Open To Anyone For Anything RP Post

[questionablewit]

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[takesnoshit]

She nods, still blushing and more flustered than she is wont to be. "Need you aught?" she asks, a little hurriedly. "Water, or a seat, or--"

She takes a deep breath, forcing herself to calm. "...I ask your pardon. We have little hospitality to offer, but what the camp has is yours if you have need."

There are additional seats at the table where she works, for there are often small meeting held in her tent, which is the largest they have.

[grumpycatanthir]

"No, no!" He blinks, realising he's been standing, staring at her the whole time, flushing in embarassment again as he goes to sit down.

"I'm fine, Haleth. I can wait until the festivities begin."

[takesnoshit]

The blush clears from her face and she looks a little grim. There will not be festivities as such, and for a moment her old assumptions rouse themselves. The Eldar, with their beauty and grace, their horses that move like music given form, with riches and skills and countless years...what can any of the Edain offer them that they do not already possess in abundance, aside from entertainment? And is that not demeaning, insulting, whether or not it is truth?

But the thought is unworthy of her, she now knows, and more unworthy of her guest. Who sits at the table quietly, again flushing like a boy instead of a being many thousands of years her elder. Who gave her a gift of great thought and effort, of worth far beyond the value of the collected threads it contains.

Haleth sighs and takes her seat once more, pushing her fletching tools aside. Yet again, her eyes stray towards the dress, the cloak and the clasp. The bronze reflects the candlelight. She nods towards it a little with her head. "Is this a usual sort of courting gift, among your people?"

[grumpycatanthir]

"Haleth?" He blinks at the grim look. "Is there ought wrong?"

Distracted, he blinks and eyes the dress, shrugging a little awkwardly.

"Ah... actually it's probably considered a little um... plain. My folk tend to gift with gems, but I had rather thought you would appreciate something more practical."

[takesnoshit]

"Gems," she murmurs, shaking her head a little as she leans back in her chair, looking at him thoughtfully.

"I do not understand you," she says after several long moments. "I do not understand what a daughter of the Secondborn can offer you, that you could not find amongst your own people. I know you too well to think this is idle fancy on your part, but still I do not understand."

[grumpycatanthir]

"It was my father's people, the Noldor, who learnt how to make gems, and to capture light within them."

He explains.

"In time, we had a whole language around what color, what cut, and what setting meant. But... well. It isn't practical, out here. And... gemsmithing is my brother's skill, not mine."

He shrugs awkwardly. "I like you." He says simply. "You bring me a joy I have never known with any other. I don't think there is any way of explaining why. It just is."

[takesnoshit]

Well. Put that way it is straightforward and unarguable, impossible to misunderstand or wonder about. The more so as she feels similarly about him, whenever she sets all other considerations aside.

But they are not free to set all other considerations aside. A thing she remembers always even if he chooses to try and forget.

"You thought correctly," Haleth says, after another moment's pause. "What would I do with gems, or a silent language whose meaning I do not understand? I prefer things that are useful as well as beautiful, and words spoken directly. And I accept your gift with thanks," she adds, in case that had been in doubt.

She would say more, or ask more questions--because of course she has them--but at that moment someone pulls open the entrance to her tent--weighted, to keep it from billowing in the wind. It is a tall man (except compared to Caranthir), who bows to them both and speaks to Haleth in rapid Taliska. Haleth answers, and the man bows again and leaves as she stands and once more looks at Caranthir.

"I am needed," she says simply. "If you would share our Yuletide, return before midnight. We will meet in the center of the camp, where there is a great unlit bonfire waiting.

[grumpycatanthir]

Caranthir's opinion of Doom and the Valar is a raised middle finger, tbh

He ducks a little, shyly pleased.

"I am glad I thought correctly." He says, made gruff with shy embarrassment. He almost growls at the interruption, but Haleth is Chief, and a Chief or Lord is always busy, he knows.

"Go." He nods. "I will tell my men and meet you there."

No surprise there. ;) The more so since Haleth might use them as a reason to turn him down?

[takesnoshit]

His annoyance does not escape her. Signs of his legendary temper are rare in her experience, for all that she has been warned of them, so thus far she is more bemused than anything else when they show. She has no fear of his anger.

She nods at his words. "There is one tradition we have, if you wish to take part. It is commonly done to find a thing to symbolize a thing you wish for, and burn it on the bonfire during the night. It may be anything, a particular flower or herb, or a fishbone, a ribbon, even the word itself written on paper if imagination fails. These are not wishes for physical things, but for..." She frowns, trying to find how to explain. "For luck, or health, or strength. Any item that suggests a trait you wish to bring and bind to yourself for the coming year." She shrugs. "Likely it does nothing, but at least it is harmless."

There is a call from outside, and she grimaces, not wishing to leave. But she bows her head to him once more and does, pulling her fur cloak around her as she goes.

It is several hours yet until midnight, but it is long before then that the Haladin begin to gather. There are no fires or lights anywhere in the encampment by that point, no warmth save in furs or common company, and many huddle close together for that reason. Many people hold things in their hands or clutch at pockets, and the man who interrupted Haleth earlier may be seen giving anyone who asks a small stub of candle.

He makes a point of offering them to Caranthir and his company when they arrive, though he does not have the Sindarin to say more than "Here--take, hold--", and to direct them to join in a large, somewhat clumped circle around the unlit fire.

Haleth too is there, long before anyone else. She stands wearing her new dress and leggings and cloak, which are both warmer and finer than any other clothing she has. Her young nephew stands next to her, his face serious and intense in much the same way hers is, and he is clearly studying for a hopefully far-off day when he will lead. Now and then he asks Haleth a quiet question, and she answers, as she speaks to any who approach her.

At some unspoken signal all talk fades into silence, and they all stand together in the dark. Haldan's mother stands with her hands on his shoulders, and he leans back against her while also wrapping one of his hands in Haleth's skirt. That is the way of it in this moment, with the Haladin--everyone is touching someone else, whether with held hands or merely a leg leaning against a leg, or a head bent against a shoulder, and they all look up.

It is a cold night, but clear, the air quiet and untroubled by wind. The stars are bright and numerous above their heads, and the moon low in the sky, rising gibbous. All good signs, to the Haladin. The silence lasts and lasts, and none speak, not even the few children who are there, save for the soft whimpers of one small babe born but a few weeks previous.

A soft but strong voice begins to sing, a song of the Void that once was, until Eru Ilúvatar began to sing the world into being, and how then there was light in the dark, and the light was a music that became all things. It is Haleth who sings, her singing voice deep and rich, her pitch true for every note. She kneels and holds out her hands, and next to her Haldan uses a flint to strike sparks, lighting the candle that Haleth holds. His hands shake a little from the cold, but he looks pleased when he manages a flame quickly.

Haleth, still singing, turns and lights the candle of a person next to her, then turns and lights another, and all those who have fire share it with those nearby until everyone old enough to do so is holding a small source of light, and each person who has a lit candle also joins her into the singing. As the story of how life came to Middle-earth continues the light grows, and so too swell the melody and harmony, weaving together under the stars.

well, that is part of it yes XD

[grumpycatanthir]

"Very well." He nods, and follows her out, turning to where his own men are waiting.

They are there, standing respectfully back from the rest of the crowd by the fire, their eyes a-glitter under the stars, breath fogging in the air, and under Caranthir's direction they accept the candle stubs with thanks, but stay silent. This is a time for the Haladin, and they are the intruders here. But Caranthir's eyes shine brightly as he watches Haleth, and more than one of his men are smiling in appreciation as the candles fill the night with man-made stars.

[takesnoshit]

Haldan looks thoughtfully at all the faces around him, even as he sings in a high, boyish soprano, and his eyes rest most often on Caranthir's, whose gaze is almost riveted on Haldan's aunt. Haleth herself keeps her eyes focused calmly on the stars above them--but she is turned slightly towards Caranthir instead of centering herself on the bonfire as she usually would, and Haldan notices it.

When the Haladin are all turning to light each other's candles, he deliberately walks over and lights Caranthir's, waits until Caranthir lights his fellows' candles, and then gestures for them to join in the greater circle. He has the same look of resolution that Haleth often wears, the same quirk of eyebrow that says disagreement would be foolish, so do not argue. The Haladin move to make space for their guests, and smile their welcome. Not all present are comfortable with the Eldar during the day, but on this night none are turned away, for they are all of them Children of Ilúvatar.

Once the Firstborn have joined the circle proper Haldan takes his place again by his mother and aunt, and then Haleth does look down at him, smiling faintly and placing a hand on his head. She glances briefly at Caranthir, then turns her attention back towards the unlit bonfire.

The song has moved on now, telling of how the sun and moon came to be and of their journeys across the sky, how the seasons came to be divided, of how this is the longest and darkest night. And finally, of how the sun will return, and with it warmth and light. Several of the Haladin move at that point and place their stub-candles carefully in the bonfire, and as they step back others move to do the same and pull Caranthir's company to do the same, until all the candles are collected and the bonfire sparks with small flames. Haldan still has his flint and tinder if needed, but there is no need: the small licks of fire from the candles catch hold in the kindling, and from there spread to the larger wood, until there is a great blazing flame before them all, blessing them with warmth.

The song comes to an end in a great crescendo, and then there is laughter and cheering, and many embraces. These are offered to the Firstborn as well, as well as handclasps and welcoming words and smiles, any point of connection. All of it evidence that they are none of them alone in the cold and the dark. Haleth stands by the fire looking pleased by herself, and while she does not move she accepts any clasp of hands or brief embrace or kiss on the cheek that is offered, and her nephew she catches up in a fierce hug of obvious approval and pride.

[grumpycatanthir]

Caranthir starts a little, at Haldan's approach, but he let's the boy light the candle, and follows his unspoken gesture to light those of his men, allowing himself to be towed forwards to join the group. As the song crests, he knows there are tears in the eyes of some of his people, but he looks only at Haleth, bright against the dark, and knows that he has found his own light.

He waits until the intial rush is subsiding, although he accepts the greetings of those brave enough to come, including some of the children. Only then does he approach her, tipping his head to her in greeting.

"A good tradition."

[takesnoshit]

Haleth looks more open than she usually does, warmed by singing and celebration and success, her doubts of earlier banished for the moment. And her new clothing suits her very well, the rich color teasing warmer tints from her brown hair and eyes in the firelight.

"I am glad you and your kin were here to share it," she says simply. She has noticed that some of his companions have been moved to the point of tears, and is both touched and honored by it. "Things vary more, from this point. Some choose to celebrate with their families or groups of friends, and feast and drink, while others prefer to keep a more quiet vigil until dawn."

There are whooping noises to the side as a group seperate themselves, already dancing each other in circles as they wander off. Haleth smiles a little at their joy. "That last is my preference, most years. To wait and see the first sun of the new year rise." She looks up at him, and her smile changes, for once looking...not shy, not Haleth. Self-conscious, perhaps. "If you are not overtired from your journey, I would welcome your company."

[grumpycatanthir]

Haleth looks beautiful, and Caranthir is pleased to see that the dress suits her, as he had hoped it did, pressing wishes and dreams into the cloth as he sewed.

"As we are to be here." He nods.

That brings a smile of his own, a quiet little quirk of his mouth.

"I cam to see you, Haleth. I would be honored."

[takesnoshit]

She flushes a little, but before she can speak some of the Haladin come to speak with her. Not of anything serious, to judge by their expressions. Meanwhile the young healer Linneth takes a few moments to speak to Caranthir, using slow, careful, new-taught Sindarin to thank him for his tutelage months ago. Someone has been passing on her own lessons in Sindarin, clearly.

They are both of them engaged in small talk for some time, as the bonfire burns bright and hot and merry. Now and then someone will approach and toss a thing into the fire. It is a varied assortment: dried oak leaves, a splash of mead, a bird's skeleton, a ribbon.

Haldan approaches Caranthir, while Haleth is still occupied. "I gave a rock," he says, in simple but understandable Sindarin. "For strength, so I will be strong. Did you bring anything?"

[grumpycatanthir]

Caranthir corrects Linneth on her pronounciation, but accepts the thanks graciously. He listens more than he speaks as the bonfire burns, watching Haleth more than the fire.

He looks at Haldan and considers. "I did not." But...

He reaches into his pouch and searches, and retrieves paper.

"Have you something to lean against?"

[takesnoshit]

Haldan considers. "You could lean against me if you wish," he says, offering his back. "Or there is a copse of trees over there, or chairs in some of the tents."

He is not sure if Caranthir means something for Caranthir to lean against, or to write on.

[grumpycatanthir]

Caranthir eyes him.

"Trees would be easier to write on." He decides. "You go, I'll manage."

[takesnoshit]

Haldan looks a little disappointed, and opens his mouth to say something more, but his mother pulls him away, smiling apologetically at Caranthir.

It is some time before Haleth is free once more to seek him out, and by that point things have quieted. Some stand or sit watching the bonfire, and others have retreated to other celebrations elsewhere.

[grumpycatanthir]

Caranthir tips his head in acknowledgement back at her, and then wanders over to the trees, to scribble something on the paper that he returns to cast into the fire, watching it thoughtfully until it is consumed.

He turns to look at Haleth when she comes over.

"Have your people released you, then?"

[takesnoshit]

She rejoins him in time to see him cast something into the fire, though she cannot tell what it was. There are so many small things burning in the fire that it is impossible to tell which was whose.

"For the moment," she answers, still smiling a little. It is a good night, one of the best she can remember since before the orc raid that changed all things. "For the night, I hope. Even a Chieftain--or a Prince--needs some time alone." She nods her head towards the fire. "You thought of an offering for the fire, I see."

[grumpycatanthir]

"Mm." He nods. "Your nephew gave me the idea."

He eyes the level of the moon.

"Although I think there is not much left of the night, at this point."

[takesnoshit]

There is open curiosity in her gaze, but she does not ask, instead reaching into one of her pockets and pulling out something: a small, flat piece of glass, broken but still transparent.

"There is not," she agrees, looking at the fire and throwing the uneven glass circle in, aiming at the high point of the bonfire. She watches it glow in the fire for a moment, then looks up at Caranthir once more. "Come. There is a bit of hillside this way that I have found is best for watching the sun rise. Though that may not be for an hour or so yet."

[grumpycatanthir]

He follows the gleam of glass thoughtfully, but like her, he does not press, only nodding and turning to follow.

"Lead on. You will not be cold?" He checks - the Eldar can withstand greater ranges of temperature, but it is cold, and he has on his winter cloak.

[takesnoshit]

"I will not be cold enough to signify," she says. She too is warmly layered, not only in the clothes he gifted but her own fur-lined cloak. "And it is not far. Some ten minutes' walk, at my pace."

She has already turned to walk next to him, and it is a good thing she always moves briskly, or it would be difficult to keep up with his longer strides. She is glad at least it has not snowed in the past few days.

"Tell me more of courting among your people," she asks as they walk. "If there is more to tell."