[piosenniel]

Maikafanawen's post

She didn’t want it. It was drab and strident which wouldn’t help her dance at all. But the Elf was smiling and he looked sincere. Ihwesta extended her hand, accepting the pair of bell-adorned anklets from Ghiorden.

“Ah, thanks, Ghio, thanks a lot. They’re very—well you’re very thoughtful.” She smiled up at him tucking the anklets into one of the deep pockets in her skirt. Ghiorden was very kind, and Ihwesta had enjoyed his company a lot, though he was two thousand years her senior, while she was learning to arch, but lately he was growing into a bit of a nuisance, and she couldn’t piece it together.

“Are you dancing soon?” he asked eagerly.

“I have no events scheduled requiring entertainment from me as of now. I’m taking a break, but when I practice I-I’ll wear them.” She forced a slight smile, her mind buzzing for some excuse to get away.

The day had been long and hot. Ihwesta was forced now to take extra caution as she journeyed further from the palace walls, which meant going slow and studying carefully her surroundings. One of her brown hide shoes was ripping down the back and she lacked the tools to mend it now, and doubted returning home soon with Ghiorden drilling her with pointless conversation. When she thought all hope of repairing her shoe and getting to the Council on time, she was rescued.

“Ihwestaieleva,” said a voice behind her. The Elf turned to see Reynion coming her way, probably on his way to the Council. “They are expecting us. If you’ll excuse us Ghiorden.” The older Elf nodded, disappointment slightly lining his face.

“See you later then, Ihwesta.” He bowed and retreated gracefully down the hall again. The she-Elf slumped her shoulders and confided in the guard Elf.
“I feel so nasty. But, there’s something peculiar about him and I don’t trust him at all.” Reynion stopped and tossed a glance over his shoulder then looked down at the she-Elf beside him.

“Yes, he is eerie, I’ll give you that.” Ihwesta absently rubbed at the button on the side of her tunic.

“I know he wants to work with Minyahiniwen at the shop but, well, she’s picky about her work and only Orodhîn knows how to fletch or polish just the way she wants it. I wonder how long he’ll be at it.” They entered the Council hall where Elves were already seated, waiting for Thranduil to address their purpose for gathering.

The king spoke of the disappearances of the Elves in recent weeks and of the growing shadow that seemed to weave its way through the ancient trees taking the merry forest creatures and beautiful shrubbery with it. Then he called for action, action that would discover the perilous enigma that was soon to envelope the entity of the Woodland Elves’ home. Bravest among them was Ceros. He was first to speak.

“Friends of old, I know what must be done. A company of nine shall patrol to the depths of the wood to unveil this mystery that consumes our realm. I propose that—”

“Hold a moment! This is dangerous!” protested Ainemetion, a dark eyed elf close to Ihwesta. “It is madness to explore something we know so little about. No one who has met this peril has lived. It is insanity to risk the lives of yet more people.” His brow furrowed in disturbance as he glanced around the room for support. Another came to his aide.

“I agree with Ainemetion,” offered Delorfath. “No one would take up with you, Ceros, except the foolhardy and novice blinded with a false sense of honor towards the realm.” Ihwesta shook her head and stood also, asking permission to speak. Thranduil nodded and she began,

“I disagree with both of you and will follow Ceros. I do not mean to sing my own praises, but I am a decent tracker and if this power is not supernatural, the best among us could stand against it, I am sure.” Ainemetion and Delorfath shook their heads, retaking their seats. A few moments of silent echoed silently in the air. Ihwesta was one of the youngest there and felt awkward searching the gatherings’ faces for replies. Then, another spoke up, agreeing to take up with Ceros.

“I may be how you say ‘blinded with honor’, but to me that is a credit in itself,” stated Reynion. “And I am neither foolhardy nor is my reasoning for reverence false. You have everything I can offer,” he said, bowing low to Thranduil and then looking towards Ceros. “I will go.”

“Have you no concern for your safety, Reynion?” another interrogated. “You, Ihwesta, your mother needs you in her shop? Yes?” Yeorgil leaned forward in his seat, honest trepidation for the young she-Elf impressed lightly on his face. Orodhîn spoke but did not stand.

“I help Minyahiniwen in the bowyer shop. Ihwesta is free to do as she chooses.” Yeorgil scowled slightly.

“We need skilled warriors,” Ceros pointed out. “Our troupe will not be complete without many of you. Ainemetion, please reconsider.” The first to depress the idea stared down the Elf who stood by Thranduil before standing slowly.

“I shall go. Delorfath?” He stood beside his friend.

“I still am not convinced. But I wish you good luck my friend,” he answered. Ainemetion nodded. After what was a short time to Elves, though truly two plus hours, a company of nine was ready to do the king’s bidding.