Cora nodded with another gentle smile, then still having her one arm given to the youth for support, she turned to offer her other arm to Eilwynn. "It is a lovely little alcove, away from the path a bit, and I myself enjoy secluding myself there when I am in need of quiet thought." Her voice was gentle, coming to blend and match the soft breeze stirring the boughs of the trees and the stems of the delicate flora.

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I am a pro-cycling fan! Congrats to the Young rider of the Tour de France!
~Cyclist in Training~

Eilwynn had been listening absent-mindedly, her eyes focusing to somewhere off in space. When she felt that Cora was offering an arm to her she fixed her amber gaze back to the woman, a brow arching slightly as she shook her head politely. She did not want to be helped by anyone, despite the fact that she came here for healing. She could walk to this place..this alcove. Returning a glance to the young Elf, she gave him a reassuring quick grin, and waited for someone to lead the way.

Cora nodded her understanding and began to lead them slowly first through a row of pale roses, careful not to disturb their stillness, though the breeze still persisted gently. They then took a turn to walk, or more so crouch to go beneath, radient morning glory vines, their color still glistening with a light dew. A small dirt laden path, half hidden by trailing vines, led the way to where a marble bench, etched by the years, was set beneath more of the glorious flowered vines and surrounded by sunlit leaves and delicate flowers. Cora was careful not to tread on any of the flowers that had strayed from their rows to grow and dwell on the barely used path. It seemed more so a small courtyard, though the carefully layed marble stone had trailing vines growing between them. The delicate songs of birds could be heard in a silver barked tree, tall and massive, its branches sprawling wide.

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I am a pro-cycling fan! Congrats to the Young rider of the Tour de France!
~Cyclist in Training~

Eomira sighed, unable to concentrate on her reading. She slowly stood up and shook her long blonde hair and gathered up her scrolls. Walking briskly she headed back towards the library.

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Eomira, Lady of Ithilien<br>
<img src="http://i26.photobucket.com/albums/c116/Eomira/faramir_alone.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket">

Deep eyes drifted across the pale roses. He felt rather at home, walking amongst them...as if he belonged somehow. Delicate petals danced across his soft-shoed feet, teasing at alabaster ankles.
His vision could not be torn away from the path of flowers through which he walked now with carefully placed feet, almost tiptoe.

Rich greens, lit by a morning sun, contrasted against the deep shade of his jacket, against the silver of his hair. Somehow, he fitted within the odd menagerie of nature.
With an elegant bow of his figure, the boy plucked a single white rose from the ground.
He had always been told that his mother adored them, they were her favourite...
He would visit her today, perhaps.
A sorrowful, soft smile played upon the young one's lips as he finally lifted his eyes...with a soft, almost painful sounding sentence.

"...thank you."

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"Anyone who lives within their means suffers from a lack of imagination" - Oscar Wilde

Cora's smile brightened when she saw the enjoyment in the youth's eyes, even though his sadness was still apparent. "You are very welcome, young master," she spoke gently while she bowed her head ever slightly, strands of black hair drifting loose from their place and coming to rest half over one of her luminescent green eyes. She turned her smile towards the various colors of tree, grass, and flower, brightened by the warm sun.

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I am a pro-cycling fan! Congrats to the Young rider of the Tour de France!
~Cyclist in Training~

Eomira stopped suddenly. She watched as the boy picked the rose, and indeed in made her wish that she had some artistic skill for it made the perfect potrait. Ashamed at barging into the moment, Eomira stepped back and headed the long way and climbed the stairs back into the library.

_________________
Eomira, Lady of Ithilien<br>
<img src="http://i26.photobucket.com/albums/c116/Eomira/faramir_alone.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket">

Eilwynn paused under the archway, seeming unable to accept it's beauty. She always felt a blemish in such scenes, not worthy or unclean. Not because of her appearance, but because of her soul.

The pain in her neck began to slowly throb, sending waves of pressure to her head. Her features once again contorted into a hardened and pained expression, as if concentrating on blocking the feeling out, pushing it aside. Her jaw locked, fists clenching and unclenching as she tried to cope; though she knew that to avoid her orders much longer would not be good...

"Please, do sit down and rest yourselves, that is what benches are for," Cora offered with a light wave of her hand towards the white marble sitting slab. She herself sat beneath the large tree, her legs carefully drawn beneath her, the folds of her dress strewn outwards in satin waves.

She had always enjoyed coming here to sit in the peaceful melody of flowers and birds of song, though it touched her with a tinge of unworthiness. But her age was far beyond those in her company now and she had seen much beauty in many lands, and still this could hardly compare to what she had seen in Valinor. She released a wistful sigh, smiling upwards towards the sunlit boughs of the tree upon which she leaned.

_________________


I am a pro-cycling fan! Congrats to the Young rider of the Tour de France!
~Cyclist in Training~

As if bending with pain, the boy lowered himself onto one of the benches. He still had bruises from his last accidents, of his own fault of course. Aarisynta lowered himself beside Eilwynn, looking at her with a trying smile.
She was in pain, he could tell...just by being here, in such a place...

Aarisynta himself merely laid the rose upon his lap; white petals throw into contrast against his jet black tunic. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in the clear air before awakening his vision to one of such beauty...

_________________
"Anyone who lives within their means suffers from a lack of imagination" - Oscar Wilde

In cold silence, Arvalin returned from the doorway, gazing unblinkingly at the small group that was standing, and now sitting, in the garden. He leaned callously againt the cold bricks that were hidden from the sun, the chill seeped in through his tunic and to his back. He watched them, wishing he were one of them, and yet glad of what he had become.
The scroll...it was not what he had been looking for. He could expect a whipping from the mistake, and would soon have to return it to the library.

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"Where's the thump-thump?!" ~ <3 *Captain* Jack Sparrow~ <a href="http://photobucket.com" target="_blank"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v249/Silent_Wanderer/JohnnyJack.jpg" border="0" alt="Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting"></a>

Cora paused her contemplations for a moment as she felt the eyes of someone else fall upon their small group. Slowly she brought green gaze to rest upon the young man she had seen in the library. After a moment of searching his expression from afar, Cora returned her gaze to the two youth's near her, a smile gracing her features, half sad yet half joyful. She could see their painful joy in their eyes and broken smiles.

_________________


I am a pro-cycling fan! Congrats to the Young rider of the Tour de France!
~Cyclist in Training~

" Forgive me young Lord, but I cannot linger long..you would do well to think the same." Her voice was soft and racked with an unclear throat, seeming husky, only loud enough for herself and the male Elf to hear it.

Amber optics darting upwards as a reaction from movement in her peripheral vision, she looked askance at the man whome she recognized from the hall and balcony. In his hands, he held still a scroll. Thoughts sifting through some, she arched a brow in slight curiousity, granting him a coy smile, whether he cared or not to notice it.

Ignoring the pain which had grown slighly numb, she stood from the bench, nodding in appreciation and farewell to both the young woman who had led them there, and the young male Elf. Once she excused herself, she boldly crossed the garden, hiding her limp rather well as she kept her eyes focused on the man. ...Though she did not think it would be the last time she saw either of the individuals she left sitting.

Stepping out of the warm light, she cracked a grin to the man who was leaning against the bricks, and offered a hand.

" My name is Eilwynn, what do they call you?"

Eomira entered the dusty library and returned the scrolls. Longingly, she gazed at the thousands of other books and scrolls, and heavily considered staying here till she read all of them. Smiling at her own wishful thinking, Eomira simply went to a balcony and gazed into the distance.

_________________
Eomira, Lady of Ithilien<br>
<img src="http://i26.photobucket.com/albums/c116/Eomira/faramir_alone.jpg" border="0" alt="Photo Sharing and Video Hosting at Photobucket">

Cora nodded her head slightly as the young woman left, her chin lifting slightly as she watched how well she seemed to hide her pain, though it was still apparent in the young woman's eyes. Cora smiled softly to herself and returned her quiet gaze to the flowers gracing the small area of marble slabs. Her eyes drifted from one flower to the next then drifted to examine the youth who's frail nature intrigued yet saddened her at the same time. She gave him a warm smile, hoping it would lift his spirits at least the slightest.

_________________


I am a pro-cycling fan! Congrats to the Young rider of the Tour de France!
~Cyclist in Training~

The boy looked back, returning the faint smile to warm him if even a little.
The place was beautiful, he was in company that, albeit quiet, seemed to be accepting him for a moment. At least the flowers turned their heads to him in wonder, setting beautiful dewdroplet eyes upon a pale visage.

With the rose clutched in his hand, the young one stood; walking slowly and gracefully toward the very edge of the flowers, crouching down beside them.
Head tilted to one side in thought, in gentle contemplation before he whispered a soft elven phrase.
Thin, tapered hands laid the rose down between the bed of different coloured petals.

It was true, he shouldn't have been lingering long, he should leave...he bowed his head, eyes closed before straightening up again; leaving a pure white rose resting quietly there between the flowers.

There was no better place for her...

_________________
"Anyone who lives within their means suffers from a lack of imagination" - Oscar Wilde