Re: Isilheledh - some mead, some venison?

> As Galethien walked through the woods, she smell the aroma of venison filter through the air. As she drew closer she saw two elven lady's chatting beside a fire.

> " Vedui, Isilheledh and Tahlemaryn, may I join you?"

"Creoso a'baramin, Galethien, you are welcome at my fire," *smiles* Tahlemaryn had begun to wonder how Isilheledh and she were going to manage such an abundance of food!

She pours Galethien a cup of warm mead, and draws her belt-knife to slice some meat into a trencher, wincing slightly as the stitching in her sword arm pulled with the movement.

"I'm afraid my Cala'quessir cooking cannot compare to the artistry found in this place," *looks at Isilheledh and smiles*

She hunkers down by the fire, leaning on her good arm and begins to pluck idly at the strings of her lute ... a strange wandering melody, the sort that makes an elf ask: 'now where have I heard that song before?'

"I have been travelling since Yavieba(Autumn Equinox) of two years since, and having no soul to talk to besides the great Oaks that lined my path, I fear my voice has grown poor with disuse." *Turns her gaze back to Galethien inquiringly* "Perhaps you would grace us with a song, and mayhap my fingers may find the tune to match? Arwen en amin?? My Lady? ..."

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> > As Galethien walked through the woods, she smell the aroma of venison filter through the air. As she drew closer she saw two elven lady's chatting beside a fire. > > " Vedui, Isilheledh and Tahlemaryn, may I join you?" > <i>"Creoso a'baramin, Galethien</i>, you are welcome at my fire," smiles Tahlemaryn had begun to wonder how Isilheledh and she were going to manage such an abundance of food! > She pours Galethien a cup of warm mead, and draws her belt-knife to slice some meat into a trencher, wincing slightly as the stitching in her sword arm pulled with the movement. > "I'm afraid my <i>Cala'quessir</i> cooking cannot compare to the artistry found in this place," looks at Isilheledh and smiles > She hunkers down by the fire, leaning on her good arm and begins to pluck idly at the strings of her lute ... a strange wandering melody, the sort that makes an elf ask: 'now where have I heard that song before?' > "I have been travelling since <i>Yavieba</i>(Autumn Equinox) of two years since, and having no soul to talk to besides the great Oaks that lined my path, I fear my voice has grown poor with disuse." Turns her gaze back to Galethien inquiringly "Perhaps you would grace us with a song, and mayhap my fingers may find the tune to match? <i>Arwen en amin??</i> My Lady? ..."
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