faderift | (no subject)

WHO: Elros & you!
WHAT: Back in Kirkwal after the dragon fight, and Elros is remembering how annoying having "parents" around can be. Help a man sneak out for an unsupervised drink?
WHEN: the latter half of December
WHERE: Kirkwall
NOTES: probably nothing, but there may or may not be family drama.

For the Family - YOU ARENT MY REAL DAD

Elros glares, paces the floor agitatedly and snarls at the confinement.

"It's a scratch! Galadriel was away, Master Anders did a good job, I'm healed! I'll not be confined to my room like a child!"

For the Neighbours and those passing by - 90 is too old to be sneaking out the room, right?

It's taken him a full two days, and Elrond would shake his head at him if he knew, but he's finally managed to wrangle time alone without one of his kinsmen in the room, and its the work of a moment to pick the lock and sneak into the corridor. The yelling and throwing things probably was heard by all around, so Elros is hoping no one is actually here to see him slide silently across the hallway, wincing as he steps on a loose floorboard and it creaks.

Maybe tomorrow he'll try climbing out the window instead.

Tavern

He's laughing, open, friendly, sharing a drink or a tale or a song or a game of dice, totally forgetting that he was meant to be quiet and careful, so as not to be found out.

"Hello stranger! Come and join us!"

Training Fields

Normally, he'd have stayed away for a little while longer, but Anders' magic healing has left him itching in his skin. He has no ship to sail, and the fishermen can only sometimes be persuaded to take him out, so the training fields it is, the longsword singing in his hands as he pushes himself.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Elros chuckles at the name.

"Ah, a good name for a tavern, too!"

Elros ignores the turned heads with the ease of someone who has been stared at for all sorts of reasons through his life.

"Hopefully not by who-know-who then!"

Fingon nods, conceding the point, then reaches out with his mind toward the tavern. He's no Arafinwean at the best of times, and Thedas mutes the arts of the mind still further. But when searching for Maedhros it hardly matters; he could feel his cousin's mind at a distance much further than that.

And....nothing. If Maedhros is in town at all, it's far enough away that Fingon cannot sense his presence.

"The coast is clear," he tells Elros, "Now get in before you manage to summon him anyway."

"I didn't say his name, it should be fine!"

Elros laughs and ducks in, heading straight for the bar to order a pint.

"Hasn't anyone ever told you not to say things like that?"

Fingon rolls his eyes and heads to order a drink of his own.

Elros drins back at him.

"I like to live dangerously? Thanks for this, cousin!"

"It's no trouble, Elros. Just be sure you don't find yourself in a bar fight or the like."

He wouldn't mind normally, but Maedhros' disappointed look is a bit more than dangerous. ~~And that's before you throw in Maglor's sad looks.~~

Elros sniffs in mock pique.

"Only if they start one first!"

Fingon snorts.

"Knock them out before they give you a black eye or bloody nose. We don't want to have to pester your new friend Anders again for healing before we face the musician."

~~Fingon is clearly the best influence here.~~

~~The Best, no questions asked~~

"True, he'd only get upset and fuss more! Ale for you as well?"

"Please," Fingon nods. "And exactly. So don't start any fights, if you would, but be sure to finish them if you don't have a choice."

He's happy to settle in a corner for a while while Elros has his fun.

"I will do my level best, but the natives here are so touchy. It's like dealing with Easterlings, but worse."

Elros orders them both a pint before scanning the room for some fun.

"Oh, I think you're being unfair to the Easterlings. I found Bor's people fairly charming, all things considered."

He takes the ale, thank you, then nods toward a group of young people noisily gathered round a set of cards.

"Now go enjoy yourself for a while."

Edited 2017-12-20 05:14 (UTC)

"Bor's people are." Elros sniffs. "Until you get into the stupid tribal politics of Bor's folk vs Ulfang's folk vs that other guy over that hill there and UGH."

ooh cards

Elros' eyes light up.

"You sure you don't want me to deal you in?"

A laugh comes quick and fast- and then turns into a small coughing fit, as Fingon had had the bad luck to be drinking while Elros was speaking.

"Is that so different from any other group? The Noldor, the Mithrim, the Dwarves...."

He shrugs. "I won't say no, if you don't mind one of your stuffy older kinsmen joining the fun."

"Well, the Easterlings are much more likely to start generational wars over really small things? Like. Literally. Over a goat once."

He grins and tugs at him.

"You are my least stuff older kinsman. C'mon."

"A goat."

...There had to be more to the story than that, right? Even Uncle wouldn't...alright, perhaps that wasn't the best example.

Fingon shrugs, and with an easy smile allow himself to be dragged along.

"Well, if you don't mind I would be glad to play a few rounds."

"A goat." Elros nods. "And three ducks and two chickens. A bride price, apparently?"

"Excellent!" Elros grins and introduces himself to the table, cheerfully steamrolling any obvious objections to the fact that at least one Rifter is quite obviously not human and the other so-so with his deliberately enthusiastic charm.

(Several of them look slightly shell-shocked, as Elros sits down and is dealt a hand)

"They decided to go to war over a marriage-" Well. That's... completely mad, to be honest. Fingon should probably concede on this point.

The poor unfortunates in question look terrible, but Fingon refrains from laughing at their faces as he's dealt in. Well, at least not too obviously.

"Yep." Elros grins at him. "As I said - almost as bad as dealing with Easterlings!"

At the table he seems quite happily at ease, checking the rules before tossing in some of the coin he won dragon-hunting to the pot.

"I hope you'll go easy on me!" He grins at the table, and anyone who believes that innocent smile is about to get skinned.

(no subject)

He is traumatised by the thought

As he should be!

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