[OOC: A text-based RP session between Ningear (N) and Gloreloth (G).]
A Library in Gondolin
(N)
Some Elves are working quietly, the scratching of feathers on parchment can be heard. Every now and then a melodious voice speaks a few words and another answers. Laughter and song can be heard through the windows, depending on the direction of the wind.
In a corner of the library, Ningear is sitting behind his desk, working. He is wearing robes in an elegant grey, showing the heraldry of the House of the Fountain above his heart. The stitching is made with silver thread and adorned with little white crystals that do not stand out at first, but shimmer when he moves.
Finishing the letter with a practised stroke of ink, the dark haired Elf nods shortly, seeming satisfied with his work. Having copied the last sentence of the patrol report, he places the feather aside and closes the lid of the inkwell. Then he rolls up the original report as neatly as possible (there are some stains on it and it seems to have been handled with little care before, but clearly not by him) and places it on the pile for his assistant to sort into the right shelf later. Ningear applies a fine white powder to his writing to dry the ink and shakes it off and back into the little elegantly carven pot after a few seconds. Appearing satisfied with the dryness of the ink, he rolls up the copy as well and places it on a separate, much more orderly looking pile.
Someone who knows him very well might notice that there is a little pause in his movements every now and then, as if his thoughts were elsewhere, or as if he was waiting for something, or someone. A student, perhaps?
(G)
The arched door of the room opens with a quiet squeak, and an Elf-child peeks in, his pale blue eyes shining with excitement. His raiment is fine, but sturdy; wool trousers of dark green and a short tunic of white with golden celandine flowers embroidered round the hem, and the rayed sun of Bar-e-Mallos in the center. His head is bare, and his golden hair catches the sunlight from the eastern windows as he enters, closes the door, and pads silently across the floor toward the grey-clad Elf behind the desk.
(N)
Seeing the sun dance on gold out of the corner of his eye, Ningear takes a deep breath and finishes straightening the pile of reports. It seems almost as if he is taking a little longer for it than he needed.
"Le suilon, young one! And welcome."
He smiles and his face looks less stern in an instant.
"I trust you found your way here without problems?"
Ningear indicates for the child to sit on one of the elegant wooden chairs opposite of his desk, while he picks up a blank sheet of paper, aligns it exactly parallel to the edge of the desk without thinking, then folds his hands in front of him and looks at his visitor with kindness and something that might be curiosity.
(G)
Bowing his head respectfully, the Elf-child moves toward the chair and sits.
"Suilad, Hîr Ningear" he says, smiling back at the tutor, and adding proudly, "Yes sir, I found the way."
(N)
Ningear nods his approval, before his expression turns serious, though not unkind. His eyes seem to examine Gloreloth's face for a long moment, as if trying to determine something. He nods again curtly.
"I am glad to hear it! I have been made aware that you have shown an interest in learning your letters, among other things, and I have been appointed as one of your tutors. I can certainly help with the letters, but let us find out what your other interests are. I will make some notes so I can draft a plan for you."
Ningear points out the paper in front of him and takes up his quill.
"Now, tell me a little about yourself. What is it that you are hoping to learn, and why?"
Ningear looks eager to hear what Gloreloth has to say, quill ready to begin writing any moment.
(G)
Gloreloth's gaze wanders around the room for a moment, taking in the vaulted ceiling, the high windows, and the shelves and tables of scrolls, books, and writing materials. He returns his attention to the tutor, and answers excitedly:
"Yes sir, I wish to learn reading and writing, and history, and music, and... well, everything! I suppose I shall have to learn what there is to learn."
(N)
Ningear nods a few times and takes notes in his fair handwriting. Despite doing his work, he seems to become less scholarly the more he talks to the young Elf before him. Maybe he is reminded of his own youth?
"And you will have time to learn all this as long as the world lasts." He says gently.
"The ability to read will give you access to the knowledge of hundreds of lives. Every thing, every being is connected - through the will of Iluvatar. Life is like an endless tapestry being woven out of experiences, all unique, all of invaluable worth. The library is the framework, preserving this knowledge so nothing is lost. What will be your place in this tapestry, I wonder?"
Ningear trails off and directs his quite intense eyes at Gloreloth, observing him for a long moment.
"Would you like to share how you spend your days, young one? Come, let me learn more about you!"
(G)
Gloreloth leans forward in his chair, lost in wonder for a moment at the scholar's words, then sits back, somewhat surprised at the question.
"Well, sir, I spend much time with my father, when he is not on guard; he is a soldier of Bar-e-Mallos. Our lord is Glorfindel - he is a great Noldo, almost as wise and strong as my father."
Pride and love are obvious in his eyes as the Elf-child speaks of his father and his lord. He pauses a moment, then continues hastily:
"We, my father and I, practice with arms sometimes, though mother thinks I am too young, and we ride together outside the city, and walk in the hills and forests. He teaches me about the trees and plants, and the animals too, and how to hunt and make fire, and swim in the mountain streams. And in the evenings, he tells me stories, and sings songs with my mother. But when he is on watch, I play with other children, or on my own, or sit with my mother and learn about gardening and cooking, and mending, and healing."
He stops for breath, and seems to be finished with his torrent of words.
(N)
Ningear writes fast, and without stopping informs Gloreloth:
"You may call me Ningaear, or Ningear as most do these days. This way I know it is me you are talking to."
(G)
"Yes, Hîr Ningear."
(N)
Finishing the last word, Ningear reads again through the almost completely filled page, then he looks up and smiles a little awkwardly, as if just remembering how to do it.
"I have been receiving many of lord Glorfindel's reports, and we even have a small collection of poetry written by him."
He points in a vague direction behind him with his quill, a drop of ink falling down onto his shoulder. He frowns briefly but otherwise pretends not to have noticed.
"Your father seems like a fine soldier and teacher."
(G)
The child listens, interested, then replies: "He is."
(N)
Ningear pauses a little as if deciding whether to say something or not, and then adds:
"He could visit the library a little more frequently, we have almost no notes on him."
Shaking his head slightly, he continues:
"It is indeed soon to pick up arms for someone so young, yet if I may give you some advice - go with your interest. Our people are deeply connected to Arda and where our energy flows, growth, joy and beauty will follow. So if the practice with arms is where you are drawn, then continue to do it. You will feel what is right for you and what is not."
(G)
Listening again to the rest of the scholar's words, Gloreloth nods slowly.
(N)
"My suggestion is to start regular lessons dedicated to learning your letters. For how long you will need them depends entirely on your dedication to the subject. I can recommend a minstrel for deepening your study of music, or you might seek out someone of your own house. Of course you will continue learning from your family. I also wish to extend an offer to teach you some of our people's history. Would that be to your liking?"
(G)
"Yes, sir, it likes me well" the child says, smiling.
(N)
"That is well then!"
Ningear seems satisfied. He takes another piece of paper and writes on it fewer things than on the first one. Next to the writing he accurately draws some little symbols, before turning the page around to show it to the Elf whose name forms its headline.
He points to a small simple drawing of an open book, next to which a date and time are written down.
"This stands for a lesson with me, starting with writing and reading and then moving on to history. We will begin tomorrow morning at the tenth hour. Please be on time. You may discuss the rest of your schedule with your parents and if you are in need of a minstrel, speak to me and I shall help you. Any questions?"
(G)
"No, Hîr Ningear. I shall return tomorrow!" Gloreloth says eagerly, rising and bowing again.
(N)
Pleased, Ningear rises from his chair as well and inclines his head politely, indicating a bow in return.
"May the stars guide you until then. And do not forget this!"
He offers the paper with the notes to Gloreloth with an amused half-smile and then turns back to his patrol reports with a sigh.
(G)
Gloreloth takes the paper, saying "Fare thee well." He pads quietly back across the library to the door, and slips out.
