(no subject)

[rowancrowned]

WHO: Thranduil + closed prompts for Galadriel, Atticus, Ellana, Gwenaëlle, Myrobalan, + open!
WHAT: Thranduil's phase one afflictions are noticed by several and enable the behavior of others.
WHEN: Mid-Firstfall
WHERE: The Gallows
NOTES: Hit me up for a starter on Plurk (pr0ph3t) or make your own!

Comments

[rowancrowned]

“If she died,” he says, and leaves it at that. The Men have a custom wherein the non-ruling spouse—so often a queen—has the privilege and duty of begging for mercy for the condemned. Her death, if it had been a violent one, yet another poignant example of what a lack of elves did to this land—he would not be as merciful as he intends.

“She resents the sun for shining,” fondly, they are perfect companions, “but she needs the lessons. The old forms are useful—Noldorian, I assume, for that sort of sword, antesolarian—but she is small and fast. She will not take to the bow, but perhaps knives.”

He has the ones Legolas left behind still. Maybe she will like them.

“But you, cousin,” he switches. “Any luck with your search?”

[laurenande]

"Noldorin?" she repeats and cocks a brow at him. "When have you seen me willingly use a sword?"

She continues jogging and pointedly ignores the question about her searching. It is not a topic to be spoken aloud, not here, not anywhere, and her mood shifts as she ponders it. She is silent a time and then shifts the conversation back.

"I shall teach her small blades, I am not unskilled with them," she offers. "But she will require your aid for sparring, I expect. Spearwork is too deeply ingrained in my combat and it would not do to teach her to counter that alone."

[rowancrowned]

“I know you prefer to,” and he makes a little shooing gesture with his hand, illustrative enough, “—but surely your father had you trained with some matter of bladed stick or sharp object while still in the Blessed Realm?”

She ignores it, he does not press, keeping his teeth together as the go up, still. These stairs are a mannish excess. An elven architect would have done—better, even if he couldn’t consider how.

“Spears,” he says, exasperated. “I will spar with her, and lose affection with my dear love for it, but you are right—she needs it, and she is clever enough that my handicap will possibly give her some success at it.”