Olwe stands up and paces...all nervous, pent-up energy. He nods at her words, looking back and at her, before draining his cup. "This wine is very sweet. Thank you for the drink. Indeed, I was parched." His eyes roves over the cavern. "Free....yes..." he echoes, then falls silent into a reverie.
Gwindolyn Spiritor seeks to rouse him from his reverie and get just one last bit of information out of him. She clears her throat softly "Cousin...." She pauses a moment , "Olwe." She says as if a sentence in itself. "Why did the voice choose you? What import do you have, that it would seek to subdue you?" Her voice is concerned and worried sounding. She furrows her brows to mirror the sound of her voice.
Olwe bats at his clothes, murmuring about spiders, though there are none to be found on his clothes. He looks at her and then inspects his arm. "Ihraess, I do not know why it spoke to me. Never have I heard such a voice." He paces near her and reaches out, almost touching her hair. "Has it spoken to you? Have you been in its' dark cavern?" His eyes grow large, the whites were showing entirely too much. "It came into my head, sweet cousin, and showed me on a killing field of such destruction, so much blood, and there I was, one of the few still standing." He closes his eyes and shudders. "I saw all kith and kin dead. "
She smiles softly to him and leans to his almost touch, as if allowing, encouraging. She closes her eyes and looks down. "It speaks to me, but differently. The small spiders, they speak. A million voices at once. They speak with the sound of fire and ash and chaos behind the tiny voices, like your voice was broken up and deposited into them. They never let me sleep. There is always one near. And the voice has said I should die if one is harmed. So please... " She almost sounds upset. "Please, don't hurt the spiders." She looks up and her eyes are slightly dewy. "I am lead of my house. The voice says I will lead the land one day. I don't know if this is true." Her voice sounds worried about this event, as if she doesn't want it. "Do you lead your people?" Her face turns up to him, looking as if she trusts him. She grew up in the heart of drow culture where manipulation and acting were the way one survived. She didn't just survive, but thrived. This little moment in time is a good example of why she thrived.
"That is how it was in my head, but like a buzzing that grew and grew until all thought was driven out but the name of my Beloved. That, I could hold onto, that one spark of light kept me against being swallowed up in the madness of the voices." He looks down and into her face, so earnest and upturned to look at his. He drops his hand, and his voice grows soft, compasion running through. His nervouse movement halts, and his eyes fill with concern. For this moment, he was more himself, the Olwe of Alqualonde.
"For you, I, of course, can bear the spiders. I know what it is to have the weight of a people's welfare upon your shoulders." He comes and sits down beside her, leaning a little toward her, as would a friend. "I am Olwe, the King of the Teleri, Lord of Alqualonde and Tol Eressea. My people are one of the three Eldar clans. Although, here, In the world, there are many clans of elves...many clans came from the Teleri, centuries ago." He looks down and blushes a little. "I sound like I am taken with my own importance, but we Teleri have loved the sea, music and living in the peace of Arda . Always we have been faithful to the Will of the Valar." He looks at the roof , then back down and over to the Matron. "Were I live here, I would miss seeing the nght sky, full of stars...." and his voice softens..." and gazing upon the Moon." There is a change in inflection as he speaks of the moon.
She smiles and welcomes him to the chair next to her. She takes a drink of her wine, spiced with the venom of black widow. She decided that the drow wine spiced with Elven blood might not be the best option tonight and bypassed her favorite for this one. She sips the drink again and says. "If you are thinking clearer, cousin Olwe, It sounds like you might be a person that will be missed. It might be time for you to get back to your canopy of stars." She sounds as if she is concerned that he might be missed, instead of the satisfied and bored she really is. "I can open a portal for you to get back to the surface. Can you find your way around now that the buzzing has quieted?" This is more to cement her acting job than out of any concern for him, but she does so with such depth.
Olwe smiles in response to her smile, and considers a moment. "I do, indeed, feel calmer and clearer of thought." A blush sweeps across his face.."I have no memory of how I have acted....Blessed Illuvatar, tell me, please, I have cause no harm to any living being, have I?" He frowns and then focuses on a memory. "Comet? My sweet Comet, tender cousin....is she alive? I saw her dead on the field. I could not bear it if she were not. I have seen her grow into the greatest of Queens among all elves. Please, do you know?" There is such longing and fear and, yes dread in his voice. He seizes the arm of the Matron and then drops it...embarassed. "Forgive my familiarity."
She lets her face grow more concerned. "Sweet Olwe, I do not know your beloved Comet. I could send you to her now though, to find out." She lets her hand fall to his for the brief moment it is on hers. She resists the urge to curl her silver tipped nails into his flesh. She keeps her appearances worried and concerned as his hand falls away unharmed. "Let us get you home that you may find out." She is satisfied that he is under the power of the flowers, carefully doled out to him in his poison cures and that he is someone of import to his people. Someone who could do great chaos in this state. She dare not keep that chaos locked away from where it might be most glorious. She stands and opens a portal in the air before them. She does so by turning a ring on her finger. A very costly little magical item. A way to hide her true chaotic nature as if she used her clerical ability, he would walk through the abysmal planes of chaos. A good way to tip off her little drama for him. She cares for him to not know who she is yet and so hides it with this touch of magic.
Olwe's hand reaches up to touch the necklace, the pure moonstone, and rubs it absently. "Yes, I want that very much," he says. He looks back over, "But I want to learn more of your people....the..." he says "Drow" as though still foreign to him. "There is a darkness coming. Lord Irmo, Vala of Dreams sends me nightly dreams of its destruction." His voice sounds sharp and loses some of its usualy pleasantness at that. "And we elves must come together...we must stand." He looks at her, and his voice again is the strong and calm voice of Olwe. "I bless Illuvatar that you aided me. But I would that our people could be allies against this darkness." He looks at her, waiting, expectant, then adds, "Though I have never known elves to embrace the stone earth, like dwarves might."
Gwindolyn Spiritor listens as he rants about strange gods she has not heard of, but the essence is clear. "The drow will stand that day. You will see them on the field." She says it as if she were saying they would be by the Elven side against the evil and not the evil that will take the elves to their graves. "The Gods do favor me this day with your presence. Even if your way is strange to us." She rankles at being likened to a dirty dwarf, but holds that along with all her other actual feelings in check, letting none of that slip to her eyes or body language. Years of training in the temple at the hands of the cruel high priestess taught her how to do that quite well. "Now, you must go before the magic falls away." She tenderly nudges him to the dark doorway that shimmers and begins to shrink. "If it disipates, it is a three week hike to the surface. Better hurry."
Olwe smiles and rises to his feet, once more the graceful Lord of the Teleri. "I thank you..."he pauses, "You name is Ilharess? It seems as though it were spoken as a title." He looks at her a moment. "I would be proud to stand with your people, dear Lady." He offers a hand to help her stand and squeezes it lightly before his face takes on a troubled look. 'Though, I do not know if I am still worthy of the task set upon me by Mighty Manwe and Lord Irmo." He looks down and whispers," Nor if I am worthy to gaze again upon the face of the most Beloved of all to me...Tilion." He draws in a deep breath. Then he looks back up. "Yes, please, I would be grateful for the return to the land of my cousin."
Gwindolyn Spiritor does well to hide her irritation at his gushings. She smiles sweetly to him instead. She even manages to bat her lashes slightly as he ponders her name. She purposefully does not answer the questions he poses to her about who she is. Instead she simply says "Many have no idea of their worth until put to the test." Her mind is not thinking him worthy, but saying a truth about those in her own world as many think themselves worthy and are not. A simple test kills the unworthy, leaving less headache for all.
"This way." She nudges him to the door. "Till we meet again dear cousin Olwe, King of the Teleri." She makes sure to use his title to cement it to her own brain. She beckons him to step through the darkness and to his own.
Olwe bows his head and smiles to her. His face, open and earnest, studies her. "Be assured I will remember this encounter, dear Lady. I cannot thank you enough for your aid." He then turns to the door and steps through.
> Next Olwë > Next Drow Matron
Gwindolyn Spiritor seeks to rouse him from his reverie and get just one last bit of information out of him. She clears her throat softly "Cousin...." She pauses a moment , "Olwe." She says as if a sentence in itself. "Why did the voice choose you? What import do you have, that it would seek to subdue you?" Her voice is concerned and worried sounding. She furrows her brows to mirror the sound of her voice.
Olwe bats at his clothes, murmuring about spiders, though there are none to be found on his clothes. He looks at her and then inspects his arm. "Ihraess, I do not know why it spoke to me. Never have I heard such a voice." He paces near her and reaches out, almost touching her hair. "Has it spoken to you? Have you been in its' dark cavern?" His eyes grow large, the whites were showing entirely too much. "It came into my head, sweet cousin, and showed me on a killing field of such destruction, so much blood, and there I was, one of the few still standing." He closes his eyes and shudders. "I saw all kith and kin dead. "
She smiles softly to him and leans to his almost touch, as if allowing, encouraging. She closes her eyes and looks down. "It speaks to me, but differently. The small spiders, they speak. A million voices at once. They speak with the sound of fire and ash and chaos behind the tiny voices, like your voice was broken up and deposited into them. They never let me sleep. There is always one near. And the voice has said I should die if one is harmed. So please... " She almost sounds upset. "Please, don't hurt the spiders." She looks up and her eyes are slightly dewy. "I am lead of my house. The voice says I will lead the land one day. I don't know if this is true." Her voice sounds worried about this event, as if she doesn't want it. "Do you lead your people?" Her face turns up to him, looking as if she trusts him. She grew up in the heart of drow culture where manipulation and acting were the way one survived. She didn't just survive, but thrived. This little moment in time is a good example of why she thrived.
"That is how it was in my head, but like a buzzing that grew and grew until all thought was driven out but the name of my Beloved. That, I could hold onto, that one spark of light kept me against being swallowed up in the madness of the voices." He looks down and into her face, so earnest and upturned to look at his. He drops his hand, and his voice grows soft, compasion running through. His nervouse movement halts, and his eyes fill with concern. For this moment, he was more himself, the Olwe of Alqualonde.
"For you, I, of course, can bear the spiders. I know what it is to have the weight of a people's welfare upon your shoulders." He comes and sits down beside her, leaning a little toward her, as would a friend. "I am Olwe, the King of the Teleri, Lord of Alqualonde and Tol Eressea. My people are one of the three Eldar clans. Although, here, In the world, there are many clans of elves...many clans came from the Teleri, centuries ago." He looks down and blushes a little. "I sound like I am taken with my own importance, but we Teleri have loved the sea, music and living in the peace of Arda . Always we have been faithful to the Will of the Valar." He looks at the roof , then back down and over to the Matron. "Were I live here, I would miss seeing the nght sky, full of stars...." and his voice softens..." and gazing upon the Moon." There is a change in inflection as he speaks of the moon.
She smiles and welcomes him to the chair next to her. She takes a drink of her wine, spiced with the venom of black widow. She decided that the drow wine spiced with Elven blood might not be the best option tonight and bypassed her favorite for this one. She sips the drink again and says. "If you are thinking clearer, cousin Olwe, It sounds like you might be a person that will be missed. It might be time for you to get back to your canopy of stars." She sounds as if she is concerned that he might be missed, instead of the satisfied and bored she really is. "I can open a portal for you to get back to the surface. Can you find your way around now that the buzzing has quieted?" This is more to cement her acting job than out of any concern for him, but she does so with such depth.
Olwe smiles in response to her smile, and considers a moment. "I do, indeed, feel calmer and clearer of thought." A blush sweeps across his face.."I have no memory of how I have acted....Blessed Illuvatar, tell me, please, I have cause no harm to any living being, have I?" He frowns and then focuses on a memory. "Comet? My sweet Comet, tender cousin....is she alive? I saw her dead on the field. I could not bear it if she were not. I have seen her grow into the greatest of Queens among all elves. Please, do you know?" There is such longing and fear and, yes dread in his voice. He seizes the arm of the Matron and then drops it...embarassed. "Forgive my familiarity."
She lets her face grow more concerned. "Sweet Olwe, I do not know your beloved Comet. I could send you to her now though, to find out." She lets her hand fall to his for the brief moment it is on hers. She resists the urge to curl her silver tipped nails into his flesh. She keeps her appearances worried and concerned as his hand falls away unharmed. "Let us get you home that you may find out." She is satisfied that he is under the power of the flowers, carefully doled out to him in his poison cures and that he is someone of import to his people. Someone who could do great chaos in this state. She dare not keep that chaos locked away from where it might be most glorious. She stands and opens a portal in the air before them. She does so by turning a ring on her finger. A very costly little magical item. A way to hide her true chaotic nature as if she used her clerical ability, he would walk through the abysmal planes of chaos. A good way to tip off her little drama for him. She cares for him to not know who she is yet and so hides it with this touch of magic.
Olwe's hand reaches up to touch the necklace, the pure moonstone, and rubs it absently. "Yes, I want that very much," he says. He looks back over, "But I want to learn more of your people....the..." he says "Drow" as though still foreign to him. "There is a darkness coming. Lord Irmo, Vala of Dreams sends me nightly dreams of its destruction." His voice sounds sharp and loses some of its usualy pleasantness at that. "And we elves must come together...we must stand." He looks at her, and his voice again is the strong and calm voice of Olwe. "I bless Illuvatar that you aided me. But I would that our people could be allies against this darkness." He looks at her, waiting, expectant, then adds, "Though I have never known elves to embrace the stone earth, like dwarves might."
Gwindolyn Spiritor listens as he rants about strange gods she has not heard of, but the essence is clear. "The drow will stand that day. You will see them on the field." She says it as if she were saying they would be by the Elven side against the evil and not the evil that will take the elves to their graves. "The Gods do favor me this day with your presence. Even if your way is strange to us." She rankles at being likened to a dirty dwarf, but holds that along with all her other actual feelings in check, letting none of that slip to her eyes or body language. Years of training in the temple at the hands of the cruel high priestess taught her how to do that quite well. "Now, you must go before the magic falls away." She tenderly nudges him to the dark doorway that shimmers and begins to shrink. "If it disipates, it is a three week hike to the surface. Better hurry."
Olwe smiles and rises to his feet, once more the graceful Lord of the Teleri. "I thank you..."he pauses, "You name is Ilharess? It seems as though it were spoken as a title." He looks at her a moment. "I would be proud to stand with your people, dear Lady." He offers a hand to help her stand and squeezes it lightly before his face takes on a troubled look. 'Though, I do not know if I am still worthy of the task set upon me by Mighty Manwe and Lord Irmo." He looks down and whispers," Nor if I am worthy to gaze again upon the face of the most Beloved of all to me...Tilion." He draws in a deep breath. Then he looks back up. "Yes, please, I would be grateful for the return to the land of my cousin."
Gwindolyn Spiritor does well to hide her irritation at his gushings. She smiles sweetly to him instead. She even manages to bat her lashes slightly as he ponders her name. She purposefully does not answer the questions he poses to her about who she is. Instead she simply says "Many have no idea of their worth until put to the test." Her mind is not thinking him worthy, but saying a truth about those in her own world as many think themselves worthy and are not. A simple test kills the unworthy, leaving less headache for all.
"This way." She nudges him to the door. "Till we meet again dear cousin Olwe, King of the Teleri." She makes sure to use his title to cement it to her own brain. She beckons him to step through the darkness and to his own.
Olwe bows his head and smiles to her. His face, open and earnest, studies her. "Be assured I will remember this encounter, dear Lady. I cannot thank you enough for your aid." He then turns to the door and steps through.
> Next Olwë > Next Drow Matron