******The Shire******
Orlo felt his insides churning with nervousness. Soon, very soon, they would be at Rivendell. They had crossed the Ford earlier. Everyone seemed rather uptight, and weren't speaking much. In their earlier talk, Serin had been interested in meeting the Elves: by the look on Mikhelm's face, it was apparent he did not share this interest.
The pony trotted at a steady pace, and Orlo gave it an encouraging pat on the head to make it go faster. Suddenly, they halted, and Orlo craned his neck to see what had caused this.
Hardo turned around, and addressed his fellow hobbits in his usual brusque manner. "Rivendell. Down this valley here," he remarked.
Brando urged the pony on as they rounded the corner.
A fantastic sight met Orlo's eyes. Down in the valley, were some beautiful Elven architecture, dotted with greenery. The word beautiful didn't do justice to them, Orlo thought. They were subtle, delicate, fine, so..perfect. And amongst this valley of perfection, were dotted beings who glided gracefully. They could only be Elves.
The party descended into the valley by means of the winding path, and everything grew clearer. Now, Orlo could see the fine details in the carvings as they rode into the Elven paradise. All seemed quiet, but then, he heard the musical voices of what could only be the Elves. He turned to see a group of the graceful people standing to welcome them.
[ October 16, 2002: Message edited by: Ringwraith Number Two ]
|