do nothing!" She lets out a strangled sob, her right hand clenching tight around the the hilt of her dagger.


Morchaint nods and bows slightly to Gil, "Elen sila lumenn' omentielvo Gilnaurien, I hope your stay here is comfortable..." He says with a grin and he tilts his head. He looks back to Meriden and smiles, before taking another sip from his glass and swirling it around.


Standing, Lothdaimoth walks over to the girl who has been tallying up the votes and leans down to whisper something to her. He nods at her reply, and straightens, looking around the crowd. One long arm reaches out and snags a small boy, further whispers ensue, and the child takes off at a run.

This accomplished, the tall Counsel returns to Dairwen and grins down at her. "Those are very good, both of them," he says, trying to put her more at ease. "I like the bubbles too."


The white haired elf's face goes expressionless, eyes paling at something Giln tells him. Meriden sets his wine aside and gently draws her into a hug, murmuring words of comfort, eyes pained and sorrowful.


Thileithel is glancing at the various wines, picking up a glass here and there and tasting the contents. He pays particular attention to the reds that have been provided.


Dairwenraiel rockes on her heels at she talks with Lothdaimoth.

Dairwenraiel nods. "The bubbles add beauty I think. I guess. I would suppose that is something I should say. The beauty of the color, the grace of the way it flows over the glass. Honestly? I just enjoy the taste. And the warmth." The maiden's lips pull into a sheepish grin. "I am not terribly poetic."


Lothdaimoth's smile widens even as he glances almost impatiently around the terrace again. "I like the feel of them," he confesses. "They tickle my tongue."

Gilnaurien allows herself to be drawn close, trying not to weep, but yet liquid crystal drips from her eyes. "Ghastly.." she murmurs. She rests her cheek against Meriden's chest but then draws backa little, not wanting to be too familiar but long for comfort more than caring about formaility. "I had never seen...what wounds me most is I was unable to help...I am supposed to be a thandir!" She obws her head, then looks up sudeenly, surpirse mingling wiht the sorrow in her eyes. Pain for those he did not know? "Are you all right? I am sorry to come here ande ruin your joy wiht my misery! Why did I did not follow my heart and go wher I could be alone in the dark?" she almost wails, but kepping her voice soft. Hissingly she starts to call herself hard names for her folly and ruing another's good time.


Dairwenraiel giggles loudly at a comment from Lothdaimoth. The girl seems to take glee a bit of glee from her 'secret' conversation as well. At the sound of tears, green eyes widen. Blinking several times, the maiden looks to Gilnaurien.


Morchaint draws his head back and tilts it again. Not ever in a situation like this, he instantly drains his glass, "Err, Meriden, I'll catch up to you, Giln, maybe next we will meet on better grounds?" He makes his way to the wine table and refills his glass, "...si man i yulma nin enquantuva...?" He says to himself before taking another sip, "I will..."


At the bidding of the little messenger, the Miruvorthaer Eryndae descends from the lawn one more, her footsteps scarcely heard beneath the murmur of continuing merriment. Though the stars have yet to pierce the darkening sky, their light shines out in her argent gaze as she looks out over the crowd.


At a nod from a tall figure who until now has stood quietly in the background, the young curly-haired girl rises quietly and takes her paper to him. Together, their heads bow over the marks and at last he looks up and across the crowd. The girl bounces eagerly on her toes while she waits.


Elven Judge steps forward, leaving the girl a few steps behind. He is a tall imposing figure, long silvery-white hair flowing down over his deep red tunic. "Excuse me. The voting has been finished and there are prizes to be awarded." Though not overly loud, his deep voice nonetheless commands attention.


Meriden glances from his conversation with Giln to the judge. He had lightly stepped back and reclaimed his drink, the icey depths of his eyes hiding the sorrow, making him look completely normal. He continues softly speaking with his Imladrim friend, though he listens to the judge as well.


As a blanket of darkness, heaven's nightly field is drawn over Lothlorien, the dreamflower and on it, a few handfuls of living diamonds seem to have been idly cast on it. In their light and loveliness, it is a maid who suddenly appears from the northern path, her long hair flowing behind her as were it a living curtain of golden hues. On her head a crown of green leaves and red berries, and her dress is green as young reeds.

White is she of skin, and eyes... keen like the stars despite their lack of hue. It is Calriel, who slowly makes her way into the Flagged Terrace as she looks around, nods a kind greeting to one of the younger elves and tries to look over the heads of some, perhaps to look for the voice of the judge.


Arching a brow, Nimwe sets his empty goblet upon the serving table once again, unable to judge having tasted but one of the vintages. Gradually his flesh is tributary to the assemblage gathered about the judge, frame towering above some of the others like a statue of grey stone, for his raiment is that of the Order, dingnity resplendent amongst the bright hues and velvet worn by many of the others..


Turning away from Dairwenraiel, Lothdaimoth at last spies who he has been watching for. The return of his page with the Imladrim Miruvorthaer and he smiles at her and then looks to the judge, waiting a little nervously for the results.


Still confused, Gilnaurien lets her gratitude show in her eyes for a moment before it is hiden again in chilly gray depths. She too flicks an ear to the judge. "Yes, I would rather speak with you more alone..." she mutters almost under her breath so only Meriden can hear her. "I would not poison the mood here." She looks around at the wines. "Is there a way to take some of htis with us? I feel a bit out of place here...for all I have is this thin, simple tunic..nad it is not suitable for festivals..." She ducks her head agin, sorrow and self-conciousness dominating her eyes.


What sparkled in a heavenward gaze now finds the Judge with full attention, Eryndae's gaze bent upon him with the respect his words command. A kind pat on the head of her young escort precedes her final steps out onto the terrace. Lothdaimoth's nervousness does not go unnoticed to one of her empathy, and as she catches his gaze, an encouraging nod is returned.


Elven Judge clears his throat portentously and looks around again. Satisfied at having drawn attention to himself, he continues slowly. "In first place..." he pauses and glances around again. A small twinkle of humor grows in his eyes as he waits. And waits. And at last finishes his sentance. "We have a tie. Equal votes were cast for Malthensuth and Malindaer." As he speaks, one hand fumbles in a pocket.


Dairwenraiel listens to the results after rising to her feet.


Finishing a particularly delightful glass of wine, Thileithel looks up and spies Eryndae. He sets down the glass and wanders in her general direction. Just then the Judge reads out the first place winners, and Thileithel shakes his head in disappointment.


Meriden salutes his glass when Malthensuth is named a tied winner.


The clink of glasses has ceased, the servers turning eagerly to hear who has won and then laughing softly to themselves at the result.


Lothdaimoth stands almost in shock as he hears the name of his own wine. But a grin of pure pleasure swiftly replaces stunned bemusement.


Gilnaurien blushes furiously. "Really?" she asks. "I have never thought of myself as beautiul..." She takes up her wineglass as well, 'rolling' a sip around in her mouth. "would that sorrow did not dull the taste..." she says, swallowing, "For it well deserves first prize." She hnags her head again, so no one can see the heaviness of her mood tHAT way.


The results herald an unusually bright smile upon the Miruvorthaer's lips as her wine is named a co-winner. Though as Thileithel reaches her side, his apparent disappointment lifts a flaxen brow with amused curiousity. "What dismays you, cousin?" she murmurs in quiet aside. "Would you have chosen the victors differently?" Not a breath later does Eryndae fall silent once more, but for the happiness her smile conveys.


Elven Judge at last brings out what he has been searching blindly for: two small packages, one of red velvet, the other a small box. "Come," he says genially to the winners. "Or perhaps you wish to leave them for me?" Heavy eyebrows raise in question.


Meriden smiles at Giln softly. "I only speak the truth." He offers in soft tones, eyes resting on the judge, a smile offered to Loth in congradulations.


"The red, my dear, the red will always deserve my vote." Thileithel smiles despite himself. "I offer you congratulations though."


Gilnaurien blushes again, reder than red. She does not konw whose wins are whose, but murmurs a congratulations in hopes it will reach the right person's ears. "Truly? I am so pale and dark of hair...and too tall..." She shifts a bit, wanting to get away from this crowd in al thier finery so she can seek solance with her new friend and not worry about the plainnes of her tunic.


"Oh." It is a soft explosion of breath more than a word. Lothdaimoth glances over at Eryndae, his smile widening to brilliance. "Congratulations," he says quietly even as he walks towards the judge.


"And I am anxious to hear which red you preferred. But if you will excuse me..." Here Eryndae lets her wink to Thileithel speak for itself. In a whisper of silken skirts, moonlight their hue, the elder vinter strides gracefully towards the Judge, her cheeks blooming with a deeper blush the closer she draws. "And to you as well!" she offers Lothdaimoth breathlessly. "Well deserved, if I might say as much."


Meriden nods softly to Giln with a smile. "In your eyes, yes, but not in mine." He notices that she begins to move away towards Loth, whispering palely near him.

You sense: Meriden murmurs softly. "My lady friend, Gilnaurien wonders if we might be able to have some of your award winning wine so we can so somewhere quieter and talk, and still enjoy your fine refreshments?"


Kind and with a warm regard the lips of Calriel form into a bright smile, fresh as the first rain in spring. For those that know her but the slightest, she is a fervent drinker of good wines... why was she not present this eve? No sign of trouble seems to lie over her smooth, almosth chiseled face, however, and none is mirrored in her words that ring out clear and yet soft, as the wings of butterflies "Well done, Lothdaimoth!", she says, raising her pallid hand in an excited greeting! "Well done indeed! And also our visitor from the Homely House!"


Elven Judge hands the box to Lothdaimoth, the soft red velvet package to Eryndae. But should she seek to leave, his deep rumbly voice would stop her. "But stay. For yours also came in next and two winners have you, mellon." He raises his voice majestically for attention again. "In next place is the wine Gilimiros."


Watching his cousin go forward, skirts and all, to claim her prize, Thileithel finds a glass of the Gilimiros he voted for and takes a sip. Again he smiles, both at the wine and Eryndae.


Gilnaurien returns solowly to her new friend's side, watching quietly. "May we leave soon?" she whipsers to Meridne. "I ne er had much patience for such things..." she murmurs in apology, "And my heart wishes to speak with you..more plainly htan I feel comfortable doing around so many strangers."


His name rings out behind him, and Lothdaimoth twists to look over his shoulder. "Calriel!" he says then, accepting the box with one hand and opening it with the other. "You did come. Thank you." Turning back, he looks inside and takes out the intricately carven bottle stopper.


Gilnaurien shifts backwards a bit, nodding her understanding, but remianing within easy earshot. "I am sorry..I am not myself..." she apologises.


Meriden smiles warmly. "No need for apologies, Mellon."


Dairwenraiel claps softly for the winners, rewarding Lothdaimoth with a wider smile.


Gilnaurien nods again, standing uneasily by her new friend's side, but far enough away so as not to interefere.


Even as he looks at the prize with delight, a soft murmur brushes Lothdaimoth's ear and he looks up to see Meriden. "Of course, mellon," he says cheerfully. "Just ask the server - there is plenty." Long fingers rub across the smoothness of the wood, the carven head and he glances down again before stepping back a little, away from the judge.


Nimwe mills about in the dispersing crowd, acknowledging those with whom he is familiar with a gesture or a soft greeting. At length the Squire is proximal to the winner of the contest and his lovely elleth companion. To Lothdaimoth: "Congratulations," connotations of his tone allude to courtosy rather than genuine lauding, "much do I look forward to tasting your entry."


Twice awarded and all the more flushed because of it, Eryndae accepts her prize with a grateful half-curtsy, lingering in both surprise in happiness. Argent eyes twinkle with delight as she slips her reward from the pouch, holding it tightly and carefully in her hands as she turns once more to thank those around her. Thileithel's glance is noted amongst the many quendi, her brow raising once more, this time accompanied by a knowing smile.


Meriden nods softly and moves towards the server, asking softly of something and aquires a bottle of Loth's winning wine. He moves back to Giln and gestures for her to lead. "Shall we depart, m'lady?"


Elven Judge clears his throat again and hands Eryndae another velvet bundle. "It is a double pleasure to be able to give you these awards. Your wines are truly wonderful." With a deep bow, he salutes Eryndae, twice a winner and then turns away.


"I came," answers Calriel, her voice perhaps more mellifluous than is her wont. Brushing one of her long tresses backwards over her shoulder, she quickly steps forward to press Lothdaimoth against her for a brief moment. Once released, a smile, almost sad in nature, comes to her face. "Alas I was held up by some events within the House, yet seeing you as one of the winners once rejoices my heart like a good glass of wine. May the Ever White shine upon your path as Vintner, for through winning this Festival, you have surpassed many of your peers, no doubt."

She gives a quick wink, as her voice - softer this time - flows once more from her dry lips in jest "Or did you bribe our cousins from Elrond's halls?"


Gilnaurien nods eagerly, especially pleased to have some of the winner's specialty. "Yes, if you are ready..adn my thanks to whoever was so generous. But since I don't know the ways of this place, you guide. Soemplace where others are not liely to come but not far away. UP a tree perhaps?"


Thileithel holds up his glass and nods slightly before finishing off the dregs of the deep burgundy wine.


Drawn into a swift embrace, Lothdaimoth's smile grows even wider, if such were possible. "Thank you," he says again, perhaps at a loss for words, until her last words bring mock indignation to face and tone. "Of course not!" He grins widely and begins to laugh. "Had I wished to bribe anyone, I would have bribed the judge, of course." In his movements, a bit of blue-colored light from a lantern comes to rest on his face, tinting pale cheeks a most unnatural hue.


Seeing Lothdaimoth with far more enchanting company then her Dai makes an attempt to sneak off and perhaps procure a bottle of herself. After all, others are taking them. The maiden's long since finished the second glass some time before.


Others may be taking bottles, but that doesn't mean a young girl will be let loose with one on her own. A long white-clad arm reaches over Dairwen's shoulder and holds the bottle firmly to the table. "I think not," says an amused voice.


Fingers delicate and pale caress the fine fabric of the second prize, Eryndae's lingering smile growing all the more broad as she unfolds the wine bottle pouch before her. "Delightful, and useful as well!" she muses, murmuring her kind thanks to the Judge before turning once more to Lothdaimoth, and Calriel.

By the faintly shadowed laughter in her crystalline voice, one might guess Eryndae had heard the latter's jest before she even speaks. So is it matched with one of her own. "Nay, were any of the mind to bribe, it would have been I! For surely, a Master of Elrond's vale has narrowly competed!" With a twinkle lighting her wintry eyes, Eryndae looks between both Calriel and Lothdaimoth before murmuring her thanks last to the Counsel and Vintner. "Congratulations again, mellon. I shall look forward to seeing you when next the sun rises." Thus with little more than a whispered namarie, the Miruvorthaer disappears into the crowd.


The fading colors of sunset have long since given way to a darkness lit only by the thin curve of new moon and millions of sparkling stars. The breeze that came with dusk has died down as well, leaving the trees in stillness. From somewhere else, someone begins to sing and other voices join in. And in the quiet evening air, the sound carries quite clearly, so that even the words might almost be made out.


Spring green eyes look to the owner of the long arm, reflection of the most innocent of intentions. "Just taking a bottle back to camp...for the enjoyment of others of course." Dai pulls rose lips up into a large winning smile.


"Really?" Coming around to Dairwen's side, grey eyes smile down into green. "How kind of you to think of them... that is a wonderful idea." The bottle is tucked under one arm. "I will walk with you then. I would like to talk to your friends." Winking, the elf gestures widely with his unemcumbered arm. "Lead on."


Thileithel watches Eryndae slip away into the crowd. His smile lingers as he watches the Galadhrim and their guests mingle here on the Terrace. Finding yet another glass of the Gilimiros, the Randir finds a spot out of the way to more thoroughly enjoy the wine.


Lothdaimoth laughs a little louder. "For this reason did I make certain the judge was safely hidden. Else would I have had no chance at all in this contest." A little more soberly, he adds, "I will look for you."


"Indeed as glad am I to see my cousins from afar bring their skills and merits to these lands, Eryndae", now exlaims Calriel across the way. "If indeed you desire some of the Dorwinion mine made in vinyards to the East of the Greenwood, you should certainly come and see me, for I will be glad to share some of my hoard if you will bring yours!" - wide is the smile on her smooth face. "Already I think this is a night to remember! Where are the servants with the wine?" she wonders aloud.


Well, that's an unexpected turn. Dairwenraiel looks up...up...up to Lothdaimoth. Relying on her quick wit the maiden replies smoothly. "Ah, um...ah..." A note is made not to rely on her wits being quick again. Instead it's the old tried and true fall back. Spring green eyes widen and rose lips turn up into a winning smile that holds all the innocence of a vixen caught in a hen house.


Now that the voting is complete, the prizes all given, the servers are busy pouring out the remaining wine. New bottles from under the tables are brought up and opened and full glasses set on trays. One after another, the trays are picked up and carried through the merry-makers. And one stops near Calriel, quick ears picking up a call for wine. "A drink, m'lady?" The tray is held a little higher, invitingly.


It would seem that Tiramen knows when to arrive. Not when the fuss is going on about what wine is best, but when the wine is freely poured and the best labeled clearly for him to sample. Far too much work this judging of drink. He would far rather partake of it happily. And as his feet bring him to this place he does just that. A goblet finds its way into his hand and a cheer to his face as he compliments the various beverages.


Unobtrusive steps backwards have brought Lothdaimoth up beside Dairwen and her escort. "Ah," he says grinning down at her. "It is my friend." Dark eyes go from the wine bottle to the girl's impossibly innocent face and light up with comprehension. Over his shoulder, he calls softly to Calriel, "Namarie," before turning back. "I think I would like to walk with you as well. And perhaps..." he reaches out to the table and snags an unopened bottle. "We could take two."


Dairwenraiel blinks a bit as not one, but two, count them, two lovely bottles are plucked beyond her reach. There's far less chance of merriment at the Imladris camp where there's far more then a few eyes watching the young elleth's behavior. Lips puckered into a pout, Dai folds her arms. But her eyes narrow with thought as she seemingly has no intention of giving up on her quest just yet.


Lothdaimoth has already set off up the stairs towards the Imladris tents, but the other edhel pauses and looks at Dairwen's mutinous face. "Coming?" he asks cheerfully.


It is with a nod and a smile of approval that Calriel accepts her friend's proposal. "Certainly, Counsel and Master Vintner, as I deem you.", she smiles as she takes one of the goblets from the tray, the copper gleaming in the light of Varda's works. "May your name be remembered in song many years from now!", offers she, as she begins to sing a song; the tunes the merry ones that the Laiquendi of old used for many occasions:

Wine comes in at the mouth
And love comes in at the eye;
That's all we shall know for truth
Before we put the glass to our lips and try...
I lift the glass to my mouth, and drink to you Lothdaimoth...
I look at you, and I sigh!"



Content for the moment with the sipping of fine drink, Tiramen surveys the scene. Many quende about who he fleetingly recognizes by face. Some by name, albeit not well. And others he knows all too well. Approaching Dariwenraiel, a smile grows upon his face as he comes along side the elleth. "Good eve to you Dairwenraiel. Feasting your eyes upon your appetite's wetness? Why but feast the eyes when the tongue is the happier?"


Finishing his final glass of the Gilimiros, Thileithel sets the empty vessel down on the table and slips away into the crowd in the direction of the steps leading up.


Stopped a few steps up by a song, and a song that involves him, Lothdaimoth turns around and then turns red. "Erm," he says indistinctly. "Thank you... I think." And he retreats embarressed, back up the stairs.


Dairwenraiel bites back some reply to the chiding call of Loth and looks up to Tiramen. " Oh, why there you are. I was simply explaining, to then attendants here, that I was going to procure a bottle to bring back to you." New born babes, bleating lambs, mewling kittens, most innocent of creatures would be hard pressed to match the picture of guileless intention on the maiden's face. "But that gentleman there just ran off with them, back to camp. ANd you are here...so...yes...um."


With a clear, kind laugh to follow Lothdaimoth, Calriel soon mingles in with a party of Laiquendi who, apparently, managed to get hold of a large tray of winegoblets. It is a night to be contented.


"Oh did he now? Well, why don't you join them?" Tiramen asks as if its an easy enough question to answer. But before you can, he shrugs and looks back to the festivities. "Though I imagine its more fun here." He chuckles. "Join me then. We can discuss your path perhaps?" Walking over to a table, he picks up another goblet and selects a wine at random to pour into it. Oddly, he offers it to Dairwen before returning to his own drink. "So. Have you given it any thought at all since we last discussed?


Ah yes, that's why Dai likes Tiramen. Small hands cradle the glass and green eyes fix the elder elf with a grateful gaze. The last question batters the smile from her lips slightly. "Well, yes. Well in so much as I always think of it. But I suppose it's more upon make a decision. It's not what I want to be so much as I do not wish to be."


Despite his pleasant demeanor and offering of wine, one gets the distinct impression Tiramen is quietly monitoring Dairwenraiel's consumptions. But that is concealed by the waving of a dismissive hand. "Isn't it always? But come. Tell me not that you refuse the role of musician. For even if you do not focus it as your trade you will have the urge at some later point and will fault yourself for the folly now. What else then do you have no wish to practice?"


Gilnaurien comes back down the marble stairway, her eyes in a riot of emotions and her cheeks flushed. Her silver gaze falls on Tiramen. "Mae govannen, mellon! Thank you for the trop to the mallorn the other day!" She moves to the wine table, hoping to get flushed enough from wine that her high colour wll not be noticed.


Dairwenraiel says, "Well, I do wish to learn an instrument, I simply do not know which one. it's the singing. I...am not the song bird my sister is. Nor am as clever with words." The maiden sighs and sips from the glass in her had. for once the elleth wears an adults posture with some measure of ease, though perhaps the wine has relieved some worry."


Tiramen glances about as he hears words directed to his person. Or so he thinks. His suspicions are confirmed when he spies Gilnaurien and he bows faintly. "Quite welcome. The Wood is not unfamiliar to me though despite its timelessness, growing things still do grow and change comes albeit slowly." But his focus is upon Dairwenraiel and he will not be dismayed in his course. "Come come, I know well your thoughts of the singers' guild. What else have you turned your mind unto? The study of lore? Of life? Of craft? Of wild?" He seems loathe to say it, but does out of a sense of being thorough. "Of war?"