Scarburg Meadhall - The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum

Firefoot · 02-20-2012, 03:18 PM

“Of course,” said Léof. He glanced at Javan and jerked his head in the direction of the kitchen where there were kept some basic medical supplies. The pair headed off.

As soon as they were out of earshot Léof commented, “Sounds like it’s not the first time that’s happened. I don’t know much about children but that one doesn’t seem very smart…”

Folwren · 02-20-2012, 08:20 PM

Javan couldn’t claim to know much more about kids. He shrugged his shoulders. “Eh, but he’s tough. He didn’t cry much after the initial surprise. I think he was angry!”

They went into the kitchen together and paused on the threshold. Saeryn looked over at them.

“What do you need, Léof?” she asked.

Firefoot · 02-21-2012, 06:24 PM

“Bandages, and some salve for burns, if there is any,” Léof said. “The little boy Theolain burned his hand pretty badly in the hearth.” Seeing Saeryn’s alarm, Léof hastened to add, “He seems to be alright, mostly, and his mother’s with him now.”

littlemanpoet · 02-28-2012, 04:20 AM

Eodwine and Laerdil had noticed the entire goings on since the boy had screamed in pain. Now the boy's hand was in a pail of water.

Laerdil set down his harp and pulled a small package from his pack. Eodwine could smell a faint odor of wood and leaf. The Elf rose and broke a piece of something dark green. He went over to Ledwyn and the boy, and knelt down.

"May I put this in the water? It might help soothe the boy's hand."

Galadriel55 · 02-28-2012, 09:25 PM

The Elf that Ledwyn saw earlier came over to her and Theolain. She instinctively drew her son slightly closer to herself, and greeted the stranger with a wary gaze. Theolain, taking advantage of the shift of her attention, drew his hand out of the water and showed it to the Elf with a proud look on his face.

"May I put this in the water? It might help soothe the boy's hand," the Elf said. He did not sound like a web-weaver or sorcerer from the stories her grandmother used to tell Ledwyn when she was a child. They always had voices that lulled riders to sleep, made them forget about their duties, homes, and families, and ensnared their hearts in webs of treachery.

He did not sound like that. Nothing majestic, magical, or ensnaring. Just a simple, kind, gentle voice, soft and musical, only a little sad. And wise. She would believe the voice, but it was Theolain that the Dwimordene Elf wished to practice his healing on. What if the he thought to enthrall him? His folk have enthralled riders that came too close to their land with their secret arts. She had to know that this is no foul trick.

“What is this herb? Is it like the ones the renowned Healers of Gondor use? It is not…” Ledwyn thought about the word for a moment. “…magic?”

littlemanpoet · 02-29-2012, 02:04 PM

"I do not know what you mean by magic," he replied gently. "This herb grows in my homeland. I have used it many times to soothe hurts and help heal wounds."

The woman still seemed doubtful, even fearful. He gently reached out to the thoughts on the edges of her mind, in a way that she would not feel. He could tell that she saw him true, but that lore from the Eorlings of dire dwimmerdene arts from the Wood of the Elves, of lulling and entrapping. He smiled sadly.

"I can break it and put it in the water, or if you would like I can give it to you for you to do with as you like." He held it out to her, silently grieving the wounds that had been caused between Elves and Humans for three Ages by first Bauglir, then Sauron. He was glad that he was going to leave the shores of Middle Earth, to put the evil and pain behind him once and for all. But he was glad, too, that he could have these moments living with the Younger Children of Eru. It gave him much to think on.

Galadriel55 · 03-01-2012, 08:59 PM

"I do not know what you mean by magic," the Elf said. In truth, Ledwyn knew not herself. Magic was always a part of every tale about another people. The Numenorians built towers as smooth as polished steel; the Dark Lord’s Fell Riders awoke fear even in the bravest of hearts; the Dwarves made doors that had no lock or key, yet would let in no enemy; the Onodrim were trees that could talk and move; the Druedain walked like any other men during the day, but turned into stone statues under starlight; the Elves weave treacherous nets that captured the minds and hearts of Men. And all is magic.

What if the Elf spoke true? What if he only wanted to help her son, and live like a Man would? No Man could match the depth of his eyes or the flow of his voice. But Ledwyn has also heard of tales told about her own people among both friends and enemies. Strawheads, the accursed orcs called her people: not a lie, but a truth twisted. What if the net-weavers and sorcerers of Dwimordene also were not wicked and horrid, as the Riddermark tales told?

"I can break it and put it in the water, or if you would like I can give it to you for you to do with as you like," the Elf said. Ledwyn felt guilty for doubting him. “I think you know best what to do with them, good Master.” She lowered her eyes. She felt that he knew exactly what she thought, as if she was as clear as the crust that forms on the surface of a pond after the first frost of winter. She wanted to hide from this feeling, to feel secure, to feel at home.

02-28-2012, 04:20 AM	#4
littlemanpoet Itinerant Songster Join Date: Jan 2002 Location: The Edge of Faerie Posts: 7,066	Eodwine and Laerdil had noticed the entire goings on since the boy had screamed in pain. Now the boy's hand was in a pail of water. Laerdil set down his harp and pulled a small package from his pack. Eodwine could smell a faint odor of wood and leaf. The Elf rose and broke a piece of something dark green. He went over to Ledwyn and the boy, and knelt down. "May I put this in the water? It might help soothe the boy's hand." Last edited by littlemanpoet; 02-28-2012 at 10:51 AM.

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02-20-2012, 03:18 PM	#1
Firefoot Illusionary Holbytla Join Date: Dec 2003 Posts: 7,547	“Of course,” said Léof. He glanced at Javan and jerked his head in the direction of the kitchen where there were kept some basic medical supplies. The pair headed off. As soon as they were out of earshot Léof commented, “Sounds like it’s not the first time that’s happened. I don’t know much about children but that one doesn’t seem very smart…”

02-20-2012, 08:20 PM	#2
Folwren Messenger of Hope Join Date: Jun 2005 Location: In a tiny, insignificant little town in one of the many States. Posts: 5,076	Javan couldn’t claim to know much more about kids. He shrugged his shoulders. “Eh, but he’s tough. He didn’t cry much after the initial surprise. I think he was angry!” They went into the kitchen together and paused on the threshold. Saeryn looked over at them. “What do you need, Léof?” she asked.

02-21-2012, 06:24 PM	#3
Firefoot Illusionary Holbytla Join Date: Dec 2003 Posts: 7,547	“Bandages, and some salve for burns, if there is any,” Léof said. “The little boy Theolain burned his hand pretty badly in the hearth.” Seeing Saeryn’s alarm, Léof hastened to add, “He seems to be alright, mostly, and his mother’s with him now.”

02-28-2012, 09:25 PM	#5
Galadriel55 Blossom of Dwimordene Join Date: Oct 2010 Location: The realm of forgotten words Posts: 10,511	The Elf that Ledwyn saw earlier came over to her and Theolain. She instinctively drew her son slightly closer to herself, and greeted the stranger with a wary gaze. Theolain, taking advantage of the shift of her attention, drew his hand out of the water and showed it to the Elf with a proud look on his face. "May I put this in the water? It might help soothe the boy's hand," the Elf said. He did not sound like a web-weaver or sorcerer from the stories her grandmother used to tell Ledwyn when she was a child. They always had voices that lulled riders to sleep, made them forget about their duties, homes, and families, and ensnared their hearts in webs of treachery. He did not sound like that. Nothing majestic, magical, or ensnaring. Just a simple, kind, gentle voice, soft and musical, only a little sad. And wise. She would believe the voice, but it was Theolain that the Dwimordene Elf wished to practice his healing on. What if the he thought to enthrall him? His folk have enthralled riders that came too close to their land with their secret arts. She had to know that this is no foul trick. “What is this herb? Is it like the ones the renowned Healers of Gondor use? It is not…” Ledwyn thought about the word for a moment. “…magic?”

02-29-2012, 02:04 PM	#6
littlemanpoet Itinerant Songster Join Date: Jan 2002 Location: The Edge of Faerie Posts: 7,066	"I do not know what you mean by magic," he replied gently. "This herb grows in my homeland. I have used it many times to soothe hurts and help heal wounds." The woman still seemed doubtful, even fearful. He gently reached out to the thoughts on the edges of her mind, in a way that she would not feel. He could tell that she saw him true, but that lore from the Eorlings of dire dwimmerdene arts from the Wood of the Elves, of lulling and entrapping. He smiled sadly. "I can break it and put it in the water, or if you would like I can give it to you for you to do with as you like." He held it out to her, silently grieving the wounds that had been caused between Elves and Humans for three Ages by first Bauglir, then Sauron. He was glad that he was going to leave the shores of Middle Earth, to put the evil and pain behind him once and for all. But he was glad, too, that he could have these moments living with the Younger Children of Eru. It gave him much to think on.

03-01-2012, 08:59 PM	#7
Galadriel55 Blossom of Dwimordene Join Date: Oct 2010 Location: The realm of forgotten words Posts: 10,511	"I do not know what you mean by magic," the Elf said. In truth, Ledwyn knew not herself. Magic was always a part of every tale about another people. The Numenorians built towers as smooth as polished steel; the Dark Lord’s Fell Riders awoke fear even in the bravest of hearts; the Dwarves made doors that had no lock or key, yet would let in no enemy; the Onodrim were trees that could talk and move; the Druedain walked like any other men during the day, but turned into stone statues under starlight; the Elves weave treacherous nets that captured the minds and hearts of Men. And all is magic. What if the Elf spoke true? What if he only wanted to help her son, and live like a Man would? No Man could match the depth of his eyes or the flow of his voice. But Ledwyn has also heard of tales told about her own people among both friends and enemies. Strawheads, the accursed orcs called her people: not a lie, but a truth twisted. What if the net-weavers and sorcerers of Dwimordene also were not wicked and horrid, as the Riddermark tales told? "I can break it and put it in the water, or if you would like I can give it to you for you to do with as you like," the Elf said. Ledwyn felt guilty for doubting him. “I think you know best what to do with them, good Master.” She lowered her eyes. She felt that he knew exactly what she thought, as if she was as clear as the crust that forms on the surface of a pond after the first frost of winter. She wanted to hide from this feeling, to feel secure, to feel at home.