The King's Library

King Thranduil's library is certainly not the largest one you have ever seen, nor is it the most grand or impressive. Instead, it is functional and organized, neat and tidy, the ideal place for storing only the most hallowed tomes of Elven kind. The cavern roof is very low, so to say that the bookcases reach to the ceiling is not very impressive. They are, however, stocked edge to edge, top to bottom tight with knowledge of elven history and culture, especially that of the Wood Elves. There are a few tables to sit at and peruse the aging pages, and tending to cleaning at the back of the room is the librarian.

"You honestly think that we could possibly find anyone searching through the library?" Rhuarc calls over his shoulder from outside the door to one of the pair of guards behind him at either side. He sighs heavily and shakes his head, "I have my doubts, but in the interest of the realm's security." At this point he rounds the corner and steps into the room.

A voice, somewhat feminine, precedes it's source through the library door, "Trust me, Rhuarc. I have seen many a foreign face coming in and out of these doors the past few days." Khillaure enters behind the Thegor, a smirk on her face. As she sees that there are, indeed, a few people in the room, she crosses her arms and grins, "What did I tell you? And they thought they could hide..."

Already within the chaimber is one clad in a cloak of shadowy grey, perusing one of the many tomes there. At the call, he glances up at the door ere Rhuarc and Khillaure enter and nods as the faces are made known to him. "Mae govannen... Have I disturbed something which was not meant to be...?"

Arriving just behind Rhuarc, Aragras enters the library. His eyes dart from Khillaure to the foreginers, narrowing with suspicion. "Aye, it looks bad alright, sir. I've noticed many a queer looking figure lurking in the shadows recently"

"Queer? Are even your kindred now "queer" folk, mellon?" answers he of the golden hair, putting the tome on the table and taking a step forward. He quirks a brow, his annoyance growing.

Rhuarc, nodding to his companions, looks from face to face as a few of the visitors raise complaints much like Glindorel's. At these Rhuarc raises a hand and says, "I would ask that you all stop what you are doing and just follow orders, if you have any regard for the law of this realm." He pauses a moment and adds, almost cheerily, "Which, as I have been informed, there is some cause for doubt."

Khillaure arches her eyebrow as the fair haired elf speaks and holds her hand up to shield her mouth, though she makes no pretense of whispering, "I think you angered him, Aragras. Be wary, he has a wild look to him, to be sure."

As Rhuarc begins to explain their presence in the library, she nods and begins to wander the room, her finger snaging the edge of a bag, which she peers into. She looks up for a moment as Rhuarc pauses, "Doubt? No, say it isn't so, Rhuarc!" She looks straight at the fair haired elf and grins, "You respect the laws, don't you mellon?"

"Those of which I am aware, to be certain." replies Glindorel, shooting a quick glance at Khillaure. "And I was quite unaware of this law." His eyes now wandering back to Rhuarc, he adds. "And now that I am aware of the law, I shall exit by the way I came, if you please."

"While there is no law against making use of the library, there are laws against such things as theft in this land, even if your own may be a land of larceny," Replies Rhuarc with a shake of his head, turning to address the remainder of the room, he says, "The rest of you are dismissed. But remember: Thranduil prizes his knowlege almost as much as his gold and gems! If you take a book from this library, return it, else Thranduil will be sure that you answer with gold and gems of your own!"

Khillaure raises both her eyebrows and begins to laugh, "But mellon, if you respect our laws, then why are you so quick to break them? We have been asked to heighten security in the realm for the Bardic Congress, you know, to keep undesirables from making things unsavory for us here." She leans across the table and places her palms face down on it's surface, her grin and the wicked glint in her eyes giving a rather impish look to her, "This is all for your own protection, mellon. Please, don't make this difficult."

Aragras sighs and instead he walks near to the foreigner, looking him up and down as he shakes his head slowly. He arrives beside Khillaure and says whispering to her in a low voice, "I don't like the look of him at all. He a shifty gleam in his eyes. He may be hiding something "

"Difficult? Why would I make anything difficult in the land of those lesser than I?" the Banneret smirks, offering a parting shot just ere he leaves the room. "As I said, I was unaware that I was not allowed here. I have stolen no book nor any tome nor any other damn fool prize your bloody king has in his collection. It seems that the politeness of Thranduil's house is lessened considerably. Good day!" And so he leaves.

Rhuarc laughs uproariously as the fellow makes his way to the door and nudges Khillaure, "I believe I won the bet! You get to cook me dinner!"

Khillaure nods slowly and whispers loudly to Aragras, "I think you are right, why else would he wear a cloak indoors? And when the weather is so nice outside? I wonder..."

As the stranger storms off, she shakes her head and sighs to Rhuarc, "Ah, but was I not right about their manners? For that, you owe me a training."

Rhuarc shakes his head and grins, "Was this not training enough? How many times can you say you have had the chance to learn from an experience such as that? It is a shame, though, that you weren't right. If we could have gone at least as far as him removing all his posessions, it might have been worthy of a song. As it stands, only a short poem could be made from such an event."

Khillaure hops up on one of the tables, her legs swinging freely back and forth, "Perhaps, but a rather boring one, I would say. But, and correct me if I am wrong, should we have allowed him to go? He seemed awfully upset that we should come and try to warn our guests. And to insult the Aran?" She clicks her tongue on the roof of her mouth and shakes her head.

Rhuarc grins and, speaking in a voice which bears a remarkable resemblance to the recently departed elf (although perhaps a wee bit more whiney), he states, "Not only shall I insult your king, I will leave you fun loving simpletons once and for all and avoid you and all that is enjoyable until the world is remade!" He winks then and very, very stiffly makes his way to the exit, though once he reaches the door his stance eases somewhat and he turns back to the others, speaking with his normal voice, "Continue this game in whatever way you choose, and report back to me on your progress from time to time. For now, though, I shall seek other entertainment." And, with a nod, he is out the door.

Khillaure grins as Rhuarc makes his exit. With a chuckle she hops off the table and walks over to Aragras, "Come, I think I saw more of our guests down at the Hall of the Laurelin. We should warn them, also, don't you think?" She holds out her elbow to the guard and grins.

Along the Balcony, East Corner

You stand upon the balcony overlooking the splendid Hall of Laurelin, easily fifty feet below.The balcony itself is made of pink marble, and is bounded by a like made rail. As you walk along it, you are struck by the magnificence of this kingdom, which in itself is a tribute to the lost glory of Menegroth.From where you stand now, you could reach out and touch the great tapestry which hangs in the hall.

Aragras exits shaking his head. "I have never seen such a display of rudeness in my life " he scowls, pacing backwards and forwards. "How dare he insult the King, why we have a duty to stop this behaviour right now " he says, staring into Khillaure’s eyes, his face beginning to fume bright red.

Khillaure sighs deeply and nods, for once she seems to be the level headed of the two, "It has been a long while since I set foot in any of the other realms, and now I remember why." She takes his shirt in her hand and leads him towards the far wall of the short hallway, "Come, we should go and find Rhuarc... or at least the Aran." She walks up the a tapestry there and glances furtively over her shoulder, then slips behind it quietly.

Hall of the Laurelin

Named after the life-giving leaf of the same name, this hall is the greatest feasting area in the entire kingdom, perhaps the greatest one in all of Endor. Many a great lord and noble elf has been entertained here in the past, stretching back into the second age of Middle Earth. The walls, which rise some sixty feet upwards, are festooned with vines and garlands of flowers which blossom even underground. There are many tables and chairs scattered about the room,and at the the north end upon a raised dais is the king's table, with an ornate seat at the centre for Thranduil himself. The entire layout seems unusually posh for the average understated elf, but King Thranduil has more Dwarven nature within him than he would ever admit to. A marble staircase here leads upwards to the balcony which rings this room on three sides, and another staircase elegantly spirals downwards. Hanging the length of the north end of this chamber is a massive tapestry depicting the Greenwood, Eryn Galen, before it was darkened by the shadow.

Khillaure slips out from behind a large tapestry along one wall, blending quickly in with the many servers, guests, and kitchen help. She has Aragras in tow, her fingers clenching the material of his shirt as she navigates the crowd easily. She stands up on her tip-toes, peering about for one face in a sea of hundreds...

Quite possibly that very face which is being sought, Rhuarc is standing in the midst of a circle of people, gesturing and telling some sort of tale, as Khillaure and Aragras get closer, the conclusion can be heard, "...And she said, 'That's not my horse!'" The group circled around him laugh and Rhuarc offers them a nod and says, in the midst of congratulations, "Thank you, though if you'll excuse me, some cheese over yonder is calling my name."

As if in answer to his statement, Khillaure pipes up, "Rhuarc! Thegor!" She lets go of Aragras and runs forward, her face rather cheerful as she hops in front of the Chief of the Erynedhrim, "Rhuarc, there you are! I tried to catch you as you left the library, but I swear you are too fast for me to keep up with. Please," She grins at him happily, "Tell me you were going to speak to the Aran?"

Apologising to one elleth after his longbow's bowstring catches on her arm, spilling her drink everywhere. As he turns, he sees that Khillaure has vanished and the crowd closes upon him. A drink is shoved into his hands and he finds himself carried through the crowd towards the food table.

Rhuarc furrows his brows and asks slowly, "Why should I speak to the Aran?" he then turns and grabs a piece of cheese off of a tray before looking back at Khillaure curiously.

Khillaure's face lights up with a bright smile, "Because of the rudeness of one of our guests. I can't be the only one that heard him insult the Aran, all because he had his sense of humor bitten off by a troll. Whether in jest or not, he should be smart enough to know not to even casually insult the wisdom of Thranduil... that should be left to those of us that know him well." Indeed, she sems almost bouyant about this incident, and her energy can't be contained. She bounces on her toes and tugs at Rhuarc's sleeve, "Come, let us go tell Thranduil. We may have fun at this Bardic Congress yet!"

Rhuarc laughs and raises his brows, "There's just one problem, however..." he says and drifts off, smirking at Khillaure.

Khillaure holds out her hands and leans forward a bit, "And that is...?"

Like a leaf on a river, Aragras is plucked from the food table, holding a plate of egg sandwiches in one hand, a large glass of red wine in the other, finally arriving in front of Khillaure and Rhuarc. The guard looks at them and down at the plate of food in his hands. "Sambo anyone?" he grins.

"Have you made any inquiries as to what the name of the elf in question may be?" Asks the chieftain.

Khillaure's shoulders slump and a pained expression comes over her face. She turns to Aragras, her eyes asking silently if he is aware of the fellow's name even as she speaks, hope still lingering somewhere within her gaze. "Mellon? You... haven't... by any chance... have you?"

Aragras ponders for a second at Khillaure's question. "Hmm, I'm afraid I have not the 'honour' of knowing his name.", he says furrowing his brow "However from his attire, and my years studying the Order of Lorien in the Library, I would make an educated guess that he holds the rank of Knight-Banneret. There would not be too many of them, to my knowledge as they are the flag bearers in battle. It would be simple enough to trace his name. " he adds.

Rhuarc laughs and looks to Aragras with a grin, "Good! I suggest you find his name before you approach the Aran, though."

Khillaure narrows her eyes a bit at Aragras, but she cannot hide the smile that appears at the corners of her mouth. "To the stand, then? Shall we go and see if we can find out who this foul-mouthed derelict is?" She looks from Rhuarc to Aragras, ready to dart off on the quest for the elf's name.

Aragras nods and stuffs the remainder of his sandwich into his mouth. "I shall point him out soon enough, " he grins. "After you Khillaure "

Khillaure pokes at the Thegor as she starts past him. With a gesture to the piece of cheese he holds, she gives a laugh, "I see already what you will be searching for, and likely what you will find. But you may be needed here..." She eyes the crowd with a grin, "Yes, they are quite definately not to be trusted. We leave the feast and it's well being in your capable hands." She curtsies and grabs Aragras yet again, running headlong up the marble staircase yelling out, "Let us through! This is a matter of great urgency! Make way for the protector's of the kingdom!", with a wild torrent of cackling between each shouted statement.

Along the Balcony, Western Corner

You stand upon the balcony overlooking the splendid Hall of Laurelin, easily fifty feet below. The balcony itself is made of pink marble, and is bounded by a likemade rail. As you walk along it, you are struck by the magnificence of this kingdom, which in itself is a tribute to the lost glory of Menegroth. A passage leads away west from the balcony here, and a staircase descends from here into the hall below.

Khillaure pauses at the top of the stairs and looks down, down the intersecting hallways, and even up (for some strange reason). She smiles at Aragras, the excitement of the day giving color to her cheeks that normally isn't there, and moves her hand from his shirt sleeve to his hand. An uncharacteristic gesture for the maiden, but she doesn't seem to realize it, "I know it may seem silly, but the nerve of him! Not even able to take one tiny joke...

Without another word, she is off again, Aragras once more trailing behind.