AN- Random RP post of mine (modified) that was the perfect example of when description goes wrong, and thus posted. I dunno... Maybe I'll make it into a prolouge or something, but for now it's just an attempt at getting more content here. Sorry about the typos, I'm too lazy to go back and fix them. Let the rambling begin!3

Disclaimer- I do not own any of Tolkeins characters, too expensive. For some reason I was cut out of the will....

Arien lay hidden, her fingertips of golden fervor cloaked still by the velvet gloves of night. The stars, as so many flames burning, shone from within the vast darkness of the sky. This Erestor observed not from his position upon his great bed, sitting swathed in sheets of the finest silk and satin. They were but a luxury, for he felt no the cool wind the filtered through his open blacony, or the bitter chill of the autumn night. He sat curled against his pillows, hair laying unbound about him as rivlets of ebony ink amongst claret satin, wonderfully glossy and full. Held between his long, delicate hands was a silver goblet, filled with a warm, spiced wine which he only sparingly sipped. His eyes of molten sapphire, lovely and yet clouded with thought, were trained upon the dance of the flames in the heart across from his great bed. He wore only a nightshirt of soft cotton, the fabric soft against his creamy allabaster skin. Obviously, he was lost in thought.

Erestor contemplated much, his decisions of the day prior and the effect which they mgiht have upon him from this point on... Analyzing his choices as he did, he still could not motivate himself to regret them. Curufin he could not help but trust, though Feanor struck something cold in his long forgotten heart. The quest he heard was departing soon, he knew not when, and cared little... He sat in waiting of whatever message either of the sides sent him.

A weary sigh filled the lonely silence of the night, and Erestor shifted lightly atop his bed. Locks of beautiful ebony hair fell across his fair face, their jet black color a striking contrast to his smooth skin and full red lips. He could not concentrate properly, his head was filled with memories. Slowly he sipped from the goblet in his hands, savoring the warmth and swetness of the liquid within it. He looked sweet, even soft, alone in his bed, which was far too large, and as always, far too empty. The firelight danced across his delicate features, setting alive his brilliant eyes. The quiet of the night was heavy and opressive, and sitting alone he longed to break it...

Unable to bear the stillness any longer, Erestor pushed aside the coverlet of his great bed and set delicate feet upont he cold stone of his floor. Against the white marble the thin fabric of his sleeping gown pooled, the material, as a whisper of mist, framing beautifully his long, supple legs and slender waist. His fingers found the deep indigo velvet of his warm mantle, darwing it loosely over his narrow shoulders to protect him from the frigid wind. He tossed his head lightly, causing his wonderfully thick ebony mane to fall down his back in a most beautiful gleam of silken strands. With an ethreal grace he passed through the arched door to his balcony and stood there silent for several minutes. The touch of the wind was soft as it played with his hair, tossing a few glossy tendrils in front of his face, which bore an expression of serenity. His glorious features were soft and contemplative, startlingly beautiful as the moonlight trickled over them.

Silently and smoothly Erestor approached the railing. His dazzling eyes were soft upon the woods of Lorien, arrayed so wonderfully in the night. The great Mallorn trees were as towers of pearl and silver in the way that they shone against the darkness and he could not help but be moved by the sight. The architecture of Lorien, with all of it's lovely complexities and soft blue light were entrancing, so that he found himself unable to look away. Somewhere off in the distance came a minstrel's voice in slow lament, some other tired soul whom could find no comfort in the realms of sleep... Perhaps more beautiful then all this Erestor stood, a most glorious and forlorn elf, whose sad eyes and radiant apperance had drawn many to him, only to be pushed away. He was as the stars that shone above, awe-strikingly beautiful and coldly mysterious, never wavering...

With a weary sigh Erestor turned his face to the heavens, cobalt eyes sliding shut, hidden behind twin forests of dark lashes. The hair fell back from his face, tumbling sweetly down his back, revealing full lips the color and texture of the finest rose that were parted with another still-born sigh. Long fingers curled about the stone railing as if clutching some weight. In his head thoughts mulled about about, agonizingly slow and muddled. He had made a promise, a lengthy one, and born in his heart was great apprehension. Why did he not regret it when he knew so much risk was there? With a little huff of frustration Erestor opened his eyes and perched himself lightly atop the railing to look blankly over Lorien once again...

AN2- I warned you, heh...