WhiteCity

White shores and a far green country

Home is behind, the world ahead,
And there are many paths to tread
Through shadows to the edge of night,
Until the stars are all alight.
Still round the corner there may wait
A new road or a secret gate,
And though I oft have passed them by,
A day will come at last when I
Shall take the hidden paths that run
West of the Moon, East of the Sun...

Those whose strange re-woven
destinies lead elsewhere are gone.

Those with severed threads have
found new lives to lead in this world.

Those who have always belonged here
and ever shall may now look east without
shadow, to the rising sun and a new Age.

Other stories may be told after this,
new threads intertwining to create new
tapestries upon the ceaseless loom of time.

But this one is complete.

March 3021, Third Age
(February 2004, Fifth Age)

...the road goes ever on...

(closing comments | fall through | disclaimer)
.

Current Mood: accomplished

Somewhere in Aman...
Orophin curls up in front of the warmth of the fireplace and takes a nap, his wood carving tools and various objects half worked on, eventually to be peiced together are strewn about him in his makeshift 'working area' and there is a thick rug he has been using to keep himself from getting sore as he works, which he uses for the nap. Loose black mane of hair falling to tickle his face slightly, the fine metal screen (a creation of Eol's) keeping any stray embers from hitting his skin or his clothes.

A usual day in their small household consisting of him and his lover, with the infrequent visitor and guest from Orophin's own extended family and kin, along with the perhaps less welcome visitor to see Eol and wonder at his strange appearance as one not of this world, but of another and not the mornedhel held in Mandos still.

A kitten, one foisted onto them from Haldir and Maglor when the cat got loose and was not caught for three days, finds Orophin in his 'spot' and bats idly at crystal leaves attached intricately to the light mithril anklet on his left foot, forming a soft bell-like sound. The kitten then curls up between him and the warmth of the hearth. Wrinkling his nose in his sleep at the tickle of the furred tail, the woodelf continues to sleep.

Current Mood: content

Aftermath
[Because Sala!mun wanted to know how Harry & Karl were getting on. Takes place the afternoon after this]

Harry: I thought I'd find you here. *With a soft smile, I step into the stables, glancing around me at the horses before my gaze settles on you, waiting*

Karl: *I glance over at you and smile, hand moving in a steady motion as I continue brushing the horse in front of me* I like it here.

Harry: *I lean against the empty stall door next to you, gaze following the movements of your hands* I know. *Quietly* You haven't asked yet.

Current Mood: peaceful

White shores and a far green country
[ OOC: Original ending post -- moved up but kept here to retain comments ]

Current Mood: accomplished

A few days later, in Ithilien...
Beregond: *Nearing twilight, another group of rangers has just finished giving me briefing after returning from patrol. Nothing of note, no need to disturb Faramir. I relax, still not fully used to having more peaceful days than not, but slowly it's becoming the norm. I stand, ready to stretch my legs for a short walk before retiring*

Hurin: *Having finished speaking to Faramir, I'm in no hurry to get back on the road, especially not in the dark. Mordor may have been turned out, but that merely means there are uglier things hiding in the shadows-- Ah! There, a familiar face. I fall into step alongside Beregond, curiously* Remember me, lad?

Current Mood: pessimistic

I need to grow up now.

That is all I can think, curled up tightly in the pallet in the house of healing. I think I have spent more time here than in any other part of this mortal city.

There is no reason anymore to stay here.

I do not want to get up. To get up, means I have to accept what has happened. All of it. But I do it anyway. Because I have to grow up now. Push aside the need to just curl up tightly and weep like a child. I can't anymore.

I will not think about the possibility of no reuinion with Eol. I will not allow myself to. An eternity is a long time to wait. And I am frightened that only memories, will not be enough to carry me through it. Lothlorien will be a welcome distraction, at least for a time. But only for a time.

It's hard to put on the black mail, different from the normal dark silver of any other kind of mail. I try it on once, and then remove it. I will wear it when I leave, but not until then. I give my farewells to the twins, but cannot find Ambarussa who I had grown to like. Perhaps he has been taken as I have heard others are. I cannot find Captain Hurin as well, but perhaps that is for the best, as it will speed my journey away from here, in the end. Legolas Thranduilion, I am not so certain I wish to see.

Current Mood: blank

She was there, and then she wasn't.
If I'd woken in the morning to find her gone, or ~~come home~~ dropped by in the evening to an empty house, I would not be sitting here writing this entry. I would be out there looking for her right now. And I would not stop looking until I found her, or found who had taken her, or at least discovered why she'd left.

But it's not like that. I remember waking from a strange dream -- I barely remember it now, I remember only a whispered apology like a sigh on the wind, but for what I cannot recall. I awoke and the air felt tense, like a storm was brewing on the horizon. It didn't matter, though. I was safe indoors, and so was she, with me...

I remember rolling to tuck my arm around her, my hand flat against the soft curve of her stomach. She didn't wake, but she grumbled sleepily even as she snuggled back against me, her fingers closing loosely over my wrist. I remember the scent of her hair, not sweet but intriguing. Bitter clean notes, herbs and soap. The scent of the Houses, of home and safety.

One moment longer she was in my arms, another breath, two...

And then? Nothing. She simply wasn't there anymore. The blankets were warm, but she was in not IN them. They fluttered flat to the bed, quiet as anything -- no flash, no bang, just...gone.

Taken.

There's nothing I can do, absolutely nothing. I shall return to duty tomorrow. I shan't lock myself in here and weep and rail against fate like a jilted young swain. I expect she'd be furious if I did. But I bitterly curse the Valar and the West, and I shall request as many foreign assignments as our new king will allow his Warden. Ioreth was well loved, and the story shall spread quickly. Pity in strangers' eyes...in my men's eyes, in the eyes of friends, reminded by every sidelong glance...my stomach twists harshly at the thought. I have to escape. NOW. Perhaps a message post to Ithilien...

...

We were to be wed today.
I waited too long to ask.

Current Mood: numb

There was little for Amras to tend to once he had his brother's lover in the hands of the house of healing. Taking the sword with him, he returned to the storage house where Maglor and Haldir had held residence, and had sat there reading the book that Maglor had been writing, unsure of when the change would happen or if he would take the book with him.

He had laughed, and he had wept at all that he read, fighting the urge to throw the book against the nearest wall and scream that it was lying. It was... a very strange book - no, overly long poem, to read.

Hours later, he had finished the book, not bothering to go back to Haldir. He knew his brother's lover would eventually come here when he so chose to, and he only had so much time before he fell asleep and returned home. Home to his brothers and to Maitimo and Russa...

The brand was slow to heal, but still fading and Amras wondered if that would be brought through his journey home as well. It would certainly cause a stir. And then, there was no time to think of it, because as soon as he had set the book down to rest his eyes, his world lurched and he stumbled against stone to fall to the floor of a very familiar hall to Turco's Himlad residence, blinking in shock.

He was back.

Scrambling to get a foothold, he ran quickly down the hall towards where he still knew his brother's chambers were and gave a distinctively Feanorian glare to the guard who stood outside. He WOULD enter.

Entering, he found what he expected. The pale ashen face of Findekáno as he sat beside Maedhros, ever watchful and steadfastly refusing to eat until Maedhros had done so himself. A low involuntary whimper and Amras was crawling onto the bed like a child, curling up against his brother's side. He wanted to treat him like glass and wanted to hold him so tight they melted into one hroa. He did not know what to do and ignored the quiet rasped protestations of his cousin as he sniffled into the blankets and the russet coloured hair cropped close to Maitimo's frail body.

"R'ssamissedyousomuch.Theywouldn'tletmeseeyou." Silently, Maedhros grasped one of Amras' hands with his left and held it tightly, unable to respond with voice. It would be a long time to come. Wordlessly Amras reached out a needy hand behind him, feeling the presence of Ambarto hovering at the doorway and almost an instant later felt his twin crawling in behind him to press up tightly against his back.

"I see Ambarussa managed to get in." The rich singer's voice spoke in a dry tone, leaning against the doorframe with arms crossed to watch. Amras did not need to know it was his 'Kano', and he smiled a little, relaxing. Everything was okay now. What he had learned in the book and of the White City could wait. Right now, he had his brothers back.

Smiling, he patted the neck of his tall black horse and pulled himself easily up into the saddle, grabbing onto the reins and moving out and down through the levels of Minas Tirith. A low whistle rang out from between his lips, ringing not the plain horn at his side and before him Tannith his wolf hound appeared, eager to move onwards with golden eyes alight for new mischeif and Orc to hunt.

At a slow pace, he gave the appearance of ease, perhaps a noble lord of Dol Amroth with his wizened grey hair and Adunaic features. But then perhaps a huntsman as he bore a quiver and bow of fine yew. And that dog, nay, a puppy he had called him, was the size of a pony! Perhaps from a land much farther off than even Dol Amroth, could he be.

The sun had shifted in the horizon by the time he had passed the gates and had made his way north along the Anduin, turning his silvered hair a warm rich golden hue and red was stained the wolfhound and the shine of his horse's coat. One that Gandalf's they had spoke rumour of had submitted to as if to a leige lord and so startled they had seemed in recounting that tale.

Thighs flexed against the soft leather saddle of make unfamiliar to any in Gondor who had lain eyes upon it, and he turned, pausing his horse. It was then that the horn was lifted and a low call of farewell was blown, a horn few times played on this side of the hither lands, so few that each Eldar who still remained within the confines of the white city paused and lifted their head towards the sound and it seemed the strong heartbeat of the white tree, the blood pulse of the city itself given life... Tannith sat and howled alongside the horn cry that sang across the plains the low howl seeming like the ghostly cry of all haunting creatures that one might have faced each night a lone traveller crosses the darkened forest lands...

He smiled as he placed the horn back to his side and saw a roan similar to his own horse, who bore a tall woman approaching with midnight colored hair that flowed down in three long braids past her saddle with flowers rising to each hoofstep.

"Beloved to what do I owe this pleasure?"

"You have been away quite enough with your fun. I miss you."

"Yes, beloved."

Orome turned his horse back to the North, and together he and Vana moved onwards, their sillouhetes glimmering in the light and fading into the air and the unseen world that only the Eldar know.

Waking up from fainting was not surprisingly...embarrassing for Haldir. Though he suspected in his case it was more that he collapsed, not a faint, he did not want to linger on those thoughts nor on why he had done so. The growing fea bond between himself and Maglor had been affected badly by his passing, and so had Haldir's heart and mind been affected equally.

Sinking into all of the dark thoughts, first memories of Maglor and everything that had happened previous... he remembered when he had first seen Maglor as the herald to bid Thingol lord give up the Silmaril. He had waited more than a thousand years to see him again.

No. Not waited, had resigned himself to that which-he-can-have-not-of. His people were given insight into love or doom at the strangest of times. And not like lightning, but as the quietest of songs, Haldir had realized upon seeing the uncloaked and unhidden shape of the stranger even before he had announced himself in Doriath, that this was the one who he would give his love to, and no other. He had cursed that insight and cursed ever voluntarily returning from the marches during the time that he had. Especially when he had known whom it was he had seen. Maidens spoke of this sort of nonsense in silly books they read, this did not happen to a...a half-breed as he bitterly thought of himself, a half-breed who had earned his place among Thingol's men through sheer hard work and determination and skill. He had taken male lovers before, but this...!

A romantic he had called himself, cursing himself. A fool who had grown up with too many tales made for children's bed time stories. And yet it was still there and he knew it even as a mother may at the child's birth know their fate, as many elven women have done since Cuiviénen.

He had lived and fought as a soldier, as one who had found he had to prove himself not by his blood but by his strength and skill. Too much a Noldo and too much a Sinda. Title meant nothing to him as it could mean nothing for him, just as he had made certain it meant nothing to his brothers. They were who they were and who they wished to be. Nothing else. 'Last scions of Finwe' indeed, he refused to let them glamorize it by purpose or by accident. But he was still proud of who he was, what he was. He did not like feeling so vulnerable. Love was too vulnerable. That was what frightened him, and he had even confessed it to Maglor openly. He did not like that something could hurt him more quickly, more easily than a knife or an arrow. It made him feel like he was acting like a woman, as much as he liked women, he did not want to fit so easily into their strange close knit society. But it was so easy for Maglor to make him feel emotions so much more raw than he was used to.

And in the end he could only accept that and the elf in him who hated how it had made him, tried to turn a blind eye. He did not like feeling no sense of control.

Clenching a fist in frustration, Haldir continued to brood.

Maglor was now gone. To Mandos perhaps, though a nagging part of him suspected there were other roads that might have been taken. Perhaps he was given the unknown road of the mortals, or even that strange tear in worlds had found his Maglor's soul and pulled it into another.

He had to do something to keep himself from dwelling on all of these childish thoughts! Where was his sword? Perhaps he should go tend to some kind of routine sword practice for a few hours, and distract himself.

He tried to get up and promptly fell back onto the pallet, a grey haze growing in his vision as he tried to move. Haldir gave up that idea for the moment, fidgeting quietly on the pallet, twisting around his finger the ring he wore that Maglor had given him as a sign of their promise to each other. Feeling the smooth fiery opals beneath his thumb and tracing the shape they carried as he looked around the house of healing for anyone he might recognize. He had to find Rumil and Orophin. He would be leaving soon. He was ready.

[ooc: not done just yet... ;)]

Onward...
When I returned to the loft and found them, Lij and Billy, they were sitting there, buck naked and waiting for me, these… devilish grins on their faces, definitely feigning innocence, and I couldn’t help but snicker at them, wondering what the joke was going to be. Partners in crime, those two, they hid my nightshirt, knowing full well I’d want to get out of my itchy woolen clothes and curl up to rest, and so they simply… removed them for me. Of course I didn’t have any trouble joining them in their nakedness. The honey on the comb, however, that was more of a surprise. The way it was removed from my hair and my face… and my fingers… of course lead to other things, but I really needed it. We haven’t had near enough time together, just the three of us, since we got Billy back and it felt so good. Good to be with them, good to lie together once more and think of nothing other than what we were doing right then, about feeling good, and not about what was about to happen.

Trouble is… I didn’t really know what was about to happen. All I knew was that this, supposedly, was to be our last night in Minas Tirith, and when we woke again, we’d be… somewhere else. Home? Who knows? Together? I think we all hoped so. I didn’t have any dreams, I didn’t receive any ‘divine intervention’ telling me what was going to happen to us – it was all Elijah, the one who apparently knew all of this, and all from that strange dream that he’d had. But I’ve learned in my time here that anything is feasible in Tolkien’s world and not to doubt anything. I went around today saying goodbye - the others were saying their goodbyes as well, and so… who was I to doubt what was supposedly going to happen? I just had no clue what was supposed to happen, or where we’d all wind up. If this worked, and we left Middle Earth, I would miss it… the city, the people – Ioreth and Sarah especially – but the thought of possibly going home, or somewhere that Billy, Elijah and I could remain together, that was exciting as well.

It’s pretty late now, or so my internal clock, long since set to the Minas Tirith day, tells me, and everything is silent, except for the soothing sounds of Billy and Elijah sleeping beside me, huddled under the blankets with me. I know I should be asleep as well, but I can’t help reflecting back on these past few months, thinking about everything I’ve been through, everything we’ve been through together, all the things I’ve learned and done and gained. I don’t think about losses anymore, because I realize now that without what happened to land me here in the first place, I wouldn’t have what and who I do. It’s peaceful up here tonight, and at this moment, I wouldn’t trade this for the world, not even on a chance to go back home to a perfect life, but ‘something’ is supposed to happen tonight. To say I’m a little nervous is an understatement… there are so many things that could happen. Or nothing could happen. I guess in the grand scheme of things though, a lot worse could happen than nothing at all. I’d accept nothing happening, because we’d still be here, where we’ve made our home away from home, and we’d still be together. I could deal with that. I could go on here, if it meant we’d still have each other.

I guess I finally do doze off, because time definitely passes and something definitely does happen. When I wake, I feel like I’m moving, only it’s really weird, sort of like I’m dreaming it, but it’s really happening. Sort of slow-motion-like, except in actuality things are happening very fast. I feel dizzy, feel like I’m not really experiencing anything even though I know I am, and the next thing I know, I’ve touched ground again. Dazed, confused, unsure of anything at this point, I stand and turn to see what I can only call a fluctuation in the air as it wavers in front of me, and I step back. I don’t know how long I stand there watching, waiting, and for a while I don’t even know what I’m waiting for, but then I remember. Elijah. Billy. I’m waiting for them. I’ve obviously passed out of Middle Earth, like it was supposed to happen, and so I just wait for them, naked, the way we were when we all fell asleep… only they don’t come.

[OOC: THANK YOU all for making this the GREATEST game ever, and allowing me to participate. The emotions I went through playing here, oh... memories for sure. You're all super!

The adventures of Dom, Billy and Elijah will continue at

portals_in_time]

Current Mood: nervous

Billy takes a trip
Dom finally returns--we have barely enough time to hide his clothing, and set up his hairbrush, but it's brilliant, absolutely brilliant when he first cannae find something to wear and we're just sitting on the bed, Lij and me, not wearing a stitch, and urging him to forget about the clothing and just come join us. He finally does, and then he puts the brush to his hair, and Lijah and I nearly fall over each other we're laughing so hard. And Dom finally has to join in.

We helped him get the honey out. In a most intersting fashion too, I have to say.

Later . . . . much later, we all fall asleep.

When I wake up, I know I'm not in Minas Tirith any more. I'm in an alley, on a rough dirt-packed street, and ah shite, I'm bare-arsed naked of course. Should have thought of that before we all dropped off I suppose. But as soon as I've noticed that, I notice something else.

I'm alone. No sign of Elijah. Or Dom. Totally, irrefutably, alone. I feel my insides turn to ice.

I stand up, and there's a garbage can nearby so I take the lid to sort of hide myself, moving down the alleway, and I'm fortunate--there's a clothesline hanging from a window a storey above me, with some white knickers and socks and a shirt--at least it's something. The knickers are rather old-fashioned--like what my grandaddy would wear. It's still a sight better than being naked. I hear the horn of a car and the engine as it drives past--aye well this is definitely not Middle Earth then.

I walk out onto the street. And freeze.

Either I'm on the set of a film in the 1920's . . .

Or this isn't my world either.

To follow the further adventures of Billy, Elijah, and Dom, go to portals_in_time

Current Mood: anxious

One Last Time
It's the last thing on my mind when Dom comes in finally--I don't think of leaving, what might happen once we go to sleep tonight. I'm remembering a little bit, before everything happened, but mostly my mind's only on the present. One last time, like it was before. One last time to remember.

And when we curl up to sleep, I don't think of it. I've still got the thought of them, skin under my fingertips and lips on mine and the taste of honey (Dom's going to need to rinse his hair out in the morning, despite all we did to, um, clean him up...).

So when I wake up in a hallway that seems to stretch forever, with hotel room doors down either side, I don't remember right away that it might not be a dream. And why would I, I've had this dream before...

I left my jeans and my tee-shirt in Minas Tirith. It makes me sad when I remember, and then I realize that I left all my clothing in Minas Tirith.

And then I realize that this isn't a dream.

[Elijah, Billy, and Dom are headed to

portals_in_time. Thanks for everything...it's been quite possibly the best game I've ever gotten to be a part of.]

Current Mood: weird

Ioreth and Hurin, sitting in a... well, house.

((OOC: Ioreth is headed off to Shades. You can see her here It's been great fun playing with you all - much love and hugs, and don't be a stranger, now. Ioreth is always available for intershardsness or random interference in MESPT plots. *eyes certain people* You know who you are. <3))

Current Mood: loved

...no no no no no no no NO...
I don't recall the exact moment when Harry and Karl finally wore me out. I can't remember how I lost the fight against that damn dream, or when I slid into exhausted sleep...though I bet I was grinning like an idiot when I did.

So I don't have a "last memory" of the evening. Instead of one final snapshot recollection I have a headful of vivid sensations that overlap and intertwine and blur together into something I won't ever be able to put into words. And that's good. I wouldn't want to pick just one to be the last. This is better. This is perfect. This, right here, right now. I'm asleep, sure, but even asleep at some deep-down contented level I know where I am, and who I'm with, and that's all that matters...

Current Mood: nauseated

Part of Faramir’s guard...who would ever have imagined it? Me, Ian Hughes, an actor, who’s finally found his place as a man of Gondor. So many of the others have gone in the past few days before I was sent here. Viggo, Liv, Sometimes I wonder how they managed it, what they are doing now, if they are safe and happy. But it is beyond me to know such things, just as it is beyond me to completely understand what has happened here, or why, even now if I were given a chance to go home, I don’t believe I would take it.

Too much has happened here in Middle Earth, in Minas Tirith for me to consider any other place my home. It may have been only a few months that we’ve been here, but to me, it feels like a lifetime. I can almost see myself here, through the years of my youth, and now, I know that I see myself here for however much time I am given now. As if a loose thread in a tapestry has finally found it’s proper place, so, I know have I. So, perhaps have David and Sean, though thinking of either still hurts. I remember later I know, but now is not a day for such mourning. Now is a time to live, and to learn what may be..

I may have arrived here an actor, but now at what seems to be the end of all our days together, I have become the man that I think I was always meant to be. And so, as a Soldier of Gondor, I make my way towards the lush green land , and into Fair Ithilien. And though I have never seen this place before, I know that I am home...

Current Mood: hopeful

An end to all of this at last, and a time to return home. Amroth is waitingm there is enough paperwork on my desk to last through the next hundred years I would wager, though Lothiriel has done well holding things in my abscence. Still, I would see her again, would see home agian and now that we are no longer needed, that the king has returned and Faramir has come into his own, I know that it is time to return.

As I ride out of the city, I cannot help but glance to the White Tower and think of Denethor, of the madness which overtook him, and though we had never gotten on, I am sorry. So noble a man, so many noble and good men who were lost to us, and some, not even of this world.

Sean, and Viggo. I will never forget either, nor will the people of Amroth or Tirith or even Arda. Soon, when I have time, I will commit thier story to paper. I am no storyteller, but there are some things that must be done and to have them remembered is one of them. If even a few people are told thier story, then perhaps it will be enough, and it will spread...and then somehow everything will work...

A bright ray of sunlight shines on my face, and gleams on the banner of the silver swan as the Knights break into a trot and leave the City gates, and somehow, somehow I know that everything will now be fine.

Current Mood: determined

"Right here, right now. No more words. Prove it."
[Continued directly from here -- is very NC-17]

Sala: *I let go except for one hand twined in your belt, tugging you towards the house* Is he asleep?

Harry: *Small, private smile as I lead you into the bedroom* Recovering. *Karl's sprawled across tangled, messy sheets on his stomach, leather collar still snug around his neck. I listen to the even rise and fall of his breathing for a moment, dark eyes raking across smooth skin and tight muscle before I glance at Sala with that same, private smile* Wake him up.

Current Mood: grateful

"Not everyone got the choice"
[NC-17 for imagery and vivid promises -- occurs shortly after this, very NC-17]

Sala: *I've been sitting out here for an hour, watching the sun set. I should go inside, I should say something, but I can't. Leaving a note is starting to sound more attractive by the minute. Or maybe nothing at all...they wouldn't notice... I rub my face hard with both hands, furious at myself for walking down that road again. I'm NOT a child. I DON'T need constant reminders that people care about me. But the fact remains that this is their home, not mine -- and doubly so now. So I sit here, indecisive, pondering the forge at the armory...*

Harry: *It seems to be my day to seek out others. First Karl, and now Sala. There's been something very odd pulsing in my bond with Sala -- a desperation mixed with an odd sadness that has me rolling away from the warmth of Karl's side to look for you.

I haven't even taken the first step out the door when I see you -- and, once again, the bond pulses with that same sense of loss. I quietly slip behind you, one hand hovering over your shoulder, hesitating, for the first time at a loss as to how to approach you.*

Current Mood: numb

Harry claims what is his.
[Continues from here. NC-17. Bloodplay & definite BDSM overtones]

Karl: *I smile to myself as I walk into the house, already unlacing the ties to my tunic as I toss the key on the nearest flat surface. You'll follow me. How could you not after the challenge I just issued*

Harry: *I catch your hands before you can reach for the laces of your breeches, fangs dragging along the curve of your neck & shoulder, lapping at the small droplets of blood that well up. The heat of your bare back radiates through my clothing into my skin, evaporating every thought except the overwhelming urge to claim you as my own.*

Current Mood: dominant

"We're not going back home, unless it's all three of us together. I promise"
Billy: *So once home again, I return to the loft. Elijah is there, and I smile, hopping onto the little setup we have in there, the sort of bed that crosses the full floor. Dominic's not here--I think he's off brooding somewhere. This has been hard on all of us. I mean, who knows what is to happen next? But Elijah has faith we'll be together. I have to hold to that. * Hey, mate. Finished with all your farewells?

Elijah: *I look up and smile, motioning for you to join me* As much as I can be. It's going to be hard, if we end up going somewhere else. *I think of all the farewells I've said today--and all the promises I've made if we should happen to still be here tomorrow* On the bright side, if we end up here we won't be paying for any of our drinks tomorrow.

Current Mood: good

Again
He wanders out of Middle-earth as he entered it--alone, aimless, and vaguely bewildered. He's walking outside the city and then back at Lake Simcoe, and it's the ground underneath he notices first, more firm than any soil in the recently ravaged Minas Tirith.

So this is the end. Although he loved it, the White City was never his home, as it had become for so many of the others; he felt displaced there just as he always had here in his own world. He is only slightly resigned as he makes his way back to civilization. A bit of his theme for Gondor echoes in his head, poignant yet coming nowhere close to expressing its reality.

He'll call Elizabeth soon, he thinks as he walks.

Going Home
Miranda: *I don’t really know what’s happening. Everything seems to have moved so swiftly, carrying me in its grip. But one thing that is certain is the onset of night, and gratefully I curl up under my blanket, to escape into the world of sleep. My eyelids close as I sink into the realm of dreams.*

Horse: *Here she comes. I can see the blurred outline of her form gradually solidifying as she enters this realm of the night. Her eyes open as she becomes fully solid in this dream, and a pleased whicker escapes her.*

Current Mood: blank

Eöl: *I sit at the base of the tower, panting slightly. All is in readiness...my burdens are upon my back, the drug in my veins, and my mind is set. All I need do is wait for my breath to return -- aided or not, I can do only so much in my current state.*

Legolas: *There is little that can keep me indoors during the warm months, and I excuse myself yet again from the others' company to enjoy an excursion outside while they smoke their pipes and watch Mithrandir make ships and dragons on the grey fumes. I am surprised to see Eöl sitting nearby when I emerge from the royal quarters, and walk to his side.* Should you not be abed in the Houses?

Liv and Billy say goodbye.
Liv: *Viggo and I have just returned from the Weaver and our last goodbyes with Sala, Húrin, and Ioreth. It hurts to let them go, these friends who have become like family to me. Even the little hobbits that I barely knew touched my heart with their warmth and openness. And speaking of hobbits... there are a few that I still have to wish farewell.*

Billy: *I've returned from speaking to Ioreth and the others I needed to see. I'm nae sure where Elijah or Dominic are--I know Elijah was making his rounds earlier. I step outside to fill the pitcher of water--perhaps for the last time--from the well outside. Still need to say farewell to a few more . . . I come back inside and find you there. Setting down the water in the little kitchen, I stand hesitantly.* Ioreth tells me you and Viggo are leaving.

Current Mood: sad

More Choices...
Takes place directly before this.

Eöl: *I stump about the city as best I can in the cool predawn, seeking Orophin. I can't imagine where he is. I thought he would be beside me when I woke, but that was not so. There is no time to lose in this.*

Orophin: *coming back from spending a morning with Haldir, trying as hard as I can to provide comfort for what is..happening with Maglor, without making him think it is pity that I feel -- I see Eöl and move quickly towards him, wondering what is amiss*

Current Mood: anxious

Making the rounds
Billy: *I don't want to leave. So strange to feel that way, after the horrors we have endured here, and yet now I feel I belong, that I have friends. Friends who now will all be going their own individual ways, if what Elijah said is true. I'm warmed with drink after my chat with Pippin, and my step weaves a wee bit as I make my way to the Houses. I must say farewell to Ioreth, just in case. We owe so much to her. I wander through the now mostly empty rooms, searching.* Ioreth?

Ioreth: *popping out of one of the rooms* Billy! What brings you here? I hope there's nothing wrong...

Current Mood: nervous

A New Day
Harry: *I don't even need our bond to point me in the right direction as I make my way to the stables. You've been spending quite a bit of time taking care of the horses since we've gotten back into Minas Tirith. I step inside, and smile at the soft neighs and whinnies of greeting before starting to look for you among the stalls*

Karl: *I smile as one of the horses nudges me, scratching his nose and speaking softly to him. The bond I have with you is stronger now, and I don't need to turn around to know you're there* Hey.

Current Mood: content

A Last Round of Ale
Liv: *Viggo said he wouldn't be at home today because he had some people to say goodbye to. Sala and I talk quietly, off and on, until we reach the Weaver.* He's probably here. We can go in and check.

Viggo: *Hurin is outpacing me, but largely because I'm intentionally holding back. I want a fairly clear head tonight.* So how did you and Ioreth meet?

Hurin: *I studiously pick up the next mug and try to figure out how many this is. I'm not quite sure, and that means ...uh...* Long time ago. I fell out of a window. Not MY window. Ioreth wassa new girl at the Houses. I think. *frowns* Was that when we met?

Viggo: *grinning* And just how did you manage to fall out a window?

Hurin: Well, the husband got home earlier than I'd expected...

Current Mood: okay

A Choice Made
Harry: *It still feels odd, even after all this time, to slumber when the moon is up, but, as always, sometime just before the last of the stars fade in the sunrise, I succumb to my body's need for rest, Karl safely wrapped in my arms.

Vampires don't dream -- at least, not like mortals dream. It's yet another sacrifice I've learned to live with over the centuries. But, that doesn't mean I don't recognize the fuzzy edges of a dreamscape when I'm confronted with one. While part of my mind knows this isn't logical, that I can't be back in Paris, fingers running over the back of Marton's plush leather chair, the other part greedily takes in every bit of beloved furniture, the familiar, heavy scent of crimson blood and Armagnac. Home. Only not.*

Current Mood: dreaming

Liv and Sala say g'bye.
Liv: *This is my last day here. In my mind I tick off the list of people I've said goodbye to and those who I have yet to wish farewell. I don't think he'd be at the Houses, or at the armory... I don't have much time, so I head in the direction of the house I know he's been living in. Maybe he'll be there.*

Sala: *I had to get out, to clear my head...odd how a "good" dream has me more shaken than a nightmare, because at least I know the nightmares aren't real... Not looking where I'm going, I almost crash into a woman on the street* Sorry, I was just... Liv?

Current Mood: touched

Final Preparations
This takes place just after Eol and Orophin discuss the dreaming. Hopefully that'll be up Sunday evening.

I make my way carefully to the Houses of Healing. I have certainly overtaxed myself, for even the leg that takes no weight throbs. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters, save the decision I have left to my poor Orophin. I wish I had been more selfish. I wish that I had pushed him and I curse my weakness with each unsteady step. Why can I never simply take what I want? Have I not sacrificed enough for it? Why can he not love me as I love him...why must his love for his kinsmen throw down what love he claims to have for me?

'Because it does. You cannot be water over stone, Eol. There is not enough time beneath the sun to wear that away. You must work around it as best you can.'

I stop within the place of healing and softly request sleeping herbs from the nearest of the tenders, claiming that my pained body makes my slumber restless and hoping that will be reason enough.

Current Mood: determined

Meanwhile, in the tavern where it all started...
Viggo: *There's one last goodbye to make, to my first friend here in Minas Tirith. I'm not surprised when I find him at the Weaver. It's fitting, really.* I hear congratulations are in order.

Hurin: *looking up from a quick but welcome hot meal, breaking into a grin* Viggo! I'm surprised to see you on your feet. Come, sit, talk. And, ah, yes.

Viggo: Surprised? Your lady love practically threw me out of bed on the trip here. *I take the offered seat, and one of the barmaids brings me an ale without my having to ask, brightly welcoming "Trotter" back.*

Hurin: *seriously* You were injured fairly seriously. I don't take such things lightly. *rolling my eyes* Except the lady in question thinks a mere ankle counts as a serious injury...

Viggo: *teasing gently* And you were getting around so well on it. *smiles warmly, thanking the maid for the ale* I'm grateful for your concern. Your support means a great deal to me. *sighs and stares down into the ale* I'll be going back to what I call modern medicine soon, though. A little tylenol, maybe some surgery, and plenty of uncomfortable questions will see me walking on my own again in no time.

Current Mood: relaxed

A Prince's Favor
Viggo: *The stables. It figures. In a way, not being able to get on a horse hurts more than any physical injury suffered because of one. I scan the area for the prince, needing to ask him a favor before I leave.*

Imrahil: *Having just gotten in from a ride, I've finished grooming my horse and am now starting back outside when I spot a familiar figure on crutches* Viggo! How goes it lad?

Viggo: *smiling and moving to meet him* Well enough. And yourself?

Imrahil: Oh very well indeed. *looking at your crutches* You seem to be healing well enough. Better than one might have expected. All is well besides that then?

Viggo: *nods* It is. Liv and I will be going home, soon.

Current Mood: hopeful

There aren’t many preparations to be made. I leave notes for the others, in case they come asking after me and find me gone. I tell Ioreth what has happened, and then I go to my room, don Galadriel’s costume as if that will bring it home with me, and lay down to sleep. I fancy I feel a faint warmth from Nenya as dreams take me, and I hear her voice in my mind.

“Fear not, Cate. You are going home.”

When I wake, it is with a start that nearly wakes my husband as well. I slip out of bed and hurry to Dashiell’s room. He sleeps soundly, clutching the paw of a stuffed animal Harry gave him. I smile, and brush a lock of soft hair back from his forehead, then go back to bed, knowing my dreams of that particular Middle-Earth are over.

Current Mood: okay

Tea with Ioreth One Last Time
Viggo: *The hour is growing late, but there are people I must see before Liv and I return to dreams and make our choice. At the Houses of Healing, I ask after Ioreth's whereabouts and immediately have to assure an over zealous apprentice that there's nothing new needs mending. I merely wish to speak to the woman who has become a good friend. The girl, perhaps a bit disappointed that there will be no medical adventures tonight, points me towards Ioreth's rooms.*

Ioreth: *sipping tea when there is a knock at the door* Come in.

Viggo: *I'm getting quite good at handling a door and crutches at the same time, and do as bid.* Good evening, Ioreth. I'm not disturbing you, am I?

Ioreth: Oh, no. Come in, sit down, rest your legs. *eyes* Liv has already spoken to me. I suspect I know what you have come to talk about.

Current Mood: sad

"What better excuse have I got to hug everyone till their ribs crack?"
Sala: *I woke to an unfamiliar sound, and following it found one of the fountains running again. Again? I don't know when one of these things last worked! And even from behind the person perched on the edge looks damn familiar...* Looks like I wasn't the only one who heard running water, huh?

Elijah: *I look up from trailing my fingers through the spray and grin* Hey, Sala. *Leaning over to look down to the bottom of the fountain* I feel like I need some Gondor pennies to make wishes with.

Sala: I don't think they'd come true. We've all sorta used up the next ten years' worth of luck, I think. *I sit down next to you, pull off my shoes, and plunk my bare feet into the water, trousers and all* You look better.

Current Mood: quixotic

Better to burn out, than to fade away....
It takes a moment, when he wakes, to realize his eyes are open, though he sees only faint gradations of black. And then the cold hits again, mind-numbing....he rolls over awkwardly, forcing stiff muscles to do his will as he looks at his bedmate, and wonders if this is what it feels like to be mortal. "'aldir." he hisses, and when the other does not immediately respond he touches bare skin with his cold, cold, hands, feeling the warmth of the other seeping into him - warmth, but not nearly enough.

Haldir is not quite asleep, still more awake from the long night spend trying to write out the letter that will never be read, Haldir starts against the chill of Maglor's touch and turns to look at him. "...Maglor?" Resting a hand against the side of Maglor's face for a moment before brushing a bit of hair back from his face, useless he knows but he does it anyway.

Current Mood: fire

ooc: Takes places -now-. Fast foreward from his last post.

*Haldir has spent a restless night, watching Maglor with his grey pallor and unable to sleep. He thinks about everything they have gone through, and all of his feelings and emotions and thoughts and how jumbled together they all are. And so he sits down, and in the depths of night, a sleepless Haldir writes a letter to Maglor.*

*Haldir suddenly stops, the quill hovering for a long moment over the paper until black ink drops to the paper in a small blot and he puts it aside, leaning back to sit quietly in the chair. He has just realized that writing this letter was pointless. Maglor can no longer see. Is blind.

The march-warden realizes at the same time that he has found this somewhat cathartic, at least for himself. To write things out onto pen and to paper. His writing is scrawled in many places, slang and formal letters mixed together in places where he has grown lazy and unwilling to attempt to try and remember the proper way to write something out in Quenya. He found it appropriate somehow, to choose to write it in Quenya, the language Maglor preferred; thinking it more proper than Sindarin. But it had been so long since he had learned that language at the insistence of his mother.

Wryly looking at the sheafes of paper that held scratch marks, underlines, all sorts of marks where he had scribbled out a line or a sentence that did not seem right, did not seem to 'ring' correctly in his head, his inner ear, he finally shook his head with bitter lined lips; signing the last page with what empty space remained, with his name in odd slang Quenya that loosely translated to 'Haldir of Finarfin's' and abandoned the quill to being cleaned. Setting aside everything including the papers, which he laid out to dry, watching them before stacking the then-dry inked papers in a thin small pile on the make-shift desk, neatly folding the pile into quarters and setting a book on top that Maglor had purloined from the depths of the Minas Tirith library.

And then Haldir removed his boots to settle beside Maglor's bed, and watched the Noldo sleep.*

Current Mood: angsty

ooc: This takes places several weeks ago, before er...Faramir burned down some things.

Current Mood: kindasortaNOTangsting.

To sleep perchance to dream
My day has been busy with goodbyes. I'd hunted down everybody who closely touched my life and said my goodbyes, not necessarily quite so straightforward. In most cases, it was said with a hug, or a smile. I hate goodbyes, mostly, and I never wanted tears. Dom... I was so close to telling him, but I never did. I think Ioreth guessed, but she kept silent.

This night will be my last here, and I'm looking forward to it, yet not. I would love to stay. I've made so many good friends, and now the rebuilding starts. It would have been nice to see Minas Tirith as it should have been, as it should be, awash in splendour and glory, but I do not belong here.

As I turn back the blankets of my little pallet one last time, my mind travels over what I have done during my time here. I have done more than I ever thought I would be able to do, yet less than I had hoped I could have done. That is no matter any more. I am going home to rest. I am going home to be with my daughter, my beautiful, beautiful daughter.

I have missed her. Every second of everyday that she wasn't with me, I missed her. I have missed her smell, her laugh, her tears, her joys. I miss the way she turns to me when she is happy, and her innocent curiousity. I have missed my Maisy too much to stay here longer. It is the maternal instinct in me that makes me not want to tarry here longer. I will go home.

My decision has been made since last night's dream, and so I slide between the sheets and settle down for my last sleep in the white city of Gondor. As I fall asleep, my mind drifts over the weeks that I have been here, and I fall, fall, fall into oblivion and back into the time from whence I came.

Current Mood: going home