Flowers for my lady...

[Arwen]

((taking place a while before the Tiire/Silas/Shieg/Aricin/Kalmyr roleplay at current))

He knelt before her, trembling slightly in hindsight of the woman before him.
It was nigh on sunset. A pile of lifeless stalks rested at her feet. His hand was nearby, hovering by the hand that trailed through almost real water, the other resting on his knee where he knelt.
Eyes closed, he thought of the better days.

Yes, this was one of those times in which all he longed for was her, his lovely Lady, the woman he had brought flowers to as frequently as he could manage, first every day, then every other, and finally down to every week, and every month... and now he only came when he needed her, or was struck with some horrible memory that called him to the woman.
Efion, lady of the ship-city.
How he had loved her.
How he loved her now. But one has to let go.
All the same, he brought her flowers. Sometimes irises, sometimes roses, sometimes lilies, and sometimes, like this eve, moonflowers, that which she loved so dearly, and that which, in a way, represented all that she was and ever had been.
Sixty long, hard years.
She came to life in his sleep laden mind, stood beside him, held him as he held her. In his sleep he was able to hold her in his arms and tell her over and over again how much he loved her, and hear the words returned.

But tonight he came with a slightly heavier heart, for his mind had driven elsewhere, away from the woman he thought he loved to another, to a woman he had loved before this Efion of Feoras--a woman who had betrayed him, and guilt fledged through his poor, hopeless mind. That was why he brought the flowers this night.
So his head hung in apology to her, not bearing to look at that smiling face, the blue eyes, the neatly twisted hair.

As the sun finally set, he glanced up at the seemingly lifeless stems again.

They burst into bloom.

[Arwen]

The young blonde lass, a servant, clothed in soft blue, approached the edge of the orchards slowly, one hand rubbing the opposite arm to warm herself and calm her nervous jitters as they came upon a particular statue and an obviously rather moody elven Lord.

"There," she murmered softly as they passed through the last of the trees and came into clear view of the statue, though Aricin was too engrosed in his soft tears and the blooming flowers with his back to the pair to notice.

"I... Should return now. They'll be needing me. Good night, sir." Still a whisper as she took a few steps backward, then turned slowly, as if waiting for an order, but quickly moved away as soon as the process of turning was done.

Aricin remained unaware of Fionan's presense as he gazed from blooming flowers to Efion's face, and down to the flowers again, resting beside the stone hand.

[Elladan]

Fionan turned to watch the maiden hasten away, then came forward. His boots lightly dusted the fragile fallen leaves as he approached, eyes focus on the man weeping at the hand of a silent statue, holding a bouquet of beeming white blossoms; moonflowers.

His wild eyes glided from the hand to the delicate trickling finger, then slowly up to the soft, bright eyes etched in sad blue stone. '

What was this? His mind wheeled. There was the effigy of his once living kin, silent and lifeless. His countanence hardened it sorrow and anger, screwed up with emotion.

"Aricin," he whispered in acknowledgement.

[Arwen]

The soft voice, so familiar to Aricin, obviously distinguishible as that of his brother by marraige, called him out of his stupour.

What time was it? He took a moment to control himself, blinking a few times, massaging his face a touch, more to relieve tension than anything, and glancing once more to the mass of blooming white flowers at the foot of the statue before standing and facing Fionan in the same movement.

"Fionan," he acknowledged the other. "I'm... sorry, I appear to have lost track of the time, don't I? I... I, yes, terribly sorry. I apologize deeply for my absense at the evening meal, is it over now? Ah, now I hear the music," he babbled, shaking his head or rubbing his neck, before pausing and turning again.

"Well... What I wished you to see, anyway. Do... No, you don't. It... She was crafted by the finest, in... In memory. Lifesize, lifelike... I thought she would take the place of memories when I comissioned it while I was swallowed in grief, but came to find that she does not. She is only a memorial. But we can hope, perhaps, that Efion, not the statue, not this piece of rock that appears to live but doesn't... Perhaps she sees them... Perhaps she loves them. I should hope so, no?"

He sighed, rubbed his face again, and turned once more, approaching Fionan a few steps. "I'm sorry, there was no proper greeting, was there? It is good to see you, my brother... So good to see you again, really. I'm glad you came. Erados did not babble your ears off on the ride?" A joke. ha! But he wasn't joking, he was making small talk.

[Elladan]

He shook his head, visage softening to the face of the stone
"Perhaps." he sighed in reply.

He turned to face the Citadel once more.

"Erados babble to his uncle? I daresay... He'd no more talk without consent." he continued, shaking his head, "Yes, I suppose it is good to be back, though few remember me. Though it feels as though there's nothing left for me here, save a few vague aquiantences, and some indirect family. I didn't marry into the city, but didn't realize that until after her death. It felt like home after mother died, and I guess I wanted it to be, but now 'tis like Feoras."

[Arwen]

"You are brother of the Lord of Avalbane," he replied dryly, as if in mockery of any who would suppose that his position was such a high one. "Of course you married in to the city. Just not in the way you wish you might have. There is something for you here all the same though, if nowhere else. Your nephew is here, and... Well, her memory, I would say, if I did not know better. But you have the memories of Efion in Feoras that I do not."

Aricin sighed, sinking down to the single bench off to the side and placing his elbows on his knees, chin on fist, gazing off at the statue that lived but did not. A memory struck him, and he nearly began to weep again at it.

"It's no different than home, really... Just as clear... I see a few different stars, but the sky could be no more beautiful. Now the sounds... Home it's the waves crashing on the shore, where here it's the crickets in the trees and grass, but it's somehow the same. And the breeze... All that's missing is the smell of salt on it," she sighed softly, one hand resting on her stomach, the other behind her head. She glanced from the sky to Aricin with a soft smile. "I should like to go back."

"We can, Efion," he had whispered, rolling to his side to gaze down at her with a wider smile upon his face. "Just the same as we can do this now. You want to? We will go as soon as I have a spare week or so, I would dearly love to go back with you again."

Oh those had been the happy days, hadn't they? That night they had already been laying in the grass since before dinnertime. They had not eaten dinner, simply lain there, gazing at the clouds, then into the night in that field where the wildflowers covered them... Just off of his vision, somewhere off--he could not remember exactly where they had lain.
And they had never gone to Feoras after that. Never once.

He clenched his teeth, placing his hands on his head as if to block the memories, giving one quiet shudder of grief before stilling, gazing down to his booted feet.

[Elladan]

He watched the distrought expression cross the lord's face, one that had come upon him many a time. He turned and gazed once more at the life like statue, amazed at how a bit of stone could be so personified. A gentle breeze played with the loose grey cloth around his waist, tugging and trailing it in the direction of the Citadel, the music, and the merriment, as if begging him to return, but still he refused.

He felt as though a dream had taken him. The moon cast cold, blue beams through the trees, dappling the forest floor with a fantastic glow. He was obliged to recall his first encounter with the land, almost just as it appeared now, with all its glory revealed in moonlight. Moonflowers opened their stark eyes to welcome him in awe, though now they lay gently at the foot of the stone, the only ones he'd seen since he arrived.

He watched again, dumb mouth thin and grave, noticing the Aricin he now stood before. The spark of youth had vanished where troubled and discontent now flourished. He seemed grey and weary, now at the point of tears, recalling a distant memory where happiness once filled his heart. Little did he know a similar effect had laden him. He had no home, no love, no heir, only towns and occasional inspirations, a dear weary wanderer. He'd taken the path of a current day hobo. The nomadic life educated him, but to no real advantage as of yet. He was, however, happy enough to keep a gracious heart and a hidden luster of youth, which seemed to hang on Aricin by breath of prayer.

The wind gave a great heave, ruffling his hair out from its captivity, strewing it about like the wildman he'd become. He reached desprately to tame it, but to no avail.
Walking over, he sat at the foot of the stone, elbows propped against his legs, hands cupping his long elven face, ready for a good swig of rum.

"It doesn't seem so bad after a few years, I suppose. But then, I think, perhaps you've suffered a greater loss. As for me, I'm just, well, a lost sea mutt."

[Arwen]

"Your loss was no less than mine," Aricin managed after a few moments of thought, head shaking as he managed to lift it from his hands, massaging his face thoroughly. "No, our losses were the same, though they were of different types. I've just... suffered more losses, you might say. Hers brought it all over the edge-- and her babe, and when I think now, perhaps Erados has been lost as well.

"He blames it on himself sometimes, you know? Doesn't talk about, but always thinks about it..."

Another heaving sigh, and he managed the slightest of sad smiles, then swallowed.

The point could be argued. Erados was supposed to be the one that died. He was supposed to recieve the second arrow, the one that would have killed him. Efion was meant to take one only to create an illness in her and take the babe. But she had protected her son, and taken the arrow herself. All the same, it didn't make it Erados' fault, did it? No, Efion might have died anyway, for the babe within. Even if she wouldn't have... Erados could have done nothing.

None of it was his fault. It was the fault of himself, wasn't it? A love of the Elven Lord was bound to acquire enemies, wasn't that so? The reason for that was unexplained, he had done nothing to anyone, but that was how life went. There was no way around it.

She was dead, Erados was lost, and Seremidal before that. And this statue did nothing to take the place of any of it.

[Elladan]

He was troubled to hear the news, though he figured just as much would have come from her death. Even he, who took his degrading occupation in hopes of forgetting his woes, was lead to blame himself, especially at those times where he sat by a lonely, crackling fire, staring off into the dancing flames, thinking about life and all he had done to live it. Once again, he was called into this thought, and sat silently musing for a while.

Why had he ever taken her to Avalbane? It was the first journey he'd ever let her go on, and the last she'd ever travel with him. Even he had heard the awesome, luring tales of the city, and couldn't blame her persistant begging to tag along, so he allowed it, but regretted it now. He remembered her happiness in him, even though they sometimes hadn't gotten along. He was the older brother. Why hadn't he been there to protect her? It was his fault.

It was his turn to weep, and silent tears gathered in his wide, wild eyes. Tears that hadn't been there for years, as his hardened heart hadn't allowed them, but now they came, and obviously so, and he let them fall gracefully to their demise.

Then again, her heart seemed fated to find love here, to live here, to die here, and perhaps she was better off so. All his musings led to this conclusion, and he forgave himself once again, taking a long, deep breath to cool his rage.

[Arwen]

"It is no one's fault," Aricin managed after a few minutes, noticing, just barely, Fionan's reaction. "And... Everyone's. No one's, and everyone's..."

He shook his head, pale golden hair waving softly in the wind, eyes closed tightly against this.

"Yours; bringing her here... Mine; keeping her, letting her walk alone with Erados that day when she should have been in anyway, so late in her pregnancy, never taking her to Feoras as I promised... Erados'; Being there, she thinking she had to protect him... Hers, for the same reason, and for insisting that she walk despite the pregnancy...

"But none of us could have stopped these things. No one's fault..."

Quiet revelation, whisper; none more, pulled from his seat to stand behind Fionan, then squat beside him, a hand held out to his brother.

"Come, if dinner is not over already, I should be there. You do not have to join me, but I would much enjoy it if you would. The eating will be over for sure, but I'll have some food out for us so that we may speak more over draughts and wine."

[Elladan]

Fionan looked up, almost as a child would look to his father in fear of seeing his immature tears, soaking in his wise words, turning his gaze to the lifeless statue, then to the earthen floor, where they remained for the rest of the duration. He took little notice of Aricin's move, absorbed in thought once again, fingers idley playing with a fallen blossom. Then his peripheral vision caught a hand extended, and he heeded the words of returning to the Citadel as the wind, once again, pulled his belt in that direction.

"Truely you are a brother, for ale would please me so."

He managed a grin before taking the hand of the lord, pulling himself up to stand before him, then he began his slow steps back, like a wounded lion determined to go on despite his... losses and humiliation.