Post by Mîrioniel on Apr 18, 2018 18:24:17 GMT -5
She did not heed Haldir’s words of warning. When so much was beyond her control, she was grappling with anything that she could keep a handle on. Errant dwarves felling the trees of her realm was but one thing she could have a say in, and rectify. The dwarf with the grey beard might be glaring at her, but she didn’t give ground or lower her eye contact. Refugees from Moria had plagued their borders for a long time, and had circumstances been different, she might well have turned a blind eye.
However, this was the first time in her long life where she felt powerless, out of her depth and full of worry for her mother. A maelstrom of emotions swept through her and pushed her out of balance, not a thing easily regained.
”Master Dwarf, I am afraid this tree is one of the protected mallorn of this realm. Without consent of the Lady Galadriel, you may not harvest its timber.”
The blonde elleth did not miss the look Haldir gave her, somewhere between calming and warning. If he wished to make these dwarves try and see sense, then she would let him have at it, not that she believed he would succeed.
The other disturbance to her life, was hearing that Galadriel already had autonomy in Haldir’s eyes. Already her power was undermined by the fact that permission to harvest these great and wondrous trees fell to Galadriel and not Mîrioniel. Once more she found her identity being peeled away, layer by layer since the arrival of the Noldor elves. She was becoming irrelevant, and without purpose.
”There isn’t tree around that’s not sacred to you lot,”
Mirioniel bristled at that. Dwarves were too materialistic for their own goods, it was this reason that Durin’s Bane was awoken. They only saw things for the value they held, not the beauty or enrichment they provided. Their raiding parties had caused enough nuisance to Lorien, and now she was witness to this sacrilege.
”It looked a fine wood for bows.”
“The finest. And yet, not yours to take.”[/i]
The sidelong glance Haldir gave her went ignored by the elleth. The sentiment was appreciated, but the damage was done. The tree cut down, dead to life and further growth. A theme too close to her own heart to bear.
”It seems the Lady Galadriel has made her thoughts very known on the matter, I shall speak to this to my king, for trade will not pass to those who deem us unwelcome.”
Mîrioniel cast her eyes to the fallen tree, stripped and beset with axe marks. It was another infringement, another death of a thing she loved dearly. A few weeks earlier, or even many years hence, this innocuous scene wouldn’t have drawn half so much attention from her, nor seemed like such a tremendous sleight. Unfortunately, as far as elves went, she was wound up, and losing a grip on her composure.
“Not everything in the Arda can be bought, sold or traded.” She replied, her tone crisp as autumn leaves on the ground. Her crystal blue eyes as cold as a winters morn. There was more to her words than a simple retort to the dwarves surety in gold and wealth. The undercurrent ran over her heart, unknown to the stout creatures before her, whom were gaining in their temper.
”Easy for an ages old witch to say.” The unkempt dwarf snorted back, his face contorting with ire. Nothing penetrated her expression, though she did wonder at what the dwarf meant, until she realised that he must’ve mistaken her with being the Lady of Light herself. Mîrioniel was not going to correct him, it was a testament to their if ignorance and Galadriel’s mystique.
“It ought to have been a lesson your dwarf-kin learnt centuries ago.” She replied with the full weight of that statement. The rout in Moria, the greed that led to the assassination of King Thingol and the genocide of an entire race of dwarves. Mîrioniel did not regret the breath used to utter the words, not in that moment at least. The tension grew exponentially, the tree utterly forgotten. The grey bearded dwarf held out an arm to still the younger members of his company, as he faced off to Mîrioniel.
”Îsh kakhfê ai’d dur-rugnul!” He snarled at her, looking like some rabid wolf. The insult was plain, meant to cut deep, but there was too much hurt already for her to feel it, or be further offended.