(no subject)

[laurenande]

WHO: Galadriel and you!
WHAT: Catch all for Firstfall/November, specifically includes Sulevin Blade/Mirror of Galadriel adventures.
WHEN: All of Firstfall.
WHERE: Various, largely Skyhold but also the Warden Camp.
NOTES: To be edited if needed.

Comments

Sam and Ellana P1

[laurenande]

"If you are not opposed, I require your assistance," Galadriel said to Sam by way of greeting. She bowed her head but, due to the sensitivity of this particular conversation, did not hold with overmuch formality. "I have need of a basin and, for my task, it must be forged anew."

It was difficult to explain the specifics of the vessel she required and doing so bordered very closely on explaining the art she was trying to replicate in Thedas. It was a secret, true, but she withheld details out of concern. Her own power had wreaked some havoc when she had turned it to the methods of this world, she had no doubt that the reverse was just as likely.

"Ellana has shown me your skill in crafting rings, if you would turn it to my task I would be forever grateful."

[el_tybs]

It's been a while since he's talked with Galdriel, so when she approaches him after practice and moves before him he is a little bit surprised - she stands out so much and yet he hadn't seen her coming at all. Her way of greeting does have him raising a brow, but it isn't unusual that people approach him about making something in the forge.

"A... basin?" Certainly is a first time someone has asked him to make something like that. "That shouldn't be a problem. I'm guessing there are specifics about it?" It doesn't even occur to him to ask what the basin is for, assuming that she merely needs a decorative piece for herself or maybe a gift.

[serannas]

"A few," Ellana chimes in, having stayed silent by Galadriel's side as the woman spoke. "We'd like it to have a high polish, so we'll bring you silverite, and we'd like a little elven decoration on it. I can give you a sketch to show you what, but it shouldn't be too difficult."

[laurenande]

"The smoother the interior, and the finer the polish, the better it shall serve my purposes...but an engraving of a design," Galadriel adds and gestures back to Ellana who, quite likely, has her book about her. "Elgarnan's sun? In the center would be very helpful."

Galadriel regards Sam apologetically.

"I have little to compensate you for such work, but I will gladly grant you a favor ere you should require one." It was a kingly price and unfortunately no one in Thedas would know that.

Vivienne

[laurenande]

Galadriel had little clout in this world. Once she had been among the most known of the realm, but she was a stranger here. In Arda, she could have chosen one of a dozen sources to acquire what she needed. She could have gone to the dwarves beneath the mountains, to the sons of Beorn, to her grandsons and their mortal friends--here, she could think of precious few who could acquire a wealth of silver for her. Silverite was not mithril, but it was white and had a brilliance about it--it would serve, but only if she could acquire enough of it to form the whole basin. Fortunately, the first person she could think to turn to was present and easily found.

Madame Vivienne De Fer was a striking figure and her space overlooking the great hall remained, to date, one of Galadriel's favored places to spend time. Vivienne was in attendance today, as she often was, and Galadriel greeted her as she climbed the stone steps.

"I think the autumn light falls kindest across your furnishings," Galadriel commented as she inclined her head. "It is a pity that heavy curtains are the fashion in these lands. I would have light spill across the whole of this hall...but, alas, it is not to be. Are you well, mellon nin?"

[madame_de_fer]

Too oft, of late, Vivienne's presence on the balcony has found her elbow deep in sheaves of parchment and baskets of alchemical reagents. Today is no different. Still, she welcomes the pleasant distraction of Galadriel's company and beckons for the elven woman to join her and take a seat. There is even a smile from the Iron Lady.

"I am indeed, my dear. It is so good to see you." Her eye turns to the windows and the heavy draperies hung there. Her guest is right, the light would be much better were it not for the curtains. Unfortunately, the chill of the mountain air forces the need for warmth over aesthetics. Still... "Perhaps we should have the drapes drawn further open until the sun sets."

[laurenande]

"The setting sun does look so lovely through these windows," Galadriel agrees and moves to join Vivienne. The tasks at hand appear many and complex and Galadriel spares a polite glance across the contents of the table before turning her full attention to the woman alongside her.

"I fear I have come to add to your work, my friend," Galadriel says, an apologetic note ghosting into her smile. "I can think of few others to ask and fewer still that I could abide owing a favor.

"I require silverite for a private endeavor and, in these lands, I cannot imagine where to go about acquiring it. Will you assist me?"

[madame_de_fer]

Silverite. Pretty metal, very useful for mages and highly sought after to enhance cold powered staves. Vivienne doubts the personal endeavor involves the crafting of a staff, however, and finds herself mildly curious. Though Galadiel isn't prying into her alchemy projects, so it's only fair that she not pry in turn. It's a delight to have someone who can appreciate discretion and not be offended by it.

"Of course! I should be delighted to, though it's no trouble whatsoever. Do you require only the basic metal? And in what quantities?" If she's considering having armor made over say a pendant, that will guide the direction she intends to go. "On occasion, one can acquire fragments of silverite which have been Fade-touched. It's dreadfully rare but the effects are almost always worth the cost."

Valley/Warden Camp

[laurenande]

The encampment in the valley was not a place Galadriel was wont to linger, for many reasons. Foremost, perhaps, was that it contained the bulk of the Grey Wardens in these lands and she was...to put it mildly...not overly fond of their order. Unfortunately, the man she sought council with resided in the valley, amid the wardens and those who could not be housed within the walls of the fortress...so, to the valley she traveled.

Her templar guard were left behind, abandoned and addled for the duration of her journey; she walked alone, clad in a plain grey cloak that was all too easily overlooked. Unfortunately, concealment was only a valuable asset when one knew their destination--once she arrived in the midst of the new buildings, Galadriel drew back her hood and began her search properly.

Her task was not a dire one but in the presence of so many Grey Wardens, her expression became grim with some speed.

[chainlightning]

Just like when they first met, Barkley is the one who finds Galadriel first. He's larger now but still has a ridiculous looking, flowing tail. He's also not any less excitable, barking happily and racing up to Galadriel as soon as she stands still. He then proceeds to race around her in a circle, but at least he's not jumping on her, up until he rolls over on his back to show her his belly and quietly demand belly rubs.

Merrill, from her aravel, comes over with a laugh. She's been drawn by the excited barking, wanting to see what is going on, but she's delighted to see Galadriel and goes right for her (save for any potential belly rubs).

"At least he's not winding himself in your hair this time."

[laurenande]

Galadriel is so focused on her task that the sudden approach of Barkley catches her off guard. For a moment she's left scowling in confusion at the excitable dog--fortunately, that moment passes and, with Merrill's approach, a smile spreads across her face. She crouches to pet the dog, as it clearly wishes her to, and offer's Merrill a nod of greeting.

"Truly, of all things that have ever become tangled in my hair, Barkley remains one of my favorites," Galadriel says and regards the other elf. "Greetings, mellon nin, I did not expect to cross paths with you this day."

[chainlightning]

Flipping back over, Barkley licks at Galadriel's hands before flopping on the ground beside them, tail still wagging. He's perfectly content to watch the pair for a while, and Merrill is perfectly content to reach for one of Galadriel's hands, dog slobber or not.

"There's not a lot of room for an aravel up in Skyhold, so I tend to stay down here," Merrill explains, gesturing toward it -- it's set a bit away and the sails are down, but it's definitely not the tents or Kestrel House of the rest of the camp. "You should come and see it!"

Just don't mind the painting of David Bowie inside. That is not, in fact, a cornerstone of Dalish culture.

[justice_is_blond]

He catches sight of her as he leaves the Kestral House, while heading for the fire. It's hard not to; she towers over a lot of people. For a moment he considers heading forward anyway, but it's been some time and he's been wondering how she's doing. Anders turns to head over toward Galadriel.

"Welcome to the Warden Camp. Or the shady camp, depending on who you speak with."

/Slides in here super late, hey whatup.

[laurenande]

"If can hardly be one without the other," Galadriel replies testily. It takes her a brief moment to recognize the voice and then the face before her and, once she does, her expression softens dramatically with relief.

"Ai! I have found you at last, or you me," she practically exclaims and moves quickly to meet Anders. When she comes alongside him she stops at a distance that can only be described as...conspiratorial and leans in slightly as she speaks.

"I require your council, if you are willing to grant it, and my questions beg some privacy."

woohoo!

[justice_is_blond]

He stiffens at the snap, but when she turns and her expression changes he relaxes as well. Lowering his guard has backfired a time or two. This time, at least, it seems to be fine. Anders offers her a small smile and a nod.

"Of course." A glance around the camp shows that it's fairly well-populated with Wardens, Kestrals, and other hangers-on, but at least there's the woods nearby. "This way?" He starts to lead off, away from the gathered people.

Thranduil and the Outsider

[laurenande]

Despite her distant demeanor, Galadriel enjoyed games of all kinds. She was fond of the strategy of them and, privately, she reveled in how little impact they truly had. Thranduil was, after a fashion, renown for his skill at cards and so when she received the invitation to his rooms to play, she took it readily. She did not expect to find the black-eyed boy alongside him, but his presence was not overtly confusing. Those of age tended to drift toward one another, particularly when they were surrounded by the young and the quick.

"As is custom, gwanur nin," Galadriel said as she offered Thranduil a bottle of Orlesian wine. It was a sufficient greeting, for the two of them, and a nearly traditional gift.

[rowancrowned]

Deprived of the wealth of his treasury and unwilling to sell off any more of his possessions, Thranduil had turned what little he arrived with into more by playing cards. Not wholly honestly, but the ends justified the means, as with so many of his choices here. He stops shuffling the deck to stand and greet his cousin, kissing her cheek and leading her to a chair around the largest table in the room. The wine is met with approval, passed to the Outsider for uncorking- doubtless he'll have a fun way to open it- while Thranduil drifts to a sideboard to recover some glasses.

"I thought Duinenor might join us this evening," he says, taking the glasses by their stems and bringing them back to the table, setting one in front of each of them and returning to his cards. "We might teach him one of the Quendi games, and see if he is clever enough to think as an elf does."

And besides, that will mean it won't simply be Galadriel and Thranduil playing, eliminating most of the chances for them to get too competitive.

[laurenande]

Galadriel arches a brow at Thranduil's explanation but makes no comment as a glass is set before her. Instead, she regards her cousin and the turns her attention to the Outsider.

"I imagine he will do well," she says. "I also suspect it is fortunate that we've nothing of value to wager.

"Which game shall we play, cousin? Shall I shuffle the deck?"

Gardens, OTA, Sina

[laurenande]

The gardens are peaceful and secluded, two things that Galadriel found infinitely valuable. Normally, she would wander wander and tend the plants, but on this day she has another task. It would have been better, perhaps, to attempt this in her rooms, where her seclusion would be complete, but she required the sky above and peace around her.

She is seated behind the gazebo, hidden from the view of most, with a plain pewter dish in her hands. It is hard to say what she is doing with it, apart from staring into the water it holds, but her expression flickers from calm to irritation as time passes.

[eolasemah]

Sina doesn't mean to walk in on her (again), but sleep doesn't come to her easily anymore, and sometimes the only way she can clear her head is to go out in the chilly night air and walk with no one else around. It's this that she's doing, wearing her nightshift and a warm robe, her feet bare, when she comes upon Galadriel sitting with a dish.
Hesitant to draw attention to herself, Sina just watches her mutely for a time, trying to figure out what she could be doing.

[laurenande]

The sensation of being watched is one to which Galadriel has become accustomed. Normally, she is unbothered by the gaze of others, but it is distracting now and her focus is already drawn thin. She doesn't glance up from the water, or the reflection of the night sky on the surface, as she speaks.

"You either linger late or wander early, Siuona," she says, her tone husky from hours of silence and disuse. Her brow is furrowed but, apart from the tension in her expression, her tone belies no irritation, no impatience. "Do you require something of me, or is the night simply to your liking?"

[elegiaque]

Why are there always so many fucking elves in the gardens.

The thought is more resignation than malice, a little weary despair; elves, elves, elves. Everywhere she turns, lately, unavoidable - well, not entirely. She has very successfully avoided Thranduil since returning from Orlais, so successfully she isn't sure he's noticed or particularly cares, which is something else to worry at and...no, she's angry with him, she doesn't wish to be in his company, so it doesn't matter. It's fine if he doesn't care. That's actually preferable.

(Does he not care, though?)

All of these things, the connection (she isn't sure the specifics but she knows there is one) between Thranduil and Galadriel, her own exhaustion with dealing with anyone outside of her own head, the grief that twists inside her and allows so little space for anything else - there is little to argue for pausing to see what it is that Galadriel is doing. But.

They don't know each other, really. Galadriel doesn't expect her to behave any particular way or be any particular thing, and she is, in spite of herself, curious. It's easier, sometimes, to be around people who don't know what you're like ordinarily -

"Are you doing magic?"

Gwenaëlle thinks it's a generous guess, in that she is not assuming the strange woman just sits around looking at dishes sometimes for no reason.

[laurenande]

Passing interest is something Galadriel has rarely ever had to field; her demeanor and general appearance were often enough to dissuade interruptions. Today, it seems, they are insufficient and her peace, what little there is to cultivate here, is strained.

"It has been called that," she answers, just this side of distracted.

There is a pause and she glances up to find Gwenaëlle. She has little experience with this woman, save for her writings--she regards her silently a beat and then looks back to the water. In the hazy autumn sun the surface nearly flickers, distant fleeting images dart across the water and away like leaves tumbling through the air.

"Though I cannot say if the people of these lands would consider it so. Do you seek a mage?"

[universal_charm]

He often found himself coming to either the stables or the gardens on what he deemed 'breaks' from his teaching and his errand running. The past few days had been rather packed with all the festivities and putting in extra effort for coin and with his students. The gardens offered a gentle respite, and he appreciated the scent of them, so different from the rest of Skyhold. At times it almost felt like another planet.

Slowly he meandered around the corner, catching sight of Galadriel in the gazebo. He smiled to see the woman, opening his mouth to greet here only to click it shut when he realized how hard she seemed to be concentrating. The more polite thing to do would be to move on, of course, but... well, he was curious.

So instead he worked his way slowly up towards the gazebo, pausing to consider foliage as he went, waiting for her to acknowledge him and thus signal she was either done with what she was doing or chastise him.

I am so late to this, my bad!

[laurenande]

Her attention has remained fixed on the bowl in her hands for hours. While that was not so long, particularly by her reckoning, the fact remained that she had seen little beyond the surface of the water since dawn. Her concentration was strained to the point of breaking and, unfortunately, her calm, pleasant demeanor was beginning to falter.

James Kirk's reflection appeared in the water before her, marring the surface as clearly as the shadows of Skyhold above. She did not comment, not immediately, but the wealth of irritation that she felt only grew. He did not deserve to bear the brunt of her mood, her failings were her own, but she could no more stop herself than halt the tide.

"Do you require something?" Galadriel snapped, her voice slightly throaty from her long silence. "Or have you simply come to wonder after the arts of elves? Or to judge me for attempting anything at all in this Eru forsaken place?"

At long last she could no longer tolerate looking at the sky in the bowl, nor could she abide her own reflection in it. The angle was unflattering and, for a moment, she looked aged and feeble to her own eyes. Without preamble she upended it and poured the contents into the grass--

That was a rash action, however, and she regretted it instantly. Her mood broke, upon her face and in the air about her, and immediately turned to regret.

"Ai, the tolls of such endeavors are greater than I recalled." she said, half to James and half to herself. "My apologies."