eachdraidh | ❧ VIDEO; 04 (both courts)

[ Thranduil hasn't vanished off the face of the Drabwurld again, contrary to popular belief, despite keeping his head down since Samhain. Ensconced in the Caer Glaem library pulling up certificates, maps, and all the other ridiculous paraphernalia required for a legalised contact to take place, he flicks on the locket from his desk in a corner of the vast halls, surrounded by stacks. There he sits sipping a goblet of the last keg of leftover Dorwinion ~~which is currently under strict guard in the cellars (looking at you Samhain revellers)~~. On the table are scrolls and books, all of which have been tidied, while in front of him lies a black leather-bound folder, ostensibly containing the point of the broadcast. ]

The High-King and I have come to an arrangement. In exchange for fair recompense, I have bought the rights to the woodlands south of the forest river and west of the Hidden Falls, within a crux of the mountain-range, to be easily identified on any common map. [ It's not quite as simple as that, of course, but he'll save everyone the pointless politicking. That, and he doesn't want to bring up Celegorm's shard in public; it would be bad taste. ] Aelfen and Elven tribes alike will be travelling to Caer Glaem over the next week or so to replenish their supplies, tools and gold, well within their rights to do so, before continuing on to their new homeland. Please show these former refugees every kindness.

[ As dapper as he looks, he clearly doesn't intend to faff about chatting idly about inanities; someone wants a nice long sleep. ]

If you have business in what will be renamed the Maechenibryth, come the turn of the winter season, or have done in the past which you wish to pursue in the future, you may bring the matter to myself, Thranduil, or to my son, Legolas, who will pass it on accordingly. There is much yet to do and I have little enough time to spare.

[ Sipping his wine, he shuts off the locket. ]

( ooc: if you'd like to continue anything from samhain just pop me a pm and i'll get on it, otherwise i'll take this opportunity to declare tag amnesty on that front as it broke my inbox and burned me out, sobs. tagging will generally be slow until after the weekend because of work. ty for waiting! )

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My lady. It seems so, in time. [ By the onset of winter proper there should at least be a newly carved fortress in the south. ] How is the mood in Cothromach? Aransadorien and the birds, too, informed me of your victory.

We survived the Unseelie Queen's wrath. [ for now, she thinks. ] But not without costs. And so the mood varies.

That city does make for quite the hotspot.

[ Like a big red cross on the map, if you ask him. ]

[ and she would be happier to see it frosted and chilled and never burnt again. but the chances--! ]

I pray its borders will be quieter for some time, now. [ there is work to be done. ]

I find myself eager for walls to call my own again, doors that will open for no other unless at my behest and will.

Will you be king there, your grace?

If they wish for me to be.

How shall they choose?

Elves have their artes, mortal Men call it magic but it is more personal than flicking a wizard's spell on and off. My power allows for any walls, gates or doors that I wish to remain shut to never be opened, not by force or otherwise. Not ever. I enclose and I endure, and so do all with me, for I am loathe to bring the suffering of war to my people such as they encountered under the rule of my father.

That is why I am looked to for sanctuary.

[ wait wait wait. ]

Can you do this for any city, your grace? [ or only your own? ]

Anywhere inside which I reside. It is an extension of my will, as I said, not a spell. I cannot 'cast' it.

-- Your people must feel tremendously safe under your care.

[ she speaks with an edge of envy. ]

I would offer you my help, if my road led to your city.

[ Leading in the opposite direction is, well. Oops. ]

[ a soft hum. she understands. she does not hold it against the king. ]

Perhaps it will be help enough to establish a relationship between our two lands. When the time is right.

I would prefer that. [ Although not much is to be said of the Mirkwood contingent of Elves' great desire to ride into battle for others, he would help Sansa. ] Sigrid tells me you wish to barter with the dwarves for a great gate. I put forward the names of Fili and Kili, Thorin Oakenshield's nephews, as goodly folk who would prove a great asset. Even if they know little of such crafts, they will have a keen eye and may be trusted.

My honest fear is that we will not be able to produce anything half so sturdy as the gates that once stood.

Then dwarves are a wise choice, and those of Erebor especially.

There is also Master Gimli, the close companion of my son and the Lord of the Glittering Caves in our world; he would conduct a no-nonsense approach to the affair, for he is a creature of sense and practicality, not of politics or plotting. Pay him fairly, flatter him, and I cannot imagine he would refuse the request of a young lady seeking to safeguard her home.

Master Gimli.

[ a moment to consider. ] Would it be proper to approach him myself, your grace? Or ought I wait upon an introduction?

[ A small chuckle. ]

He will be far more easy with you than me, though you may mention my praising of his person and respectability. I rather think he would not favour me even if I were a lady, and he not a soft-hearted old crab.