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Minas Ithil - Citadel

Anárion sips at his wine and takes a bit of food before continuing to fill in High King Gil-galad of Gondor's current status. The next couple of hours are spent pouring over maps of each of the strongholds and planning strategies and formations. The men are grateful to the Lady Isilien for tending to their hunger and thirst as they debate over the best ways in which to defend the Tower of the Rising Moon from the enemy. The day slips into evening and still does the council discuss.

Minas Ithil - Citadel

Isilien's breath stops short as the doors sweep open. Golden light spills in from the hall and Isilien finds herself stopping what she is doing and curtsying before the White Lady as she glides in.

Cormamin lindua ele lle, Galadriel o Noldor.

Her warm brown eyes stare up in awe of the only daughter of Finarfin, King of the Noldor in Aman.

((My heart sings to see thee, Galadriel of the Noldor.))

Minas Ithil - Citadel

Anárion watches in awe as the Lady Galadriel graces the council room with her presence. He watches his wife curtsy and address the White Lady and finds himself bowing low before the legendary elf woman.

Lady Galadriel, the Tower of the Rising Moon welcomes you to its halls. Gondor is blessed to have such a Lady of high esteem grace our lands. I invite you to visit during times of peace for there is much beauty to behold. Alas, these times are dark as the Enemy threatens to over-run our kingdom.

Minas Ithil :: Citadel
Ereinion Gil-galad

"I am certain that you know it already, White Lady, but the madelf who chose to undergo such an errand would be no other than I." Gil-galad rose from his seat, seizing his walking stick along the way. Though he was High King, he bowed before Galadriel, for there was no denying her wisdom and beauty. The Elven-king did indeed regard her as an equal, if not even a superior Elf. Still, though he did his best to maintain a sense of grace and wisdom, none who beheld Gil-galad and Galadriel could stifle their muffled laughter.

Near to the door stood the White Lady, most beautiful of all who still wandered Endor. Her hair was as of the Two Trees, and none who gazed upon her could resist the secret desire to keep just one lock of it. Strong and wise was this Elf-maiden; she was a true Noldorin warrior when she so desired to wield a blade (which admittedly was a rare occasion), respected by all who hated the Enemy. She walked with the stide of a queen, and her Elven-robes fit that role, or even greater, and all knew her as the greatest being who still walked Endor.

Yet nearer to the table stood Gil-galad. He was dressed in a plain grey bathrobe, and was clutching onto a cane as if it was his life. But even with the stick, it was all too obvious that he walked only with great pain still. In fact, the only obvious sign of his nobility and ancestry was the mithril circlet he bore about his head, and the silver necklace about his neck. And yet still was he looking upon the White Lady as an equal. A laugh for all, even though it was known he was Galadriel's king. The king looked more like a beggar than the son of Fingon the Valiant.

Even as he stood up from his bow, the king gazed into the High Elf's eyes. He concealed it well enough to the members of the counsel, but her gaze was enough to make him realize the utter idiocy and hopelessness of his mission. Though he had known this earlier, it was only through her piercing stare did he at last realize his complete foolishness. Only through the grace of Ilúvatar was he still alive, and those he loved.

I realize now the fallacy I have committed, Galadriel, said the High King in the thought-speech that only High Elves and Powers could use. I can only request that you not think me a complete fool. Nonetheless, the past is finished, my errand is complete, and until the Marring is amended, all we can do is live for the present. I think the wisest of all Elves would know this? Gil-galad, thus being finished in confiding in secret with the White Lady, turned to the Dúnedain. "We are blessed by Manwë himself to have so wise an Elf in our midst! Praise be the Allfather!"

Minas Ithil/Council Room

The door suddenly opens, revealing Menegil, wearing his usual elven chainmail, under his now washed blue cape, that almost glowed with the polished breastplate. He enters, gazing it's interior, and with a bow, he greets:

"Greetings, Lords of Men and Elves, and Galadriel of the Noldor. Distant times are between this moment and our last meeting, is it not, milady? It is a fair surprise to find you here, but i am in a hurry"

He then neared the table, and spoke, adressing the Lords:

I am sorry for not adressing you earlier, Lord Anarion, but i was...uh...retained by the people, down at one of the pubs of your brother's fortress. I assume that My Lord Gil-galad is recovering, for now i see him capable of moving...i see that my skills have not rusted after all...

He contains a growing urge to laugh, as he remembers the other day, and continues

I have been spending the last few hours inspecting the equipment of the soldiers, and the fortifications, and i have concluded that the finest of the Guard forces of the citadel should remain in the two first front lines, the common Infantry following behind, and the archers from the walls and rear lines. ((hell...there's a technical therm for this...i can't remember it...hell with my vocabulary!!)) I suggest also, that the mangonels should be loaded with several projectiles instead of one only, for i think that this attack will not involve siege weapons. and because this tactic has a better accuracy against infantry and light cavalry. And now, excuse me, but i am famished, and my mouth does not recall the taste of food since this morning.

He stretches his hand, and picks up a pair of sweet cakes, that were in a platter of the table. As he does this, he uses the Thought-speech:

As i said, distant times separate our last meeting. It is good to see you again, milady. Since that meeting in the Scriptorium of Tirion that i have not forgotten your beauty and grace, and rememberance of you is even more esteemed, since that fateful time, of the crossing of the Helcaraxë. But you remain unaltered by time, the only thing that seems changed in you is your power and wisdom, that i can feel from a long distance. Yet, as before, i ask of you to not underestimate me, and my own wisdom. Await patiently, while i council with Our Lord Ereinion.

((This is the best i could come up with. These bugs are devouring my sanity!!

Also, i can put here that Menegil is, in the patterns of Men, thirty years younger than Galadriel.))

((Triple Post blaugh ))

Minas Ithil ~ Citadel

Galadriel's lips turn up in a small and secretive smile as Gil-Galad rises and lays claim to what she already knew had been his planning. When he has finished speaking, both physically and mentally, she responds in the same thought speech. Her tone in Gil-Galad's mind was warm, friendly, and slightly amused, if gently admonishing.

I do think you a fool, son of Fingon, and a great one at that, for attempting what you did. I think, though, that that sentiment more stems from concern over the consequences rather than the action itself. Had you failed, the cost of your failure to the us would have been...astronomical, and the victory, the death of the High King of the Noldor and the imprisonment of the Heir to the Throne of Gondor, may well have been enough to embolden Sauron to strike out against us even now. His force is one that even the Elves could not hold back as of yet - you know this.

That said, I do understand why you felt it was necessary to bring Isildur from the grasp of the enemy. I, too, feel in my heart that his task on this world is not yet finished, and his death would have had long term devastating effects on the outcome of this final battle. More than that, I cannot yet say, but it is enough. Suffice to say that you will recover fully, and he mostly so - in many cases, the end does not justify the means, but this does.

After one last hard look at the High King, Galadriel turns her gaze to the rest of the assemblage, her eyes softening.

Gondor does indeed offer a warm welcome. I would extend the same welcome to all of you to reside with me at Bel...

Galadriel is interrupted by Menegil, who brushes past her, fairly pushing her out of the way of the doorway, with barely a greeting to take his place at the table, immediately launching into his speeches. The Elf arches an eyebrow at his back as he does so, and folds her arms below her breasts waiting for him to finish or someone else to point out to him his rudeness.

Galadriel continues to look bemusedly at Menegil's back as he speaks on and on to Anarion and the men at the table.

All of a sudden, a warm, luscious, feminine voice blooms in Menegil's mind, commanding his full attention to it no matter what else had been happening in his thought processes.

It would seem that even some among the Calaquendi have lost the respect they once held for the Noldor. It would do you well to remember that you are in the presence not only of High Elves, but of the High King of the Noldor. A greater respect is commanded by both personas in this room, my son.

Through it all, Galadriel's face does not change, but she takes on an air of expectancy when the mind exchange is finished.