Kili (
kilimanjaro) wrote in
eachdraidh2014-12-10 01:30 am
video - open to both courts
[The feed comes on sideways, and gives a good view of a big black nose. Bryndis, loyal to her master, has found some way to turn on Kìli’s dropped locket. There’s a brief snuffle from the pup and she draws back to her master’s side, who is lying on the ground with his eyes closed, looking half-beaten and certainly nowhere near sober. He is apparently completely unaware of the locket being on and is slurring out words in a mixture of English and his own native tongue. There’s a nice cut down his forehead, blood trickling down into a black eye, but he’s too gone to care.]
Thatrulkhud fandùna, bunmel, ulnas... She’s gone, Bryn, she’s gone... [He curls in on himself, giving a small little whimper. His fingers curl into the dirt.] I am makarfûn. Mahal, I...this is...this is... kherkhar.
[The pup whines, sitting down beside him. Kìli reaches for her, one hand stroking her fur before pausing in her scruff and tightening there.] Zusul, Bryndis. I...I thought...I thought she was my sabrel, that I could...ihrêr.
[The direwolf pup shifts, her wagging tail hitting the locket and sending it skidding another direction as she comes closer to comfort her master.]
Thatrulkhud fandùna, bunmel, ulnas... She’s gone, Bryn, she’s gone... [He curls in on himself, giving a small little whimper. His fingers curl into the dirt.] I am makarfûn. Mahal, I...this is...this is... kherkhar.
[The pup whines, sitting down beside him. Kìli reaches for her, one hand stroking her fur before pausing in her scruff and tightening there.] Zusul, Bryndis. I...I thought...I thought she was my sabrel, that I could...ihrêr.
[The direwolf pup shifts, her wagging tail hitting the locket and sending it skidding another direction as she comes closer to comfort her master.]

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My father is a smith. I ask for no titles, Ancalimon Aulion.
She was almost as a daughter to me. I will treasure her memory and her portrait will be one of love and laughter. If you would be kind to share your memories of her with me, I will tint it with your love for her, so all may know what she meant to you, and the price of the loss we feel.
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I find that unlikely. You are Elf-touched in some way. Some of our light, our grace, has been passed to you. Such a mark is indelible, and surely it means whoever gave that to you cared enough to use a piece of herself to sustain you.
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Although Aulë fashioned his children, your people, in joyful mimicry of when Ilúvatar created the Eldar, I have not seen similar lights in Dwarves, though I admit I have met only very few. Except one. You. There is a light in you, Kíli, small, but fierce. Hence the name given you. Ancalimon. Most Bright One. The Light of the Eldar shines in you, little one. I presume it was given to you by one of our kind. That an Elf has laid hands upon you and allowed a small flame of herself to enter you.
That is what I mean.
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I saw it, once. I was dying, and she spoke words in her tongue to heal me, and she... [Kili shakes his head slowly.] She shone like a star brought down to earth. I had never seen anything more beautiful.
[So he had really seen something. It wasn't just a delusion.] You are saying she...gave that light to me as well?
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Ah, she healed and sustained you. In that case, so it seems she did. Some of her grace, passed into you. That grace is a part of our natures. What she granted you, Kíli, is more than just healing. She gave you a small part of herself.
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There's a bit of her inside of me. [Kili always has her with him, if that's true.]