I stopped at the very edge of the forest and slowly extended a hand towards the nearest tree. Its skin was strange—chunky, jagged, and craggy. I had never been close enough to one to see it in detail, so I was unprepared for such a texture. Fruit trees were confined within carefully secured orchards, and the few varieties of small, ornamental flowering trees—little more than bushes, really—that were allowed inside the Clearings all had skin that was more or less smooth with only an occasional bump in it.

By the end of my first day of teaching the following week, the ball seemed years ago, a distant memory buried under an avalanche of paperwork, schedules, lesson plans, grading, and assignments. Had it not been for Devorah Erren’s insufferable boasting to the other girls about the ball (she being the only one of the class whose parents had allowed her to attend) I might not have thought of it at all.
By the middle of the week, however, my thoughts had turned to the upcoming festival that I was to attend with Mira and her family.

My plans of showing Mira around Havenwing were dashed by torrential rains that lasted all day. By the time it finally relented, the sun was going down and it was time to prepare for the ball.
Mira and I declined the lady’s maid’s offer to arrange our hair for us, in favor of experimenting on each other. After hearing of our intentions Aunt Monria presented us with her entire chest of hair ornaments to choose from, offered a few casual suggestions for styles that would suit our hair colors, facial shapes, and dresses, and then left us alone.

Cennanon leads the way on the steep, twisting path that leads down into the hidden valley of Imladris. Sweet-smelling pines give way to the oaks and beeches that we eledh love so well. There is a sleepy feeling about the valley of Imladris. No evil thing has been here. The night is silent, save for the rustling of leaves as wind passes through the trees and the content noises of small animals as they move about their business, their eyes gleaming in the darkness. Blinking fireflies flit past, briefly illuminating themselves, then going dark again.

"Daddy! Daddy!" I call, running down the hallway to the room at the back of the house where my father Cennanon sits behind his potter's wheel, shaping a clay vase.
He looks up and smiles at me. "What is it, Indiel?"
I twirl around, spreading my arms wide. "Spring!" I sing out happily.
"Come, my little one. We will go see spring together," he laughs, standing and washing the clay off of his hands. He takes my small hand in his own large one, and we walk outside together.

So I did this description as an exercise in the middle of last year. What I had to do was to basically cause the reader to be able to imagine the whole place. Bring it to life, if you will. Tell me what you think. Hope you like it.

The Elf-glade - by me.

**I must apologize for abandoning this story for so long.  If anyone still reads it, please go back and at least skim -- if not reread -- some of the past chapters, to refresh your memory. :)** 

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