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#1 |
The Pearl, The Lily Maid
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Losse was soon bored with watching, and her feet quickly recovered from the stress of her long day's march. Cheerfully she grabbed the arm of a hobbit she'd seen serving and politely asked for a pint of ale and a meat pastie, giving up a few of her dwindling stock of coin. After all, what matter? she thought. She'd spotted a possible mark and cheerfully walked towards and around the dance floor as though looking for a washroom.
On the way she bumped into a young woman being led off the floor by her partner, showing definite signs of tipsiness. "Oh, pardon me! I'm so sorry," Losse said as she reached out a hand to steady the girl. With her other hand she deftly tucked her new purse out of sight, eyes atwinkle with what she hoped would be taken for friendliness. |
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#2 |
Everlasting Whiteness
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Astilwen watched in horror as tears began to stream down Tilionwen's face. Pulling the woman into a hug she held her, and tried to work out what on earth had set this off. Surely it couldn't have been Ariane's departure? Still, it was the only thing she could think of that might have done it.
"It's ok." She murmured, keeping her voice soft and soothing. "It's alright, it isn't your fault she left. She was in pain and needed to be alone for a while that's all. She'll come back later I'm sure." The two of them stayed that way for a while, Astilwen making vague shhing noises as she attempted to calm Tilionwen. Finally the woman's sobs stopped, and she moved away a little with a shocked expression. Before she could apologise or even run, Astilwen pressed her handkerchief into the other woman's hand and smiled at her. "Feeling better?"
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“If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.” |
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#3 |
Hauntress of the Havens
Join Date: Mar 2003
Location: IN it, but not OF it
Posts: 2,538
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For a moment Tilionwen forgot about the world outside her: the kind hobbit-lady's comforting voice and touch, Ariane, the party at the Inn, even the reason she was there in the first place. She just focused on her sobbing and how wonderful it felt. Not only was her dusty face being washed clean, but she also felt the long-held grief in her heart drowning in her tears.
After a long while she could cry no longer, and so came back to her senses. The first thing she noticed was the hobbit's arms around her. In shock, she pulled away from her a little. She did not want to offend her, especially after what she just did, but she felt terribly ashamed. This woman barely even knew her. She had no idea what Tilionwen had done. Yet in that sense it seemed to Tilionwen that her breaking down actually did her good. Her companion had already seen her tears; what difference will telling her its accompanying tale make? As if sensing an uneasiness in Tilionwen, the hobbit pressed a handkerchief into her hand then smiled. "Feeling better?" she asked. Oh, how I do, Tilionwen thought, but she settled for a gentle nod. Her mind now made up, she looked up and took a deep breath, then sighed heavily. "You asked previously if my name is Elvish. Well, it is. But it's not my real name...some people just gave it to me." |
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#4 |
Everlasting Whiteness
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A nod was all Astilwen received in answer to her question, but it did look as though a weight had been lifted from Tilionwen's shoulders, so she decided not to push it. The other woman sat quietly for a moment, clutching the handkerchief in her hands as she seemed to come to some kind of decision. She let out a long breath and then began to speak.
"You asked previously if my name is Elvish. Well, it is. But it's not my real name...some people just gave it to me." Wondering where this was heading Astilwen turned further towards Tilionwen and made herself comfortable, as it looked as though this tale might take a while. She wasn't sure why the woman had chosen her to confide in, a complete stranger, but she still wanted to help and this admission had certainly caught her interest. "What is your real name? And why was it changed?" There were so many more questions that she wanted to ask, who had given her this name and why she had kept it, but she had seen how fragile Tilionwen was, and didn't want to upset her again. Keeping her curiosity to herself, she waited to see if she would get an answer.
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“If more of us valued food and cheer and song above hoarded gold, it would be a merrier world.” |
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#5 |
Messenger of Hope
Join Date: Jun 2005
Location: In a tiny, insignificant little town in one of the many States.
Posts: 5,076
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Wren wasn’t half as hungry as Tim was, and by the time she was finished, he had already gotten seconds. She turned around and sat on the bench, waiting for him to be through, while she watched the other people. The dancing had stopped for a little while, for the musicians had taken a break. There were still several people milling about. She turned her head this way and that, catching sight of a few strangers who, though still unknown, she’d seen earlier that day.
Suddenly her eyes lit on two figures walking up towards the party gathering. She sprang to her feet. “Tim, Tim! It’s Woody and Hanson! Look they’re over there. Can I go say hello? Please Tim?” Tim turned his head, spotted the two hobbit children, and answered his sister, but she was already gone. Hadn’t waited for an answer to her question anyway, he noticed. He watched as she ran across the lawn towards them and then turned back to his plate of food. If she didn’t bring them back to where he was after meeting them, he’d be much surprised. Wren had started across the lawn even before Tim had quite caught sight of Woody and Hanson. As she drew near, she slowed her pace and approached more slowly. Her shyness of the previous evening came back, slightly, but not so much to keep her from speaking. “Hello,” she said, when she reached them. “How are you?” |
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#6 |
Shade of Carn Dûm
Join Date: Mar 2005
Posts: 400
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Now this was certainly the night for new sensations. There had been the ale, of course, a warm blurring of sight and thought. And really, very, very tasty. She would admit to herself now that Farael had been right in steering her away from another pint, at that moment, at least - her guard had been down, her judgment hazy.
There had been the dancing. The Halfling’s music was far more lively than the Elvish music she had grown up with. The vigorous steps had done wonders to clear her head of the ale’s after effects. She laughed to herself wondering if she dared try another mug – one of that darker brew that looked so tantalizing. Perhaps a smaller mug and one drunk more slowly. But that would have to wait; especially as Farael had been quite specific in mentioning their next drink would be water. I wonder how often he’s had too much ale . . . and was this the “cure” he himself figured out for it? Now there was the kiss . . . the touch of his lips ever so softly on her fingers. And what was she to make of that? It was not something her Mother had covered in her little lessons on courtesies and comportment, as bowing and the depth of curtseys had been. Should she kiss him back? Is that what was expected after dancing and a drink? He had kissed the backs of her fingers – was she to return the favor in kind and kiss the backs of his? As she was considering this problem, a woman had lurched out of the crowd and clumsily bumped into her. She’d apologized readily enough and steadied Teluyaviel with one hand. All the while smiling prettily. Telu laughed and clapped her hands. ‘A grand party this is turning out to be! You must be one of those sleight of hand tricksters come to entertain the guests. Do I have the right of it? Did you come with the traveling players that are here?' With a twinkle in her own eyes, Telu reached quickly out and retrieved the small silken pouch which had so recently hung from her waist on a cord; her slender, deft fingers barely touching the women as she did so. 'I think you must needs have a little more practice before you try your tricks on another Elf, though.'
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Young she was and yet not so. The braids of her dark hair were touched by no frost, her white arms and clear face were flawless and smooth, and the light of stars was in her bright eyes, grey as a cloudless night . . . |
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#7 |
Ghost Prince of Cardolan
Join Date: Nov 2005
Location: In hospitals, call rooms and (rarely) my apartment.
Posts: 1,538
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"wow, she is skilled... and Telu is not as drunk as I feared. But then she is an elf. Well, obviously she hasn't met many thieves back at her home place." Farael thought.
-"Well, M'lady I must say I would have never noticed this girl's... trick... yet I believe we men have a different name for people of her kind. Most definetly not tricksters. " started he, before noticing the look on Telu's eyes. He couldn't ruin the party for her. "Yet it matters not now... and yet I'm still thirsty, I have just seen the most wonderful looking jar of lemonade on the table over there... and don't think I have not noticed how you were eyeing that ale nearby! ' he laughed "But if I may give you a bit of advise, the effects might not be as far gone as they seem to be. Come now, I'm sure our friendly trickster will be around later. But then, maybe she will not run into us again" Farael started towards the table, not daring to look back. The girl was far too innocent looking, how could she do something like that? and what was he to do? he knew how to deal with thieves, but he had assumed they would always be men! No, she better not run into them again. For Farael's sake, rather than hers.
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I prepared Explosive Runes this morning. |
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