April 16: Arwen and open Who: Arwen, open What: Why is there a tree in the house? When: April 16th; Morning Where: Foyer Rating: PG-13 Status: Ongoing
Walls touched with frost shimmered in the light and the frozen fountain gleamed. Reflections danced in the elevator's glass doors, including that of a perplexed elf-maid. Arwen Undómiel was considering very seriously the wisdom of returning to her room and remaining there until the stars fell. She would have returned thence already save for the presence of snow which refused to melt and reminded her oddly of Caradhras. No, the room was out, but she was not exactly fond of this situation either. First there had been the frightful days without feeling, then came the day she narrowly escaped becoming the prey of the 'cupid' and now there was a dead tree sitting in the foyer surrounded by boxes. This had to be some strange custom of Men, she reflected as she stared at the tree in its silver and blue shrouding. Perhaps it was a funeral for the tree?
The elf-maid walked around the tree, her footsteps soundless but for the faint rustling of her gown. Her circlet was in place, an elfstone gleaming like a star on her brow. The fact that her raiment seemed to match with the mansion's rather festive mood was something she had decided to ignore. Arwen also decided she was going to pretend the tree did not bother her. Her path chosen, she started toward the door to the hall but paused an turned back. Once again the sheer strangeness of the scene overwhelmed her and she lingered. What on Arda was this? She failed to notice the bunch of greenery under which she stood, the arrangement of leaves and berries (a type sometimes called mistletoe) being somewhat less remarkable than the arboreal burial rites.