Played By:
AelKennyr Rhiano
BelenosStormChaser Magic
Rhun Darkmoon
Shawn Daysleeper
Eilif 's lips tighten but she does not drop her gaze as Olwe regards her. While she has begun to come to terms with her disfigurement, with only the slight tugging of the tight new scar from time to time to remind her of its existence, still it took effort not to drop her eyes in shame under the Elf King's gaze. Her chagrin turns to a small amusement as he listens to him speak. So she had nettled him a little, it seems. She watches his face as he speaks first to Adelstienn and then turns his attention back to her. Emotions play across the finely chiseled features, and his eyes shadow with pain as he speaks of his cousin. Well, not a pompous one, at least, she concedes to herself, but then anyone can speak fine words and act a part.
((She watches his face...))
Eilif puts her now cold pipe on the table as she replies, "Aye, Aztryd and her babe are with us. That babe has a fine pair of lungs and likes to exercise them during the night so she has retired early to get some rest." She deliberately lets her eyes roam his form, taking in the crumpled salt encrusted clothing and the disheveled hair before continuing. "I must confess, you do not quite live up to the elegant, well-attired image she gave us of you, but no doubt she was starry eyed by your majesty. Indeed, you are almost as good at story-telling as she."
((..the crumpled salt-encrusted clothing and the dishevelled hair..))
Nasi is even more glad of the hand that hides his smile as he listens to Eilif's reply. Again he admires her pluck. If only Fafnir were here to hear this! So this is the one in whose hands their fate rests. He drops his hands to his knees and leans forward to listen, waiting with interest to see what was said next, his dark eyes regarding the stranger with veiled curiosity.
((If only Fafnir were here to hear this!))
The Master Brewer regards Olwe thoughtfully. He says he is a king, but he certainly does not seem to act as one. He is definitely different from the other elves he has dealt with over the years. Most of the elves he encounters have a haughty demeanor. This one is certainly... odd... compared to his own prejudices. It seems Eilif will remain sharp-tongued, and he grimaces a little at her words to the elf king. The Elder is not one to judge the elves. Among the dwarves there are many differences, and he realizes that. So should be the way of the elves. Now that Olwe has appeared before them, the offer seems genuine. Looking around at the others, though, he sees concern. "Your... majesty, "he says uncertain, "you are very generous to come before us, but I would like to ask you if you would tell us about your land." The Elder then reaches for his mug for a drink.
((The Master Brewer regards Olwe thoughtfully.))
Just beyond, in the huge fireplace that serves also as a cook-fire, the flames twist and dance merrily, a kindly sound, a familiar sound, one that is the same the whole of Middle Earth. Mingled in the popping sound of the logs as they burned are the voices upstairs of the sea merchant Nole and the disguised Lord of Dreams, Irmo-who-is-Etelin. Nole's voice, a clear bell-like sound that is answered intermittently by Estelin's lower, deeper voice. Comforting, the voices, despite the current tension between the three of them.
Olwe cocks his head, giving Eilif a long and measuring look, taking in the brittle sharpness of her words, and the even sharper gaze she turns upon him. Flattening his hand upon the wood trestle table, he shifts his body into a more relaxed pose. "I am glad she and the babe are safe," He says after a moment, his voice calm and measured. He lifts his gaze and regards the other, younger, male dwarf, who is, most assuredly, watching Olwe, but, as Olwe has noticed, watches with but half his attention. He notes the dwarf's posture, his bearing, the tautness that seems to be in every muscle. At last he turns his gaze to the courteous Elder and inclines his head.
"Please, friend," he answers gently, his gaze warming as he studies the open and friendly face of the Master Brewer. "To you all, I am but another elf, I know." And he gives Eilif a side look and then adds, "A most unmajestic one by report." He smiles to soften the words. "But I will promise the lady here,"
(("To you all, I am but another elf, I know."))
He lifts a hand to indicate the dwarf beside him, "that upon the morrow, I shall try, for her gracious sake, to appear a bit more kingly. " He looks back over to include both Nasi and Adelsteinn in his gaze. "It is enough to call me Olwe, " He says simply. "And I imagine you are indeed, curious about Alqualonde."
(("..I shall try.. to appear a bit more kingly."))
His gaze softens as he speaks of his beloved Swanhaven, and before him, in his mind's eye, rises again the image of her shores, the curve of the shoreline, the call of the swans, the smell of the salt air there, the sounds of Telerin voices raised up in song. Again, as the words fall like water from his most favored waterfall, he hears the call of fisher-elves upon the docks, boasting of their catch that day and their catches on the morrow. He speaks to them, and his voice swells and fall, like the waves, like the tides, as he once again relives coming first upon her shores, seeing for the first time the high King of all Elves, Ingwe, kneeling upon the sandy beach in hushed awe and fear as Ulmo himself bestowed the pearl circlet he now wears--has worn-- through all the ages.
((His gaze softens as he speaks of his beloved Swanhaven.))
He speaks of the kinslaying as the fire banks in the fireplace and has to be replenished by a slender female elf, whose Sindar heritage cannot be denied. He speaks of nights under a twilight sky, and star-strewn days. He speaks, finally, of the vision from Irmo, which began this new turn in his life, that gave the dawn to this 4th Age and took a peaceful land and a peaceful king into the center of a dark prophecy. He finally bows his head and falls silent, waiting, not daring to look over at the female beside him, for he could feel her hostility and resentment, a well banked heat. He does not look over at the younger dwarf, for he feels that one is anticipating someone or something not in this tavern room. He looks not at the dwarf elder, for there is nothing in his look that can say more than his words, his gestures, his looks have in the vast telling. He sits, and he waits.
((He sits, and he waits.))
Eilif draws her feet up on the bench as she listens to Olwe's long tale, wrapping her arms around her knees and staring at nothing as her head fills the visions his words create. When he finally falls silent she shakes her head a little to clear it of the images there. "Well, there's certainly nothing wrong with your tongue at least," she murmurs before looking to Adelstienn to guage his thoughts. Behind him, she can see Nasi shifting anxiously in his seat, clearly only paying half attention to what was being said.
((Behind him she can see Nasi..))
Nasi cannot help his gaze turning yet again to the tavern door. What IS Fafnir? In such a short time that tall, lanky dwarf has become such a close part of him. He is nearly always at his side and Nasi has to admit to himself he likes it that way. Now with him gone for so long, even the novelty of Olwe's arrival cannot keep Nasi's attention for long. He sighs as the door remains firmly closed. He tries again to listen to the elf's tales of far shores and distant events knowing Fafnir would want to hear it all when he returns.
((Where IS Fafnir?))
Adelsteinn listens quietly to Olwe's story. After he finishes speaking. the Elder replies, "There has been little inclination of helpfulness between our two kinds." He looks towards Eilif with a meaningful look, hoping she sees it."I am sure I do not need to remind you of that, Olwe." He then continues with a more inquisitive tone. "If I may ask, why would an elf of clearly long and noble history bother with a down and out group of homeless dwarves you have never met before?"
((He looks towards Eilif with a meaningful look...)
Olwe lifts blue eyes to look about the room, There, on the fire, two fine fat hens have been set upon a spit to cook, and the smells of grease dripping into the fire and flesh cooking fills the room. But for the Lord of Alqualonde and Tol Eressea, the travails of the journey settle heavy on his shoulders and in his lower back. Elves are slowly starting to filter in...one or two more at the bar now, talking in low, silken voices in a mixture of Sindar and other tongues foreign to the Teleri King. He is weary, now that he has laid before them his love and his story of his Alqualonde. Turning his head, he answers Adelsteinn but fixes his gaze solely upon Eilif.
((..he..fixed is gaze solely upon Eilif))
" I am a child of Eru. You are the children of the Smith. Some may see that as cause enough to create a river of suspicion and doubt and mistrust between our races. I am elf, and you are Khazad, and the history between our people is replete with those mistrusts and those doubts. Great evil has been done because people from both our races decided to swim that river of suspicion.
(("I am a child of Eru."))
"But I will not dive into those waters. I have not lived my life to now swim in that river. When Aztryd was found in Alqualonde, I saw not a child of the Maker. I saw a mother and a child. I was a father once. I, too, held my child in my arms, and I know what it is like to do anything, anything for that child. I see you now, and I see a people on a journey. The end they know not. Their future they know not. They do not know, I think me, what the morrow will bring. And once I was a traveler like you, a refugee upon a quest like you. I guess one may say that again I am a traveler, upon a quest whose end he knows not.
"I offer you home in Alqualonde. I understand if you say no. I will give you what aid as you may require of me and may wish to receive from me. But I do it not for a group of beings I see as lesser. I do it for a group who are not, truly, so very different than me." He raises a hand and tries to stifle a yawn.
(("I offer you home in Alqualonde."))
"Forgive me, friends, for the day was long, and the night calls to me to rest upon a bed that does not sway with the lull of the ocean." He rises smoothly to his feet, his weariness not merely from the day but from the enormity of what lies before him. "May we talk further upon the morn?"