Tauriel of the Woodland Realm (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
afeastofstarlight) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
all_inclusive2015-02-02 10:36 pm
afeastofstarlight) wrote in all_inclusive2015-02-02 10:36 pm
Entry tags:
feet as light as linden-leaves, or music welling underground in hidden hollows quavering
Tauriel was getting used to this place. It was so unlike what she was accustomed to – nothing bad, but simply more obstacles to overcome, new things to learn. It was not that difficult, once she got used to it, though showers were certainly a rather interesting invention to experiment with.
She had been trying to find some way to divert herself. She was a warrior, but there was nothing here to really allow her to utilize her skills, not without stepping through one of those other doors – which, for the moment, she refrained from. There were many beautiful rooms in the hotel, though, which did not require travelling to another world, and she had explored them as she searched for a useful diversion.
It came to her, suddenly, when she was in the Smoking Room. There was a stage for performances which, while empty of performers, still had a multitude of instruments. There was more in storage, as well, from what she could gather. Asking around, one of the employees let her take a look.
That was how she ended up with the harp. She had no intention in performing for anyone, not when she wasn't all that good, but they'd allowed her to borrow it to practice. She settled in a sunny part of the garden near the rotunda, untouched by frost but with a kiss of chill in the air, placing the harp in her lap. It was true she was more used to plucking the string of a bow than an instrument, but elves – even the elves of Mirkwood – were an artistic and musical race, and she certainly knew how to play from when she was a child and had not yet found her calling as a hunter. She was adequate, but simply not a born musician. Still, after a pause in which she considered, she began to carefully pluck the strings. It was a slightly different instrument than what she was used to, but the sound was similar.
Finally, getting the hang of it, she began pulling out the opening notes of a slow, soft ballad. Not sad, just calming. It was nice. She felt a small ball of tension between her shoulders loosen. While her playing was somewhat stilted for an elf as she stirred awake those memories, they were perhaps pleasing to the ear of the younger races.
She had been trying to find some way to divert herself. She was a warrior, but there was nothing here to really allow her to utilize her skills, not without stepping through one of those other doors – which, for the moment, she refrained from. There were many beautiful rooms in the hotel, though, which did not require travelling to another world, and she had explored them as she searched for a useful diversion.
It came to her, suddenly, when she was in the Smoking Room. There was a stage for performances which, while empty of performers, still had a multitude of instruments. There was more in storage, as well, from what she could gather. Asking around, one of the employees let her take a look.
That was how she ended up with the harp. She had no intention in performing for anyone, not when she wasn't all that good, but they'd allowed her to borrow it to practice. She settled in a sunny part of the garden near the rotunda, untouched by frost but with a kiss of chill in the air, placing the harp in her lap. It was true she was more used to plucking the string of a bow than an instrument, but elves – even the elves of Mirkwood – were an artistic and musical race, and she certainly knew how to play from when she was a child and had not yet found her calling as a hunter. She was adequate, but simply not a born musician. Still, after a pause in which she considered, she began to carefully pluck the strings. It was a slightly different instrument than what she was used to, but the sound was similar.
Finally, getting the hang of it, she began pulling out the opening notes of a slow, soft ballad. Not sad, just calming. It was nice. She felt a small ball of tension between her shoulders loosen. While her playing was somewhat stilted for an elf as she stirred awake those memories, they were perhaps pleasing to the ear of the younger races.