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[mansuetus]

Tranquility!

[ Guess who is back in her high spirits. Lucrezia is wearing red silks and is evidently strolling the gardens this morning ]

It is my birthday today, I have decided.

[ a pause in which she just looks pleased with herself and then she explains ]

As I do not know how to count the days here when compared with the count common in Rome, I have chosen today for my birthday. I shall accept my greetings at the garden.

[ prim and proper but those who know her by now can see the jest in her words. ]

And I have decided what I wish as my gift, if you would hear it!

[ wait for it. ]

For the birthday of the one called the illustrious Lucrezia Borgia, me and garden both require - a swing!

[ a beat. ]

And cake.

[ that would actually be all. Lucrezia Borgia, ladies and gentleman. She would be sitting in the garden, reading a book, for those who wish to find her. ]

Comments

[mansuetus]

[ At that she brights, moves to sit comfortably on the grass. Suddenly, she doesn't seem like more than a child, eager and sweet and filled of youthful wonder. ]

Please.

[elvenking]

[Thranduil remains standing, looking only very briefly self-conscious. He does not consider himself a performer, but all elves have beautiful voices, and the Sindar are gifted with music the way dwarves are with metal. Then his face evens into a faraway look, and he begins.]

The leaves were long, the grass was green,
The hemlock-umbels tall and fair,
And in the glade a light was seen
Of stars in shadow shimmering.
Tinúviel was dancing there
To music of a pipe unseen,
And light of stars was in her hair,
And in her raiment glimmering.

There Beren came from mountains cold,
And lost he wandered under leaves,
And where the Elven-river rolled
He walked alone and sorrowing.
He peered between the hemlock-leaves
And saw in wonder flowers of gold
Upon her mantle and her sleeves,
And her hair like shadow following.

Enchantment healed his weary feet
That over hills were doomed to roam;
And forth he hastened, strong and fleet,
And grasped at moonbeams glistening.
Through woven woods in Elvenhome
She lightly fled on dancing feet,
And left him lonely still to roam
In the silent forest listening.

He heard there oft the flying sound
Of feet as light as linden-leaves,
Or music welling underground,
In hidden hollows quavering.
Now withered lay the hemlock-sheaves,
And one by one with sighing sound
Whispering fell the beechen-leaves
In the wintry woodland wavering.

He sought her ever, wandering far
Where leaves of years were thickly strewn,
By light of moon and ray of star
In frosty heavens shivering.
Her mantle glinted in the moon,
As on a hill-top high and far
She danced, and at her feet was strewn
A mist of silver quivering.

When winter passed, she came again,
And her song released the sudden spring,
Like rising lark, and falling rain,
And melting water bubbling.
He saw the elven-flowers spring
About her feet, and healed again
He longed by her to dance and sing
Upon the grass untroubling.

Again she fled, but swift he came.
Tinúviel! Tinúviel!
He called her by her elvish name;
And there she halted listening.
One moment stood she, and a spell
His voice laid on her: Beren came,
And doom fell on Tinúviel
That in his arms lay glistening.

As Beren looked into her eyes
Within the shadows of her hair,
The trembling starlight of the skies
He saw there mirrored shimmering.
Tinúviel the elven-fair,
Immortal maiden elven-wise,
About him cast her shadowy hair
And arms like silver glimmering.

Long was the way that fate them bore,
O'er stony mountains cold and grey,
Through halls of iron and darkling door,
And woods of nightshade morrowless.
The Sundering Seas between them lay,
And yet at last they met once more,
And long ago they passed away
In the forest singing sorrowless.

[mansuetus]

[ Lucrezia Borgia grew up nurtured by the voices of poets and singers and she had laughed and cried and dreamed of them all. A lover of art, she was and as the song unfolded before her her eyes turned glazed with fascination and longing and appreciation.

When it was done, she almost wished to ask to hear it again, but knew it to be impolite, instead she rose on her feet, golden hair and silks and bowed her head to press a kiss to his hand. ]

Thank you.

[elvenking]

You are most welcome. [Somehow strange and comfortingly familiar all at once, to receive a kiss on the hand here.] May your happiness remain fresh and long-lasting as the flowers I have given you.