Cinnamon Raymaker
Emerging from a cocoon of exhausted sleep, Elwing stretches the kinks from her muscles and looks around her, taking in the sweet smell of fragrant flowers which someone has thoughtfully left in a pretty arrangement close to her bedside. The morning light streams in weakly, but the sound of pouring rain is easing. Smiling to herself, Elwing gently pulls back the soft bed coverings and eases to a sitting position, straining to hear any sounds from within the palace that might indicate others abroad. Hearing nothing, she carefully swings herself to the edge of the bed and drops her legs to the side. Noting the fresh water in the washbowl nearby, she carefully stands up, wobbling slightly on as yet unsteady legs, and slowly makes her way to the basin to refresh her face, ready to face this new day.
Gently patting her face dry with the soft towel laying by the side of the basin, she turns once again to locate the gown she had removed before clambering into her bed the evening before. She brushes a hand across the soft luxurious material, remembering the kind fae princess who had stored this gown away in case of the arrival of elvenkind on her island realm. Shaking her head to remove the thoughts about to enter her mind, and the sadness that always accompanied them, she takes up the gown and carefully pulls it over her head, letting it drop into place and fastening it with fumbling fingers. Spying a hairbrush nearby, she wanders across to the mirror and table and picks up the brush to begin brushing the knots from her hair. Once finished and noting the paleness in her cheeks, she decides it is time to refresh her memory of her uncle's realm, the part that is undamaged by the fall of the tower of Tilion. Finding her soft boots, she pulls them over her feet and takes a cloak from the hook near the door of her chamber. Fastening the warm cloak around herself, she quietly opens the chamber door and slips out slowly, taking her time so as not to lose her balance and stumble.
Making her way quietly and carefully down the ramps and steps of the palace is rather tiring, and Elwing rests after each two or three steps to catch her breath. Her resolve wins out, however, and her legs obey her iron will and carry her to the bottom and to the palace entrance. Stopping in the huge doorway, she looks across this haven she now knows as home. The harbour to the east, mountains and hills surrounding the palace to the north and an array of buildings surrounding the palace as if protecting it from an unseen enemy. Though, she muses, it would seem that Lord Ulmo holds all at Alqualonde in a special place in his heart - which she feels is only right considering most of those who had resided here over the ages were of the Teleri or close kin, the seafaring elves; therefore protection from all may often be called upon in the hour of greatest need.
With this in mind, Elwing heads for her favourite place, the harbour, the place she holds most dear to her heart, the place she feels most in touch with both her beloved and her benefactor. She draws close to the banks of the harbour and sits on the shore, oblivious to the light drizzle which is gradually receding from the sky. The swans in the harbour bob around on the tide, and she becomes mesmerised watching the ebb and flow of the currents as they wash in against this last bastion, the Swanhaven.
Elwing reflects back on the last few days with an observer's stance - trying to play back in her memory the events which have unfolded. Try as she may she can only vaguely remember what happened during her foray into the outer realms after she left Aztryd's grandmother's home. She knows in her heart she had seen the balrog but she can only bear witness to the devastation it had caused. This in itself causes her heart to ice over in terror - dark times are ahead - of this she is sure. Though what form the dark will take can not be guessed at this point in time. The inhabitants of the Swanhaven, including her uncle, Aztryd and her baby Nizl and the rest of the loyal Teleri, have already witnessed evil in several different forms - one can only guess what form it might take next and from whence it will come.
With these thoughts in mind, Elwing resolves to get herself back into better health as quickly as possible so that she can support her uncle and her new friends in any way she can.
Gently patting her face dry with the soft towel laying by the side of the basin, she turns once again to locate the gown she had removed before clambering into her bed the evening before. She brushes a hand across the soft luxurious material, remembering the kind fae princess who had stored this gown away in case of the arrival of elvenkind on her island realm. Shaking her head to remove the thoughts about to enter her mind, and the sadness that always accompanied them, she takes up the gown and carefully pulls it over her head, letting it drop into place and fastening it with fumbling fingers. Spying a hairbrush nearby, she wanders across to the mirror and table and picks up the brush to begin brushing the knots from her hair. Once finished and noting the paleness in her cheeks, she decides it is time to refresh her memory of her uncle's realm, the part that is undamaged by the fall of the tower of Tilion. Finding her soft boots, she pulls them over her feet and takes a cloak from the hook near the door of her chamber. Fastening the warm cloak around herself, she quietly opens the chamber door and slips out slowly, taking her time so as not to lose her balance and stumble.
Making her way quietly and carefully down the ramps and steps of the palace is rather tiring, and Elwing rests after each two or three steps to catch her breath. Her resolve wins out, however, and her legs obey her iron will and carry her to the bottom and to the palace entrance. Stopping in the huge doorway, she looks across this haven she now knows as home. The harbour to the east, mountains and hills surrounding the palace to the north and an array of buildings surrounding the palace as if protecting it from an unseen enemy. Though, she muses, it would seem that Lord Ulmo holds all at Alqualonde in a special place in his heart - which she feels is only right considering most of those who had resided here over the ages were of the Teleri or close kin, the seafaring elves; therefore protection from all may often be called upon in the hour of greatest need.
With this in mind, Elwing heads for her favourite place, the harbour, the place she holds most dear to her heart, the place she feels most in touch with both her beloved and her benefactor. She draws close to the banks of the harbour and sits on the shore, oblivious to the light drizzle which is gradually receding from the sky. The swans in the harbour bob around on the tide, and she becomes mesmerised watching the ebb and flow of the currents as they wash in against this last bastion, the Swanhaven.
Elwing reflects back on the last few days with an observer's stance - trying to play back in her memory the events which have unfolded. Try as she may she can only vaguely remember what happened during her foray into the outer realms after she left Aztryd's grandmother's home. She knows in her heart she had seen the balrog but she can only bear witness to the devastation it had caused. This in itself causes her heart to ice over in terror - dark times are ahead - of this she is sure. Though what form the dark will take can not be guessed at this point in time. The inhabitants of the Swanhaven, including her uncle, Aztryd and her baby Nizl and the rest of the loyal Teleri, have already witnessed evil in several different forms - one can only guess what form it might take next and from whence it will come.
With these thoughts in mind, Elwing resolves to get herself back into better health as quickly as possible so that she can support her uncle and her new friends in any way she can.