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! )

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Do you know his name?

[ Sauron?? DRUNK SAURON V.3???? ]

[ the latter ]

He said it was Michael Roa Valdamjong.

[ Could be false, but it's certainly a detailed name for an alias. ]

If you, or other elves from your world or this one, know of ways to lay Elvish dead to rest- I'd like to try to do it in La Llorona. They've been through enough, they don't need to be used as puppets.

That forest is old, they say. It would be no simple matter and it is not the burden of the living to ease the souls of the dead if they wish to stay, or even if they cannot leave. The dead own a responsibility for their actions that it would be unwise in which to net the living.

I can do nothing to aid them, that is not where my powers lie. [ ~~Who you gonna call!!~~ ] What you need is a wizard.

A wizard?

[ Her first thought is Harry, and it makes her nose wrinkle. He's nineteen, not necessarily a miracle worker. ]

Of Arda, which may be difficult to come across. The Istari are old and wise, and they know much of the life after death that comes with waiting in the Halls of Mandos for my kin. They would be able to heal any wounds.

[ One of the Maiar like that; they could do almost anything. Gandalf would be the best option. ]

I am simply an Elf.

I suppose there aren't any here, are there?

[ She sighs. ]

We don't even have magic where I'm from. Still- I'll keep my eyes open.

None. [ He arches a brow. ] 'Magic' is a wide and broadly used term. You have nothing that approaches its like in your homeland?

Only stories. There's- technology, science, but not magic.

[ A rueful grin. ]

I mean, I guess what we do have might be called magic in some places. But it... isn't.

❧ VIDEO; 04 (both courts)

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