Ólneth's page

At the hour of her child’s birth, Fedhínen had a vision of the future. Such things are not unusual among the elves, but neither are they common, and the child’s name will almost always relate to the future the vision showed. When asked what the babe’s name would be, Fedhínen smiled sadly down at the infant. ”Ólneth,” she said. ”She will be called Ólneth, the dreamer.”

Such prophecies are never wrong, and dream Ólneth does. Most times she dreams of small things that affect little. A barrel of wine that she knows is spoiled. A fortification in the trees that needs to be reinforced before it collapses under her father’s feet. Sometimes she dreams of larger things. A winter lasting too long, freezing the outer edges of the forest. Dragon-fire destroying the town of Dale, leaving only a few bitter refugees in its wake.

By far the most persistent is a vision of a fierce battle underneath the leaves of Mirkwood. Not the familiar skirmishes with orcs or spiders, but a full-blown assault on the Woodland Realm by the forces of Shadow. Most often the vision ends in the death and destruction of all Ólneth holds dear, but sometimes, rarely, there is the tiniest glimmer of hope.

Ólneth does not know why these dreams have been sent to her. She is no great Lord of the Eldar; her power is meager and her influence small. But sent to her they have been, and so she must make do with whatever power has been given to her. It is her hope that by following the smaller signs and portents she dreams of, she may one day live to see a day when the Shadow has finally been driven from their lands. A day when Mirkwood is Mirkwood no longer, but rather Eryn Lasgalen, the Wood of Greenleaves.

A day when the elves can once more dance freely under the light of the stars.

Ólneth happens to be visiting Rhosgobel when Faem is brought in. She does not see the hobbit, but does see the grim countenances of the Foresters and asks what had happened. "Found a young girl in a web," one of them answers. "Parents must have already been eaten; we didn't find anyone else alive."

The concept of an orphaned child is nearly foreign to Ólneth. Death is rare among the elves, (as are children), and the idea of a child with no one to take care of them is heartbreaking. She feels some guilt as well, deserved or no. Relations between Men and Elves have been improving, but just as there are Foresters who still feel the need to ward themselves against elf-magic, there are also Elves who still don't think it's their responsibility to help fools who wander off the path. Even when it was their songs and lights that led said fools to do said wandering. As such she finds herself rather more invested in Faem's recovery than she might otherwise have been, and makes a mental note to see how she is doing next time Ólneth is in Rhosgobel.

The next time is but a few weeks later, and Ólneth is happy to hear that Faem is recovering well. When the two are introduced she is suprised by Faem's maturity, but thinks perhaps that is normal among mortal children. (Particularly ones who have suffered so great a hardship.) It takes several more meetings before she learns of her mistake.

"You went into Mirkwood alone? With no path to guide you? Aear a giliath!" Ólneth leans back, unable to conceal her astonishment. "That you survived was surprising enough when I thought you were traveling with your parents, and had only recently left the path. I have lived in Mirkwood my whole life and rarely ventured south of the Elf-Road." She looks at Faem with newfound respect. "Hobbits must either be a particularly sturdy people, or you an unsually brave example. Or most likely both."

That respect only increases the winter night where Faem shares the rest of her story. As Faem becomes lost in the memory, Ólneth offers her an embrace. "Both sturdy and brave indeed," she murmurs. "I have never seen such a servant of the Enemy. Very rarely have I even heard of the like. To survive as long as he did against its touch..." She bows her head. "I did not know your brother, and it might be presumptuous of me to suggest, but I feel such strength should be honored. If you allow it, I will compose a song in his memory."

With Faem's permission she does just that, and shares both the song and the story among the elves of Mirkwood. Although he might be lost, she does her best to ensure Gael would never be forgotten.

Rhosgobel is not the largest Forester settlement, but it is one of the safest, and many a merchant ends up resting there before making the long and dangerous trek through Mirkwood. Therefore Ólneth is not surprised to see a stranger there with the strong features of a Barding. She begins to make her way over to offer a greeting, perhaps ask if there was any news from that direction, when she truly looks at him and stops cold.

Pain. So much pain. It swirls around him in a tangled eddy, and like the whirlpools of a sea she has never seen it seems eager to pull him under. One does not need to be a practitioner of the healing arts to tell when a man is about to drown.

She smoothly shifts directions. The journey to Rhosgobel had been long, and she had not practiced her flute along the way. That rock there, a scant few yards away, was the perfect place to play.

The song was of her own composition. She had long used music as a way to work through the feelings invoked by her visions, and this was among her best work. It spoke of empty halls and burning trees, the destruction of her entire world. But through it all ran a brighter refrain, the small strand of hope to which she clung. That this loss would not be the end of all things, but rather the beginning of something new.

Some hurts run too deep to be put into words. That is what music is for.

She continues to play as the stranger begins to cry, then sob, then wail. Only once he has quieted and come over to her does she lower the flute from her lips. "I am called Ólneth, and I will be staying here for a week, if you ever wish to talk. Whether you do or no," She once again raises the flute, "I do not mind an audience while I play."

When Ólneth first meets Lorgan she is surprised, (and pleased), to hear Sindarin phrases from a foreign face. However it seems he's unwilling to discuss anything more than vague pleasantries, and his manner is somewhat stilted. Thinking perhaps it's an unfamiliarity with the language, (although he seems to speak it fluently enough), she tries talking to him in Westron. He has clearly spent time with other elves, but perhaps her dialect is strange to him. When the strange mannerisms continue no matter the language, she concludes that it must be her he has a problem with.

She's not entirely wrong, if not for the reasons she thinks.

When he comes to her and explains the truth of the situation, she cannot help but laugh. She has never met her cousins in Rivendell, but she has heard that they tend towards more formality than the Wood-Elves. Meanwhile these days she stands on even less ceremony than the rest of her kin, as a result of her frequent trips into Forester settlements.

"These people are capable of formality in the right situation, but under normal circumstances, for normal conversations? It is seen as a waste of time." She lightly lays a hand on his shoulder. "I have come to adopt that attitude in most of my dealings with Men, so please. For both our sakes, forget I am an elf when you speak with me." She grins rather more impishly than would ordinarily be expected for one of her kind. "Would it help if I hid the ears?"

Back when Ólneth first started visiting the Foresters, they didn't particularly trust her. Relations between Men and Elves may have been improving, but the Woodland Realm has a reputation for trickery. Bilbo's company were likely not the only travelers tempted off the path by an elvish feast.

Hoping to break the ice, Ólneth tried to figure out things she and the Foresters had in common. Archery seemed safe enough; many of the Foresters live and die depending on what game they can bring down with their bows. One way or another the conversation turned into a contest, but there was a problem. The Foresters viewed Ólneth's regular bow with suspicion. Who among them could say whether it had been enchanted with some elf-magic?

Eager to appear accomodating, Ólneth agreed to use a different bow for the contest. However the Foresters favor great yew bows perfect for long-range hunting. Upon being given such a bow, despite Ólneth's best efforts she was unable to even string it, much less fire it.

The contest might not have worked out quite as Ólneth thought it would, but it nevertheless served its intended purpose. The Foresters were highly amused by watching Ólneth struggle with a bow nearly any lad among them could have used. They jokingly nicknamed her Swíðan, and from that day forward began seeing her as a person rather than an elf.

(Eventually the contest was retried with Ólneth being allowed to use her regular bow. She did not win, but did well enough to earn a small measure of respect.)

Joining the Party:
I’ve deliberately not mentioned how Ólneth ends up with the rest of the company. I figure that’s something better hashed out once everyone has their characters ready. I saw the GM post that the starting mission is a trip to Lake-Town, so the simplest solution is probably to have her serve as a sort of ‘guide’ along the elf-road. (Even though mechanically speaking she’s better suited to be a Scout.) She sometimes guards the Forest Gate with her father, Tirron, so she’s likely met some of the Foresters even if she doesn’t have strong personal ties to that community. If any of the PCs are Foresters or Beornings, she could easily have a passing acquaintance with them.

Personal Ties:
Ólneth is (for obvious reasons) most closely tied to the Woodland Realm. Mirkwood is her home. Her parents both live there, she has friends, and if for no other reason than the long-lived nature of elves and her own friendly disposition she’s probably talked to just about everyone in the Realm at least once or twice. However she is not a noble; if the party needs a personal audience with Thranduil she’s no more likely than any other elf to be able to get one.

Notable NPCs:
Tirron (Father). Tirron is a merry, cheerful elf born early in the Third Age. When not guarding the Forest Gate, (one of his regular duties), he tends to join in on various hunting trips around the forest. Like many of his people he has quite the pleasant singing voice, and indeed wooed Ólneth’s mother with beautiful renditions of various elvish songs. (Tirron means 'Guard/Watcher', a reference to his normal occupation.)

Fedhínen (Mother). Much more serious than her husband, Fedhínen works as a baker in the Elvenking’s Hall. Ólneth has long since learned that Fedhínen also possesses a measure of foresight, but unlike Ólneth Fedhínen refuses to speak of what she sees. She does her best to help Ólneth interpret the symbols of her dreams, but cautions that speaking too openly of such things often bodes ill. (Fedhínen means 'Silent Soul,' a reference both to her quiet nature and her reluctance to speak of all she knows.)

Rhossolas (Best Friend). Rhossolas was born only a few decades before Ólneth, and the two have been fast friends ever since. Rhossolas is both more solitary and more adventurous than her friend, so most of their excursions have been at her urging. Together the pair have spent many months at the northern edges of the forest, at times venturing as far as the foothills of the Grey Mountains. They rarely go south of the Elf-Road however, as even Rhossolas is not brave (or foolish) enough to risk running afoul of the spider-nests there. (Rhossolas means 'Rustling Folliage,' a reference to her tendency to wander into the forest itself and away from the safer paths.)