Played by:
AelKennyr Rhiano
BelenosStormchaser Magic
Rhun Darkmoon
Shawn Daysleeper
"...help Olwe gather our packs from the hold and bring them to the dock..." said Nole.
Not King or Lord, simply Olwe. The Lord of Alqualonde and Tol Eressea watches the sea merchant as he walks towards a build that could only belong to the harbor-master. Blue eyes the color of the seas note the set of the merchant's shoulders, the weight of his steps. Never has Nole referred to his king as simply "Olwe," and while Olwe does not correct his companion, he purses his lips thoughtfully. Has something broken in their relationship that cannot be mended, or must time be the weaver, and Olwe must learn to thread patience into the repair of his mistakes. The salt air mingles with the smell of fruit left all day beneath a hot sun; a smell that both entices his stomach into loud complaints and causes it to roil, for the sweetness of the smell is cloying and overripe.
So, too, must now patience be part of the weave the fabric of forgiveness from Estelin, who is secretly the Vala Irmo, Lord of Dreams. The disguised Vala has a haunted and gaunt look about him, his cheeks hollowed and dark circles under his eyes. The measuring look he gives to Olwe is one full of reproach, though naught is spoken between the two. In silence, the two haul their gear and packs up from the hold of the ship, the smell of cramped quarters and recent sickness nearly gagging the Eldar king. The wait for Nole upon the docks was done in a drowsy silence, as evening crept across the sky and descends upon the elven port. The cries of market vendors fade with the setting sun, and the soft sounds of merchants putting away their goods for another day, the sounds of mothers and children hurrying home to hearth and supper, the cries of babes hungry for teat and bed, settle the Grey Havens into the end of another day.
Nole returns and with a gesture, the three from Alqualonde fall into step with each other and make their way from the docks along a cobbled street, well-tended and clean to a large tavern. Silence follows their footsteps, and the trapped heat of the day rises through the stones through the soles of their boots, warming their feet. At the door, Nole reaches out and places a hand against the worn wood, which disappears to reveal the interior, dark and cool and sparsely populated. Olwe follows, casting a last look around outside before stepping into the coolness of the tavern and standing at the door, waiting for Nole's lead.
((..waiting for Nole's lead.))
Nasi 's thumb stops the relentless digging at the knot in the wooden tabletop as he feels the puff of cool air against his cheek. His dark eyes look up expectantly, but it is not Fafnir who stands in the doorway. Disconsolately he eyes the small group of elves standing a little uncertainly just inside the door. But they are not Farnir, his Fafnir, and Nasi quickly loses interest in them and drops his eyes back to the table. Where is he? His thumbnail digs again at the irregularities of the knot. "I'll be back soon, Handsome," he had promised just as they were entering the Inn late this afternoon, and melted into the crowd in the marketplace before Nasi could stop him. Where is he?
((Where is he?))
Eilif puffs diligently on her pipe until it is drawing evenly. She drops the smoldering coal into the fire and leans the tongs back against the side of the fireplace, muttering a little to herself about the overly large size of them. This was an elven city and nothing is made dwarf sized. They are going to live in another elven city, if this Olwe ever arrives, so for a while at least, it was something she is going to have to get used to.
((It was something she was going to have to get used to.))
Returning to the table, Eilif clambers awkwardly onto the too-tall bench, taking her place next to Adelstienn again and watches most of the dwarves make their way up to the lodging area. Few of them ever linger in the tap-room for long, preferring to eat early and retreat upstairs rather than endure the company of the elven patrons, who usually came later in the evening seeking food, ale and merry company. Even Aztryd has sought her bed early this night, having endured a few sleepless nights with an unsettled babe.
((... taking her place next to Adelstienn..))
Eilif takes a long satisfied draw on her pipe and settles in to enjoy some quiet conversation now supper is finished and there is no whining baby to talk across. Her eyes are drawn to the quiet stonemason as he fidgets in his seat. The space next to him, usually occupied by the tall dwarf Fafnir is empty tonight. She opens her mouth, about to ask his whereabouts when a cold gust of wind swirls around them. Slitting her eyes against the windblown smoke from her pipe, she peers towards the door. Perhaps it is him now.
((Perhaps it is him now.))
Adelsteinn watches Eilif look up as the door opens. He sees another elf in the doorway, actually three more. With a sigh he has another drink of ale and contemplates their next move. It seems that this Olwe should be here by now. His thoughts turn to perhaps seeking out more permanent lodging here in town. Staying in the Inn is certainly not cheap. "We may be able to hold off on that if we can somehow earn our keep," he thinks silently.
((...this Olwe should be here by now.))
Nole and Estelin enter the tavern of the Green Leaf Inn with Olwe. The early evening nip in the air has come off the harbor outside and makes Nole appreciate the warmth that greets him as he enters. He glances around the room and raises his eyebrows to see one group of dwarves at the table in the corner. He murmurs to Olwe ,"Perhaps you do not have to look too far to find your passengers after all?"
At that moment, Estelin heaves a sigh. The voyage makes him feel very weak and bilious. While he is glad to have his feet on solid ground again, his stomach churns a bit at the smell of the cooking food as he enters the tavern. Nole notices the sighing groan as he turns to him. "I think it will be wise if I hurry him upstairs away from the food." He turns to Olwe as he speaks.
Olwe's gaze is drawn to a corner of the tavern where sits a company of dwarves. The table is laden with the remnants of a sizable repast, the smell of the glazed ham, the roasted bird, the fresh baked bread and the the stew causing his mouth to water. But the moan which rises from the seasick Vala underscores Nole's suggestion. Turning to Nole, he says softly,"Perhaps with a good night's rest on a bed on land, our musician will feel much restored in the morn. You are a good and true soul, my friend Nole. "Yes, please see him settled, and I will greet our Khazad friends." He watches Nole and Estelin cross the expanse of the inn and mount the stairs to a wide landing where sits barrels and crates. Then the two turn and ascend another set of stairs. Drawing in a breath, Olwe squares his shoulders and walks over to the dwarves seated there. "Is there room for another?" he asks in the common language. "I would sit with you, if you allow."
(("I would sit with you, if you allow."))
Nasi looks up in surprise as he hears quiet footsteps approach their table. The tallest of the group was making his way across the tap-room, seemingly intent on approaching them. Glancing behind him, he realises the other two have disappeared unnoticed. As he watches the stranger he cannot help but notice the graceful self-assurance with which he moves, the way his silver hair, even though slightly bedraggled and windblown, glints with light from the fire as it lifts upon the gentle eddies of air at his passing. He is tall, even for an elf. Nasi notices with approval the fine but well toned muscles that are outlined by the fabric of his clothing. Not a city elf then, but one who trains with weapons, this much is clear. Nasi lifts a hand to rub against his chin thoughtfully as he waits to hear what his business is with the small group of dwarfs. Even as he waits he cannot help but glance impatiently at the door again. Where IS Fafnir?
((Nasi looks up in surprise..))
Eilif's eyes look over the new arrivals, taking in their slightly disheveled appearance and the slightly greenish tone of the skin of the one standing in the rear. Not locals, by the looks of them. Perhaps they have come from the ship she had watched limp its way into port earlier that evening. She glances sideways to where the Elder sits apparently lost in thought next to her, her teeth chewing thoughtfully on the stem of her pipe. She had not wished to add to his worries by mentioning the poor state of the ship she had seen, nor even that she had been out in the city alone. Now though, if her guess is right, he might still come to hear of it. She turns her dark eyes back to the group, watching them carefully and hoping with all her might that they would choose to sit well out of earshot of her group.
((She had not wished to add to his worries...))
Eilif watches as the taller of the group of elves turns to murmur something to his companions, whereupon they make their way upstairs. Her eyes widen in surprise as the remaining elf makes his way directly to their table. Her chin tilts up and up as he approaches closer. By the Maker this one was tall indeed. Her teeth close tightly on the stem of her pipe when he pauses by their table and asks to join them, and her eyes dart automatically to Adelstienn to gage his response.
((..her eyes dart automatically to Adelstienn..))
Adelsteinn watches the taller elf approach with curiosity. None of the other elves that came in or out have taken any interest in their little band. Not only that, this one is quite impressive, as elves go. He is actually quite taken by him. "Please have a seat." An elf asking to join the company of dwarves? He believed such hospitality died long ago, before the fall of Belegost and Nogrod, the home of his ancestors.
"There is room for you." He gestures across from him. "I am Adelsteinn. Who might you be?" he asks curiously, not wanting the hospitality to change.
((..this one was quite impressive, as elves go..))
As Olwe waits for a response from the band of dwarves, his blue eyes watch with intense curiosity as as perfect rings of white smoke rise from the bowl of the pipe Eilif is holding. He smiles at Adelsteinn as he hears the kind, and well-measured answer, but instead of sitting across from the little gathering, he moves slowly and with the grace of his race around to take the vacant spot on the same bench, offering a shy smile to Eilif as he lowers himself upon the bench. The salt of the sea has stiffened the linen of his shirt, and it crackles softly even as the leather creaks. Turning to the others, he address Eilif, his command of the common tongue made possible from the sailors like Nole who have traded through the ages with their kindred in Middle Earth, but his accent surely different to their ears.
"Your pipe," He says. "Came it from the wee folks," He pauses, floundering for the name given the sturdy smaller folk. "My cousin gave unto me a pipe much like that and the weed which one smokes. " His pause this time is because of the small dagger of regret, of pain for not having been able to see the Sylvan Queen, his nearest kin in the mortal world. "But I must confess me that I have not yet tried this habit of pipe and smoke." He continues, pushing past the tightness in his chest, his eyes clearing again of the ache. He turns to Adelsteinn and gives a nod. "I am Olwe of Alqualonde," he tells him.
Nasi 's eyebrows rise in surprise at the newcomer's melodious voice. He lifts a hand to stroke his mustache and hide his smile as the elf not only chooses to sit next to Eilif but speaks with her, for Nasi knows well Eilif's thoughts on elves. Oh, if Fafnir were here to see this! His eyes start to stray again to the door but then he hears the name "Olwe" and he turns in his seat and looks again at the elf. Olwe! Olwe of Alqualonde, he had said. He narrows his eyes thoughtfully and settles back to listen and watch.
((He.. settles back to listen and watch.))
Eilif lowers her pipe and ducks her head, trying in vain to hide the wound that disfigures her face. Although now mostly healed, still it has left a wide and as yet still vivid scar. She stares down at the glowing contents of the bowl of her pipe and almost gasps aloud at the stranger takes a seat beside her. Under the pretext of shifting back in her seat politely so she is not between the Elder and the elf, she slides a little closer to Adelstienn, turning slightly so her shoulder is not rudely turned but not enough that she must show her face clearly.
((...she slides a little closer to Adelstienn))
Eilif is grateful she has lowered her pipe, for her breath hisses in between her teeth as she realizes the elf is speaking to her. Her eyes are hard flecks of obsidian black as she continues to stare down at her pipe and her tone is only slightly softer as she replies, "Aye, it came from those whom you no doubt consider wee folks from your lofty height, as did the good leaf that is in it." She turns and lifts her eyes, staring full into his regardless of her disfigurement, as she continues, "Does Olwe of Alqualonde receive so many gifts that he often leaves them untouched and unused?"
((She turns and lifts her eyes, staring full into his..))
Adelsteinn smiles a little at Eilif's sharp tone, realizing she is hardly likely to be warm to any elf. "Olwe of Alqualonde?" The Elder asks looking in surprise at the elf. "If I may, you do not look particularly kingly. You seem..." he looks over Olwe's muscular form... "seems like you do all the work yourself. I noticed the two that came in with you were much slimmer." He looks at his companions a moment before continuing. Are you, indeed, Aztryd's Olwe?"
Olwe watches her shift in her seat, and slide close to the one called Adelsteinn, his blue eyes widening a little at her reply. Across her face, in a jagged diagonal line, he sees the pucker and still angry flesh of a still healing scar. In her voice, he hears the same as well. He looks up and past Eilif to the red-haired male dwarf, who, from his carriage, must be their leader. To Adelsteinn he answers first. "I am Olwe, and I did meet Aztryd when she, through some strand of Vaire's loom, upon our shores found herself. " He looks about the room and then back to the Elder. "I hope that she is with you, and her child, and both are safe, for precious are children and their mothers." He ducks his head a moment, his cheeks coloring slightly.
"I am Lord of Alqualonde and Tol Eressea," he continues, and the firelight catches the faintest glint off the pearl circlet that sits upon his forehead. "And I am King of the Teleri, although caked with the salt of the sea and my sweat does not make me look particularly majestic." He rests an arm upon the table and leans in to include them all in his gaze. "A band of metal does not a king make, nor finery nor cloth of gold. " And here he stops a moment, then continues slowly. "For I cannot ask another to do what I myself would not."
(("I am Lord of Alqualonde and Tol Eressea."))
He turns his gaze upon Eilf, the ache for his cousin open in his eyes. "I speak from no lofty height, my lady. Forgive me if the name of the people who make such a wondrous creation such as you hold escapes me. But I have been told the folk are small in stature as well as mighty in heart, and to be so, I think, is no slight. " He lifts a hand and gestures to her pipe, coloring a little more. "I would try this...smoking, if one who knows how would show me once we are returned to Alqualonde. For that alone has left me with wont of trying it. That.." he swallows and then finishes," That, and it was the last gift I received from her. She...she smiled as she gave it, and the memory I have not wanted to touch, lest it be colored with less happier and more recent remembrances."