Post by Admin on May 5, 2022 14:22:50 GMT
Author: Cassie Hughes
Rating = K
Summary = Glimpses into the preparations underway for a momentous event in Greenwood the Great.
Dappled light shone down onto a scene of almost choreographed chaos as elves hustled and bustled around the large clearing in the forest, setting out long trestle tables, threading fine mithril wires from which coloured glass globes hung, like jewels, from tree to tree, building bonfires over which were place huge spits ready for the meat the hunters would soon supply and the hundred and one other things necessary to create an event fitting for an occasion such as the woodland realm had not seen in centuries. A royal bonding.
Within the great delved stronghold, known simply as *Taur Rhûd, an air of excitement and anticipation was almost palpable in its presence. Elves scurried along corridors in seeming disarray rushing from one room to another, some burdened down with cloths and fine apparel others with baskets of scented oils and soaps and a few carrying naught but messages, all working together in an effort to ensure the evening’s festivities proceeded without a hitch.
The kitchens, however, were where the activity was the greatest. The huge ovens were blasting out heat as the finest cooks in the kingdom prepared their specialities. Although the venison, boar and other meats would be cooked on site in the glade there would be many other dishes required to sit alongside them. Various sweet and savoury pastries, breads and sauces needed to be created and simple salads assembled enough to tempt every palate. The air was redolent with the scents of herbs and spices enough to cause the mouths of any who came near the area water and their stomachs ache for even the smallest taste.
In one corner however, carefully shielded from the rest of the room by a beautifully carved wooden screen two elleth’s worked in a singularly calm oasis. Their voices hushed and movements measured as the creation on the heavy wooden table before them took shape. Theirs was the honour of creating the centrepiece to mark the occasion. Comprising of various cakes and sweetmeats and decorated with delicate sugar work it was made to incorporate representations of both of the betrothed and their houses. Long hours had been spent in research, planning and design, much as an architect would when planning a new building. Only once they were certain in their minds and happy with the end product did the sisters first produce initial models, offering the various pieces to trial by friends, family and the king himself before, after a few minor changes, embarking on the final masterpiece itself. This meant that whilst many had tasted a small part, none would experience the whole until it was placed in pride of place in the glade later on.
A large oak door at the rear of the kitchen hung, propped open to allow for the passage of heat and admit small breezes of fresh air in too infrequent bursts. Outside was a small, open air, stone floored yard enclosed on all sides by high rocky walls, three of which had two or three plain and simple doors hiding delved pantries and larders. Into the fourth side was carved a high archway through which was a passage which, when followed, eventually emerged into the main courtyard at the front of the stronghold. It was through this passage that hunters would be arriving to drop off their prizes.
The larger game such as deer, boar and pheasant, for use that evening had been prepared and hung for a week or two already but these needed replacing so the butchers were setting up their buckets and knives in readiness on the large blocks in the centre of the yard. There would also be smaller, fresher meat to be readied for the fires, rabbit, squirrel and plump quail to name but a few possibilities. The variety lay all in the hands and skill of the hunters, the will of the Valar, and none would know what was to be on offer this eve until they returned.
One of the doors in the stone walls opened and a small, slight ellon appeared. He was clearly young, not yet having reached his majority and had a look of deep concentration upon his pale face. As he passed through the yard it was clear to see he had an important message that he was repeating over and over under his breath lest he forget it. Scurrying through the large kitchen doorway he swiftly made his way to the head cook, pulled on her apron strings to gain her attention then repeated his message in one breath. With a fond grin she patted him on the shoulder, sneaked him a small sweetmeat and sent him on his way, this time pointing him towards the interior of the hall with a message of her own before making her way from the kitchen and to the doorway he had recently come though.
The portal opened into a small anteroom with another, thick oak door about ten paces in. She shivered slightly as she moved through this door and into the room beyond. The drop in temperature, especially after the heat of the kitchen noticeable even to one of pure elven heritage. This was the buttery. The long room was a hive of activity as elves churned, mixed and whipped, creating the butter, creams and flummeries to be served at the feast. One chestnut haired elleth was obviously checking the results of their labours thus far and it was to this elf that the head cook stepped and conversed. Their lyrical voices echoing around the stony cavern as inventory was taken and instructions on delivery were given to ensure their produce was as perfect as possible when it came time for their use, be that as ingredients for use in the kitchen or in their own merit at the feast itself.
In the entrance hallway of the stronghold itself Gallion, seneschal to Thranduil’s court, heaved yet another sigh as he was interrupted once more whilst trying to oversee the number, and type of potation being carried from the cellars for transport to the glade. Wines and beers, all graded and discretely marked for consumption by unrefined and connoisseur alike had to be handled with care and he need ensure that naught was taken that shouldn’t be.
“Where do you want these Gallion?” A young elleth with her arms full of various blossoms walked through the arched doorway from the courtyard beyond, the apple, wild cherry and hawthorn boughs almost spilling free as she held out her arms, offering them up for his inspection.
“They should have been delivered to the glade well before now!” The seneschal barked as another crate of wine went past, his eyes moving rapidly to pick out the markings on its side.
“Well, all I was told was to collect them!” the elleth snapped back. “Not where they needed to go.”
Turning on her heel she flounced off back through the entrance, nearly knocking over another elf on his way in and dropping half of her burden on his toes. The scuffle that ensued gained Gallion a modicum of respite in which to gather his wits and recheck his lists whilst the ellon carrying the next assignment for delivery waited for his path to clear.
Leaving the organised chaos of the kitchens and Gallion’s frustration behind upon entering the royal apartments there was to be found a modicum of peace. This was mainly due to the fact that Thranduil had hidden himself away behind the locked door of his study, the visitors had taken themselves for a walk along the loggia which, although inside the fortress had columns carved to replicate trees, with gemstone leaves that rustled and glittered in the air from carefully hidden apertures pierced through the surrounding stone to allow for ventilation and light. There were also carefully tended plants and flowers along the edge of the stone floor and underneath the ‘trees’ laid out in such a way as to make it appear as if you were in a woodland garden. It was a beautiful, peaceful place in which to discuss their hopes and feelings for the upcoming ritual and to ensure there were no last-minute fears or worries before the pact was entered.
The other participant in this, most anticipated and long-awaited event was nowhere to be seen. As was his want in times of stress or when knowing he would be the focus of attention, Legolas had secreted himself atop the old sentinel oak which grew at the edge of the forest just beyond the main entrance to the fortress. Leaning back against the roughened bark he wondered how on earth he would get through the evening’s formalities and ensuing celebrations but then remembered that his beloved would be by his side, feeling very much the same way, and together they could face anything at all.
Eventually the halls grew silent as the light began to fade and the prepared provisions were loaded onto carts for the short journey to the glade, the ovens and fires were banked and the cooks anxiously followed to ensure their safe arrival and perfect display. The centrepiece was the last item to leave and the sisters watched with bated breath as it was lifted onto the final cart before getting up to drive it themselves as they trusted no one else to convey their most precious cargo. They were joined by a procession of elves all making their way merrily along, pure voices raised in playful song, smiles on their faces and radiating joy.
Only a handful of guards remained in the hall on duty and these would be relieved to join the celebrations later in the evening, although they would miss the main event. In these times of increasing conflict however, they knew it was impossible to leave the stronghold completely undefended and had happily drawn lots for their shifts. They had all fought the ever-emboldened orcs and spiders which had begun to invade their forest alongside their beloved Prince and would do anything for him. If that meant standing on guard over his home whilst others made merry then so be it. There would be time to celebrate and wish both him and his intended well once their duty was done.
The heady scent of meats marinaded in herbs and spices and roasting over open fires filled the glade as elves from every walk of life began to fill the space. Voices rose and fell in animated conversation and laughter trilled through the air as anticipation rose and barters were struck over who would be the first to jump the largest bonfire, who would pass out from too much drink soonest and anything else they could think of. It never took much for the elves of the woodland realm to find something on which to wager. Life was hard in the forest and getting harder so they took their fun where they could.
It was dark now, the only light coming from the bonfires, the smaller ones under the spits and the larger one in the centre of the clearing which was at present banked down but which would be coaxed to burn higher and higher as the night wore on and the brave, or most foolhardy, depending upon your point of view, took their turns at who could leap the flames to the greatest extent.
A lonely birdcall sang out and suddenly all fell silent. Even the leaves ceased their rustling as the sound heralded the approach of the royal party. Then, just when everyone thought they had been mistaken and the call had been from a stray bird confused by the firelight, the clearing was suddenly filled with twinkling lights as the small glass globes suspended in the trees sprang into life when their King stepped into the clearing closely followed by his only son, walking side by side with the fierce, dark haired warrior who had claimed his heart. Beaming smiles adorned their faces as they moved through the crowd and across to the carved wooden seat used as a throne for outdoor celebrations. Behind them came the proud party from Imladris, Master Elrond, stern features for once softened by pride as he watched the two ellon take their places before Thranduil when he halted in front of the seat and turned to face the gathering. Golden Glorfindel, who’s renown was well known throughout the realm, gentle Lindir, clutching the ancient lyre he would use to accompany his sweet voice in the melody especially written for this auspicious occasion and Elladan, mirror image of his beloved twin, seeming almost lost as he brought up the rear for once alone, completed the small semi-circle of lords who moved to stand witness behind the pair of lovers whose internal flames glowed fit to outshine all other lights around.
All at last was ready. With one last, loving glance at his son, Thranduil raised his arms to begin the rite which would re-affirm and finalise the twelve month betrothal period which Silvan tradition had demanded, prior to inviting the Master of Imladris forward to share in the joining of their elven fëa, thus binding the pair together for eternity, and the Greenwood itself rejoiced.
~fin~
* Taur = forest (Sindarin), Rhûd = Rock hewn Hall (Sindarin)
(Translation using Parf Edhellen)
Rating = K
Summary = Glimpses into the preparations underway for a momentous event in Greenwood the Great.
Dappled light shone down onto a scene of almost choreographed chaos as elves hustled and bustled around the large clearing in the forest, setting out long trestle tables, threading fine mithril wires from which coloured glass globes hung, like jewels, from tree to tree, building bonfires over which were place huge spits ready for the meat the hunters would soon supply and the hundred and one other things necessary to create an event fitting for an occasion such as the woodland realm had not seen in centuries. A royal bonding.
Within the great delved stronghold, known simply as *Taur Rhûd, an air of excitement and anticipation was almost palpable in its presence. Elves scurried along corridors in seeming disarray rushing from one room to another, some burdened down with cloths and fine apparel others with baskets of scented oils and soaps and a few carrying naught but messages, all working together in an effort to ensure the evening’s festivities proceeded without a hitch.
The kitchens, however, were where the activity was the greatest. The huge ovens were blasting out heat as the finest cooks in the kingdom prepared their specialities. Although the venison, boar and other meats would be cooked on site in the glade there would be many other dishes required to sit alongside them. Various sweet and savoury pastries, breads and sauces needed to be created and simple salads assembled enough to tempt every palate. The air was redolent with the scents of herbs and spices enough to cause the mouths of any who came near the area water and their stomachs ache for even the smallest taste.
In one corner however, carefully shielded from the rest of the room by a beautifully carved wooden screen two elleth’s worked in a singularly calm oasis. Their voices hushed and movements measured as the creation on the heavy wooden table before them took shape. Theirs was the honour of creating the centrepiece to mark the occasion. Comprising of various cakes and sweetmeats and decorated with delicate sugar work it was made to incorporate representations of both of the betrothed and their houses. Long hours had been spent in research, planning and design, much as an architect would when planning a new building. Only once they were certain in their minds and happy with the end product did the sisters first produce initial models, offering the various pieces to trial by friends, family and the king himself before, after a few minor changes, embarking on the final masterpiece itself. This meant that whilst many had tasted a small part, none would experience the whole until it was placed in pride of place in the glade later on.
A large oak door at the rear of the kitchen hung, propped open to allow for the passage of heat and admit small breezes of fresh air in too infrequent bursts. Outside was a small, open air, stone floored yard enclosed on all sides by high rocky walls, three of which had two or three plain and simple doors hiding delved pantries and larders. Into the fourth side was carved a high archway through which was a passage which, when followed, eventually emerged into the main courtyard at the front of the stronghold. It was through this passage that hunters would be arriving to drop off their prizes.
The larger game such as deer, boar and pheasant, for use that evening had been prepared and hung for a week or two already but these needed replacing so the butchers were setting up their buckets and knives in readiness on the large blocks in the centre of the yard. There would also be smaller, fresher meat to be readied for the fires, rabbit, squirrel and plump quail to name but a few possibilities. The variety lay all in the hands and skill of the hunters, the will of the Valar, and none would know what was to be on offer this eve until they returned.
One of the doors in the stone walls opened and a small, slight ellon appeared. He was clearly young, not yet having reached his majority and had a look of deep concentration upon his pale face. As he passed through the yard it was clear to see he had an important message that he was repeating over and over under his breath lest he forget it. Scurrying through the large kitchen doorway he swiftly made his way to the head cook, pulled on her apron strings to gain her attention then repeated his message in one breath. With a fond grin she patted him on the shoulder, sneaked him a small sweetmeat and sent him on his way, this time pointing him towards the interior of the hall with a message of her own before making her way from the kitchen and to the doorway he had recently come though.
The portal opened into a small anteroom with another, thick oak door about ten paces in. She shivered slightly as she moved through this door and into the room beyond. The drop in temperature, especially after the heat of the kitchen noticeable even to one of pure elven heritage. This was the buttery. The long room was a hive of activity as elves churned, mixed and whipped, creating the butter, creams and flummeries to be served at the feast. One chestnut haired elleth was obviously checking the results of their labours thus far and it was to this elf that the head cook stepped and conversed. Their lyrical voices echoing around the stony cavern as inventory was taken and instructions on delivery were given to ensure their produce was as perfect as possible when it came time for their use, be that as ingredients for use in the kitchen or in their own merit at the feast itself.
In the entrance hallway of the stronghold itself Gallion, seneschal to Thranduil’s court, heaved yet another sigh as he was interrupted once more whilst trying to oversee the number, and type of potation being carried from the cellars for transport to the glade. Wines and beers, all graded and discretely marked for consumption by unrefined and connoisseur alike had to be handled with care and he need ensure that naught was taken that shouldn’t be.
“Where do you want these Gallion?” A young elleth with her arms full of various blossoms walked through the arched doorway from the courtyard beyond, the apple, wild cherry and hawthorn boughs almost spilling free as she held out her arms, offering them up for his inspection.
“They should have been delivered to the glade well before now!” The seneschal barked as another crate of wine went past, his eyes moving rapidly to pick out the markings on its side.
“Well, all I was told was to collect them!” the elleth snapped back. “Not where they needed to go.”
Turning on her heel she flounced off back through the entrance, nearly knocking over another elf on his way in and dropping half of her burden on his toes. The scuffle that ensued gained Gallion a modicum of respite in which to gather his wits and recheck his lists whilst the ellon carrying the next assignment for delivery waited for his path to clear.
Leaving the organised chaos of the kitchens and Gallion’s frustration behind upon entering the royal apartments there was to be found a modicum of peace. This was mainly due to the fact that Thranduil had hidden himself away behind the locked door of his study, the visitors had taken themselves for a walk along the loggia which, although inside the fortress had columns carved to replicate trees, with gemstone leaves that rustled and glittered in the air from carefully hidden apertures pierced through the surrounding stone to allow for ventilation and light. There were also carefully tended plants and flowers along the edge of the stone floor and underneath the ‘trees’ laid out in such a way as to make it appear as if you were in a woodland garden. It was a beautiful, peaceful place in which to discuss their hopes and feelings for the upcoming ritual and to ensure there were no last-minute fears or worries before the pact was entered.
The other participant in this, most anticipated and long-awaited event was nowhere to be seen. As was his want in times of stress or when knowing he would be the focus of attention, Legolas had secreted himself atop the old sentinel oak which grew at the edge of the forest just beyond the main entrance to the fortress. Leaning back against the roughened bark he wondered how on earth he would get through the evening’s formalities and ensuing celebrations but then remembered that his beloved would be by his side, feeling very much the same way, and together they could face anything at all.
Eventually the halls grew silent as the light began to fade and the prepared provisions were loaded onto carts for the short journey to the glade, the ovens and fires were banked and the cooks anxiously followed to ensure their safe arrival and perfect display. The centrepiece was the last item to leave and the sisters watched with bated breath as it was lifted onto the final cart before getting up to drive it themselves as they trusted no one else to convey their most precious cargo. They were joined by a procession of elves all making their way merrily along, pure voices raised in playful song, smiles on their faces and radiating joy.
Only a handful of guards remained in the hall on duty and these would be relieved to join the celebrations later in the evening, although they would miss the main event. In these times of increasing conflict however, they knew it was impossible to leave the stronghold completely undefended and had happily drawn lots for their shifts. They had all fought the ever-emboldened orcs and spiders which had begun to invade their forest alongside their beloved Prince and would do anything for him. If that meant standing on guard over his home whilst others made merry then so be it. There would be time to celebrate and wish both him and his intended well once their duty was done.
The heady scent of meats marinaded in herbs and spices and roasting over open fires filled the glade as elves from every walk of life began to fill the space. Voices rose and fell in animated conversation and laughter trilled through the air as anticipation rose and barters were struck over who would be the first to jump the largest bonfire, who would pass out from too much drink soonest and anything else they could think of. It never took much for the elves of the woodland realm to find something on which to wager. Life was hard in the forest and getting harder so they took their fun where they could.
It was dark now, the only light coming from the bonfires, the smaller ones under the spits and the larger one in the centre of the clearing which was at present banked down but which would be coaxed to burn higher and higher as the night wore on and the brave, or most foolhardy, depending upon your point of view, took their turns at who could leap the flames to the greatest extent.
A lonely birdcall sang out and suddenly all fell silent. Even the leaves ceased their rustling as the sound heralded the approach of the royal party. Then, just when everyone thought they had been mistaken and the call had been from a stray bird confused by the firelight, the clearing was suddenly filled with twinkling lights as the small glass globes suspended in the trees sprang into life when their King stepped into the clearing closely followed by his only son, walking side by side with the fierce, dark haired warrior who had claimed his heart. Beaming smiles adorned their faces as they moved through the crowd and across to the carved wooden seat used as a throne for outdoor celebrations. Behind them came the proud party from Imladris, Master Elrond, stern features for once softened by pride as he watched the two ellon take their places before Thranduil when he halted in front of the seat and turned to face the gathering. Golden Glorfindel, who’s renown was well known throughout the realm, gentle Lindir, clutching the ancient lyre he would use to accompany his sweet voice in the melody especially written for this auspicious occasion and Elladan, mirror image of his beloved twin, seeming almost lost as he brought up the rear for once alone, completed the small semi-circle of lords who moved to stand witness behind the pair of lovers whose internal flames glowed fit to outshine all other lights around.
All at last was ready. With one last, loving glance at his son, Thranduil raised his arms to begin the rite which would re-affirm and finalise the twelve month betrothal period which Silvan tradition had demanded, prior to inviting the Master of Imladris forward to share in the joining of their elven fëa, thus binding the pair together for eternity, and the Greenwood itself rejoiced.
~fin~
* Taur = forest (Sindarin), Rhûd = Rock hewn Hall (Sindarin)
(Translation using Parf Edhellen)