❧ VIDEO; 04 (both courts)

[firith]

[ 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! )

Comments

[curser]

[Her eyes widened at the travesty that had befallen his prior lands, wings fluffing in ire at the thought of any lord, dark or not, trying to destroy the land. It went beyond that of simple human greed and she could only be relieved she'd not come across anything similar.]

My condolences. To lose one's home would be a heartbreak. To lose the land to sickness and evil is tenfold that. I would do what I am able to keep these lands hale. You've only to ask.

[firith]

Your name, my lady, would be a comfort. I am Thranduil; called Elvenking once, though not of all Elves from my homeland and only those who choose to stay within my Halls.

[curser]

I am Maleficent, guardian of the Moors and those that dwell in it, though I would offer the same protection to those that would seek it here.

[She could have mentioned her previous title, though she was trying to move beyond that darker part of her life.]

[firith]

From whom or what do you guard your people, Lady Maleficent?

[curser]

Those that would take what is not theirs. Until recently, the kingdom beside the Moors was ruled by king after king that decided they wanted what we had and they were willing to shed blood to steal it. They failed, but it never seemed to stop them from trying.

My goddaughter rules it now and I hope that our lands will enjoy a peace, if only for her generation.

[firith]

I hope the same for her and all who live in her time. [ He tilts his head thoughtfully. ] My realm was besieged by so foul an evil that the forest stirred with not a breath of wind, and the canopy was as a black cage. Giant spiders ate what they wished and roamed wheresoever my marchwardens could not drive them back.

I never wish to see the like of such a sickness on the land again. For two Ages, I bore the brunt of it.

[curser]

[She was very, very young for a fae, a fact that was brought home to her at his mention of 'Ages'. She couldn't guess at the exact number of years that might be, but she would assume it was more than a generation and that was a daunting thought. So this was a very... elder Eldar. Interesting.]

I've not yet been alive to have seen a full Age myself, so anything I might have seen pales in comparison to having to have lived through that. I lost my parents to human greed and malice and I would wish to see that not happen again. The evil you speak of... sounds truly horrifying. I have nothing to offer but my sympathies that you witnessed it and my admiration that you endured.

[firith]

I grieve for the loss of your parents. Death is not something the Eldar are familiar with unless it comes to them through war or heartbreak.

[curser]

I suppose I wish I could grieve more. Or perhaps that I should grieve more. I can't remember them beyond vague flickers of memory, but they were guardians before me and I continue that honor. Death is... well, all things fade in their own way, but my kin are usually longer lived as well. Certainly more so than the humans.

[A human life was but a blink to her and she would mourn the loss of Aurora for centuries after she was gone.]

[firith]

That seems too the way of the Aelfen native to the Drabwurld. A curious thing, for Elves to be granted the gift of Men; death is such a calm affair for them when it comes with old age.

[ And entirely foreign a notion outside of war or heartache, for Thranduil. ]

[curser]

Is old age a gift?

[Said the fairy who was still in her forties. Everything was still new, still bright and fresh for her. She was vivacious and full of life and not ready to contemplate age as a gift.]