❧ 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

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[firith]

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.

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[steeledskin]

[ wait wait wait. ]

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

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[firith]

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

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[steeledskin]

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

[ she speaks with an edge of envy. ]

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[firith]

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

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

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[steeledskin]

[ 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.

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[firith]

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.

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[steeledskin]

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

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[firith]

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.

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[steeledskin]

Master Gimli.

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

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[firith]

[ 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.

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[steeledskin]

I will reach out to him. Immediately. Thank you, your grace, for the suggestion.

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[firith]

I wish for nothing but your happiness, Siladhiel.

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[steeledskin]

If only half the sovereigns and lords of these lands thought so sweetly as you did. I have met unpleasant ones these past few moons.

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[firith]

Which of them were unkind to you?

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[steeledskin]

I met with the lord High Queen Morla sought for me to marry. It -- it was not a warm meeting.

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[firith]

You were brave to refuse such an unseemly masquerade of a union.

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[steeledskin]

He did not find me brave. Although the word did not pass his lips, I believe he found me quite craven.

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[firith]

Nobody of any worth cares what he thinks, Sansa. [ Thranduil uses her name gently, leaving off the formalities for the moment. ] You have a city, you defended it and you learned how to hold your own personal walls against those who would take what they wanted from you. People will dislike you for much, but they matter not at all.

You are as fine and strong as any Elven lady with twenty times your years.

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[steeledskin]

I do not think he understood the cost of what he asked.

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[firith]

It was a particularly distasteful offer, given the manner of Elven marriages. Where such force is applied, whether crass or not, it is abhorrent.

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[steeledskin]

Are Elven marriages never arranged, your grace?

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[firith]

[ He pauses, finding his wording. ]

An Elven marriage is the act of union between two lovers, that is considered to be a binding and irreversible bond. The rest of the ceremonies are simply for family and friends to express their joy with festivities. To be rather less poetic in the tongues of Men, to be bedded is to be wedded. Never is a second wife or husband taken.

So you see, his manner was reviling with you, in my eyes, for many reasons.

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[steeledskin]

They needs must be...consummated. [ she speaks her comprehension coldly. distantly. ] I was married in Westeros, your grace -- [ the kind of confession she's given to few. very few. not even her own father, for fear of his disappointment. ]

But Queen Solais, in her infinite mercy, has seen fit to dissolve the union.

[ for the very reasons alluded to here: it was unwilling and unconsummated. ]

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[firith]

Married by the terms of Men, in ceremony and words, or as the Elves? If it was the former, there is nothing in my eyes that needed to be dissolved.

[ Solais's infinite mercy sounds a lot cannier than he cares to praise. ]

The consummation is the marriage of ... souls. [ In Westron words, anyway. Explaining fea would only muddy any confusing waters. ] That is why I never took another wife, not for a thousand years.