He warned her, and yet she still isn't prepared for it. There's that quick moment of fear, when all the worst thoughts occur in an exhalation of time; and she wonders if she hadn't been too impetuous. To be in a strange world, with someone she does not know very well, in a dark room - and then the darkness lifts, and the Smith & Wesson she has strapped to her thigh feels heavy.
She blinks at the shelves and shelves of armor, eyes wide and flitting this way and that. When he gestures to the way out is when she relaxes, and puts on a smile.
"Just some old words that still hold some sway," he says, as an explanation and not, as he leads her toward the heavy oak door.
Walking through it, they end up in a long, narrow hallway. The walls are a little uneven, and here the air holds even more of a chill.
"We are in the storage area, partly below ground and partly within the mountains and hills. At the end of this passage there is a flight of stairs, leading upstairs. The house proper is warmer." He smiles down at her. "And better lit."
She shivers, but seems undaunted. Save for a quick glance to meet his eyes she keeps her focus on the path ahead, and does not hesitate to take the first step forward.
"Are these relics of the great war y'were tellin' me about? They still seem so new," she says in reference to the armor.
"They are. And as we were preparing for war should it have come only these past few years, they have been kept even better oiled and polished than usual," he says as they reach the stars and begin their ascent.
After ten steps or so the stairway bends a little and the rest of the way is dimly illuminated with torches.
The steps are worn, silky-smooth and dark beneath their feet. As they walk the air slowly warms a little and sounds begin to filter through. In the distance someone laughs gaily and a tune is played on a flute, the two sounds mingling in a tinkling rain of merriment.
"I think the last of the apple pickers are returning," he says to her. "That always calls for celebration."
She gathers her sky blue skirts up as they climb, careful though the steps are sturdy and the lights burn bright. She feels lighter with every step. It's a strange sort of sensation.
"What kind of celebration?"
She's beaming, eager, craning her neck as the path turns in hopes of seeing the source of the music and laughter.
He laughs. "A small one, I daresay. With songs and poetry and dancing. And yes, with if not pies then at least pastries."
And with that promise they reach the end of the stairway and step into one of the many hallways connecting the rooms and halls of Imladris.
It is bright and airy, the bright Autumn sky visible through the many windows. The sound of music is clearer and louder now, as are the sound of voices.
"Should we start our tour at the stables?", he asks. There will be few people there at this time of day and it will give her a chance to see the revelers from a distance at first.
She looks upon the hall as they enter, eyes growing to the size of blue china plates. It is architecture unlike anything she could ever see in Texas, built to be grand, full of light and sound. She resists the urge to press herself to a window and soak in every view, but only just barely.
"Yes," she smiles, returning her gaze to Elrond. "Yes, I would very much like t'see them."
"We'll go this way then," he says and leads her round a corner and down a narrow staircase. Imladris is not unlike a labyrinth it seems.
Halfway down they pass a female elf, dressed in cream-coloured woolly dress, almost fully covered with a large apron. Her hair is covered by a veil, but the dusting of flour on her left cheek, and the ways her sleeves have been pushed up clearly indicates that the veil is practical and not an indication of some sort of elven spirituality.
Her bright eyes take in the new-comer but she merely bows her head lightly, politely, at Kate before repeating the gesture - somewhat deeper - towards Elrond, murmuring something. He answers in kind and they finish their short descent passing her and stepping through the oak door at the bottom of the stairs.
That's the first thought that crosses Kate's mind, and for a good long moment it is the only thought she can hold onto. Even adorned simply the willowy elves are stunning. Kate remembers herself quickly enough to curtsy in return, and not stare after the ethereal beauty as she moves on.
"What is that language y'spoke?" she murmurs, following Elrond out the oak door. "I can't understand a stitch of it, but it's lovely."
As is the weather outside. Kate closes her eyes briefly, and draws in a deep breath.
"Her parents are from the Wood elf realm and thus we speak Sindarin with one another. Quenya is another elf tongue that is spoken here as well," he answers, waiting as she meets the soft winds of the hidden valley.
"You will find that most will address you in Quenya at first and then switch to Westron, which is what I am speaking now."
"Westron is more like the English tongue I speak."
She hadn't even considered the possibility that she wouldn't be able to understand Elrond or his kin outside of Milliways. She's glad, at least, for one language between them in which they can get by. Still, she turns to him and smiles.
"Would y'teach me the right way t'say hello? In Quenya, if that's how I'll be addressed."
"But of course, " he says with a smile. "Suilanyel is a nice, informal way of greeting someone. Elen síla lúmenn' omentielmo is more formal but also a little more difficult to pronounce, I think."
"The study of our langue may very well last a human lifetime," he says. "And as I said, the other will do just fine. We go this way."
He gently steers her down a flagstone path, winding its way around the side of the house, down toward the meadow and the stables.
In the distance, they can see a party return, some pulling a cart loaded with apples, others carrying large baskets filled with fruit. Someone is still playing the flute and they all seem to be singing loudly. Suddenly, the melody, bright and cheerful, takes on an extra note, as they all wave at Elrond and his guest. It sounds almost teasing - and it makes her host laugh.
Kate is difficult to lead, as every new path and every new sight makes her pause and turn a circle, eyes open wide to everything she's seeing. The air is sweet and clean, and the chorus of voices sound like bells on the wind.
She smiles at the procession of returning elves, and waves back.
"They made up a few rhymes about our latest visitor, wondering whether you would divert us with dance, song or apple treats tonight," he says. "For all that this is our Autumn here, my people wish to keep the carefree and gay spirit of Imladris alive till we finally leave. Pay them no heed."
She blinks at the shelves and shelves of armor, eyes wide and flitting this way and that. When he gestures to the way out is when she relaxes, and puts on a smile.
"What were those words you spoke?"
Reply
Walking through it, they end up in a long, narrow hallway. The walls are a little uneven, and here the air holds even more of a chill.
"We are in the storage area, partly below ground and partly within the mountains and hills. At the end of this passage there is a flight of stairs, leading upstairs. The house proper is warmer." He smiles down at her. "And better lit."
Reply
"Are these relics of the great war y'were tellin' me about? They still seem so new," she says in reference to the armor.
Reply
After ten steps or so the stairway bends a little and the rest of the way is dimly illuminated with torches.
The steps are worn, silky-smooth and dark beneath their feet. As they walk the air slowly warms a little and sounds begin to filter through. In the distance someone laughs gaily and a tune is played on a flute, the two sounds mingling in a tinkling rain of merriment.
"I think the last of the apple pickers are returning," he says to her. "That always calls for celebration."
Reply
"What kind of celebration?"
She's beaming, eager, craning her neck as the path turns in hopes of seeing the source of the music and laughter.
"A festival? With pies?"
Dare she hope?
Reply
And with that promise they reach the end of the stairway and step into one of the many hallways connecting the rooms and halls of Imladris.
It is bright and airy, the bright Autumn sky visible through the many windows. The sound of music is clearer and louder now, as are the sound of voices.
"Should we start our tour at the stables?", he asks. There will be few people there at this time of day and it will give her a chance to see the revelers from a distance at first.
Though they will of course spot her right away.
Reply
Music, and poetry, and dancing! And pie!
She looks upon the hall as they enter, eyes growing to the size of blue china plates. It is architecture unlike anything she could ever see in Texas, built to be grand, full of light and sound. She resists the urge to press herself to a window and soak in every view, but only just barely.
"Yes," she smiles, returning her gaze to Elrond. "Yes, I would very much like t'see them."
Reply
Halfway down they pass a female elf, dressed in cream-coloured woolly dress, almost fully covered with a large apron. Her hair is covered by a veil, but the dusting of flour on her left cheek, and the ways her sleeves have been pushed up clearly indicates that the veil is practical and not an indication of some sort of elven spirituality.
Her bright eyes take in the new-comer but she merely bows her head lightly, politely, at Kate before repeating the gesture - somewhat deeper - towards Elrond, murmuring something. He answers in kind and they finish their short descent passing her and stepping through the oak door at the bottom of the stairs.
Out and into a crisp, clear Fall.
Reply
That's the first thought that crosses Kate's mind, and for a good long moment it is the only thought she can hold onto. Even adorned simply the willowy elves are stunning. Kate remembers herself quickly enough to curtsy in return, and not stare after the ethereal beauty as she moves on.
"What is that language y'spoke?" she murmurs, following Elrond out the oak door. "I can't understand a stitch of it, but it's lovely."
As is the weather outside. Kate closes her eyes briefly, and draws in a deep breath.
Reply
"You will find that most will address you in Quenya at first and then switch to Westron, which is what I am speaking now."
Reply
She hadn't even considered the possibility that she wouldn't be able to understand Elrond or his kin outside of Milliways. She's glad, at least, for one language between them in which they can get by. Still, she turns to him and smiles.
"Would y'teach me the right way t'say hello? In Quenya, if that's how I'll be addressed."
Reply
Reply
Her mouth forms a soft "o".
"I might need a lil' practice with that other one," she chuckles, bashful.
Reply
He gently steers her down a flagstone path, winding its way around the side of the house, down toward the meadow and the stables.
In the distance, they can see a party return, some pulling a cart loaded with apples, others carrying large baskets filled with fruit. Someone is still playing the flute and they all seem to be singing loudly. Suddenly, the melody, bright and cheerful, takes on an extra note, as they all wave at Elrond and his guest. It sounds almost teasing - and it makes her host laugh.
Reply
Kate is difficult to lead, as every new path and every new sight makes her pause and turn a circle, eyes open wide to everything she's seeing. The air is sweet and clean, and the chorus of voices sound like bells on the wind.
She smiles at the procession of returning elves, and waves back.
"What're they sayin'?"
Reply
Reply
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