Silvari Celadríel Dawnfury of the Ancients 


"Quetuvangwë sí venildu?"

As the gentle light of day passed swiftly to night, there was but one soul present within the Royal Libraries of the Silver Terrace. Celadríel had spent the whole of the day set adrift in an ocean of parchment and quill. With a yawn's protest to part petal lips she would reluctantly push lithe limbs to stand, resolving at last to retire from her place amidst the tomes and artifacts that littered the library's inner chambers.

Genteel footfalls echoed a soft melody as they carried her toward the Great Hall. An ethereal gaze that held within it both innocence and wisdom combined lifted only at the sudden proclamation of another's presence. She was stopped short, perfectly crafted brow lifting in a silent testament to her growing curiosity. Dark lashes kissed the apples of porcelain cheeks in succession, a crystalline gaze affixed upon the visitor for several lingering moments before she began her descent of the lofty staircase that stood between them.

She was the very portrait of grace and propriety, possessing the ethereal beauty of her kin beyond measure. Garbed in a flowing cobalt gown with little structure other than a clasp secured over one delicate shoulder, the elfess was a vision to behold. In great contrast to the deep cobalt rustled an ocean of silken platinum tresses, sent in an unbridled cascade over slender and exposed collar bones to pool below her hips and beyond the small of her back.

She approached him as the sea upon shore, rippling velvet hem washing over the final stair and subsequently the cool stone floor as the space between them drew to a close. Eye to eye she examined him with noble reserve from this new proximity. If she had even the slightest fear of his intentions her countenance would not betray her.

“You have traveled far to seek this audience, sir. How may we be of service?


There was a meteor shower over Quel'Uraiel the evening of Celadriel Dawnfury’s introduction into the world. It seemed even the heavens deemed her birth worthy of the fanfare and heraldry that would be afforded her in Quel’Uriael. Born to Elgoain and Celariel Dawnfury upon her grandfather’sname day, it was clear from her first breath that nothing the precious child ever ventured would be without pageantry.

The first born child to the Royal Family of the Court of Ancients, it was imparted upon her from inception the importance of duty and honor. She had little trouble mastering that notion. Celadriel was intelligent, poised, and refined beyond measure. Despite the occasional hiccup such as the secretive archery lessons she convinced an unwilling master at arms to impart upon her, she endeavored to keep her rebellious streak both at bay and well-hidden from her doting parents.

Celadriel nonetheless dreamed of days long past -- when her people ruled the great wide world without need for a veiled existence. Such tales of adventure and mystery guided the inquisitive princess in many ways, often leading to a number of ill-advised explorations of the deep recesses of the castle, and a few unsuccessful attempts to foray into the world outside the keep.

As she grew from a slightly rambunctious child into a more careful young woman, Celadriel’s wild tendencies were far from repressed. They were rediscovered every time she escaped from her chaperons on rides beyond the city walls or snuck away to frolic in the Silver Sea at every available opportunity.

Perhaps it was her naiveté and blissful optimism, but Celadriel remained unaware of the implications as the frail body of a child began to develop the burgeoning curves of a woman's shape. Whispers at court began to speak of her impending marriage, each author making their case for why their choice should be the preeminent. If The Goddess were kind, she would remain oblivious to such gossip, although avoiding its consequences seemed far less likely. [WIP. More to come.]

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