Summer days rarely were as insufferable as winter days in the fair city of Ondolinde, but they still happened. Particularly that day, where Anar hit the city with the brightest rays seen that year, and for once the winds decided to blow in the opposite direction from the valley, making it worse. It was unusual and Sinilatamo wished he had remained in the cool confines of his house. Instead, he let his betrothed drag him for a stroll, as she claimed that he would otherwise become "lethargic". Well, he thought, he sure felt lethargic walking around the city's streets beaten by the sunrays. He wore the lightest clothes found in his armoire: a silken short sleeved blue tunic, white pants and forewent high leather boots for short linen shoes. Despite that he still felt like standing right beside one of Lord Rog's great forges. Yes he didn't like the heath. He didn't like the cold. He didn't like weather in general and perhaps there was some truth in the words of his beloved when she said that he grumbled like a bear about it.
He turned to look at her. She seemingly felt perfectly fine as she walked and hummed, smiling whenever one of the city's fountains sprayed water on the street. The water evaporated too quickly from the stone path, he mused and his thought must have shown on his face for she said: "Oh please, it is not that bad! Keep up your grumbling and I shall call you Morcondil*"
He chuckled. "Maybe I am one"
"Silly elf" she took his hand and guided him through a couple of narrow paths, walking transversal to the main road. He never took that detour, wondering where they were going. Soon he got his answer: the narrow path ended in an arched gate opening on the Place of the Well. Or as it was called informally, the Square of the Folkwell. Sinilatamo breathed a deep breath, relieved. Many oaks and poplar trees provided the Square with shade and their verdant canopies naturally lowered the heath. His eyes wandered the place, where a sizable group of Eldar enjoyed the day sat under the trees, some even on the lower branches. He spotted some of Lord Aldaron's** House under a great oak, a few of Lord Tuilindo's*** feeding little birds nested in poplar's branches and a couple bards of the House of the Harp playing in the background. Sinilatamo walked towards a great well of vast depth at the center of the Square. Namesake of that place, it was always filled with the purest of water, so much so that one would think it was melted crystal; he took one of the silver buckets nearby and scooped up some of it with the intent of offering it to his beloved... who before he could utter a word splashed him.
"AI! It is ice cold!"
"Of course it is! I thought you would like to pass the time here, but I guess you only feel like complaining today..." He knew that she was just pretending to be upset, but played along anyway.
"Now now, no need to get angry. Come, let us find a nice place to sit". He chose a tree whose branches were low enough to offer more shade than others, sipping the ice-cold water. "This IS one of my favorite parts of the city. Thank you for being so thoughtful of me, my dear"
"I always am" she said, and sent more droplets his way. He shook his head and huffed, smiling all the same. The two bards picked up the pace, now playing a happy reel. A pair of elves started dancing, followed by a couple more. Sinilatamo then raised, dusted his clothes off and offered his hand to the elleth. "Shall we dance?"
Beaming, she jumped up and they both joined the other elves who were dancing in circles around the well. Today is not so bad after all, he pondered. It didn't take much to turn grumble into laughter, and the discomfort of an unusual hot summer's day forgotten in song and dance.
names:
*Morcondil: friend of bears in Quenya
**Aldaron: Galdor in Quenya
***Tuilindo: Duilin in Quenya
