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Sunday, August 17th, 2003
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10:31 am
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Some time later, Finduilas passed like a wraith through the dining hall, unnoticed (or at least unremarked upon) witha large tray of food in her arms. She passed into the corridors, to deliver a meal to Fingon and Thranduil, who had not shown their faces since the return to Nargothrond. It was really a thinly veiled attempt to know what was transpiring between them. If Thranduil bore news from the east, she should certainly be privy to it. After all, she had found him. Well, he had found her, but nonetheless.
Her conversation with her father has been unsatisfying. He had advised her, as she knew he would, to be patient and wait for events to transpire. But Finduilas found herself wishing to be counted one of those who affected the course fo the future, not one was was affected by them. But there was no wisdom in those thoughts. She was not Finrod or Fingon, mighty heroes and warriors of the Noldo. She hid in trees when orcs came around.
She was scowling at the memory of that fact when she turned the corner and spied Fingon striding further up the hall. "Cousin! Hold!" She jogged toward him, the wine decanter threatening to spill over. "I was looking for you. Where is our noble guest?"
current mood: moody
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(3 guesses | speak friend and enter)
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| Tuesday, August 12th, 2003
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8:58 pm
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Finduilas stood on one of the balconies of Nargothrond, overlooking the canopy of the forest. She kept wanting to turn her eyes either North or West. Was it because of Thranduil's insistent confusion and suspicion that she felt so restless over her current state of existence? Or was it merely the omnipresent premonition that the Firstborn were gifted with? Sometimes, she might envy Men that they did not worry about a problem 'til faced with it.
Because now she knew that something was changing. Perhaps for better or worse the elves would be united again for a common purpose... Finduilas only knew that she herself had a strange desire to draw all her kin to herself, only so that they would be together when what was coming... came. That was why she was reluctant for even Thranduil to make the journey home alone. And perhaps if he felt the same, why he was so eager to do so.
She turned to find her father and discuss her ominous thoughts with him.
current mood: worried
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(speak friend and enter)
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| Saturday, August 9th, 2003
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7:02 am
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| Wednesday, August 6th, 2003
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7:47 am
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( Pissed OOC Note )
Finduilas pulled her mare after her by the mouthpiece, though the animal would gladly have followed of its own free will. She had opted to keep Thranduil company, since he was, more or less, her discovery. Her father rode behind her, presumably to keep an eye on her. And Finrod and Fingon beside him, to keep watch on the sons of Fëanor, who became the trail leaders by default. It was an interesting procession.
Thranduil's question made her smile grimly. "You neglected to ask how long I've been in this state of affairs. As far as I can discern, there seems to be no needs to fret over situations that are beyond my power to control or understand. I believe that all will be made clear in time. Soon, I hope," she smiled. "There have been many surprise meetings, though," she qualified thoughtfully. "There is great rejoicing whenever one of our kin finds there way back to Nargothrond. When Finrod rode up one afternoon, all of Beleriand must have heard our celebrations!" Glancing off towards the hills, she added to herself, "And there are those I still dare not hope will someday return to us."
current mood: nostalgic
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(3 guesses | speak friend and enter)
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| Monday, August 4th, 2003
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10:30 pm
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| Saturday, August 2nd, 2003
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10:19 am
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Finduilas stood, twisting her mouth guiltily. She only realized now how badly her little bid for independence had turned. Instead she'd caused her family undue worry, and prompted an immediate elf-hunt. It was fortuitous for her that the woods in this area were not as devoid of travelers as was commonly thought.
When the stranger, Thranduil, identified himself the other elves murmured softly. A self-proclaimed elf king. From the east! Not that Finduilas doubted what he said. His beearing was that of a king. A king of green-elves, that is.
For a long moment, the elves stared in silence at the stranger. Finduilas, at least, was sympathetic.
Rumors had come from afar of the strange and sudden appearance of walking legends. Legends, even to Finduilas who had lived through the greatest age of the elves. And certainly, she had witnessed them herself, been part of it herself. Messengers had been sent out across Beleriand for news--to Doriath, to Gondolin, to Himring, and other places that had been strongholds in the Age that they'd known. Until more was known, at Nargothrond at least, the elves kept close to their home and were wary of traveling strangers.
Finduilas turned to Thranduil with a sympathetic smile. "You are lost, unless I miss my guess. Why do you not return with us to Nargothrond to rest and... refresh yourself. It is the least we can offer for the.. service you've performed for me today." She glanced over her shoulder at her father meaningfully, to remind him that this elf perhaps had saved her from an unpleasant encounter.
current mood: guilty
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(2 guesses | speak friend and enter)
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| Thursday, July 31st, 2003
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8:03 pm
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Finduilas furrowed her brow as the strange elf rode into the clearing. He was certainly no Noldo; One of the secretive Silvan from the east perhaps. She didn't know enough of them to say for certain.
What she did know, however, was that he was astride her horse. No doubt, that animal had led him back to Finduilas.
She leaned forward to see through the leaves what he would do. As he dismounted, it became clear he meant to dispatch of the orc. She hoped he could, though there seemed little doubt on that point.
current mood: hopeful
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(3 guesses | speak friend and enter)
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| Wednesday, July 30th, 2003
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8:53 am
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Finduilas peered into the forest, trying to see through the trees where the sound of battle joined was floating up to her ears. The melee was short, it seemed to her. Perhaps it was only a small band of orcs. Soon enough a foreboding (again, to her ears) silence descended.
She stood, anticipating the return of her party. The footfalls that approached her clearing didn't sound like elf feet, though. Indeed, elf feet would make no sound.
In a flash, Finduilas took cover behind a tree, and in another moment she decided to go a step further and silently pulled herself up among the boughs. Her knife was still tucked into her belt, but in all honesty, if she had managed to strike an orc with that blade, it would be sheer luck, not the skill she certainly didn't posess. So she sacrificed her pride and took cover.
An expectant moment passed while she held her breath. Then, an ungainly figure tumbled into view, apaprently having decided that this clearing was unoccupied. Finduilas' mare neighed in disgust and bolted, dropping her saddlebags on the ground in the process. The orc whooped in evil glee and hobbled over to them. From her vantage, Finduilas noted that he was in fact stuck with an elf arrow in his back and leg. He must have decided to abandon his compatriots when the fight swung in favor of the elves.
Finduilas was still holding her breath, avidly watching the orc whow as now pawing through her posessions, in order to be aware of the moment he noticed her presense.
So when he stiffened and looked toward her tree, her heart skipped a beat. Then she suddenly became aware of another sound approaching. Horses. Approaching fast!
current mood: scared
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(1 guess | speak friend and enter)
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| Monday, July 28th, 2003
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8:52 am
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(OOC: Sorry, sorry. It's been a long weekend. I will post my bit as soon as I can drum up two brain cells to rub together...)
current mood: rushed
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(speak friend and enter)
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| Friday, July 25th, 2003
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7:59 am
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Meanwhile, Finduilas was being entertained by Maglor, who was an unending fountain of forgotten stories and songs. When she'd first joined the hunting party, she had been sullen and quiet. But after a few hours of walking through the forest, well... walking through the forest is quite overrated if you're not walking by choice. So she had caved enough to allow her kinsman to cajole her with humorous stories of days gone by.
"--and then Maedhros said to Fingon, 'But I think that sheep are actually meant for shearing!'"
Finduilas was wiping tears from her eyes, sides aching, when the elves crested a hill, treeless, with a wondrous view. In the far far distance she could even dimly make out the gates of Nargothrond. "Well we've circled clear around haven't we!"
Curufin strode up, an unstrung bow in his hand. "This is where we leave you, cousin. Two of our guard will stay with you, just in case."
"I don't need any guard," Finduilas replied stiffly.
He raised an eyebrow, then smirked. "Very well. Then you can wait here alone until we return. Keep a sharp eye open."
Maglor gave her a regretful look and followed his brother to ready his own weapons. Regretting, just a little, her outburst, Finduilas sank to the ground, watching the hunters disappear down into the foliage. Her mare hobbled up behind her and chewed on her braid. Sigh. And she was missing the birthday party!
current mood: gloomy
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(2 guesses | speak friend and enter)
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| Wednesday, July 23rd, 2003
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10:46 pm
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Finduilas sat up abruptly, eyes peering sharply into the thick wall of brush and tree surrounding her. Bright, mid-morning sunlight streamed through the leaves, making it difficult to make sense of the shadows. But she had definitely heard a sound, which has woken her with a start from her half-sleep...
Her fingers wrapped around the bone handle of her hunting knife beneath her blankets. Since she was clearly awake and alert to anyone who might be observing, she stood up.
There was the sound again, distinctly. Off to her left. Slowly she turned her head...
Too fast to react, her arms were pinned behind her back by a tall figure swooping out from the right. Her knife was seized and tossed to the ground. Finduilas' hea spun and black spots of terror swam in her vision. Not again!
Melodic laughter interrupted her bevy of panicked thought. It was quite out of character for an orc. An elf dressed in a soft gray tunic emerged silently from the trees, laughing again upon seeing her expression. Suddenly, her arms were released and she was spun around into the arms of her kinsman, Curufin, who was smirking toothily.
"Forgive us, cousin, we couldn't resist the temptation to scare you just a bit." His dark eyes flashed with wicked humor.
"I won't," Finduilas remarked stiffly, withdrawing from his embrace.
"Come, Finduilas," Maglor said contritely. "Let us escort you back to Nargothrond. You shouldn't be wandering alone in this region. And we've spied you for some time, and we know you're alone."
"Yes, perhaps you did not hear, but there are orc bands wandering the woods. Lost most likely. We've been sidetracked from our arrival at Nargothrond by the fine sport of hunting them down," Curufin swooped to pick up her knife, running a thumb down the blade to test its edge. Shaking his head disapprovingly he returned it to her. "How long since you sharpened this cousin?"
She stuck the knife in her belt and forwent comment. Her nerves were on edge. First thinking she was being attacked by orcs or some other foul spawn of Morgoth. Then immensely relieved (and aggravated) at the prank played on her by the sons of Fëanor. And finally frightened to learn that she could indeed have wandered into the midst of that "adventure" she'd thought she'd wanted. "I will take you up on your offer of escortment, I believe. I've wandered far enough for now. I am ready to return to Nargothrond."
Maglor bent and offered her her cloak with a mild smile.
Curufin paced the small clearing as she gathered the rest of her few belongings. "Yes, well, there is the matter of the rest of those foul orcs we've been hunting. We'll dispatch them first. Then we shall return to Nargothrond."
Those words made Finduilas' blood run cold. Maglor patted her hand comfortingly as she clutched her blanket roll to her chest. "Can you not return me home first? And then return for your sport?"
"Don't worry, Finduilas. We'll leave you safe with a few guards. We would not take you with us when we attacked. What good would that do?" Curufin was typically tactless, but she had no chance to banter, as the princes' company of elves appeared from the depths of the shadows. "Let us be gone then." Curufin strode off, leaving Finduilas behind, with Maglor solicitously waiting for her to bring her mare and follow.
"Alright. I'm ready."
current mood: worried
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(speak friend and enter)
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| Saturday, July 19th, 2003
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10:39 pm
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Finduilas wrapped her arms around her bent knees and tilted her head back to stare at the stars. Night had fallen in the unending forests north of Nargothrond. Nightbirds sang in the boughs that crowded her view. Sighing, she stretched out on her back, digging bare toes into the blankets that were her bed. This peace and solidarity was what she had longed for from home. Still, all things considered, it would be nice to have at least one person to share the moment with. She was being as inspid as a human woman. Always changing her mind about what she wanted.
Her mare whinied, as the elfmaid drifted off to dream.
current mood: peaceful
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(speak friend and enter)
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| Friday, July 18th, 2003
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8:36 pm
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A new minstrel arrived at Nargothrond in the middle of the night, and Finduilas delayed her departure to extract any new songs or tales from him. Then she had her mare brought to her, and a bow and quiver and a long knife, and provisions for just a few days, deciding to hunt for any other food she might need.
She departed with some stealth, opting to duck her father's limitless warnings and cautionary stories which would no doubt delay her even more. So, as the sun was setting, the elfmaid began her journey north, with no destination or other plan in mind.
current mood: excited
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(speak friend and enter)
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| Thursday, July 17th, 2003
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8:13 pm
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Have left Fingon and Thranduil to drink themselves sick. When they pass out in agony, I'll pick their pockets as reimbursement for Thingol and Finrod's rare vintages. Well, I did give them Finny's, but I don't feel good about it.
Tomorrow, I'll ride out to go a-visiting and see who all else has rejoined the land of the living. Alas that everyone else will be too hung-over to accompany me. Hopefully there are no orc parties lingering around. That would be... horribly exciting.
FF
Finduilas dropped her journal on her bed. "Just try anything Mr. Orcpants. We'll see who pins who to a tree."
current mood: determined
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(speak friend and enter)
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| Tuesday, July 15th, 2003
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8:35 am
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Dear Diary, apparently all in Nargothrond have abandoned elaborate feast I prepared ("prepared" might be a strong word--definitely "oversaw preperation of") in favor of getting utterly toasted. Alas alas. Have decided as soon as they pass out, I'll test their recuperative eyebrow-regrowing powers. That'll learn 'em.
Meanwhile, Gwindow tripped on a gopher-hole and as been crippled for foreseeable future. Says he was wounded in great orc battle, but I know the truth. Besides, he always needed rescuing by Turin. Wasn't that my job?
FF
current mood: aggravated
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(3 guesses | speak friend and enter)
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| Sunday, July 13th, 2003
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7:56 pm - Suppertime
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Finduilas had parted ways with the older men soon after that to let them catch up and see Fingon settled. She had wandered off to the largest dining hall to ensure that sufficient seating could be secured for all to sit at once. An elf-maid's job is never done, she thought ruefully. There was also the matter of who would be sitting at the high table with the king and his brother and niece and cousin. Some of the honored lords who dwelt in Nargothrond. The chief emmisary and stone-cutter of the Naugrim.
Her mental finger-ticking was interrupted by a mild voice calling her name. "Finduilas! Faelivrin!" Turning, she smiled warmly as Gwindor strode up to her. "There you are, Faelivrin. I've been hunting for you all afternoon, but you've managed to keep ahead of me. Now I have caught you though."
"Gwindor, when did you return from roaming through the forests?" she asked fondly.
"Only recently. I was bade to tell you that we spied Maglor and Curufin traveling this way. They should be here at any hour."
"Hm," Finduilas said thoughtfully. "Let us hope that these sons of Feanor will behave themselves. Still, I'm glad of visitors from abroad in Beleriand. They must be carrying even more news for us to hear." At the far end of the hall, her father appeared, accompanied by Lord Fingon. "Come Gwindor, let's pass this news along." She waved to the two elves and strode towards them. "Father, Lord Fingon, it must be a fine day for receiving visitors, for two more have been seen coming to us. Maglor and Curufin, the sons of Feanor. Perhaps we will have particularly fine music to enjoy tonight!"
current mood: excited
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(speak friend and enter)
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| Saturday, July 12th, 2003
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11:41 pm
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Finduilas was discussing meal preperations in the kitchens--always an enjoyable last minute task since elven cooks took their appointment with life or death seriousness. On a typical night, food was made available to as many people as possible for as long as possible, since the inhabitants of Nargothrond wandered through the dining rooms at irregular hours. Elves, of course, not sleeping in the same manner Men did could be up all through the evening singing songs or relating tales (and Finduilas would be in their midst) or wandering out beneath the stars or simply meditating. So spreading the word for all to attend a meal at one time should easily provide enough time for the cooks to pull something together. There's no reason to be acting as through Beleriand would sink into the sea because you don't have enough mint, Finduilas thought, tight-lipped.
Her sharp, elven ears picked out the sound of a familiar voice passing in the hall, and with a smile brightening her face she went out to meet Fingon and her father and uncle before they passed by. They had already rounded a corner, so she jogged to catch up. The three men were talking animatedly; there was a lot to catch up on. Messages that couldn't be carried b courier. "Lord Fingon! Cousin!" she greeted him, embracing him warmly when he turned. The off-spring of Finarfin and Fingolfin had always been close and it was always good to see familiar faces who had become distant. "It is always so good to see you. And we have few enough visitors these days. Even my own uncles are rarely home. I wish we all dwelled nearer to each other, rather than in distant corners of the continent, but that cannot be. At least not for now. But what brings us the pleasure of your company? And how long will you be with us? And what news from the North?" Noticing the subdued amused smiles at her torrent of questions, Finduilas supressed the hundred other questions she could ask, each more urgent than the last. But she wanted to know what was happing outside of Nargothrond, especially among her kin. But there would, she prayed, be time for that later.
current mood: curious
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(3 guesses | speak friend and enter)
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11:38 pm
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OOC moment: If any of you ever chose to you Winona Ryder as avatar person, I have a lovely ass LJ background for a journal. It rocks verily. But alas, Finduilas is blonde so it's useless to me. Anyhow. ::wanders off::
current mood: productive
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(2 guesses | speak friend and enter)
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11:28 am
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Finduilas descended into the Great Hall, pillars carved into the likeness of trees. Even on its busiest evenings, the vastness of the hall made the number of Elves and Dwarves wandering through seem small.
Finduilas hiked up her gossamer skirts and clambered up on a carved stone rock to see over the heads of the assembled. (She's always smiled at the irony of carving stone to look like a rock.) At the far end of the hall she spied two golden heads leaning together. Hopping down Finduilas made a beeline for them.
"Lord Finrod, father," she greeted them. "Who is this visitor that we must make an appearance for?"
"Ah Finduilas. There you are at last. You were sent for half the day ago," Orodreth chided subtly.
She blinked at him innocently. In fact she had made numerous detours to listen to the elvish minstrels she never tired of listening to. If one was singing a song of the Blessed Realm she could never pass by, even if she'd heard the song many times before. She'd been a child when the Noldor had departed Valinor, like her cousin Idril in the Hidden Kingdom, and her memories of the place were few.
"The scouts spied Lord Fingon making his way to us, slowly," the king supplied. "At the pace he's taking, perhaps he'll be here this night. Or perhaps not. Finduilas would you see that rooms are set aside for his use, and a feast prepared. We have too little excuse for celebration these days. This will be a fine opportunity."
On the one hand, it was good to have something to do. On the other, Nargothrond was a big place to get in order for a celebration. Finduilas paced off with delegation on her mind.
current mood: busy
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(speak friend and enter)
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| Friday, July 11th, 2003
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11:32 am - The Journal
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A gift of Gwindor to Faelivrin.
Finduilas cracked open the vellum cover of the book he had left on her bed. The pages were blank. A journal. She smiled. She had confessed her restlesness to him a number of days ago. She was forbidden from riding abroad as she usually did; bands of orcs were wandering too far abroad. The forests were too dangerous, even the Hidden Plain, for one elf-maid traveling alone. And there was no other way to travel, as far as she was concerned.
Finduilas picked up a pen to begin rambling to the attentive ear of the diary. A moment later she detected the soft sound of footsteps approaching her door. Rilgaen appeared in the archway. "We have unexpected guests, and you're wanted."
Finduilas sighed and flipped her golden plait over her shoulder. Never enough time to do what she wanted, but too much time spent on unwanted chores, such as giving guests the grand tour of Nargothrond. She tossed the journal under a pillow for later.
current mood: exasperated
current music: a passing elf minstrel
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(speak friend and enter)
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faelivrin's journal