My Ring! Ahaha

[Loonie]

Sorry to cut our journey short but we need to get to Rivendell.
********************************
After several uneventful days Cathara, Boromir, Caladiel and Annundil finally approached the edge of Rivendell.
Cathara sniffs 'Well, its all very nice. A bit too showy for this ones taste, though.'
The others just shake their heads and all move off into the beautiful city.
************************
I know its short so everyone feel free to expand on it.

[katzpotter]

"Personally," Caladiel said as they made their way into the city, "I think it's less showy than Caras Galadhon. I'll see how it looks at night, then I'll decide. What about you two? Hailing from the White City, you should have an opinion."

[Phëdriel]

Phëdriel had made herself comfortable in Rivendell for the last few days and was currently sitting in a tree eyeing the newcomers with curiosity. She was bored... The only entertainment for an introvert there was the Last Homely Library, and she already knew about everything there. The humans and elves filed in through the large open gates and she stretched catlike along the large branch, watching them.

[Camelia Took]

In a shady corner of the Last Homely Courtyard sat a tall, dark stranger with a book entitled At The Edge of Thorns: Gondolin's Fall open across his lap. Occasionally glancing at the arriving guests he began to realize a pattern--nearly half of those who had arrived so far were women, far more than he had ever seen gather there during his stays in Rivendell. He smirked evilly, contemplating how long it had been since his last... but quickly stopped as one of the travellers, a brawny man with a huge shield strapped to his back, glared in his direction. Abashed, he resumed reading.
****
(okay so that sucks but that's all I can thimk of right now. Maybe more later.)

[Nerdanel the Nerd]

Rebeccawen was having a bit of trouble finding Imladris. Before she left Minas Tirith, she had had many frankly dull academic pursuits to attend to: it was certainly demanding trying to become as great a loremaster as Denethor (her part-time employer and secret crush) when afflicted with such a slothful, slapdash streak.

Still, the very thought of his resonant voice and grim, beautiful face had led her to give up even her summer to learning: she had applied for a course in conversational Quenya at Imladris, and had been accepted with a message written on very fetching Elvish stationery. The Elvish style had gone out of fashion in the last ten years: cultural commentators had scoffed (in Sindarin, ironically enough) that beneath the weft of its flowing lines, it marked a rather disappointing neo-Númenórean aspiration to immortality. However, the retro flavour of the letterhead appealed to Rebeccawen, and she made preparations to leave: buying a new pair of impractical shoes, and scrawling "I love you" in Denethor's blotter. ("Anonymously," she thought, despite her most idiosyncratic hand.)

The long journey had given her time to think about why she was so preoccupied with impressing Denethor, probably the least easily impressed man in Gondor. Perhaps she was not seeking to impress him as such. It was more of a wish to emulate him. In his own dark way, he embodied all of her aspirations. And he was so...hot.

Rebeccawen had been resting under a tree for an hour, as the map she had hastily drawn on her hand before she left had all but faded away. Panicked out of her lethargy by the thought that she might miss the first class and look like an idiot, she stood up and looked around. Where could it be? Surely an Elven sanctuary bound in beauty to the power of Vilya, touched by the sadness of a waning people, shouldn't be that hard to find.

She was right. For the first time, after an hour of sitting there, through the trees she noticed a gate about twenty paces away. "Oh. That must be it."

After leaving her bags with the generous people who were accommodating her, she wandered around a little. As she had expected (she had been snooping in Denethor's diary) Boromir was just arriving. She pretended not to notice him, but could not help but notice that he was accompanied by a group of women much better looking than she. Stifling her jealousy, she bit the inside of her mouth (as she did when she had resolved to do something difficult), turned on her heel, and walked over to them, grinning in a manner nervous enough to be genuine. "I can't be alone forever."

"Boromir! Didn't expect to find you here!"

[Loonie]

Boromir turns to the sound of the voice to see a dark haired woman with glasses coming towards him. 'Rebeccawen! Denethor's told me about you, though he neglected to inform me how striking you are' Boromir says, quickly seeing Rebeccawens charming personality which gives her an air of beauty.
Rebeccawen blushes as Boromir talks, in a purely platonic friendly way so no one gets jealous.
Cathara rolls her eyes at this and starts wondering around the courtyard, soon she notices a man on a bench reading a book. Relising that he had been whatching them Cathara goes over to say hello and find out what was so interesting.

[katzpotter]

Caladiel smiled slightly and jumped off her horse, handing the mare's lead to a nearby Elf, who looked first at the lead and then at the the mare and then at Caladiel, very confused. She grinned. Silly Elves. Sure, she had grown up with them, but still... the only Elves she really admired were Feanor and Gil-galad.

Okay, so the kinslaying and epic battles were a turn on. Who could blame her?

She ceased her thoughts and went looking for Elrond's library. It had to be somewhere in this city...

Of course, while trying to find the library she became hopelessly lost, and found herself staring into the most beautiful pair of grey eyes in all Middle-Earth.

The man to which they belonged stood up, and she found herself now looking at a muscular chest covered in rick, dark cloth.

"Meh."

"Can I help you?"

She looked up. His expression was kind. He had shoulder length dark brown hair and his chin was covered with manly stubble. She knew without asking that this was no Elf. He was a Man, and one of the finest specimens in her eyes.

He repeated his question, and she struggled to find her tongue. "Um... I was... looking for... the library! Yes, I was looking for the library, and I'm afraid I've become lost in this gorgeous place and I - " She paused. 'Quit while you're ahead, Callie! Quit while you're ahead!' her innerCaladiel screamed.

"The library," he said, taking her arm and leading her to the door, "is straight down that path to the fountain, then left." He paused and looked down at her, taking in all of her weaponry. "You aren't going to destroy it, are you?"

"Nay!" she cried, agast. "I love books dearly; I could never harm them! I have so many weapons because I have travelled from Lothlorien to take part in the Council of Elrond."

"You?" he asked incredulously. Caladiel could tell he doubted her strength, since she was small and female.

"Aye, me," she replied, giving him a look that clearly stated, 'deal with it or deal with me.'

He nodded. "Aye. Then I shall see you soon, my lady...?" He trailed off.

"Caladiel."

"Caladiel. It was a pleasure to meet you. Namarie."

She nodded. "And you also, my lord...?"

"Aragorn."

"Aye, my lord Aragorn. Namarie."

She quickly walked away. Aragorn! So he was the Ranger Haldir had told her about, the heir to the throne of Gondor! What an effect he had had on her! No Man or Elf had ever affected her this way. She felt a strange sense of foreboding as she approached the library. She would have to be careful around him.

She entered the library and quickly sat herself down with a tome of Elven history, particularly Feanor and his kinslaying. She was soon engrossed in the book, oblivious to anything and everything around her.
********

My muse likes me again!!!! Yay!!!

[Phëdriel]

Phëdriel decided after some time that watching the comings and goings was a lot less interesting than she had hoped and she climbed down from the tree, going in search of something that would capture her short attention span. Wandering through the gardens for a few minutes she came to the library and decided to look against all odds for something she hadn't either experienced or read about already.

The library seemed deserted as she entered and walked over to one of the shelves of first age books and scrolls. "Of Túrin Turambar"... "The Fifth Battle"... "Of the end of the first age"... Seeing an illustrated copy of the Lay of Luthien she smiled, picking it up and leafing through it. After a few seconds she put it down again.

Turning around in search of something less antiquated she noticed a small figure seated in one of the many comfortable chairs scattered around the library. She quirked an eyebrow curiously but didn't say anything, deciding by her expression that whatever she was reading about captured her attention entirely. Phëdriel blinked and looked again- Yes, it was a her. Remarkable, she thought, then turned to another shelf. She pulled the hood of her drab cloak over her head and blew dust off a book titled "The fourth Elvish ring of power and the Lady Mariwen Suiel."

"Fiction. Unusual." she muttered, taking a seat and beginning to read.

I just wanted to ask/propose something:
How about we all(except,of course those who already have) name the crushes/potential husbands of our Mary Sues now so we don't end up fighting over who gets whom.
Not that that wouldn't be fun.
Here are my canditates:
1.Halbarad(cause he's the complete opposite of my character-it would be like Aragorn&Arwen redux,only not:P )
2.Glorfy(cause he's sparkly and we have the same hair)
3.the twins(yesss,both of them. )
Of course,I'm willing to share.

Btw,great work everyone!

[katzpotter]

Well, I think it's quite obvious the Caladiel was swooning over Aragorn. However, she'll accept one of the twins. I mean, they're part of the Grey Company! They're there to look sexy and do stuff! And I might claim dibs on Fazzy, too... but I can share!

Okay, so...

Measse - Halbarad, Glorfy, & the twins
Caladiel - Aragorn & a twin, maybe Faramir

[queendiablo]

Too late to join? I hope not...legal Mary Sues are fun, however much I hate illegal ones...

Name: Artanis, but generally known as 'Shadow'
Age: Nearly 3,000
Gender: Female
Race: Elf. Teler/Nolde mix.
Description: Medium heigh. Slim. Red hair, green eyes. Needs reading glasses for those ancient scrolls.
Background: Her father was some random Noldo. Her mother was a Teler. When the Kinslaying happened, her mother was killed. She now hates everything to do with the Noldor. She was named after Galadriel (her mother or father name, whichever it was. I'm lazy.) but since she hates the Noldor, she hates Galadriel, therefore she hates her name. She's become a wandering criminal, murdering any Noldor she finds. She's not particularly friendly, as you may have guessed. The only people she respects are Elrond, Thranduil, Denethor and Theoden King, since they all showed hospitality to her, even at the risk of losing a few valuables to her thieving ways. Elrond's sons annoy her a lot. The only Noldor she can stand to be in the presence of at any given time is Maedhros. We may have a problem there.
Weapons: A longbow, and two throwing knives. Also a ladle. Don't ask.
Powers: None, apart from a great hatred of the Noldor. Feanor especially. And his sons, but not Maedhros.

Can she be stalking the Fellowship when they set out?

[katzpotter]

Originally Posted by queendiablo

Powers: None, apart from a great hatred of the Noldor. Feanor especially. And his sons, but not Maedhros.

Can she be stalking the Fellowship when they set out?

Methinks there may be a problem there...

"Feanor is the greatest Elf!"
"No, Meadhros is!"
"Feanor!"
"Maedhros!"
etc...

ANYWAYS, I think you can stalk the Fellowship. And it's not too late.

[Camelia Took]

Love the "manly stubble," Katz. :lol:

***
Menel, having long since abandoned any pretext of reading, considered the dark-haired girl. She was a pretty thing; of average height with small glass spectacles and what seemed a quiet disposition, engaged in conversation with the bearer of the huge shield. Before he could appraise her further, however, a shadow fell across his line of sight. "Yes?" he asked the pretty brunette who stood before him.

"I could not help but notice you staring at our group and only wondered what was so intriguing," the girl replied.

Menel only smiled. "I find it interesting when large groups of people begin to appear in Rivendell for seemingly no reason."

"But... we are here for Elrond's council! If you live here, surely you would have heard of the reason!"

"First," the elf corrected her, "this place is not my home, I only visit it on occasion. Second, since an incident involving hobbits and strawberry bath soap, Elrond and I have hardly been on speaking terms, and all I have managed to gather is that one of the lost Rings of Power have been found and we are to decide the thing's future. If you have more details, please feel free to inform me of them."

[Nerdanel the Nerd]

[me]I'd like to reserve a bitter elf to sweep me off my feet and help me get over my Denethor infatuation.[/me]

Rebeccawen and Boromir, having exhausted all the possibilities of small talk about last week's Minas Tirith Patriots Game, stood in the courtyard staring at each other's feet. Desperately grasping for something to say, she couldn't help asking:

"So, how's your father?"

She fought against the ripe smirk that was threatening to dominate her face, and actually managed to look pained instead. Mentioning Denethor enlivened her, despite her conversational ineptitude.

Boromir responded less sanguinely; "Well..since I left before you...uh, you were probably the last to see him. So..."

"Of course. Forgot about that. Well, your father...he's just...he's just fine."

"Good." He nodded vigorously to supplement his monosyllabic answer.

Rebeccawen's glance fell to the ground again. Resisting the urge to lift the pall of silence with an inane comment about the texture of Elvish moss, she sought a way to escape.

"Do you know where the library is?"

The way she had said it, Boromir had first thought she was asking where the bathroom was. The library? How was he to know? He'd only just got here. For the Council. What was the Council for? What was he for?

"...I don't know. Libraries aren't my scene. I'm the dumb, tough brother.This whole place is a library anyway."

"Dumb brother?"

"Faramir's the smart one. Everyone knows that." he murmured, took his leave with a curt nod, and strode away.

***

The library certainly was impressive to Rebeccawen, both in size and in lack of dust. Every surface seemed to make the most of itself with a soft gleam that did not come from beeswax. Some of the pretty women were poring over volumes in the far end of the room. Half in the spirit of contrariness, half in the spirit of observing the dynamics of Elvish bureaucracy, she kept her distance and cast her eyes over the articles on the main desk, where nobody was sat at present. A manuscript partly stuffed (most unelvishly) into a drawer beneath caught her gaze. She took the paper from the drawer and smoothed it out. The florid tengwar (perhaps deliberately illegible) spoke of a Council and a Ring. There seemed to be plenty more random people wandering around Imladris, muttering about such things: surely she, one more random person, could sit in as well.

[Arwen20]

[quote=queendiablo]Too late to join? I hope not...legal Mary Sues are fun, however much I hate illegal ones...
[quote]

It's not too late to join. Just make sure your character ends up in Rivendell.
*****************
*Treebeard led Ringminualiel as far as he could go*

"Thank you Treebeard. I will come and visit some time I promise.

"Go on child there's no need to visit later just complete your mission."

"OK GoodBye Treebeard."

"Farewell, Ringminualiel!"

*Ringminualiel started off on the road. She wasn't too far from Rivendell. Treebeard had brought her a long way. She crossed a river and looked at the Kingdom of Rivendell she was nearly there when an Ork popped out behind a tree. Thankfully it was by itself. She pulled out her sword. And slashed at the orcs arm*

"Take THAT!"

*She slashed it and made a shallow cut. It pulled out it's weapon and swung at her left shoulder. It bashed her there pretty hard. It started bleeding. She clutched her shoulder and charged for the Orc again.*

"It's a good thing I'm right handed."

*She stabbed the orc in the stomach. It shrieked and fell to the ground dead. She continued on holding to her shoulder. She walked and made it to Rivendell without seeing any more orcs. She didn't really know where she was going. She ended up in the library. She saw a someone reading a book on the 4th Elven Ring*

"Excuse me. Do you think you can help me out. My shoulder was bashed in a battle against an orc. Can you tell me where I can fix this wound?"

OCC: I'm talking to you Phedriel.

[katzpotter]

Caladiel smiled as she read about Feanor. Of course, this was an abridged, more modern version of his tale, and it was also very funny. She noticed out of the corner of her eye several people enter the library one by one, but paid them no mind, for Feanor was far more interesting.

[Phëdriel]

OOC: Romantic involvement? Hadn't really thought much about it. Maybe Elrond. Yes, Elrond. By the way, Phëdriel HATES Fë-Fë. Completely loathes the guy. Don't think she and Caladiel will get along very well

Phëdriel spun around with a hiss at the sound of the intruder's voice to see a woman with a rather nasty looking wound on her shoulder. She closed the book and nodded. "Aye. Speak to Lord Elrond about it, it's not like him to turn away anyone who's injured. I believe he's in his office." She gave her directions and put the offensive book back where she found it. "You'll be healed in no time. Elrond is a very good healer," she finished, smiling at the younger elf who was retreating through the doorway Phëdriel had indicated.

After a few seconds of searching for something interesting she gave up and walked outside, enjoying the warm afternoon. These were the things she had missed about mortality... The air in Mandos was always so cold and still. Looking around, she saw glimpses of various newcomers engaged in conversation. Deciding that another session of elf-watching was in order she grinned and climbed a nearby tree, walking along the branch with a surity that only an elf could manage. After finding a comfortable perch in some of the higher branches she settled in, deciding that she might be able to hear something useful.

--Edit-- <Raises hand> Will this be based on the movies or the books?

[celendil]

sorry i've been AWOL...stupid compie...

Annundil ran through the gardens appearently looking for someone. After several minutes, she sighed and sat at the foot of a tree. She looked up and saw an elf in the tree. She pulled out The Traveller's Friend: A Guide To All Languages of Middle Earth and asked a question in halting Sindarian.

Phedriel swiftly climbed down the tree and tried hard to keep a straight face. Not only was the girl's accent horrible, all of her verb tenses were wrong. Phedriel almost burst out laughing just as the girl looked up. Oh no. Now i have insulted her and she will burst out crying and I'll have to find someone to comfort her, and... Phedriel's train of thought stopped, for the girl was lauging.

"You should have seen your face!!" she cried in perfect Sindarian.

Phedriel began to laugh too. there was nothing else to do really. The joke was actually quite funny.

"Who are you? And how do you come to know my language? for it is said that very few take the time to learn Elvish."

"My name is Annundil. I was born and raised in Minas Tirith. My father taught me as much Elvish as he knew. I obtained some more books and taught myself. And, may i ask who you are?"

"I am Phedriel. I have resided here in Imladris for only a short while. I lived in mirkwood, but my father was killed recently by a spider and i decided to come here."

"Is that so? I am sorry for your loss. But returning to my original question, have you seen a man about this tall and wearing a shield strapped to his back? He answers to the name of-"

"Boromir!" came a shout from the other side of the garden.

"Excuse me, Phedriel. I seem to have found him."

Annundil stalked over to Boromir.

"Where have you been? I have been searching for you forever!! Come on, the elves have prepared rooms for us." her voice dropped to a whisper. "And the feast will begin soon."

Having said this, Annundil dragged Boromir to his room and pushed him inside.
*****
and as far as possible love intrests: Faramir is #1 (but that of course won't be revealed till later ) and others include Aragorn or a random guy who pops up later...and Annundil cares little for elves, although she likes the language well enough. She was sorta taught that the elves in the sil were probably not real, so she doesn't really care.

EDIT: I think this should be based on the movies...all true mary sues usually are.



EDIT2: Yay!! my obsession with lists strikes again!!
Love intrests
Measse - Halbarad, Glorfy, & the twins
Caladiel - Aragorn & a twin, maybe Faramir
Annundil – Faramir, perhaps Aragorn or another random guy…
BF – Merry, Boromir

[BloodFire]

Right, so the secluded grove was a no-go. BF shrugged and stole down to the gates with her snacks.

Watching human/elf/dwarf interaction had always entertained BF and she found the antics of Elrond's guests no less fasinating. She couldn't wait to see the look on their faces when the Council started and Elrond found his robes glued to his chair.

Hmmm, these were new. Little men with furry feet. Were they the 'hobbits' that the Council had been called for? BF tossed some bread down for the pigeons.

Maybe... Her brain started buzzing as new prank ideas began percolating

Love interests? Merry and Boz.

[katzpotter]

Caladiel looked up from her book as an Elf tapped her on the shoulder. "Sorry to disturb you," he said, "but Lord Elrond requests your presence at the feast."

"Aye," Caladiel murmured, sadly putting aside her book and rising.

"However, I am first to show you to your room."

Caladiel nodded and followed him into a building, taking in her surroundings quickly so that she could find the library again. Even with all the Elven tricks she had learned, her sense of direction was little to none.

He led her down the hall, stopping at the fourth door down. "This is your room. You will find clean clothing in there, along with bathwater. Lord Elrond hopes it is to your liking."

She raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying I smell?" she accused.

"Interpret it however you wish; it was Lord Elrond who made the arrangements. Perhaps he was saying that you smell, however, I do not know The feast is in an hour." He left her then, and she entered her room, pausing to take it all in before beginning the process of undressing.

An hour! That was hardly enough time to rid her of all the dirt and grime she had acquired over the past few days. However, she bathed quickly, amazed at how dirty the water became. She did the best she could to wash her thick, curly hair, but it was so tangled that she feared she had only made it dirtier.

With half an hour left, she put on the pale green underdress she had found on the bed before pulling a brush out of her bag and furiously tackling her hair. It was a lengthy process, but at last her red-gold hair had been tamed, and it fell to her waist in soft curls. It was then that she put on her excellent boots (she would wear no others) and the dark green silk overdress that had also been on the bed. It was trimmed with small silver flowers and the sleeves were fitted to her elbow before widening into a bell.

Smiling, she left her room and headed outside. It was then that she realized that she had no idea where she was going. Deciding to follow everyone else, she made her way into a banquet hall and sat down, only to find herself disappointed that Aragorn was not there. She greeted Annundil, Boromir, and Cathara but was silent for the rest of the meal.

When the feast was over she excused herself as everyone else went to the Hall of Fire for singing and storytelling. She went back to her room, feeling that solitude was a good way to end her day. She removed her overdress and draped it over a chair before braiding her hair haphazardly. If she had not been preoccupied with troubling thoughts, the braid would have been neater, but it was not so, for her thoughts were indeed troubled.

Why had she been disappointed to learn that Aragorn was not at the feast? Why had she been drawn to him and his dazzling grey eyes? His manly stubble, his muscular chest, his kind expression? Okay, so she was attracted to him. He was good looking. No, he was downright sexy.

Was she in love? Or was it merely attraction? And what was that tingly feeling she had gotten when he had taken her arm and pointed out the way to the library?

It was with these questions burning in her mind that she fell asleep.

[Loonie]

Cathara explained to Menel that she had no idea what was going on and had only come because the trees were worried, and because she figured she may get to kill a few straw-head Rohirims on the way.
Menel was confused by her obvious hatred of the people of Rohan, her obviously being one herself, but decided not to question.
Soon after this everyone went off to a feast. At the feast Cathara attempted to ignor everyone, especially a few of the more pompos Elves, and concentrate on her food which was of much greater interest to her.
She did notice that Caladiel seemed rather distracted but decided to ignor it. After the feast Cathara went with the others to the Hall of Fire, she noticed that many of her fellow new-comers were either reading or talking to each other. So she decided to talk to Annundil who always seemed to have some idea of what was happaning.
'Annundil, what is going on? One did not come here for the food, this one came to sort out the trouble that is brewing.'
'Be patient, Cathara. Tomorrow all will be revealed at the Council.'
'This one can not be patient, who are all these people? Ever since we arrived new ones have come. One does not like it, one does not trust them.'
'They are all here for the same reason you are. To destroy the evil that is rising.'
'That doesn't mean they are trust worthy. And all this light is making one sick.'
At this point Annundil notices how Catharas once pale skin has turned a rather flaming red, hiding a laugh she assures Cathara that she'll be fine, though Cathara does not believe her for a second.
Cathara stalks off into the darkness to find some quiet spot in which to brood until morning when the meeting begins.
**************************
Love interest? I think for now Catharas not really interested, maybe some unknown person will pop in later. Character expansion time, Cathara is from Rohan but has major issues and hates her own race and rather enjoys killing them, so its a good thing no one else is really Rohirim (there is one but she was raised by Elves so I don't think Cathara will ki9ll her). Galadriel queendiablo's character also seems to have this little quirk.

[celendil]

Annundil left Boromir with strict orders to be cleaned up and presentable by the time the feast started. When she was sure taht he heard her, she went into teh room prepared for her (which was conveniently across the hall). She sighed and began to clean herself up. She was used to dirt, but she was also used to feasts. Even though there was little time to prepare, Annundil knew exactly what to do.

About an hour later, she emerged. All traces of dirt had dissapeared. Annundil had decided to wear a light blue underdress that she found in the closet. Over this she had placed a gown of dark blue velvet with simple but elegent silvertrim on the neckine and hem. At her throat was a simple necklace; a flower with a pearl at its center hanging from a silver chain. Annundil had even taken her hair down from it's normal half-braid and had adorned it with some silver ornaments she had found in the room.

Boromir emerged from his room just as Annundil emerged from hers. He, not surprisingly, looked much teh same, except cleaner. The picture of a complete gentleman he offered Annundil his arm.

"May I accompany you to the feast?" he asked.

"It would be my pleasure."

The feast was rather uneventful, Annundil thought. Except for the fact that this was teh first time she saw Rebeccawen.

"Rebeccawen! What a surprise to see you here! How was Minas Tirith when you left it?"

"Quite lovely, actually," responded Rebeccawen, thinking of Denethor.

Other than that, the two girls had little to say to each other. Annundil had noticed Rebeccawen's obsession quite some time ago, but had kept the secret well. Although it must be stated that Annundil was rather weirded out by it.

Nothing else happened, unless you count the fact that Caladiel hardly said a word. Annundil glanced at her once or twice and finally determined that Caladiel was confused, but Annundil couldn't figure out the source of her confusion.

After the feast, many of the guests moved to the Hall of Fire. There, Annundil mainly made small talk, which included reasuring Cathara. Finally, Annundil had had enough. She excused herself politely, yet firmly, and retired. In bed, she lay awake for some time.

so many things are happening. Rebeccawen is here, who is in love with my closest friends crazy father, Phedriel has lied about who she is and where she came from, Cathara is unable to stand the light and a feeling of hatred is in her, and Callie is distant and confused. Joy.

Oh, how Annundil missed her brother and father. She was not feeling homesick exactly, but she only just now began to realize how sheltered she had been. Time to grow up, Annundil. You can't stay a child forever. Having finally decided that, she drifted off.

[Camelia Took]

Taking his leave of the young Rohan lass, Menel made his way into the library with the intention of returning his book. To his mild surprise and interest, he found the same pale young woman from the courtyard standing there, reading a semi-illegible sheet of parchment and approached silently. After years of moving silently through the treacherous, loose masonry and stone of the Doriath ruins, navigating Rivendell proved to be easy. Consequently he was only a few scant inches from the girl before she noticed his presence and looked up, startled. "Oh!" she exclaimed, an endearing expression of surprise coming across her creamy face. "I was just--"

"You need not explain yourself to me," the elf replied, "I have little enough interest in this place as it is. Tell me, what interest does this library hold to one who could be wooing the fairest of the children of the Eldar?"

"I am a scholar, sir," the girl replied, a touch of pride and dignity permeating her tone. "I have come to study Quenya here, with the good wishes of my employer, Lord Denethor of Gondor."

"Lord Denethor?" Menel mused aloud. "A fine, stern ruler and one I would fain have the support of. What is your name, penneth?"

"Rebeccawen," she replied, seeming to brighten at the compliment to her master. Menel would have questioned her more, but at that moment the cry to table was heard. "Will you walk with me, my lady Rebeccawen?" he questioned, extending his arm. Hesitantly she took it, accompanying him in relative silence to the dining hall of Imladris.

[Arwen20]

OCC: My love is Pippin. I don't really know if it's based on the book or not. I haven't read the whole book myself. But I don't really care as long as everyone knows what's going on. So I guess we could base it on the book. Just make sure everyone knows what's going on.

IC: *Ringminualiel thanked the girl and took her directions to Lord Elrond.*

"That's a nasty wound you have there."

"I got it from a orc I was battling a couple miles awat from here. It was alone though so I was able to kill it."

"I will help you. Lie down and I will heal it for you."

"Ok"

*She lie down and he wrapped a bandage around it to stop the bleeding. He then muttered a spell in Quenya. He took off the bandage and it was healed with a scar left over. It kinda tingled to her.*

"tell you what I will invite you to a meeting we are having tomarrow. It's a secret meeting so don't spread the word."

"Ok what is it about?"

"It is about the ring."

"The Ring!"

"Shhhh! Quiet we will discuss it tomarrow at the meeting. For now there is a feast I hope you will join us."

"Yes of course I will."

"Here I will show to a room you can stay in."

"Thank you very much Elrond."

"Your welcome. Come, follow me."

[Phëdriel]

Phëdriel shuddered, pulling her cloak around herself as she slipped silently through the claustrophobic throngs of people. The gathering of people at the feast was particularly large, especially for Rivendell, and the Eldar was at her wits' end. She was paranoid- first she thought someone would discover who she was or know she was lying, and now she was worried that somehow she would loose or rip her cloak. Her eyes darted around the room and she finally found a seat in a quiet corner of the room, pulling her cloak around her despite knowing that the grey was far from the most inconspicuous of colors in the earthen hued banquet hall.

Tuning her sharp ears to one conversation after another, she managed to find out very little of importance. There were too many people to talk about the serious business, and that was all waiting for the council the next day. Phëdriel stood up and grabbed a large apple from a tray of fruit, escaping into the cool evening air. Relieved that she was finally out of the overstuffed and noisy banquet hall, she sank onto a marble bench. It was remarkably comfortable due to it's position near a tree and she leaned her back against it, pulling her cloak around herself and drifting into the Elvish realms of sleep before she could stop herself.

Almost immediately her dreams became troubled. -She was standing on a forested hill, looking down at a white beach that ran red with blood.- -She was crouched on all fours on a cold stone floor. She looked down and she was covered in blood, running from wounds covering her whole body.- -The void was all around. She felt as if she was slowly sinking into some dark liquid, which rose up to claim her. She opened her mouth to take one last breath but the liquid filled it. Her head sank under.- The small elf awoke with a start, hugging her knees to her chest as tears poured down her pale face.

OOC: What's a Mary Sue story without overblown, badly written angst!

Edit: Also, elves in general don't "cast spells", not in the Harry Potter/DnD/Just about any other fantasy story sense of the word. That's reserved for Istar, if anyone can do it at all. So forget about Arwen and her summon water elemental of dooooooom spell and such- Elrond would probably heal in the boring, conventional manner except with extra potency.

[Loonie]

**********************
Phëdriel, just wondering, if you died by wasting away why do you have scars?
**********************

[katzpotter]

Originally Posted by Phëdriel

OOC: What's a Mary Sue story without overblown, badly written angst!

Edit: Also, elves in general don't "cast spells", not in the Harry Potter/DnD/Just about any other fantasy story sense of the word. That's reserved for Istar, if anyone can do it at all. So forget about Arwen and her summon water elemental of dooooooom spell and such- Elrond would probably heal in the boring, conventional manner except with extra potency.

OOC: It's nothing, of course! w00t, go Mary Sues! (Although I pride myself on well written angst... but that would be my inner Mary Sue talking.) And I love the "summon water elemental of doooooom spell"!!!

IC: Caladiel woke early the next morning, yawning and stretching and almost forgetting where she was. Then she remembered that she was in Rivendell and there was to be a Council held that morning, the morning of October 25th in the year 3018 of the Third Age of Middle-Earth. She unbraided her hair and brushed it out before changing into a pale blue silk underdress and a brocade dress that was such a deep blue that it was almost black and was minimally embroidered with a pattern of diamonds. She once again pulled on her boots and declared herself dressed.

She glanced at herself in the mirror and momentarily wondered if Aragorn would be impressed by her regal look. However, she brushed the thought aside before it hit her, but it came back, slamming itself into her mind, and she froze. Why did she want to impress him? Why would she? She was so confused! She had never felt this way; never really cared about how she looked; never cared about the language she used or the way she acted.

Absorbed in her thoughts, she blindly made her way outside and sat on the edge of a nearby fountain.

Her adoptive mother, Maniel, had tried to raise her with other Elven girls, but Caladiel had always preferred to play with the boys, playfighting and shoving each other around. In a last ditch attempt, Maniel had sent Caladiel to Galadriel, who took Caladiel under her wing and made a compromise with her: Caladiel could learn to use weapons and fight if she also learned womanly tasks like weaving, sewing, and cooking.

She became skilled with swords, daggers, and bow and arrow, along with sewing and cooking. However, she was never called on to sing, for her high notes were so high that the Elves within a ten league radius were prone to go deaf. She also learned Westron, the Common Tongue, and learned to read. It was then that she discovered Celeborn's library, along with Feanor and Gil-Galad.

In time, Caladiel grew and when she was fourteen, she learned her true heritage. Devastated that her mother had lied to her, she trusted solely in Galadriel, who had always treated her kindly. She grew apart from the female Elves, relying on male Elves for company, since they did not tend to lie as much as women.

Then she had learned about the approaching evil, and expressed her wish to stop it. She had also become slightly bored with the Elves and wanted to see Middle-Earth. One Elf in particular did not wish for her to leave. His name was Ortherion, and he had been her best friend since she had come to Galadriel. He had admired her from afar, watching as she grew and matured. When she was fifteen, he had made his feelings known by writing her a song and singing it outside her flet, which only made her mad, because she had been trying to sleep, and earned him not a kiss but a thwacking by way of book.

However, in the end, she had been allowed to leave Lothlorien, and Ortherion had been greatly saddened and had taken to writing mournful songs about lost love and how she would be killed on her journey, which only led to more thwacking, since she had thought the idea of him loving her ridiculous all along. She felt sorry for thwacking him now, and wondered if he had found a new love interest. She hoped he had; he deserved it. He really was a nice Elf, even if he had annoyed her to no end.

She had never felt drawn to any Elf in particular, but she had found good friends in a few, including Haldir and Ortherion. She had also never felt attracted to any Elf either, thinking them not very appealing, with all their singing and whatnot.

She suddenly remembered that Aragorn had passed through Lothlorien the previous year after going through Mirkwood, and Haldir had introduced her to him. Afterwards, she had displayed an interest in him, and Haldir had told her that he was betrothed to Arwen Undomiel, Lord Elrond's daughter.

Caladiel recalled seeing her at the feast the previous night. She was a beautiful maiden, with hair as black as night, and Caladiel could easily see why Aragorn was betrothed to her. She suddenly found herself jealous.

'Why am I jealous?' she asked herself. 'He is a valiant Man and deserves to have a lovely Elf maiden, not the likes of me. What would he want with a simple Rohirric lass, orphaned at a young age and raised by Elves? Nothing, except to be friends. But how can I be friends when I am so attracted to him? Nay, I cannot be friends, for I would love him still, and my heart would break at the constant reminders of him, even as it is now!'

It was then that she realized that she did indeed love him, and she dissolved into bitter tears, wondering what Ortherion and Haldir would say.

Ortherion would look pained and be depressed and possibly die of grief, while Haldir would laugh and tell her that she was now acting like a normal girl, becoming infatuated with Men she could not have, and that she should just settle for someone she could have, like Ortherion. At this, Ortherion would brighten and he would smile his smile, the one that sometimes found its way into her dreams.

Sweet Eru Iluvatar, she couldn't be in love with Ortherion, too!

Nay, she reasoned with herself, he was only in her dreams because he was a dear friend, one close to her heart.

And yet - he had cared for her when no one else had; when her pride had gotten her into trouble, he had stood by her side, even if she was at fault and he was punished with her. When she had cried because she had lost all faith her mother, he had comforted her. He had taught her how to use a dagger, and how to do much more. Looking back, she realized how much he had taught her, from Elven lore to fighting skills to sewing. He was an Elf of all trades, and he had shared his knowledge with her when he could have put it to some better use.

His face swan into view in her head, his long, golden hair, high forehead and smooth, square chin. He had big, beautiful blue eyes, so trusting and hopeful, and yet so wise. His face was not aged, but young and smooth, and she recalled that he had told her that he was only five hundred years old. He had a tremendous amount of knowledge for being that young in Elven eyes.

All at once it hit her, right smack dab in the face: She loved Ortherion. She cursed inwardly, tears beginning to sting her eyes again as she wished she had never left Lothlorien. Was there anything for her here? No, nothing except heartbreak and angst. But back home, in Lothlorien, there was Ortherion. But what if she returned to Lothlorien only to learn that he had found someone else to love, someone else with whom he could share his vast knowledge of all things? She would have returned only to have her heart broken. Either way she turned, her heart would break, and she would be left alone to gather the pieces of her shattered heart.

She burst once more into bitter tears of remorse, cursing the day she had been born, as the sun slowly made its appearance over the mountaintops in the East.
******

w00t, look at the angst! *does the angst dance* I loff angst.

And it is quite obvious that my muse is really liking me! *glomps muse*

Or maybe it likes angst. Or Aragorn. Or both.

[Phëdriel]

Originally Posted by Loonie

**********************
Phëdriel, just wondering, if you died by wasting away why do you have scars?
**********************

It has to do with how she got back to Arda after dying.

Originally Posted by katzpotter

OOC: It's nothing, of course! w00t, go Mary Sues! (Although I pride myself on well written angst... but that would be my inner Mary Sue talking.) And I love the "summon water elemental of doooooom spell"!!!

Woohoo I actually pride myself on how horribly sappy my angst is. Very useful skill for writing pseudo Mary Sue stories.

Edit: Is it just me, or does every character in this thread have a strong opinion about Fëanor?

[queendiablo]

OOC: Ehe. Angst is good

IC: Artanis twitched her nose and slipped behind the bushes of Rivendell, quietly observing as a few Elves passed. One of which wasn't an Elf. She caught the name...Caladiel.
"Useless mortal." She snorted. "Lusting after the heir to the Throne of the Western Kings."

You can probably tell by now, Artanis was a major mortal-hater. Well. Not hate. More abhor, despise, abominate. In short, she really didn't like mortals. Then again, she didn't really like Elves either. Most of them, in her opinion, were fair haired, blue eyed, nancing pansies. Feanor didn't come into this section of her categorising. He was alone in the category called 'Arrogant Gits.'

She blinked. It couldn't have been! He was dead...wasn't he? Doomed to die in the pits of Beleriand, long since destroyed...Maitimo was long since dead. There would be no coming back for him. Unless...

She had heard tales. Tales of Elves who had passed beyond, and returned. One of them was called Glorfindel. The Balrog-slayer of Gondolin, and word had it that he was here, here in Imladris to this day...he was, they said, the only one. For all his treachery to the Valar in following the Noldor into Arda, he had been good, and he had been faithful. Why then had Ecthelion not returned, or Fingolfin, or any of the others? Maybe they had not wanted to. Maybe Maitimo didn't want to.

She shook her head fiercely, parting the bushes in front of her to better spy on the approaching party. Maitimo would return. He wouldn't abandon her.

Perhaps they wouldn't let him. They were cruel like that. Perhaps...perhaps they didn't want him consorting with her. They had never liked her. Hated her, even. Artanis narrowed her eyes. Tyelkormo, he was one of them. He had been the one who had tormented her, and Maitimo. The other had been quieter...

It had been so very long, she could barely remember. In some cases that was good, in others - there! There he was. She couldn't have mistaken him, there was no way she could have mistaken him. She wouldn't have been able to if she'd tried.

He had returned. They hadn't stopped him. Her heart speeding up, Artanis made as if to stand up. Then he stood, to quickly for her to catch, and hastened to catch up with the retreating backs of the other Elves, and that foolish mortal. Caladiel.

"Hah." Artanis whispered, and vanished.

OOC: Could I perhaps reserve Maedhros? (If you can't tell, 'he' is Maitimo. She's using the old names because they're the ones she knows.)

[celendil]

I think it is high time i added some angst to my mary sue...
*******
Annundil woke with a start, as if someone had jerked her awake. Again. She had had the dream again.

She was standing on a mountain top that was covered in snow; alone, save for one person. Annundil had a bare sword in her hand and she rushed at the figure. Annundil grinned eviliy. She swung her sword, forcing the fugure back. They neared teh edge of the ciff. Her victim lost her footing and fell. Annundil heard the screams and the thud of a body before she woke up.

Why here? Why now? Even in this beautiful place am I still haunted? Is there no safe place?

It was still dark, although the sun would be rising soon. Annundil rose and dressed; not really caring what she looked like.

The halls were dark and empty. Everyone had apparently had too much wine the night before. Annundil had made that mistake once, and the lesson was painful.

So wrapped up was she in her own thoughts that she did not see the Elf come up behind her until he spoke.

“My lady?”

Annundil jumped and her hand automatically reached for her sword.

“I mean you no harm.” The elf said gently. “I merely wished to see the sun rise.”

Annundil nodded, having no strength to find words. The elf standing near her was tall and dark haired. He was handsome, she thought, if you liked elves. He also seemed rather sure of himself.

“I am Menel. You must be one of the women accompanying Boromir to the council.”

The sun broke over the horizon.

“I am.” Annundil replied softly, biting back a sharp retort that she had was not just following Boromir.

Menel said nothing. He was not used to this kind of mortal. She was sad, aged beyond her years perhaps. Some darkness lay on her. On her, but not in her. The girl was obviously not evil, but the darkness she carried with her drew Menel in. He didn’t know what to say to her, which was rare for him. So he simply looked at her.

A throat was cleared behind him. Boromir stood there, glaring at Menel. He strode past Menel and lightly touched Annundil’s shoulder.

“Annundil, we should find some food, for I believe that the Council will begin soon.”
Annundil smiled, putting on the cheerful face that she wore most of the time.

“Of course. How silly of me. And may I introduce Menel to you?”

Boromir held Annundil’s arm in a protective gesture and gave a curt nod to Menel before escorting Annundil to the kitchens, leaving Menel alone.
*********

Edit: Is it just me, or does every character in this thread have a strong opinion about Fëanor?

Except Annundil (as I explained earlier). I guess I'll repeat why. Annundil cares little for elves, although she likes the language well enough. She was sorta taught that the elves in the sil were probably not real, so she doesn't really care. Indifferent is the word I would use to describe her feelings.