Breaking fast

Played By:
AelKennyr Rhiano
BelenosStormchaser Magic
Shawn Daysleeper


Olwe slept, the peaceful lull of waves still discernible over the voices of the customers of the inn down below the loft where the beds were neatly lined up. The Green Leaf Inn  filled with customers after the Lord of Alqualonde and Tol Eressea wearily climbed the stairs to find his bed, and their voices, musical and so achingly familiar, despite the fact it was not Telerin they spoke, became a lullaby for a weary king.

He awoke, stiff and cramped from curling his long form up to accommodate the rather short length of the bed, but oddly refreshed. Weaving his way past beds of sleepers--some elven, some dwarven, from the destroyed settlement, and some human-- he descends this cool mountain, finds the pubic bathes and scrubs from his skin the physical traces of Osse's displeasure, the salt and the sweat of the day before. With the grace of his kind, he returns to the upstairs room  and for a few moments, seeks his bed, closing his eyes and composing himself as he listens to Estelin's sonorous snores and the soft sounds of people rising here and there, beginning their day.

Nole rises and dresses quickly, descending  the stairs to hurry off to the harbor-master. Olwe almost rouses himself to ask if Nole wish his company, but for once, he holds himself back. Something is different between them, for now, and Olwe's heart feels heavy with the knowledge the fault is his.  Eventually, the sounds of voices rise from below, people breaking their fast, and also rises the smells of a morning meal; biscuits, eggs, ham, a meal of grain.  His stomach rumbles most unkingly, and this time Olwe himself rises.

With care he dresses, remembering Eilif's ...comment.

With care he dresses, remembering the dwarf Eilif's caustic comment about how unregal he looked last evening.  With deliberation, he chooses his garments, taking from his pack robes that have remained unworn for three full passing of the seasons.  Slowing he dons each article of clothing; long, tapering fingers caressing the velvet fabrics, the silks.  Lastly of all he sets upon his head the Crown of Alqualonde, the visible sign of his lordship over the beloved Swanhaven.

Her arm seems to be healing well.

Eilif flexes the fingers of her right hand experimentally and nods approvingly. Her arm seems to be healing well.  Pain has been absent for some time now, and everything seems to function as it should.  With luck, in time it should return completely to normal. Her hand rises to feel the newly healed scar on her face, and she suppresses a sigh.  Nothing will return her face to normal again, no matter how well it heals.   She shifts a little in her seat on the bench, the seat carefully chosen at the end, so that no bold elf could sit beside her and glances at the stairs.  Wordy, he had been, and a lie-a-bed too, it seems.

Adelsteinn sits at the table beside Eilif. The coming of the elf king has relaxed him a little, but soon will come the time to move on from this place to their uncertain future. He stares into his breakfast ale, waiting for the king to come down to breakfast. He has not been sleeping as well as he is bothered with worry.

He steps past where Estelin lies, snoring and gently reaches out to shake the other's shoulder enough to tease him into turning over. Then the King of the Teleri, unable to delay any longer, descends the stairs to the lower level and then down the shorter set of stairs that puts him into the common room of the inn.   There, at the same table as the night before sits the Elder and the one who reacted to him with barely concealed disdain, Eilif.   Giving them both a gently smile, he notes how she is sitting at the end of the bench and takes his seat across from them. "Greetings, my friends, "He says to them. "Please, may I break my fast with you?"

Eilif shifts in her seat again..

 Eilif shifts in her seat again, moving a little closer to the familiar comforting presence of the Elder.  She knows she is being harsh in her judgments of the supposed Teleri King.  It does not sit well with her to put her future in an elf's hands, no matter who that elf claims to be.  She sighs again as she hears his melodic voice, so lost in thought had she been that she'd not heard his soft footfalls.  She glances up and her eyes widen when she sees his attire.  Rich blue flowing robes drape his tall elegant figure, and an intricate crown graces his brow.  So he would have us feel the paupers, she thinks as she glances at her sturdy but plain jerkin and Adelstienn's well-worn attire.  She nods curtly, "There is room at the table if you wish it."

Adelsteinn nods to the elf...

Adelsteinn nods to the elf, relieved he finally came to join them. "Please have a seat," he says as he looks towards Eilif at her comment. He is not entirely sure of his own feelings towards elves, but he desires the waiting game be over. If this elf is going to escort them to a place where they could rebuild then he is ready for it to begin.

Olwe turns and in flawless Sindarin, spoken with a inflection and pronunciation that bespeaks his native tongue, he tells the young male elf behind the well polished bar to bring a full breakfast to all at his table as well as a refill of the Elder's drink. For himself, he asks for honeyed tea, flavored with mint and cinnamon.  Gracefully, he takes his seat across from them, every movement releasing the fragrance of the sachet that was packed away with the robes years before.

Lifting his gaze up, he is drawn to the broad and open face of the Elder dwarf, his blue eyes resting briefly upon the hair which covers the other's cheeks, chin and upper lip.  He resists the urge to brush his hand across his own smooth cheek. How must it feel to wear such hair about one's face like that? He did see humans asleep who also sport hair in this manner, but Olwe puts aside the curiosity as his gaze sweeps up and takes in the puffiness about Adelsteinn's eyes, the red rimmed about both upper and lower lids. There is the look of a leader worried for his people, a look and a feeling this elven lord knows well.

There is the look of a leader worried..

He allows his gaze to travel to Eilif. "Forgive me, "He says to her, his voice low and carefully measured. "I have not worn these robes for three turns of the years.  I brought them, though I am not sure why.  It may be, lady, that I was fated to bring them to wear them for your pleasure, as I was most unbefitting your idea of a king last even. I hope wearing the blue and white of Alqualonde, I better embody what would give you a vision of a king."

"Any fool can don fancy attire and look a part..."

Eilif leans back in her seat a little at Olwe's words.  She arches an eyebrow and boldly lets her dark eyes take in his attire before raising her eyes to meet his steady gaze.  "Any fool can don fancy attire and look a part, my lord,"  She softens the harshness of her words by letting one corner of her mouth curl in a half-teasing smile before she continues. "It's what the fool does that proves who he is.  Sometimes that is not at all what he appears to be.  Just ask the Elder about young Nasi, whom you met last night, for proof of that."

He returns her steady gaze. "Indeed, my lady, a fool in velvet is much like a fool in well worn leathers. Unwrap the package, and the contents, long or short, be the same." He continues to rest his gaze upon her; cool, considering, steady.  "And, lady, it is also said among those high and low, you may dress an ass, but the ears and tail will tell the stubborn beast. There is wisdom, I own, in such sayings."

"...you may dress an ass..."

But he does not give her time to answer. Instead he looks over at the Elder and says. "Friend, if you wish to tell me what happened to your home, I would hear it." He pauses. " But no matter if you wish to or not, I would you come with me to Alqualonde."

"I would you come with me to Alqualonde."

 Eilif bows her head in seeming acquiescence of the chastisement of the elf king's words, but in reality it is to hide the smile that she could not contain.  So he has some fire and backbone at least, along with his fine words and fine clothes she thinks approvingly.  Eilif knows a weak, dandified King would be as bad in his own way as a dishonest one.  Now if only he IS the king he claims to be, perhaps, just perhaps, there might be some hope.  She glances at the Elder as she waits for his reply to Olwe's offer.

"We were attacked...That decided us to leave.."

Aidelsteinn lifts his tankard of beer and drains it before he answers.  "We were attacked, "He says bluntly. "The first by a dragon and a balrog. Then weeks later, as we start to recover our wits, our health and our stores, the foul dragon returned and destroyed what was left of our settlement, picking us off  like sheep in a pen, leaving only those you see." He clears his throat. "That decided us to leave Gamilfun, bearing in our mind your offer. Here we are. And again you offer."

"Again," says Olwe. "I do offer."

Just the door to the inn fades away to reveal a young elf, face flushed, his dark eyes flashing as he self importantly announces in common, "A ship arrives!  From Sylvhara, bearing the sails of the Sylvan Queen!  Queen Comet!  She is here!"