Hobbit Tales (In character ongoing role play)
Thiriswen's glanced to Gundri, her lips forming into a thin, uncertain line, then she slowly nodded in agreement. "You are not wrong... the Woodland Realm is not what it was. Spiders run amok in the woods, goblins crawl from every crevice, and the rangers rarely drift as far as they did in the days when I ranged with them. I fear King Thranduil has much on his mind and his heart he does not lay bare to us, and that the Battle of Five Armies has left a lasting mark on him... and not the kind that one can be proud of."
She trailed off, returning back to her own thoughts - the jaunt of a dwarven tune seemed to stir her more, though. A smirk crept to her lips as she heard Gundri sing, and coupled with the hobbit's request, the elf seemed to relax a little and straighten out once more. "Well, if we are to be serenaded by dwarvish ballads, then surely I must contribute an elvish song as well, 'lest I shame my woodland kin - I, um, I shall try for something happy. I'd rather it be that than remembering the sadness of Gil-Galad or Nimrodel."
The elf stood, unpinning her cloak for once and laying it across her seat. She cleared her throat and began to sing in a far softer voice than she usually spoke in, one that has clearly practiced singing a fair amount.
I lay my head among the stones,
As dusk to midnight yields,
I hear the groan of rumbling stones, the whispering of trees,
Strewn through the meadow-fields,
For those of us that wander far,
The world holds wonders few,
Not spires tall nor mountain halls,
But leaves adorned with dew.
What use have I for gold and gems,
Where silver rivers run?
What use have I for towers tall,
Where trees can reach the sun?
A forest grove that gleams with gold,
Crowned with Autumn's sweet caress,
While coin is spent, it lingers on,
Through Winter's deep excess.
Every grass and every brook,
Have tales and songs to sing,
But even for us far-flung wanderers,
The road must somewhere bring.
Then you will see familiar stars,
And trees and stones you've long since known,
Dear halls shall ring with cheer, and wine shall spill in streams,
And those that still remember you shall marvel how you've grown.
And while you rest your weary, wandering feet,
New wanderers shall stray from home in search of a new world to meet."
She stopped there, but a faint smile lingered on. For the first time in a very long while, she seemed truly happy. The difference seemed so stark between what stood before them and the secretive, grim elf that they had known out in the wilds that it seemed almost like removing her cloak changed her into a different person. The only reminder that this was Thiriswen was the ugly, gnarled scar over her blind eye that remained pale and murky.
"I... er," she said. "I'm sorry if it's a little rough. It is... hard to translate elvish to the tongues of men, and even still it loses meaning."
This message was last edited by the player at 20:34, Mon 27 July 2020.