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Ioreth walks among rose beds. Her back is straight; her steps are light. Her hair is dark without a streak of grey, her complexion clear, with never a wrinkle around eyes or mouth. In the background—sounds of Ioreth’s family thoroughly enjoying their outing.
The roses are in bloom, blooming abundantly, all stages from tight-furled bud to full blossom, and some just starting to shed their petals. There are so many colours, white, pink, red, and yellow, and roses of more than one colour, delicately feathered. Scent wafts up on the sun-warmed air, as Ioreth passes. She breathes it in.
If you knew their scent—
roses of Imloth Melui—
who could ask for more?