Breakfast on the porch (Imladris)

Tiramen nods to Mallenfith and turns to face those gathered before stepping aside. "If you would but excuse me for a moment." Turning towards the Hirdan and stepping to his side he speaks quietly to him. "There is something you need?"

Arwen steps onto the porch, the dawn light shining in her grey eyes, lending a rosy glow to her fair face. She smiles to the folk gathered there, and to the Istar she dips into a quick curtsy. "I am pleased to see you among us again, Mithrandir."

Tiramen, and nods at his query. "Aye...I heard that you needed to see me? If so, ask me now what it is you need..." The Hirdan's gaze shifts to meet Arwen's features for a brief moment, and smiling warmly, the Hirdan bows low. "Mae govannen, Heryn."

Seeing as the crowd scatters, with some elves leaving and others taking seats around the table, Tuonoorwen quietly approaches the gathering herself. She lowers her head in a small but respectful bow to the Istar, "Greetings, Mithrandir." She looks around the table, and bows again, to the hosts, "Praised be the hospitality of the valley which brought us all together". Having said that, she half-closes her eyes.

Mallenfith takes another step back, away from the growing crowd.

Gandalf allows himself a smile as Arwen arrives, and he stands. Bowing to her with sincere politeness, he replies, "As I am pleased to be among you and yours, Arwen Evenstar." He gestures at the empty seat recently vacated by Elrond, "Please join us. I made mention of tea, and it seems now half of the Valley is off boiling water." He chuckles, then takes his seat once more, pipe in hand. "While we wait for the tea," he says to the gathering, "I would for once rather be the receiver of news rather than the bringer. If there is any to tell, speak it."

Rhunedhel looks toward Arwen, clearly deferring to her ... though he is Arphedor, and could speak for the Hir in his absence. A slightly quizzical look on his face suggests that he wishes he knew more of the occasion for Gandalf's visit than perhaps he is willing to ask.

Following Mallenfith to the other end of the porch he speaks low so as to not disturb those gathered. "Indeed there was a thing. It would seem I have found a calling within the artisans. Don't get me wrong, my time with Altharon was one of great learning for me but it would seem my talents diverge from his to that of music..." Tiramen trails off at this trying to find a way best to word his next statement.

Looking at the Arphedor Rhunedhel, Arwen gestures to him. "I believe that there is little news of the sort we would share at dawn on the porch. The news of import will be spoken later, in council. But there are some small things to speak of. An expedition of our folk to Bree, and to the wild lands of Angmar to retrieve some lost lore. The Hirlin Rhunedhel has also been preparing an epic, an elegy, for us as well." The things of import are clearly on the Heryn's mind, and she has a serious demeanor, despite the fair summer morning.

Mallenfith's eyes widen somewhat, and a large smile now stretches across his face. The silver-blond haired Sinda Smith now nods and speaks, "Than you are most welcome to join my Guild, Tiramen! We can always use another dedicated, talented woodworker..." The Hirdan Mallenfith extends his right hand, still smiling.

Tuonoorwen raises her brow slightly, listening to Arwen, but does not say a word. Instead she observes the Heryn with attentive gaze of her deep blue eyes, nodding her head slightly. She stands a step or two away from the table, but did not moveto take a seat yet.

Rhunedhel nods briefly at that. "Aye, I have been asked to sing of the fall of Eregion." He makes a small, self-deprecating gesture. "I fear that my known talent for gloomy tales has a certain popularity." He winks good-humoredly, then gestures to the others, "They say I make my songs too long ... though of course elves never tire of song, so it matters little!"

Mithrandir offers a wry smile to Rhunedhel, "I have garnered a reputation for gloomy tales myself, mellon, but never are they sought by the listener. Perhaps I'll take lesson from your epic on how to make the 'stormcrow's food' more palatable." He chuckles again, puffing at his pipe for a long moment.

When Gandalf speaks again, there is no mirth in his words. "Angmar?" He frowns. "And what is the fruit of their quest, or have they not yet returned? I would know if there has been a resurgance of wargs in that land, or the lands bordering it."

Seeming quite relieved that he does not have to make an outward request Tiramen takes his hand with a firm grip. Smiling he corrects the Hirdan slightly. "Perhaps not only a woodworker but to direct my efforts towards a goal. For that reason I would rather Ganneldan be my task."

Rhunedhel looks toward the elves whispering on the far end of the porch. Raising his voice slightly, he says, "Tell me, friends, do you think Gandalf's news would be better received if he chanted it to them in proper plainsong?" His tone is lightly teasing.

A small boy exits the House and steps upon the crowded porch, his young eyes first scanning the assembled, appearently not finding what they might be looking for, and then his quick feet take him through the crowd. He halts at the table, looking up at those seated, his eyes widening at the sight of the Grey Pilgrim. Quickly he bows, and bows again to the Heryn, chuckling nervously, then speeds off again. Finally he finds his master, pacing off towards the Hirdan Mallenfith. The Hirdan spots the boy easily, smiling, then bowing to receive a soft whisper. The boy now leaves the Porch, and the Hirdan rises again to his full height.

"I believe I have some matters to attend to, mellon, but do join me in my quarters or seek me in my Guild to discuss this matter further. Again, I welcome you to my Guild, Tiramen; you are a valuable addition." The Hirdan smiles and lays his right hand upon the scout's right shoulder, before turning towards the entrance to the House, and disappearing within it.

Tuonoorwen's eyes suddenly stot wide open, and she fixes her eyes on Rhunedhel, "Be careful what you ask for", she says in a clear, but even and emotionless voice. There is no intonation of a warning, but no warms of a joke either.

Arwen looks the wizard in the eye, holding his gaze with hers for a moment. Then she looks away, toward the east and the north, to the mountains, losing her focus for a moment in the distance. At last she speaks, quietly and low. "A scout of our Tirith was being pursued by enemy, and found a cave to escape for a moment, being outnumbered many times over. He saw the bodies of some of our folk, the skeletons, actually, bearing some items of interest. The scout escaped with his life, barely, bringing back a few signs that interested our loremasters, who went in pursuit of this cave, with the intention to bury with honor those of our people who had fallen. I expect that the Hirlin will have one of his apprentices make a song of it someday. He has one or two apprentices with some talent." she remarks, almost as an aside. "The lore that was found is of the most important we have found in a long time, about the birth of our spoken tongues."

Rhunedhel looks at Tuonoorwen a moment, his eyes suddenly assessing her with a sharp intensity quite distinct from the levity he affected but a moment before. He says to her, in a low voice, quite intense, but entirely aside from the main conversation: "Lady, I see you have a personal stake in the matter. Tell me of it later, if you have a will to: I do not yet sing of how my own home fell, not long ago." Then he turns back to Arwen and the wizard, though he says nothing just yet, content to allow Arwen to present the main news of the season.

Nodding to Mallenfith as he departs Tiramen returns silently to the conversation but not before hearing Arwen's words. He takes a seat quietly though instead of possibly steering the conversation away.

Mithrandir says nothing to interrupt Arwen's tale, but rather smokes thoughtfully as she speaks. When she has finished, he leans forward, eyes keen upon her. "A remarkable tale. If the opportunity arises, I would like to speak with this scout and see the items he brought back." He stands, clearing his robes and picking up his staff from where it leaned against the railing. "A remarkable tale indeed, my lady. We shall speak more if it, but another time. If you will forgive me, I must ask my leave of you and this company. There are matters to attend before the council begins."

Broniol takes a step closer to Tuonoorwen, instinctively more than anything else...He pays more attention to the developements around her...

Tuonoorwen turns her head to watch Arwen, with some quick movement which could look like a nod to Rhunedhel. She listens with noticeable interest, and does not even react at once to Mithrandir's sudden leave. She seems to be concentrating deeply on Arwen's words and the way she spoke them, as if trying to read more from Heryn's words and posture.

Arwen leans forward, and in a softer, almost pleading voice, says to the wizard, "I would speak to you as well, Mithrandir, of a matter which occupies my thoughts constantly at this time. I hope you will find the time before the council begins."

Gandalf holds the Lady Arwen's gaze in his own, the tone of her voice not lost on him. "It shall be so, Arwen Undomiel. There is much indeed to speak of." He taps the ashes of his pipe over the railing, tucking the pipe into his robes. "Goodnight, mellyn. " Without ceremony or further ado, he heads into the house and is gone.

Rhunedhel looks to Arwen, speaking to her in a low voice.

Rhunedhel +whispers to you, "Perhaps, lady, these elves of Lorien should be invited to join us, until Elrond returns with tea?"

Tiramen remains seated and thoughtful perhaps with as much food for thought given by Arwen and Mithrandir as that garnered within his own life.

The Heryn nods a farewell to Mithrandir, and then smiles at the East Elf, and the others on the porch. "I beg your pardon, guests and friends. Please be seated. Perhaps I shall see what is keeping my father from bringing the tea." With a low chuckle, before leaving, she says, "And I am certain, Hirlin, that the epic which you devise shall be as tragic and beautiful as your other works which have preceded it." She then disappears into the house.

Tuonoorwen nods distractedly to Gandalf's farewell words, but remains focused on Arwen. This attention is rather targeted, however, so somehow she does not catch the invitation to the table for several seconds at least. When she finally does, she shakes her head, is a visible effort to shrugg off the thoughts related to Arwen's news, then pulls back a chair, "Thank you"

Broniol stands behind the chair that Tuonoorwen sits in, two paces back. He very much wants to here any news that may be had. When offered a seat, he shakes his head, "Nay, yet thank you for the offer. My teachers always instructed that a good squire is seen, not heard, and a great squire is neither seen nor heard. Tis not my place at the table, yet I would be greatful to be allowed to remain."

Rhunedhel nods, smoothly taking over the role of host during Arwen's momentary absence. "I am glad to see that folk of the Golden Wood have been able to come here for the council my Hir desires. I trust your journey was not overly perilous?"

At that moment, the Heryn arrives, followed by a servant carrying a tray with tea, sugar, and cups. The Lady Evenstar carries a platter of pastries. She sets them down, then makes room for the elleth bearing the tea. "Thank you, Alaniel." she says quietly, as the other makes her way into the house. "Who would like some tea?"

Tuonoorwen glances over her shoulder at Broniol, "Not likely you will remain unseen by Tirith", she comments. Her long brown hair fall on her face, and she tosses them back with a quick flick. She then nods her head slightly to Rhunedhel, "Fortunately so", is the only thing she says in reply to his question.

Rhunedhel seems intrigued by Tuonoorwen's brevity, but turns slightly as Arwen returns, taking the tray from her and offering it to the others first.

The clear sky is quickly covered by clouds and a soaking rain begins to fall.

From Garden, The clear sky is quickly covered by clouds and a soaking rain begins to fall.

Arwen is seated at a table, with Rhunedhel and Tuonoorwen, of Lorien it would seem, with a squire standing behind her chair. A few other Imladhrim elves are seated nearby.

Arwen leaves the pouring of tea to Rhunedhel, and takes a seat on the porch. "How was your journey, mellyn?"

Tuonoorwen lowers her head momentarily in a brief thankful nod, and takes a tea cup from the tray. She holds it in both hands, like a flower, and slowly brings it to her lips to take a small sip.

Climbing up the few stairs from the garden Malloran arrives on the great porch. With a big smile he turns around obviously content with his timing just escaping the first rain drops. Soon he makes his way for the group of tables searching for a free seat.

Rhunedhel begins to pour the tea, and for a moment all is silence but the slight tinkle of hot tea filling the cups; a fragrant aroma rises with the steam.

Tuonoorwen sets teh cup back on the table, and holds her fingers above it: the steam slowly raises from the hot liquid, flowing and curling between her fingers to form what looks like a translucent flower, swaying under gentle breath of the morning wind until it slowly dissipages into the air.

A flicker of a grin crosses Tiramen's face at Tuonoorwen's usually brief statement, but is quickly replaced by a more thoughtful visage. He does make one action that some might consider rude but he doesn't seem to notice. Being close to the rail he stretches out his legs and rests his feet upon it.

"It is lovely to take your ease in the morning, is it not, Ethir?" remarks the daughter of Elrond. "Have you been much abroad scouting of late?"

The smile gracing his face quickly disappears as he responds to the lady's query. "My duties of late have me watching the east passage Heryn." He says shortly.

Rhunedhel turns, looking toward Tiramen inquizitively. "Aye? And what news?"

Arwen takes another sip of tea, and nods to the response of Tiramen. She remains silent as she listens to Rhunedhel and the Ethir, with a quick glance at Tuonoorwen, and a brief, glowing smile at the elleth of Lorien.

Tuonoorwen again takes her cup from the table, and the raising steam flows toward her face, as if following an invitation. She breathes deeply, and Looks at Rhunedhel as if she is about to say something (a praise of the art of the Valley teamakers would have been appropriate, perhaps), but instead turns back to watch Tiramen and hear the news he brings.

Malloran takes a seat at a table close to the rail of the porch. Peering out in the garden he takes delight in watching the rain refreshing the variety of flowers and other plants in all their beauty. Small drops finding their way across broad leafs, forming even greater drops by running down the stalk. As if miles away Malloran sits in silence enjoying the sight.

Tiramen takes a belaboured breath. "Aside from the entrance of our Lorien allies merely the passage of birds. As lackluster a day as any other for some time now but with the arrival of Mithrandir I suspect that to change."

Rhunedhel smiles. "Well then, that is good news! For today, at least." He turns to Tuonoorwen. "And have you any news fit for the moment, or shall lighter matters be our concern, should that please our Lady?"

Tuonoorwen turns back to the table, content that no news from the border is perhaps a good news. She catches the sight of Arwen's smile, and looks back at her, with soft glow filling her eyes for a moment. She then focuses on Rhunendel through the steam raising from her tea, and replies, quietly, "Basses have sung enough today. Let us hear a flute".

Aranrais skips onto the porch from the garden. "Tiramen!" she calls out in her bright, child's voice. "I saw Tingilwen out on the bridge with that scout Anglachel." she teases, and runs to the far end of the porch. Just at that moment she sees the Lady Arwen and the Hir Rhunedhel, and ducks behind a chair.

Rhunedhel laughs. "And here is a flute made to order! Aranrais," he calls, "come here, little one!"

Tuonoorwen watches the child run by, and a smile comes to her face. It is a sad smile, but still, the first time you see her openly expressing an emotion.

A small head emerges from behind the chair at the far end of the porch. She looks around and above her, but does not obey the summons of the Herald of Elrond, not just yet.

Rhunedhel says, "the lady Tuonoorwen wants to meet you, little one. She has come all the way from the land of the Golden Flower, and is tired of hearing old basses like me talking ... and she hasn't even asked me to sing!""

Tuonoorwen raises her eyebrow at Rhunedhel's interpretation of her words, but says nothing. She half-raises from her seat, to peek over the chair at the child there.

Rhunedhel steals a glance at Tuonoorwen, the look on his face clearly showing that he is well aware that Tuonoorwen may have meant the words another way ... and the grin on his face showing it is meant lightheartedly.

A child with tangled hair is hiding behind a chair at the far end of the porch, and the Lady Arwen, the Hir Rhunedhel, the scout Tiramen and Tuonoorwen sit around a table, sipping tea, and smiling in the direction of the child.

The child shakes her head, with a smile. "Nay, I do not want to play the flute, now, Rhunedhel!" she says, her habit of not addressing folk by their titles even more pronounced on this occasion, in the presence of the Heryn Arwen.

Rhunedhel laughs. "Why then, might you have a song for us? He puts a hand in his pocket suggestively. He often has treats for her there.

Quietly emerging from the door to the east entrance hall, Celeborn steps out on the covered porch dressed immaculately in a cloak and tunic of white. His movements are breezy and light, and his eyes long and far away as he explores the halls of Elrond. Serenely, he observes those on the porch, allowing a smile first to the antics of the child at the far end, and then to those gathered at the table -- and most pointedly to the Heryn Arwen.

Arwen stands, and with a smile of the purest joy, comes to greet her grand-sire. "Grandfather! I am so glad to see you! You arrived yesterday in the evening, did you not? You should have sent for me on your coming!" she says, her smile softening this gentle rebuke.

While perhaps nobody noticed, Tuonoorwen's hands slipped under the table, and into a pocket of her dress. Now she holds her hand out toward the child, and on her palm is a large mallorn leaf, still fresh as if it has just fallen from the branch. A sudden gust of wind picks the leaf from her hand and carries it across the porch. The leaf dangles in the air above the child, slowly descending in wide swings. A faint glow of gold flickers at its edges.

The arrival of the Lord Celeborn and Arwen's reaction to it seems to have an affect upon Tiramen not quite expected. After a nod in greeting to Celeborn he turns his musing gaze out onto the garden and places his hands upon his lap.

Aranrais reaches up, catching the beautiful leaf, so delicate that it seems to have been made of gold filigree. With a gasp at the fair thing, she disappears behind the chair to examine it.

Rhunedhel smiles as Aranrais decides on another course of action than singing, and turns to Celeborn to greet him, standing back slightly as Arwen and her grandfather are reunited.

Tuonoorwen stands up, and bows her head to Celeborn, in a silent and respectful greeting.

A summery smile now crease the youthful features of the Lord of Lorien as he greets Arwen with a broad open arm. "Aye, my child. I did come last night, with Tuonoorwen and a small few, no less." At the gentle rebuke, he makes a slight grimace, for few in Middle-Earth can chagrin this old one so. "My thoughts were such, my dear, and have been such when it was told to me that you were not among those visiting for the Congress. But, I was counciled to wait and bide my time to see you until morning." With glowing eyes, he looks over his grand-daughter as if seeing her anew.

Arwen embraces the Lord of Lorien. "Well, while I may not sit in council, I am here in the valley, and will take great joy in your visit. It has been my pleasure to see Tuonoorwen, and those few others that have been abroad in the house this morning." At the leaf and the child, she smiles. "I remember from my own childhood, and early youth, that I would secret away a leaf of gold to bring back to Imladris, so that I would keep fresh in memory the visits to you and to my Grandmother."

Wandering up through the garden in one of her usual dreamy states, a look of pure content to be among the nature she so loves is on Liriel's face. She ascends the porch half unaware of those already there until she comes almost face to face with them. A look of suprise fleetingly glances over here features as she realises who is here. She curtsies graceful with a small look of puzzlement on her face, confuses as to whether she should be here.

"Would we bestow a thousand leaves of gold upon you, dearest Arwen, should we had known." comes the Lord's reply along with his slow smile. "But, alas, the nature of our summons might not have allowed such extravegance." As he says so, his gaze turns way from the Lady now towards the new arrival and those at the table to see clearer who they might be.

The rain abates and the sky becomes mostly clear, with only an occasional cloud, revealing the sun.

Rhunedhel smiles and steps forward again. "Well met again, Lord Celeborn," he says gravely. "And welcome once more to this valley."

Tuonoorwen does not sit back after greeting her Lord, but instead slides away the chair, and steps from the table, "Thank you for the tea", she says to Arwen and Rhunendel, quietly enough so they may not even hear her, absorbed in the family reunion. She quietly walks toward the far side of the porch, where the child is playing with the golden leaf, and soon disappears behind the porch railing. What she does there you cannot see, but the child's melodical laughter rings happily in the still air.

After a time, the child Aranrais emerges to look at the gathering on the porch once again, blinking as she sees the silver-haired elf speaking with the daughter of Elrond. She steps out onto the porch, and tiptoes closer, holding her leaf between her small fingers.

Celeborn nods solomnly to Rhunedhel, "Greetings, as well, Rhunedhel. It has been not so long since we saw each other last when you first brought word of Elrond's meeting. It is good to see you well."

Standing with a heavy sigh Tiramen turns and bows to the group. "If you would but excuse me I have some things that need attending to..." His voice trails off if perhaps this was not entirely true but more an excuse for departure. With that he looks about for a means of escape but finding none he handily leaps the rail clearing the shrubery.

Liriel hangs back on the porch slightly away from the gathering, wishing to be here yet too in awe of the company here to say anything.

Aranrais calls out after the scout, "You should see about that Anglachel! He seems to have captured Tingilwen's eye!" she says with a giggle.

Rhunedhel chuckles. "I will know that I am well when I have had a chance to present my epic of Eregion ... until then, I shall live in fear of telling the tale amiss!"

Arwen smiles. "The Hirlin seldom tells his tales amiss, though always modest." remarks the Evenstar quietly. The child has drawn near, and the daughter of Elrond calls to her. "Come little one, and do as the Hirlin has bid you. I too would like to see your mallorn leaf."

Arwen looks over to see Liriel. "Please come sit on the porch with us, mellon, and have some tea." she smiles. "Have you been playing your harp much in the company of Rhunedhel, Linnor Liriel?"

Celeborn laughs, a clear, enviting sound. "The epic of Eregion. I do not doubt that it shall be told well, Rhunedhel, if it is you who tells it." Still beaming, he switches his attention towards Liriel, as she is introduced. His eyes light up as the prospect of a harp and song kindles his interest further.

Liriel looks at the daughter of Elrond, a smile lighting her features and banishing the discomfort that was evident until recently. "Thank you Heryn, I would be honoured to join you," she smiles a little regretfull "unfortunately I do not get so much time to play now as I wish, my studies in healing seem to take much of my time, but I still play whenever I can" she adds smiling.

Rhunedhel turns toward Liriel smiling. "surely you could sing nonetheless!" he says.

As more begin to gather upon the porch, another smaller lad appears from the House and catches Celeborn by the elbow. Leaning down, the prince of Doriath listens to the hastily whispered words. When the secret speakings are over, he straightens and nods to the child, "I see." Turning now to Arwen and the others, Celeborn says, "I must apologize my friends, but a small errand must be accomplished. I hope to see you among the festivities, or the council, soon." As he departs, the elf lord embraces Arwen once more before departing in to the house, "We shall speak further, later."

Her expression changing to one of thoughtfulness, Liriel frowns slightly "Actually," she smiles at Rhunedhel, "I have recently been studying in the art of healing with song, I would love to talk with you at some time about this"

Aranrais approaches the company, bearing her golden leaf in her hands, then with a sly smile at Liriel, the child giggles. "I heard that you were singing so loudly in the halls of healing that Harchdolas sent you to pick leaves in the far end of the valley."

Miluidril, upon entering, nods and offers smiles all around...murmuring appropriate greetings to those emassed here before moving off by herself and choosing a seat at the far end of the porch...settling into it and smoothing her skirt down over her ankles. That done, she contents herself with looking out into the garden, a hand toying with the locket at her throat and a wistful smile curving the corners of her lips slightly upward.

Liriel smiles at the child and laughs "Ah for me that's no hardship" she looks around furtively and mock-whispers to the child "I often find that the leaves are a more forgiving audience"

The serenity of the garden is broken by the heavy footfalls of an imposing figure striding through the middle of the grounds. Tall and broad and towering over most he comes face to face with, Grimbeorn the Old comes! Great bearded face looking from side to side with aged human eyes. "O Ho!" Booms his deep and gruff voice as he steps loudly up towards the Elven gathering, he stops midstride and stands with his hands on his hips, leaving his gaze to scan the faces looking for any familiar to this skinchanger.

Rhunedhel laughs at that. "It will be interesting to see what Harchdolas has to say of the Breelanders when he returns from his gathering trip!"

Rhunedhel rises. "But if I am to sing, I must prepare my song! I shall speak to you all later!"

Miluidril inhales sharply, stunned out of her revere by the booming greeting - if that's what it is - of Grimbeorn. She nearly gets to her feet, in startled by this she barely keeps herself from fleeing into the building. But at the last moment she settles, standing and nodding to him...hands resting on the railing before her, "Greetings, sir, and welcome."

Arwen stands at the arrival of the folk of the Eastern side of the Mountains. She is silent and a bit startled perhaps, but stands straight and proud, and then in her soft, musical voice, she says, "Welcome, welcome, to this valley, Grimbeorn. My father said that you were coming. We have prepared rooms for you."

Moments after the arrival of the large Laird of Mirkwood, follows the Foreman of Anduin Valley. Her hands are tangled in her hair as she rushes forward, and a leather tie for her hair, is held between her lips. Hiding a few paces behind Grimbeorn, she quickly ties the end of her long braid with the leather, and then presents herself: strong and proud, with lifted chin. Mavwyn sends a glance over the gathered, studying curiously, with semi-well hidden nervousness.

Miluidril glances toward Arwen. Grimbeorn...that's his name. But she would not speak it...too polite to do so without being told she could do so. So she merely offers him a nod, retaking her seat and confident Arwen will take care of him.

"I hope so!" Grimbeorn growls his response, the version of Beorning pleasantries oft short and blunt. He inclines his head to look down upon the partially seated Elf that bid him welcome and he nods his head with a grunt, "Hail!" He offers her before turning his gleaming dark eyes back to the latter lady, at this he inhales deeply, taking in the many aromas of the folk here, the air, the trees, the very wood that makes the porch. "Hmm..familar many of you are, I see Master Elrond keeps anybody you wants to be here.." He sends a glare to the folk of Lorien, having not the best experiences with them in his past. "Nonetheless I come as asked, seeing I had no better business of my own.." He snorts and folds his knotted arms across his chest.

Liriel looks up at the man and smiles in Greeting

Miluidril's face twitches almost unnoticably, not used to such volume...even in such wide-open spaces as these. A bit too blunt for her taste, but a greeting is a greeting. She opens her mouth to speak again, then closes it when he turns his attention away from her...relaxing back into her seat with a relieved sigh.

Arwen curtsies, and smiles. "I shall send for servants, to show you your quarters. But please, take some tea, and pastries, to refresh yourselves in the meantime. Elrond, my father, is grateful for your coming, and grateful that you could spare the time away from the business of your folk, and the difficult crossing of the mountains. The council is of great import." This is said quietly, and the Evenstar's voice seems urgent, and filled with emotion.

Acailon takes one last sip of tea and places his cup on the porch. He apologises to all but he must get back to shining the armour. He stands up and starts to walk down the steps, careful not have eye contact with Grimbeorn. He edges down the steps with remarkable speed and runs off.

The woman, again with appropriate remarks to all, stands and makes her way to the steps...edging her way down them silently. Another, briefer nod to Grimbeorn and Miluidril moves past him into the garden, one hand lifting her skirt to avoid it dragging along the ground...her ankle charm jingling with each graceful step.

At the sight of the big bearded Man the child Aranrais dashes into the house, her tangled hair flying behind her.

Eyeing the surrounding Quendi, Mavwyn seems somewhat intrigued, and absently scratches a spot at the nap of her neck, squinting one side of her face unconsciously. She steps closer to Grimbeorn and whispers, "<UNINTELLIGIBLE SPEECH>" the woman crosses her arms over her chest and bites the inside of her lip.

Arwen gives a quick nod and a smile to the visitors, and enters the house to seek out the Steward.