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Old 11-01-2009, 10:33 PM   #222
mark12_30
Stormdancer of Doom
 
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Location: Elvish singing is not a thing to miss, in June under the stars
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Silmaril

On and on the elf ran, down, down, beside the glowing stream. Through the ice the stream ran, than through rocks and over sand; lower down on the slopes, the deep green of moss lay beneath the silver sheen, and grass grew along her sides. Still she sang, and still the elf ran by her side. The sun set; she sang beneath the stars; he ran on.

Dawn came, and the elf slowed to a walk in the golden light. The silver voice sang beside him, and his voice began to mingle with hers. The forest neared. The golden leaves were falling from the trees, and some fell into the stream, and floated away beneath the stars. He came to the forest eaves. Golden buds swelled on the branches. Moss flourished along the stream banks; the stream was deep and cold, and her song remained silver. She danced down rocks and rushed over rapids, and the silver song went cascading on, til they came to one more waterfall over golden rocks; the song shimmered and sparkled like stars in the coldest night, and her silver laughter fell into a shining pool.

The elf stopped beside the pool, knelt, and drank; then he sat on the bank, and listened. Another elf appeared, and they nodded a greeting, but did not speak. Another elf came, and another; women and warriors came out of the wood, and without speaking (but with much laughter) together they began a circle dance. Across the waterfall at the top of the pool, around the north of the pool, and across the second waterfall at the bottom, around the south of the pool and back to the top waterfall, their steps quickened and their laughter rippled and blended with the stream.

A new note sounded in the stream. You are true. I choose to trust you. The dance changed; it had been merry and glad; now it held a more solemn joy. The elves laughed less and smiled more, and now they began to sing. As the flowers sprang in the grass, the song rose among the tree branches, and the golden mallorn blossoms opened. Fragrance swept southward on the wind. The song of the stream, cold silvery joy, rode the same wind southwards toward the sea.

Last edited by mark12_30; 02-09-2011 at 09:24 AM.
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