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The shop was much like one of the homes of the town, in that its exterior was covered in climbing ivy and flowers of all sorts, but it was also different, in that the plants that covered its wooden walls were carved out of it, rather than alive.

Inside, the walls were only slightly different; the walls were covered in shelves, but the shelves were carved in all different shapes and designs: flowers and lily pads, trees, bushes, shrubs; as objects, as faces, as arms stretching out towards each other and holding things up.

As for wares, there was very little on display: a chess set, a jewelry box, a chair, but that was it. The shop itself was very large, though, and most of it was taken up with a workspace. A very muscular, golden-haired elf was sitting on a three-legged stool in front of a block of wood that was as tall as he was when he was sitting, and probably as thick, and he was carving away at it ever so carefully using some very sharp tools. The floor around his feet was littered with wooden shavings, but he wasn't paying them any attention. He was simply working, humming to himself as he did so.

As the group of travelers entered the shop, Alassëa took a slow, deep breath and let it out very slowly. This was one of the scents she loved the best - freshly cut or carved wood, with just the slightest hint of varnish and/or stain. Beautiful.

Earendil came to a stop only a few steps into the shop, his breath taken away by the beauty of the shop itself.

"Dow'!" Andarien said, pointing at the floor. He patted Earendil on the arm and then pointed at the floor again. "Dow'!"

Alassëa smiled to herself when she heard the silence, and she laughed ever so softly. "I can only imagine what it must look like," she grinned.

Alassëa picked up her staff and let Miyuki lead her over to the shelves so that she could feel them. She remembered them from when she had been young, but it had been such a terribly long time that she needed to remind herself, not only from memory but also by feeling them anew.

At Miyuki's comment, the woodsmith glanced up from his work, taking a curious look at his visitors. He watched them silently for a moment, but in his eyes was a thoughtful look, his brow creased ever so slightly as if he were trying to puzzle through something and wasn't quite sure even of what he was trying to figure out.

Alassëa let her fingers move slowly and gently over the carvings. Her eyelids closed and she lowered her head slightly as memories washed over her. Her touch became almost a caress, and tears slipped from the corners of her eyes.

"I sometimes wonder," she murmured, "if it is the thorns that make the rose so beautiful. A flower is a flower, aside from their scent that is all I can tell. They all have soft petals, they are all wonderful to have around you. But the fact that the rose, such a sweetly smelling flower, has as part of it the sharp thorns ... the contrast really brings out the beauty of the blossom."

There was a clatter as the woodsmith's tools hit the floor. "As I live and breathe," he said, his tone one of absolute amazement. "Alassëa! Back from the dead!"

Alassëa laughed softly and put one hand on Miyuki's head.

"I'm surprised that you remember me, Silvyr," she smiled widely.

"Forty years isn't long enough to forget my favourite visitor," the man chuckled, rising from his stool and heading towards them. He smiled down at Miyuki. "Well, little one, you look to be about the same age Alassëa was when she disappeared. Can you imagine if you disappeared, and you weren't able to see? Do you think that after forty years, people would expect you to be alive? Everyone thought she was dead."

He turned his attention back to Alassëa. "Everyone thought you were dead. The children who were kidnapped with you, they were returned to us ... but you weren't there. They said that the slavers had dropped you in the swamp to die ... everyone thought you were dead. Everyone."

Alassëa's smile grew wider. "And yet, here I am."

Silvyr was clearly impressed. "And you survived there on your own for forty years?"

Alassëa blushed slightly. "Well ... not entirely alone. I have a falcon, and she was the one who helped me to survive. She would warn me of danger, help me to find food ..."

"Where is she now?" the woodsmith asked curiously.

"The tannery," she replied. "My friend took her for today to get some things for her. That way, if I'm startled or something, she can't just fly off and attack people."

Aethos had clearly been thinking of the incident when they had first met, when Earendil had been injured, when he had suggested that the falcon be fitted for jesses and a hood and the like. The glove was of course for himself, since he didn't trust the falcon like Alassëa did.

"Rocs?" Silvyr blinked at Miyuki. "How can anyone know about rocs? They're just legends."

Alassëa stroked the carved shelf thoughtfully. "Aethos says that they are a big part of his culture," she said thoughtfully. "That his people use them ... for getting around, mostly, I think, though they used to use them for war ..."

Silvyr's brow furrowed deeply. "Do you mean to say that rocs are real?"