You are a Nolde, yes Almiel? We each of us cannot blame nor praise the line into which we were born. We had no say in the matter. But what we do with that heritage is another issue. We can make our Ancestors proud or shamed.

(East of the Sea of Rhun, the year 1985 of the Third Age)

[OOC: A text-based RP session between Ningear (N) and Gloreloth (G).]

The Isle of Balar, F.A. 540

(G)

The lonely figure drew his cloak tighter about him and gazed north, over the shores where Sirion met the sea, beyond the tossing green willows of Nan-Tathren, just beneath the ranks of menacing cloud that obscured the stars. His Elven eyes saw the dim shadows of mountains, but his memory saw further - snowy peaks encircling a green vale, in the center of which a white city gleamed in the sun.

...Silaria insisted on following him. Cruelty didn't seem to matter in this case. She remained convinced she belonged to him; even when Maedhros hunted with his eagle as fast as he could, she ran after him, trudging along until she was covered with yellow dust with bits of grass threaded into her light hair.
 People laughed at her curled up with a blanket in the chilly night air, and soon they were laughing at him. They said that he had a white-haired slave. That she was a know-nothing. Useless.
"Go away," Maedhros cried. "Leave me be."

[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.

II 

...out of respect, certainly, but also out of fear.

As the early rays of the sun gently kissed the earth, illuminating the world with a soft golden hue, a sense of tranquility filled the air. The sky above was a canvas painted in hues of blue, adorned with wisps of cotton-like clouds that seemed to dance effortlessly.