Rivendell, in a time before the Great Ring's rediscovery ...
Fragrant summer breezes drifted between pillars and around corners, and stirred draperies along the long corridors of Rivendell's stacked balconies. Bells hanging from the eaves chimed gently as they swayed in the currents, and swallows darted here and there in the coming dusk. The rich scents and sounds of the summer season carried in the air, and guests and residents wandered out of the great dining hall after a cheery meal where the servers had been particularly clever this night in serving and flirting.
Arwen's sweet smile had graced the Master's table that evening, she was attentive to Erestor seated on one side, and Findalor on the other, catching up on news of her father's settlement, as she was lately arrived from several months with her grandparents in Caras Galadhon. She had shared many adventures with the two seated beside her as comrades in mischief, and she had no more fervent defenders than her father's trusted aides. Her pale eyes wandered now and then to the large arching doorway, however Aragorn and the visiting ironsmiths from Dale seemed to be caught up in projects at the forges.
Her brothers were in residence for a change as well, and settled in the back corner of the dining hall they too caught up on news of life in Rivendell, while sharing tales with others about their patrols far and wide. Elrond sat at the head of the table in his usual chair, surrounded by guests along both sides, enjoying the perfect summer repast, witty conversation, and perhaps one glass too many of the light vintage that flowed freely from the server's jugs. He smiled a warm smile at Arwen, and kept an eye on his often-boisterous sons, all too rarely these days was his family gathered under one roof. He shifted a bit to accommodate a stiffening shoulder, and passed the bowl of fruit as it made its way around the table. Diners lingered this balmy night, and the open and comforting environment of Rivendell was at its most embracing in the deepening dusk of a perfect summer's evening.
As the meal ended, diners rose and casually made their way out of the large dining hall. Many strolled Rivendell's endless lengths of corridors, taking in views of the valley and the rushing river that changing colors and moods in the light of the setting sun. The cool, fresh mosses and grasses that formed the lawns, and the ripple and bubble of the river's flow along its rocky bed created a peaceful and joyous environment for the gathering dancers and musicians. The Elven love of a starry night would keep the community awake late into the evening, and sleeping in the next day.
Lines formed on the smooth lawn and dancers bowed to their partners as the harps and pipes started the old favorite tunes in the dim light of early evening. Sparks flashed and rose from the central bonfire that lit the dancers as they began the inter-twining movements of the first dance. Elladan led the line this time, his brother bringing up the middle, snaking beneath clasped hands and around twisting bodies in the complex patterns that challenged the dancers to step perfectly and quickly, bowing and turning precisely. The brothers could fall back into carefree youth under their father's roof and among the loving and caring inhabitants of their home settlement.
The days and weeks had flowed together into one long Elven dream during this peaceful stretch of summer days. The woes and cares of the outside world seemed far away to those embraced by Rivendell's aura of safety and comfort. Yet some were aware of the wider world and its grief and danger. Some inhabitants carried the burden of care and concern that kept the sleepy city safe. These patrols rode the borders and plains above the valley, escorted trading parties and watched the south and east for signs of growing evil. The Inner Council monitored the needs of the guests and residents, food supplies and seasonal tasks, and pondered rumors and news from the outside world. Elrond lived in two time streams through the summer, dealing with the minutiae of daily life, and lost in the slow passage of summer days. Swimming, riding, and taking turns with household chores kept his hand in community activities and his eyes and ears open for news from the outside world.
The dark-haired master of the settlement had parted from friends and guests after dinner to stroll the corridors of the complex in blissful silence. It had been a busy day of meetings and city business for him, and he longed for solitude and quiet for a change. His dinner companions had been witty, but wordy, and his ears longed for the sounds of nature rather than voices. The breezes lifted his dark hair and stirred his long sleeves; the cooling air eased his gathering frown and soothed his soul. His soft embroidered leather shoes made no sounds on the carved stone pavement as he drifted here and there, climbing ever higher as he made the rounds of the stacked houses that had grown over the centuries into an open and airy series of bridges, open corridors and stacked rooflines. He walked slowly, not consciously favoring a catch in his back and a sore shoulder, but moving carefully. Again he was paying for an injudicious afternoon ride the day before.
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Coranar 11. Friends and Lovers by The Tired Scribe
Story notes: SERIES NOTE: This is story # 10 in the seasonal series called "Coranar", or "sun-round"
in Elvish. To catch up seek out: The Cleft in the Curve, Coranar #1, A Good Thing, Coranar #2, Shooting Stars, Coranar #3, Days of Harvest and Pain, Coranar #4, The Abyss, Coranar #5, A Perfect Day, Coranar #6, Winter Joinings, Coranar #7, Gifts from the South, Coranar #8, Rings of Power Coranar #9, Distant Evenings, Coranar # 10.
The Coranar series:
1. The Cleft in the Curve
2. A Good Thing
3. Shooting Stars
4. Days of Harvest and Pain
5. The Abyss
6. The Perfect Day
7. Winter Joinings
8. Gifts from the South
9. Rings of Power
10. Distant Evenings
11. Friends and Lovers
12. Fiery Circles
