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Author Topic: Seeking an Audience with the Lady  (Read 1849 times)


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Seeking an Audience with the Lady
« on: June 17, 2015, 03:15:00 AM »
How long had it been?  He couldn’t quite recall.  Time no longer meant quite so much or was recorded quite so carefully.  So many years of counting days had only produced the weary resignation of a life too long without purpose.  Without resolution.   Without progress.  He’d been set upon this path for so long now that he had begun to wonder if there was a resolution to be found.  And yet, after so many thousands of years, he still avoided the most difficult choices.   What an old coward he’d become.

It would have been easy to continue to avoid her.  There were other refuges in the world, other places that would accept him.  Even some places that would gladly welcome him as a friend.  But redemption was not a thing found merely by being of aid to those who had already forgiven you.   And there were still those out in the world who he had hardly dared to think of.  It was with this fresh determination that Tinuvagor set out upon the long road.  

He was no stranger to a lengthy journey; he’d spent just as many years on the road as he had in the comfort of some haven or another.  This time, however, he had a firm purpose in mind, a destination that plagued his thoughts and robbed him of much of the pleasure he took in the wonders of the world.  The light of sun through trees, the dance of starlight reflected in the river, the sound of birdsong.  He hardly noticed them, particularly as his journey drew nearer its end.  

It was not the first time he’d seen the wood, though when he last visited it was not yet the domain of the Lord and Lady, and as such he’d found it far more welcoming to an old man with dreadful secrets.  Now it was called the Golden Wood and tales of its beauty were known to all those of his kindred.  Beautiful and frightening all at once, for the thought of it conjured a pit of dread in his gut.  Dread that he nursed all the long way from Rivendell.  Dread he could not begin to define.

Only when he arrived did the truth of it fully take shape, and upon reaching the edge of that wood, the ache within his heart stole his breath.   How many thousands of years had it been since last he’d seen a mallorn tree?  And now, how long did he stand, frozen in some lost moment in time?  Minutes?  Hours?  Every heartbeat stretched on as if it were an eternity, and when at last he found again the will to move, he had nearly forgotten where he was and for what purpose he had come.  

Wonder turned to unease as weary feet found again the path.  Would she even agree to meet with him?  Would she remember him, know his name and all he had done, or would he be forced to explain his purpose?  Oh how he hoped he would not have to speak of the past, but he knew that was an unlikely hope, for his purpose here had everything to do with the past.  But if only he would not be forced to give voice to the things he had done, perhaps he might yet find the courage he so desperately needed.  

Still wearing his travel clothes, and sparing only a fraction of a thought that perhaps it would be better if he were to change into something more appropriate, he set out in search of the Lady of the Wood.

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Seeking an Audience with the Lady
« Reply #1 on: June 19, 2015, 04:42:00 AM »

"You're a long way from home, Tinuvagor."

It didn't take long to come across the Lady of the Golden Wood. Mostly, because she'd been out on the mark the moment the girdle that protected fair Lothlorien had quivered, her ears had been pricked, and from the second she'd touched the mind of the intruder, she'd been out of the chair she had been seated in, with an impetuousness that had rarely been seen in her since the days she had been Artanis Nerwen, the fiesty daughter of Finwe. Little explanation had followed for those she had startled, and this spoke volumes in itself for what had unsettled Galadriel, for she rarely ever now left those she kept company with guessing at riddles, lest there was entertainment in it for herself. For she was one of the more direct of her kind even as she was one of the Eldar, and even her riddles had a sort of forward direction to them.

And so she was found, through a glade and another stretch of trees, the river luminous in its constant exposure to light even filtered by the great mallorn trees, and the broken shards of it were akin to diamantina against the bark of the trees in which Galadriel's hands now pressed fast to, the pressure in which she held to the tree the only giveaway to so much as an inclination towards discomposure. She had used the moments it had taken to follow the presence and track its physical self through the trees in way that would do any of her Sindarin kin proud, to calm herself, and so her features were impassive as the moon itself once more, still and watchful from her vantage point, even as the name of her intruder rolled as freely off her tongue as if she had spoken it yesterday. As if hundreds, if not thousands of years, had ever passed.

Tinuvagor. Tinu.

Galadriel remembered every name. The tone demanded explanation, even low and soft.

You are a long way from home.

Home, was a sketchy term. For Valinor was their home, but it was hardly hers. And certainly no longer his.

played by Dory


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Seeking an Audience with the Lady
« Reply #2 on: June 19, 2015, 03:41:00 PM »
Even as he searched among the trees, he was startled in the finding.   He heard first her voice, and though he turned sharply in surprise, he managed to avoid making a complete fool of himself.   Perhaps, though, it was only because upon taking in the sight of her, whom he remembered as one remembers a vivid, but distant dream, he was so overcome with wonder that there was nothing left in him for surprise.  But within the span of a breath, wonder turned halfway to fear.  And while he was nearly as good as she at hiding his own discomposure, he wore clear signs of it in the wary gleam behind his eyes and in the way he took just a heartbeat too long to compose himself.

On so many occasions, in so many meetings with others of his kin, Tinuvagor had fought to somehow diminish himself in their presence.  Anything to avoid seeming at all haughty or superior, for that was one of the many poor reputations that were attributed to kinslayers.  Yet here, suddenly faced with this woman who was in all ways both beautiful and perilous, he embraced the fullness of his height, standing tall and determined, though palms had begun to sweat and his heart still pounded like a storm within his chest.  Had the situation not been quite so precarious, he might have chuckled, for he realized he was facing the Lady of Lorien as he might face some predator in the wild.  

Don’t let her sense your fear!

Lest she think that those subtle hints of amusement were somehow directed at her, Tinuvagor gathered himself, taking in a slow breath in a futile effort to calm his anxiety.   Then, with a polite bow of his head, he offered the greeting that had been stalled too long by his own thoughts.  “My Lady,” he began, forcing his voice to remain steady, though perhaps she would notice the slight tremor behind his words, for he could not fully banish it.   “I am honored that you would know me.”   He had always assumed that he was far enough beneath her station that she would have no reason to acknowledge him.  It had been the case in Valinor, after all.  Or so he had imagined it.  

Drawing back to his full height, he pressed on, fearful that if he hesitated again, he might lose what remained of his waning courage.  “I had hoped you might agree to speak with me.”  Courage had made him speak, but fear had turned his words vague, and he hesitated, wondering if he should say more.  What if he were to say too much?  Would she turn him away without hearing him out?  His mind raced with all the ways things might go poorly, and yet he did not dare to think that she would grant him the audience he had come to request.

“I should have come sooner,” he continued, though the words had not been planned.  Was his fear showing?    “I… very much regret that I have waited so long.”

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Seeking an Audience with the Lady
« Reply #3 on: June 20, 2015, 03:08:00 AM »

"Regret? There was a time when you would count among those who regretted very little."

The words bit and her nostrils flared, just slightly, at the scent that emanated through the air. It was a barely perceptible thing, indistinguishable to mortals, but to Elves, so gifted with animal senses as they all but were, things could be traced if attention was enough paid. Fear. Good. Galadriel was not one who enjoyed being unsettled or disconcerted, and so to be so made her far less charitable on any occasion than she might have been. Let alone something such as this, reeking of painful reminders of her own failures, of what she had lost and had almost lost to her failures, her past cowardice, and the cause of it arising again so suddenly after so long buried away in the wilderness both physical and metaphorical. She would have reacted to any of her own kin in such a fashion, the difference was quite who it was. Tinugavor might have been shocked underneath that mask of concealment that she remembered him, but Galadriel remembered always the features of those who had caught her eye, even in passing. Dark hair, vivid light eyes, a gay smile when it showed; he had appealed to the young Artanis regardless of lower station.

Though in hindsight, station in life of one's lover had posed little concern to her in the end.

Galadriel's reaction was subtle, but immediate, when he drew his shoulders back and looked upon her so. She thanked those who had created her and given life to her for something she had once rued when an adolescent -- her height, especially that of a female's. Later on, she would find such bravery admirable with more than just a detached and fleeting thought, but now, in her wood, her response was that of the alpha beta she-wolf responding to an insubordinate acting out; her own shoulders drew back and her spine was rigid, chin lifting and eyes narrowing down at him, staring from an impassive face from her vantage point on high.

"I wonder what it is you actually regret." she said softly. Very softly, though the words were loaded with warning and countless ways of interpretation. For there were many things he could regret, and none of them might in fact be what he claimed aloud to regret. Was it the same thing she regretted to this very day, the Kinslaying and what it had cost them all? Or did he simply regret that they had been caught out and all but a few, such as herself, banished. Did he regret the bloodshed, or did he regret that it still filled his dreams and left him bereft of the solace he sought, the same that she had now found in tending her Golden Wood? Did he simply miss their old home, and regret that? Did he truly regret not seeking her out sooner, or did he only regret it because he had found her as she was now? Regret, regret, regret. Regret. A dangerous, fickle thing. So easy to interpret and misinterpret.

"This Wood is my atonement, you know. My peace. Some called it loyalty for not slaying my own Noldorian kin for what they, you did, but others...rightfully so, called it cowardice for ever allowing it to go uncondoned." She paused, wondering just how thoroughly he believed in himself, if he truly was as bereft of the chains that had once driven him, driven the Calaquendi to the prejudice that had led them to the crimes that had been committed. Well, they would certainly see, for neither Galadriel nor Artanis had ever been known to dance in circles.

"I took one of them as my mate, you know." Quieter still, and yet daring him. Testing the waters. There was nothing in this world more significant to Elves than the moment they chose to take a lover, for unlike the ways of Men, their love was blessing and curse, and rarely recovered from if lost. No matter one's station, though the derogatory term for those who had not known the light of the Two Trees tasted disgusting and heavy on her lips. "A Sindar. Moriquendi. I, a princess of the Calaquendi,  took--no, begged to have him in my life, beside me."

played by Dory


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Seeking an Audience with the Lady
« Reply #4 on: June 20, 2015, 05:24:00 AM »
Like so many others of his kin, Tinuvagor was in possession of the pride that their people were known for.  Even now, after so many years humbling himself at every opportunity, it still burned somewhere within him, hungry to be rekindled.   Careful as he ever was not to awaken it, the Lady of the Wood nearly managed it with only the heat of her gaze, the steadfast will behind those eyes that sought to chastise him, to force him into submission.  And where wisdom told him that the best course was not to engage in a battle of will, for he would surely lose, that long dormant pride surged forward and for a moment he stood, gaze locked with hers, challenging the will behind those unforgiving eyes.  

As ever, deep inside his heart demanded he defend himself.  Of course he had regrets!  He could hardly recall a time in which he did not!   He had still been so very young when first he took the blood of his own kin in Alqualonde, and that had been the birth of his regret.   That first knot of pain only grew with every loss, every failure, every opportunity to do something more that had come to nothing.    But those regrets, the deeper, darker ones that pushed beyond even the kinslayings themselves, were things he had not shared with any living soul.  They were his and his alone.  

That surge of ancient pride was not long lived, however, and wisdom overcame anger.  He conceded.   His gaze dropped away from hers, turning aside where it sought some foothold deep within the wood.   His posture lessened, and he seemed to shrink, though even so he was nearly a match for the Lady’s height.  Perhaps now, as he presented himself more in the fashion of a demoralized beast, she would not assail him so eagerly.    Or perhaps, and more likely, it would only embolden her.  

Well, if it did, it was no less than he deserved.  

When at last she was silent, leaving him so much to answer for, he was unsure of where to begin.   And so the silence wore on as he searched in vain for something that might define his feelings.  But there were no words equal to the task.  “Forgive me,” he began, but he did not pause for fear that she might take such as an invitation to renew her assault.  “I cannot find any words adequate to this task.   To my ears such words seem so very hollow.  Nonetheless, I will try as best I can.”

“I would say first that you mistake me, My Lady.  I harbor no ill will for the Sindar.  Rather, I hold them in high regard.”  He paused, daring for a moment to meet her gaze again.  “Perhaps it was not always so, but time changes many things.”  

It took only another heartbeat for his gaze to falter, falling away this time towards the sky, as he allowed a momentary lapse, a nervous chuckle.    Some things time did not change, and as long as he had lived, laughter was the surest balm for his wounded spirit.  And now it served to release all of the fear and anxiety that had been churning within him, making way for something deeper and more true to come forth.

“I have come here to seek my own atonement, or at least a measure of it, for the count of those in this world that I have wronged stretches far beyond this wood.   I will answer truthfully any question you see fit to ask, and perhaps we shall see if I am worthy of earning atonement in your service.”  Again, he bowed his head, deferring all right of judgement to her, whom he had wronged.   “If you see fit to send me away, then I will depart and never again diminish the light of this wood.”

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Seeking an Audience with the Lady
« Reply #5 on: June 23, 2015, 12:18:00 AM »

"High regard?" The words came out very slowly, very calmly, very softly, and all of three syllables clearly enunciated. High regard. Respect. Indeed. Internally, she half shouted the word, but that was not common sense or logical discourse to do so, and nothing would be achieved. She'd learned long ago to curb her temper, though it was still a thing in constant need of mastery, and just as consistent need of release in one way or another, in the end. But that, unfortunately, was not now, no matter how unbalanced she internally felt and how eternally like a hot branding iron her soul currently felt. And yet, in a way, she wanted to shout because it would feel good. In the same masochistic way the painful heat in her heart felt good, because it was so different to what she'd become accustomed to feeling over the many long years since those days of early twilight.

"I should hope you do so." Quiet still, as if her miens wasn't still everything that was proud she-wolf protecting her den and disciplining her subordinates, and her own thoughts, her very self, had responded to that daring display of old pride with the heated, vivid blue of warning in a gaze set otherwise in an impassive face. "I would be the last one to grant you safe passage, should you do anything that would lead my people to drive you from their home."

But why not cast him out? It would be the easiest thing to do, for all of them. He was kin, but he was not even close kin. She'd fancied this one once, and perhaps that granted a soft spot regardless of how she loathed the thought, but even that held little weight, for it was obvious through her own words, the news of her long ago binding to another, that he had not been for her. So why not--

Because it isn't wise.

Blast and damn wisdom even as it gave her direction. Wisdom knew it was being unreasonable. It was not likely he would be harassed by any lest he make an art of parading himself [like some she wouldn't name], and Lothlorien, the Galadhrim, had never cast out those in need of succour. To do so now would be the height of hypocrisy, and she knew how swift judgment was to fall, when one irrational action could undo lifetimes of rational and good to the outsider's eye. And there he now stood before her, did Tinuvagor, all rounded shoulders and wounded countenance, and it would have been theatrical had the pain emanating from his soul when brushed against by her not been so genuine. So like her own.

Galadriel sighed. Long and soft and drawn out and heavy.

"You may stay and take your rest. Caras Galadhon is such that a soul may sleep in comfort under starlight, and yet know the closeness of the Valar." She moved then, gown brushing a soft caress against mallorn leaves and grass in a complete at odds with her thoughts.  But then--

Utter madness, Artanis. Entirely against the notion of keeping unwanted attention and pride at bay.

Only she was no longer Artanis. She was Galadriel.

And so Galadriel paused before she entirely passed him, and her voice was still quiet, but firmer.

 "But tomorrow night, you will ask after me an hour before midnight, and have whoever bids do so send you to me. The girdle of Nenya must constantly be maintained, and has suffered as of late. I require those able to stand watch over me whilst I heal it's arcane form. Then we will see if are capable of earning atonement through service."

Was it madness to ask him this? To make herself vulnerable? She'd already questioned that, and yet what was there to lose? Her men were loyal, and so she knew already that even if she took only one knowingly to watch over her while she was fragile and lost to the arcane magic taught so long ago to her that they would never be too far away. And regardless o what was said, some might deem it punishment, to keep him close while in their Golden Wood...yet others...others would deem it a chance. More than a chance.

"Just remember, Tinuvagor." Soft again, her tones. But not yielding or surrendering, even as the sigh of before was concession in itself. "Regardless of how far it stretches, or if you simply seek to belittle my own self-importance in stating it so, atonement only truly begins when we start with those closest to the heart of the wound. And we are kin, whether you or I will it so or not, and you have left me and all that I represent a very long time."

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Seeking an Audience with the Lady
« Reply #6 on: June 25, 2015, 03:18:00 AM »
Having made his gambit, and feeling as far from optimistic as one might, her initial response filled him anew with dread.  Could it be she did not believe him?  Was he so unworthy of trust that every word was considered untrue by virtue of his voice alone?  If that were so, what hope had he of healing any of the wounds he had managed to quicken with his unexpected presence?  His own wounds were given hardly a thought, for his hope of finding any such healing for himself had been abandoned long ago.  If he were worthy of such, he would be healed as others were healed.   If he were worthy…

Trapped there between her words and his waning pride, Tinuvagor’s mind raced.  He knew in what way he might defend himself from such doubts, but as they had been so many times before, words were only words.  She would only value that which she had seen with her own eyes, and thus his centuries of service in Mithlond and Imladris meant very little, even if he were to give her all of the names of those who counted him as a friend.    

Thankfully for the both of them, the Lady broke her silence, offering him the chance he had hardly dared to hope for.  The chance to stay, at least for a short while, allowed him to release the breath he had not realized he’d been holding.  Somewhere amidst the sudden rush of relief he managed to bow his head in thanks, though his thoughts had become yet more muddled.  “My Lady…”  He nearly said ‘you are too kind,’ but he bit back those words, for they were as hollow as all the rest that had been churning through his thoughts.  And suddenly nothing seemed appropriate.  Nothing would do the moment justice.  And so he settled for simplicity.  “Thank you.”

He maintained his slight bow, meaning to keep his gaze downcast until she had passed, but when Galadriel paused, he ventured a nervous glance, and though he straightened, he neglected to reclaim his full height.  Was there something more?    

Bent and nervous as he was when she began to speak, it did not take long before all other thought was pushed aside by shock.  Without realization, he stood straighter, unable to look away for some instinctual fear that if he did, she would fade away and he would find these words to be only his own imaginings.  Never would he have dreamed that such a trust would be so easily bestowed upon him.  And even as it was the answer to his own hopes, he felt nearly as if he should correct her.  He had earned nothing, yet!  He was undeserving of such a trust, though he knew very well in his own mind that he was not the type to betray a trust once given.  Still, if it had been him in her place, he was not so sure he would be so forgiving.  

He could feel the rush of blood as his face paled, only realizing too late that he must have looked quite the fool with eyes wide and heart pounding.  Yet hidden behind that shock was a small glimmer of hope, restrained and nearly smothered, but unable to be fully hidden.    

At last, after staring dumb and mute for far too long, he bowed his head once more in acknowledgement of those words.   “While my efforts here are long overdue…”  He met her eyes again, for a moment forgetting to be afraid of what he might read there… and perhaps foolishly forgetting that the real danger was in what she would see in him.  “I will no longer let fear keep me from fulfilling my debt to you.  And to your people.”

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Seeking an Audience with the Lady
« Reply #7 on: July 02, 2015, 04:07:00 AM »

"Tomorrow night. Do not be late, Tinuvagor."

It was said crisply, brisk and without nonsense. It wasn't quite a dismissal [a small allowance for what pride he still had as a Noldorian, to not trample upon it so blatantly], but it more than made it's point known. It was too something entirely natural to her, and it was this which showed how greatly the young Artanis had grown and matured, to be what she was now from what she had been. A leader without the need to proclaim she was a leader, a force to be reckoned with without the need for fire and aggression and dogged determination. This was someone who had proved herself, and was no longer in need of neither approval nor a need to gain approval from some higher standard. Galadriel wanted what she wanted, and she would have it. She had provided enough leeway in the chance offered, and now she had exhausted what could be tolerated for the time being. So too was she exhausted, left feeling ill and drained by the tumult that was her mind and spirit, though if Tinuvagor chose even a little to broadcast his own to her, sickened relief and all, Galadriel simply could not afford to.

But what more was there to say? It was too soon, too new, too raw for even the strongest of will in the world, the oldest and the most aged by wisdom and experience, to simply sit down over a metaphorical cup of tea and have a conversation, or talk as one talked tactics of war in a council room. Sometimes-- nay, often, it was best to leave such things as the smith or the carpenter might leave an object or a creation to set or to cool.

And so Galadriel who had once been Artanis said no more to Tinuvagor for this night gone, with only the presence of her mind drifting past his light and cool as a breeze to reach out to the forest for one nearby of her wardens who might escort him to where he might take his rest, if so chosen to. And then, with the soft rustle of the young marchwarden moving with deliberate audibility to his elders a cover, turned and was quietly gone into her forest, disappeared into the solace and the hiding place that were the ancient mallorn leaves in the light of the moon.

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  • Gandalf: Starter for Shadowfax [link]
    June 07, 2020, 05:31:17 AM
  • Galadriel: Tag for Elrohir. <3 [link]
    June 07, 2020, 02:05:39 AM
  • Bard: Reply for Bain [link]
    June 05, 2020, 07:02:43 AM
  • Hild: Reply for Fengel [link]
    June 04, 2020, 10:19:13 PM
  • Hild: Reply for Haleth et all [link]
    June 03, 2020, 11:41:18 PM
  • Éowyn: Plotter tag for Marbys! [link]
    June 02, 2020, 10:32:55 AM
  • Éowyn: Starter for Theoden. <3 [link]
    June 02, 2020, 10:03:48 AM
  • Thengel: Reply for Morwen Steelsheen [link]
    June 02, 2020, 05:52:44 AM
  • Dáin Ironfoot: Starter for Kéra and family [link]
    May 31, 2020, 10:21:13 AM
  • Fengel: Starter for Hild et all [link]
    May 31, 2020, 12:20:29 AM