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Meeting of the Fair.
Topic Started: Oct 31 2009, 01:40 PM (121 Views)
Greensleeves


The sun did not rise over the Dark Land of Mordor. Even after the Fellowship of the ring had succesfully destroyed the One evil still ran through Mordor like a river of blood and since the Hand of Sauron had taken control of the Evil Kingdom the River had increased exponentially. Vile creatures of the nightmares of all once again stalked the land from the Giant Spiders to Trolls and Giants all because the Hand of Sauron was able to bring evil under his banner and follow in the footsteps of The Dark Lord.

Few were brave, or foolish, enough to walk in the ruins of Mordor alone one such Man, or should that be Elf, was Seloas. He wore black, a common sight in the Land of Mordor but rare for his kind, from head to toe and his face was covered by a black hood. He stood tall at six foot four an Elven blade, the blade was curved slightly which fitted his one handed fighting style, was strapped to his right hip and an Elven Longbow on his back. Around his neck was a serpent of some kind. It was light green with dull yellow spots over her body she was not yet fully grown at only six foot long. Her species had been created by Morgoth he made them as smart as man and more cunning, though they lacked the ability to talk, he had never named the snake as he could call it with his mind.

He moved as graceful as any Elf appearing as a ghostly shadow over the crags of middle earth. From where he stood he could see the vast volcano Mount Doom that had stood dormant since the Ring was destroyed in it's fiery depth and Sauron was defeated once and for all. He had been hunting for Lobelia for the better part of the day with no luck. Anywhere else he could find such a plant with ease but in the desolate Mordor few things grew that were able to heal instead of harm.

His mind began to wonder to the days he spent as a young boy among the Forest of Eryn Lasgalen. He had created a book all those years ago with a list of every animal he had ever seen and since coming to Mordor the book had grown immensely. He wondered if any more of his brethren would join the Hand in the times to come.

His elven hearing picked up a small rustle behind him usually such a thing would not bother him but in Mordor he had learned to be aware at all times and never take the risk. With speed beyond both Man and Dwarf his left hand gripped the hilt of his sword as he spun around pointing it straight ahead. "Declare yourself."
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Andrea
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Master Storyteller of Arda

With steps light in trepidation, Berien treaded through the dark lands of Mordor, dark eyes darting every which way and that, more alert than she normally allowed herself to be. Although she was aligned with the Hand, her unease would not allow herself to completely let her guard down in the ruins of what used to be the Dark Lord’s domain. But all was silent, and as her stroll became accompanied only by a lonely, chill wind, the Elf allowed herself to breathe easy, though she seemed to react to each sudden sound, her fingers unwillingly twitching underneath her cloak.

Curiosity was what brought her here. With the urge to see the ruins of a vast empire lay before her, Berien set out, the intention to complete her own personal undertaking propelling her pass the border and into the Land of Shadow. Evil no longer stirred within these lands; at least, not so much as to draw attention to itself. Even so, the spring sun was shrouded in a cloudy sky, still dark with a sense of impending doom. Indeed, she mused. For there will be doom.

The lands were rugged, and as she ascended up yet another rocky slope, she saw a figure in the distance. Curious, she thought, though with her elven eyes she could easily tell that it was an ellon. She stayed a hand on a nearby bleak volcanic boulder, debating whether or not to confront the stranger (for wanders tended to have most interesting rumors to tell) or whether to avoid him entirely. At last she slid down the steep slope in a hasty, yet graceful, manner, clearly intent on the former. Once again, interest became her impetus. Above all, she was curious as to why one of her people would also be traversing these lands.

She slid into the dry foliage, not bothering to mask her presence—something she normally would do if she wished to be concealed. What Berien was not planning on, however, was a sword pointed towards her. At once her eyes narrowed and her hand cautiously brushed her side—the area where her dagger was, concealed underneath her dark mantle. If this stranger was aiming to kill her, she certainly would not go down without some semblance of fight, even though she knew her loss would be inevitable.

Goheno nin,” she allowed, though her eyes narrowed in clear irritation from his actions. Her voice was soft, yet it held a sense of silent hostility. If an outsider of no Elven origins had done the same to her, her words would be far different. Bitter, acidic, and in far stronger doses than what she used now. Even so, she would not allow this elf a polite greeting, for he clearly did not give her the benefit of one. “Avo ‘osto,” she continued, still in her tongue. “I did not mean to impose, nor did I mean to harm.


Translation
“ellon” — male elf
“ Goheno nin” — Forgive me
“Avo ‘osto” — Fear not / Don’t worry

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" V a l i n o r . . .   W h a t   s h i p   c a n   b e a r   m e   h e n c e ? "
" T h e   w o r l d   i s   a   b i g   p l a c e   a n d   E r a i d o r   i s   o n e   s u c h   p a r t   o f   i t — t h e   S h i r e   b e i n g   e v e n   s m a l l e r . "
" T h e   p r o b l e m   i s   y o u   t h i n k   t o o   m u c h   a n d   y o u   t h i n k   p e o p l e   a c t u a l l y  
l i s t e n   t o   y o u . "


g r a p h i c   r e q u e s t s

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Greensleeves


The beautiful and delicate language of his people echoed in his ears. He felt ashamed that he had pulled a weapon on on of his own without a second thought, had he really changed so much since he served in the army of the forest? He immediately pulled back his sword and pulled back his hood before he spoke. "It is I who should ask for forgiveness, in this land no one can be to careful of what is behind them however this is no excuse to attack another Elf." He lowered his eyes as he spoke. Hie long dark hair falling halfway down his torso.

"You do not impose, I was mearley out looking for a herb I needed for a remedy." He realized he had not introduced himself. "I am Seolas, Son of Aurelis. I hail from Eryn Lasgalen, though that was many years ago and far in my memory." He had told a lie there. He missed the forest not the other Elves but the trees and animals were he had once been so innocent and free now he was none of them but he did not regret his choice to serve the hand and was as loyal as ever.

He missed the company of Elves few were able to be corrupted so few had joined the hand and the few that did had gone mad with what they saw as a betrayal to all the Elves stood for. He wondered if such a fate would one day befall him or he would simply live on forever as a servant of the Hand of Sauron. " If you are willing to forgive me for my earlier actions, would you accompany me on my search for the Herb. I miss the company of Elves, my day is full with the talk of men and I tire of it."

With out waiting for her answer he began to walk forwards. A slight chill had entered the air that hit the face of the young Elf as he moved through the rock of Mordor. Along the rock was weeds, one of the few living things that could survive the land of Mordor. His eye's scanned the horizon for some sign of the purple herb, he wondered if the Newcomer would be able to aid him in his search.
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Andrea
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Master Storyteller of Arda

Her head, which had been previously tilted slightly upwards, away from the weapon’s point, now lowered. Dark eyes regarded the Elf, observing him carefully—his clothes, his appearance—with some slight disdain. At last, as he apologized, her eyes rose to meet his. “Forgiven,” she declared simply. She paused abruptly for a moment as if realizing the sharpness to her words—irrational, especially when his were said politely. “I understand your worry,” she said slowly, considering her dialogue carefully. “The evil in Mordor has not slept peacefully.”

Herb? she though curiously. “It must be rare to grow in these parts,” she allowed, her eyes taking in the desolate landscape even as she said this. The bleak landscape seemed unfitting for the lively growth of anything—plants, animals, or civilization. As if justifying her reasoning, a chill wind swept past, yet her calm face spoke of her indifference to it. As he introduced himself, however, her gaze returned to him, and she seemed more hesitant to respond.

Nin estar Berien,” she said finally, returning to her tongue. Although the presence of others was little to none, she decided that it was not worth the risk to say her name in the common tongue. It need not be known—shouldn’t be known—by those who were her enemies by default. She would have lied about her identity to this Seloas himself, had he not been one of her kin.

She considered his brief introduction, analyzing it as if it were a mere rumor on the street; the only difference was that the latter was useful… to the Hand, at least. She said nothing about Seloas’s birthplace, and although she was curious about the last of his words, she decided not to comment out loud. My memory, too, wears thin in passing, she thought, all the while wondering where on earth it was exactly.

"If you are willing to forgive me for my earlier actions, would you accompany me on my search for the Herb. I miss the company of Elves, my day is full with the talk of men and I tire of it."

His offer brought Berien from her thoughts and, once again, she pondered his reason for being here. Truth be told, she was not willing to accompany this man on, what she considered to be, a fruitless search. Companionship was not a duty of hers; it was a choice… Choice—that last word resonated in her mind even as it came to her. Was her servitude to the Hand a choice? Or had it become an obligation?

His last sentence, however, struck a chord of emotion within her; his way of phrasing interesting her almost immediately. Before she could respond adequately, however, she noticed that he had resumed his hunt. She hung behind, her gaze focused on his back, reconsidering his request (and perhaps sanity), before at last quickening her pace to walk at his side.

“You spoke,” she began, “of your yearning for our kin.” She paused, collecting her thoughts as means to approach the matter delicately. “Am man theled?

She, too, missed being among her kind, though she knew that she had delved too far into the shadow for her to regain lost companionship… Even if that delving was not of her will. Regardless, she wished to know of this Elf was the same as her… Has he also fallen to shadow? she mused silently.


Translation
“Nin estar Berien” — They call me Berien
“Am man theled?” — For what purpose? (Why?)
Edited by Andrea, Nov 3 2009, 03:01 PM.

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" V a l i n o r . . .   W h a t   s h i p   c a n   b e a r   m e   h e n c e ? "
" T h e   w o r l d   i s   a   b i g   p l a c e   a n d   E r a i d o r   i s   o n e   s u c h   p a r t   o f   i t — t h e   S h i r e   b e i n g   e v e n   s m a l l e r . "
" T h e   p r o b l e m   i s   y o u   t h i n k   t o o   m u c h   a n d   y o u   t h i n k   p e o p l e   a c t u a l l y  
l i s t e n   t o   y o u . "


g r a p h i c   r e q u e s t s

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Greensleeves


Her voice was as soft as that of any female elf though it held a commanding tone with in it's softness that was uncommon in the Elves who has not crossed the sea. He wished to cross the sea more than anything else on the earth but knew what he had done in his short, be elven standards, would not be forgiven and he would live out his immortal life where he stood unless, off course, he was killed by some mortal weapon before the end of the world and the destruction of everything created by Man.

He lowered his head in thanks as she forgave him. He listened to her words as she spoke about the herb. He sighed and spoke. "In most places in the world Lobelia can be found in abundance, or if not it had usually been stockpiled, but in Mordor few things grow with the ability to heal, and even fewer are as brightly coloured as Lobelia." He wondered if the Hand of Sauron had any one under his banner who specialized in Plants that could help him however it did not seem like something he would do.

He scanned his mind as he heard her name wondering if he had heard of a Berien but he soon gave up. He thought he may of heard of her as his Master usually looked for the best and brightest though he had no doubt she was among them and one of the most powerful of his servants, after all she was an Elf the fairest and wisest of all beings, the first born race loved most by Eru.

.As he continued his search for the elusive plant the snake around his neck left his body and slithered onto the ground. He stopped on a lose rock balancing with care as he touched the mind of the large snake. He sensed the snake was hungry and so was, naturally, going of to hunt. He knew their were far more powerful beings than snakes in the Land of Mordor however he knew the Snake could look after it's self so he did not worry as she left and moved out of sight. He saw Berien move to his side, he smiled as he was hoping with her assistance he would find what he had been looking for, though he was almost ready to give up on such a fruitless act as he would usually already be back with his animals. He wondered where she came from? Did she hail from Rivendell or maybe even Eryn Lasgalen like he did. He knew if she wanted she would of told him so he did not push her on the matter at hand and just continued on for the search.

She seemed to be unwilling to journey with him. He wondered why she did so though he soon found their was a dozen reasons that could all be true. Maybe the fact he was of her Kin had something to do with it and she had become so used to Men she did not desire the company of Elves.

He wondered if she was asking him why he yearned for his kin or why he had asked. He took a deep breath before he spoke. "I have done terrible things. When every other Elf has left for the west I...I will still be here, alone. I will be among Men an Dwarves for all eternity while my Kin sit where I can never reach them. The Elves are leaving, most have already left. Soon I will never see another Elf again." If she had been any other race he would of never told her what he had.
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Andrea
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Master Storyteller of Arda

The Elf’s knowledge of plant and lore was interesting and admirable, even. Her own comprehension was bound to the most simplistic of elements, such as herbs and basic remedies. Perhaps Mórion would soon have a rival on his hands, and yet… Seloas was looking for something that cured rather than harmed. Such a task was not uncommon to the Elves, yet she could not help but be a bit amazed… Perhaps she had dwelled with her dark allies far too long. If he was also bound to the service of the Hand, however, his undertaking was even more intriguing. Furthermore, it was something she could respect. A good enemy was not someone whose sole focus lay in fighting. That she learned long ago.

As the snake uncoiled itself from its master’s body, Berien side-stepped just slightly, avoiding the animal, for she was unsure of how dangerous or how… tamed it was. It unnerved her that she hadn’t recognized the animal beforehand. Moreover, she wondered why the Elf kept it nearby… Was it part of his profession?

Regardless, Seloas’s response had, more or less, piqued her interest and, perhaps, some sense of sympathy. She relaxed, if only a bit. “I see,” she said finally. Her eyes watched the serpent as it disappeared, following its writhing body with careful eyes until it was out of sight. There was a moment of silence; she was unsure of how to continue without completely revealing her circumstances. She could not, would not, lie to one of her kin—that much she was certain.

“Fear not,” she said softly. “I, too, will remain here… and become a shadow in the presence of Men.” Her eyes grew downcast and her gaze turned toward the distant horizon where she knew the chill wind to be blowing from. For a moment, she felt as if she had sensed the sea, though far, far away it was. “None is my own doing,” she added quietly, as if trying to convince herself that she was not the one at fault. She let this hushed confession of hers be carried and scattered by the wind.

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" V a l i n o r . . .   W h a t   s h i p   c a n   b e a r   m e   h e n c e ? "
" T h e   w o r l d   i s   a   b i g   p l a c e   a n d   E r a i d o r   i s   o n e   s u c h   p a r t   o f   i t — t h e   S h i r e   b e i n g   e v e n   s m a l l e r . "
" T h e   p r o b l e m   i s   y o u   t h i n k   t o o   m u c h   a n d   y o u   t h i n k   p e o p l e   a c t u a l l y  
l i s t e n   t o   y o u . "


g r a p h i c   r e q u e s t s

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Greensleeves


Through their conversation Seloas had never ceased to hunt for the plant his eyes darted in every direction as they spoke and although he knew how rude this would seem he also knew Lobelia had many uses, from being able treat respiratory and muscle disorders to cure food poisoning. When his eyes saw a blushish/purple hue growing in a crack of a black mountain he moved quickly as if it would soon vanish in a puff of smoke. When he reached the plant he took out an eleven knife from his side he began to use it to dig around the plant before it's roots became visible. He took the plant, roots and all, when it was still alive. He turned to Berien. "I had wished for more of this plant, however with this small sample I should be able to grow more for future use."

He closed his hand tightly, and yet gently, around the plant making sure not to harm it anymore than he already had. It was a miracle that the plant had grown in Mordor where the sun never rose and it was always night. That was one of the things that depressed him most about Mordor. Elves were created as creatures of light and even those who had turned to Dark craved the warmth of the sun. It remained Seloas of simpler times, before the War of the Ring before the Hand.

The Elf spoke for a second. "I see." He could tell what most Men were feeling from the simple tone of their voices but he struggled to do the same with many Elves and Berien was one of them. He thought he had sensed Sympathy, maybe even pity.

Her next words comforted him in an almost evil way. He was both saddened that she would share his ultimate fate but pleased some one knew his pain he knew Humanity had begun to rub of on him just then.. " I...I am sorry, I know how you feel, Berien. Few have to walk our path and those who have not can never understand what it is like." He heard her speak once more but did not reply. He did not know if she was being honest but he knew he could never say the same.
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Andrea
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Master Storyteller of Arda

As he displayed his finding, Berien gave a curt nod, indicating her understanding. She was still curious as to why he had come to Mordor for this reason, thinking that this plant grew elsewhere. However, she resigned herself from such deliberation; her knowledge was limited, and so she would not question his doings. She would simply watch and take it all in with careful consideration. After all, the Elf was not opposed to learning new things… it was just a matter of how useful they would be in the future.

On a different note, it surprised her to see him so gentle. The episode of their meeting had established a far different impression than the one he gave now. Seloas, indeed, was a curious individual… Much more perplexing than she thought him to be at first. It only went to show that it was unwise to judge someone from first impressions, including the Elves.

Layered, she decided simply, settling the matter once and for all. Regardless, the Elf appreciated his carefulness, and it was soothing to see that one of her kind had not yet relinquished their respect for nature. Even when it is against us, she added silently, and yet… Perhaps the reason he could not sail to Valinor was cause for this aspect of his character. Perhaps in simply knowing he would forever wander among the fleeting existences of Men, Dwarves, and all else, he had strengthened his reason to protect.

And what of her? What did she have to show for her own remorse?

She took in his words quietly, now calm in his presence. Although she loathed receiving sympathy and pity, she could not help but be sensitive to his words. His condolences seemed genuine, and Berien felt as if a silent understanding had been reached between the two of them. “No,” she agreed quietly. “They do not understand… nor will they.” There was a brief pause, and her eyes found the bleak Ephel Dúath, a concrete image against the smoky gray of the sky. “Do you… come often?” she asked, referring to Mordor and his presence in the Land of Shadow. However, brief as she was, she could only give hint to her true meaning.

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" V a l i n o r . . .   W h a t   s h i p   c a n   b e a r   m e   h e n c e ? "
" T h e   w o r l d   i s   a   b i g   p l a c e   a n d   E r a i d o r   i s   o n e   s u c h   p a r t   o f   i t — t h e   S h i r e   b e i n g   e v e n   s m a l l e r . "
" T h e   p r o b l e m   i s   y o u   t h i n k   t o o   m u c h   a n d   y o u   t h i n k   p e o p l e   a c t u a l l y  
l i s t e n   t o   y o u . "


g r a p h i c   r e q u e s t s

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Greensleeves


Seloas did not know what to think of Berien. She was curious, even for an Elf, and incredibly hard to read. He was sure she was not as cold as she seemed to him and he wondered why she presented her self as such especially to one of her own Kin, though he understood that just because they were the same Race she would not automatically trust him but he hoped she would feel more at ease around him than a Human stranger due to the common bond that all remaining Elves shared with each other.

He had been standing for a while and decided he wanted to sit and rest. He chose a nearby stone to sit on as he gazed over the black land of Mordor. He looked to the North and wondered how far away Eryn Lasgalen was from where he sat and how far it would take him to reach him home if he ever redeemed himself and was allowed to set foot in the Forest Realm once more.

As he looked over Mordor he knew it had not always been this way. Long before he was born the land of Mordor would of been full of trees and blue rives reflecting the sun as it's rays bounced of it's surface. But then Morgoth took it upon himself to bend it to his own will and taint it with darkness and evil. Creating creatures of all evil and allowing them to breed and grow in power. He knew that Mordor would never see the light of the sun again and he knew the chances he would dwindled with each passing day.

He to had see Ephel Dúath or Mountains of Shadow but he had seen them so many times they simply had blended into the dark background of Mordor so he barley noticed them anymore. However they were a sight to behold for one who had seen for the first time. He looked down as she spoke and agreed with him not making eye contact but simply staring at the solid ground below his Elven feet. Maybe if a Man had asked such a question or a Dwarf even he would of lied about the answer, but she was an Elf.

"I rarely leave this land...I serve the Hand of Sauron."
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Andrea
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Master Storyteller of Arda

At once Berien tore her eyes away from the scenery, solely focusing them on the Elf, whose gaze was now drawn to the ground. A hint of renewed interest flashed in her pupils; once again, the Elf had surprised her. His confession locked the pieces into place, and everything was now clear to her. His actions and character seemed to speak against his loyalties, but the Hand’s title was never tossed about so carelessly with strangers. No, as far as she could tell, Seloas spoke the truth.

“Then we are alike,” she attested evenly. “I, too, serve him.” She paused, letting her words sink in. In truth, however, she was at loss of what to say next. Myriad questions penetrated her thoughts—ones that implored her to learn more about him. Had he been controlled by the Hand’s powers, just as her? How did this ellon come under his service? Did he reside in these lands? These questions were only a fragment of the long wind that she had conjured up within the interim. And while she was ever wary of the other servants, she softened her gaze considerably. As far as she was concerned, he was not violent or brutal in his ways, nor did he carry the intention of being so.

“Lobelia…” she commented finally, ignoring the curiosities that clawed at her mind. “Is it for him?”

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" V a l i n o r . . .   W h a t   s h i p   c a n   b e a r   m e   h e n c e ? "
" T h e   w o r l d   i s   a   b i g   p l a c e   a n d   E r a i d o r   i s   o n e   s u c h   p a r t   o f   i t — t h e   S h i r e   b e i n g   e v e n   s m a l l e r . "
" T h e   p r o b l e m   i s   y o u   t h i n k   t o o   m u c h   a n d   y o u   t h i n k   p e o p l e   a c t u a l l y  
l i s t e n   t o   y o u . "


g r a p h i c   r e q u e s t s

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