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6 Fourth Age: automatic eyes; open!
Topic Started: 1 Dec 2008, 01:52 AM (1,169 Views)
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The sun shone down high from the sky, causing rays of light to dance through the trees, and it was a beautiful sight to behold. It was shining in such a way that it captured the essence and beauty of every single flower, every blade of grass. Yes, it was true. When it came to nature, Ferawen was captivated. Even now, she had seen this same sight a countless amount of times, yet it was still just as amazing as the first time. She was quite positive that even in another thousand years, she would still love it just as much.

With the sun dancing playfully across her pale cheeks and forehead, she took in a deep breath of the fresh air and closed her eyes. She was in her favorite spot of all time, a field of wildflowers and tall grass, and there were trees on all sides, enclosing the meadow. Ferawen was lying down on her back, her arms stretched out beside her, and there was a small smile pulling at the corner of her lips. Rivendell had been a wonderful home to her, but Eryn Silivren was proving to be just as capable of making her feel content.

Lying next to Ferawen's lean body was an old leather-bound book about two hundred pages deep. The parchment in the book was filled with Ferawen's eloquent handwriting. It was filled with different theories, recipes, stories, experiments, and anything else you might imagine. She even had her ink and pen sitting on top of that book, just in case she had wanted to do some extra exploring outside of the meadow. Thus far, she had not even attempted to remove herself from this spot, and having her book with her was proving to be useless. However, she was too caught up in the feeling of the warm sun against her skin to worry about such things.

The slight breeze brushing against the leaves on the trees sounded like the murmur of a soft song, and it seemed to be begging Ferawen to contribute to the melody. Or at least that's what she told herself before she started humming softly with her mouth still closed. She hummed the notes of a song she used to remember her mother singing to her before she died. Oh, it was turning out to be such a lovely day, and Ferawen wished it would never end.
 
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The clopping of pony hooves and the slightly off key humming of a Hobbit voice preceded Milo Brandybuck into the forest. He had grown more daring in his adventures, which would likely get him into great trouble in later days. Between his previous journey into Gondor and his conversation with Pippin, Milo had grown increasingly curious about Ithilien and Prince Faramir. The Hobbit knew it was unlikely he would have a meeting with the Prince and Steward, as he was just a common Hobbit, but he wanted to see this land nonetheless.

Pulling the reins to the left, Milo steered Sable into an opening in the trees. The brilliant palette of pink and yellow flowers against the lush grass was unlike anything he’d ever seen. Even Hobbits could not grow such bright and beautiful flowers. He thought fleetingly of Mayor Gamgee and how he must have reacted to seeing these plants. In hindsight, Milo wondered if Ithilien had been this vibrant during the war and decided that it probably had not been.

Sable stopped of his own accord, and Milo swiveled around to see what might have caused his pony to stop trotting. There was a woman lying in the grass. Quickly dismounting, Milo took two steps in her direction and bowed low.

“I am Milo Brandybuck of Bucklebury in the Shire. I am a friend come to see the lands of Emyn Arnen.”

As Milo looked up, he realized with a jolt that the woman was not a woman. She was an elleth. Having met an Elf before, he was not quite as flustered as he might have been. His cheeks flushed not because of her race, but because he, a cartographer, had made a fatal navigational mistake. He had ended up in the wrong part of Ithilien.

“… and Eryn Silivren,” he added hastily, hoping to cover his embarrassing error.

 
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Ferawen had been lost in her own thoughts and daydreams when she heard the sound of approaching hoofbeats. However, even when she heard the sound getting closer and closer, she continued to lay down in the field, not stirring even a muscle. Though, her eyelids did slowly flutter open so she could see who seemed to be approaching her.

The first thing her eyes focused on was a pony who was standing above her in such a position that he was blocking the sunlight and causing a shadow to fall across Ferawen's face. Beautiful creatures, really. Her lips started to curl into a smile once she caught sight of a red-headed hobbit, and she finally pulled herself from the ground, not wanting to be rude to the hobbit.

Hobbits were fascinating creatures, to her. So full of life. Naturally, she had heard the story of Frodo and his companions many, many times, and she was amazed by the amount of power such small creatures could have. Furthermore, during her travels, she had come across many hobbits, and she enjoyed the company of all of them tremendously.

"Milo Brandybuck of Bucklebury...it is quite a pleasure to meet you." She bowed her head slightly in return. Yes, she had noticed the error he spoke, but it merely caused her smile to widen slightly. It was quite easy to get off-course around here. "I am Ferawen of right here in Eryn Silivren." She motioned her arms around the meadow, indicating that this was, indeed, her home.

"Forgive my curiosity, Milo Brandybuck, but may I ask what brings you here?" Ferawen had a habit of letting her mouth run away with her. Curiosity was her biggest flaw. Yet she had a hard time considering it a flaw because her profession revolved around her curiosity. Hopefully, Milo Brandbuck would not be offended by her being so forward.
 
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Milo made a bow to the elven lady when she introduced herself. “And I you, Ferawen of Eryn Silivren.”

The word “curiosity” struck a special note with the Hobbit. He perked up at once, sensing that he’d met a kindred spirit. It was strange to think that an elf who had lived so long could be curious about anything and made him wonder how little he could learn in his lifetime.

“I left the Shire rather reluctantly once, and now that I’ve discovered the world beyond its borders, I find the road is leading me further onwards and inwards, as they say.”

He considered for a moment what his friends and family would say to that. Some, like Merry, wouldn’t find it at all strange. Others, however, might not be so understanding.

“And also, I am a cartographer. As far as I’m aware, I’m the only Hobbit cartographer to map the lands this far from the Shire. I hope to take home a finished map of some land in Gondor. Perhaps Eryn Silivren, if your Lord will allow it.”

Milo was aware that some other races, like the dwarves, were very secretive. He wasn’t sure if elves were that way as well. As the Hobbit’s eyes traced the meadow, his mind taking in its subtle curves and rough circumstance, he spotted a leather-bound book lying in the grass.

“And now, if you will forgive my curiosity, may I ask about your book? In addition to being a cartographer, I am also an illuminator and calligrapher.”

 
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Ferawen listened intently as her new hobbit friend spoke. She really did find hobbits to be the most delightful creatures. Naturally, there were exceptions to this, but as a whole, they were very kind, indeed. "I do understand. The world is so vast. It'd be a shame to miss out on all it has to offer."

She was already thoroughly enjoying the company of Milo Brandybuck. He had a sense of adventure that so many creatures lacked. It was refreshing to Ferawen.

"I very much respect what you seek to accomplish." She told him honestly. Too few in this world actually took the time to do what their hearts wanted them to do. "My Lord is kind. I do believe he would not be opposed to this."

Ferawen did not understand how anyone could be opposed to the further development and education of the inhabitants of Middle Earth. Knowledge was very necessary, and to deny it to others was a terrible thing. (Thoughts of a true scholar!)

It appears that Ferawen is not the only curious one here. She smiled down at him with his question. She very much loved what she did, and she also loved sharing what she did. "You are quite resourceful, Milo." She told him in response to him also being an illuminator and calligrapher.

Ferawen bent down to retrieve her book, and she pushed the ink and pen to the side, leaving them on the ground. She stood back up straight with her arms wrapped around her book, as if she were hugging it.

"I am a scholar. This book contains many of my findings." She explained to him. "I have a habit of recording every single detail about my research. It's silly, but I do maintain it's precise. My home is filled with dozens more. This is merely one of them."
 
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Milo was pleased and anxious that the Lord of the Eryn Silivren, a friend of his friends, might grant a simple Hobbit the opportunity to explore more of this new Elven realm. He wondered if anyone—Hobbit or otherwise—had yet mapped the realm. South Ithilien, surely, had been included in many maps. But with the new Elven structures and settlement, perhaps not. A shudder of excitement passed through Milo.

It was with some difficulty that Milo forced himself out of his daydreams. The word “scholar” did the trick. While the Hobbit was not much interested in the genealogies of Hobbits (knowing them all by heart anyway) or the dusty tomes in the Great Smials, he had a great love of stories. Milo was learned enough to enjoy history as small vignettes strung together to form one larger story.

“You and I have much in common, I think,” he said jovially.

He thought cheerfully of the traditions that united Hobbits. Among them, the art of storytelling. It occurred now to Milo that as different as all the races were, each loved to tell stories. He had mingled with men, elves, and dwarves now and had never felt uncomfortable. He realized at each new meeting, stories had been shared. Milo wondered if it wasn’t thirst for adventure that had taken him from the Shire, but his love of new tales.

“I’ve had a thought, Ferawen, that I hope is suitable to you. Maybe we could strike a trade? Not for objects, but for time and stories. I have maps of places where no one but Hobbits have ever gone, and I’m sure you have stories no Hobbit has heard.”

 
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