eachdraidh | video ─ both courts.

[ The elf is found amongst the trees, so high as to be consumed by the foliage. He sits with a lap full of arrows to be fletched ( as well as one more important arrow set a part from the rest, feathers weather worn ) and scowl upon his lips. This is the first he as appeared in such a manner, and he does not do so with a smile and warm words. ]

Watching you all scurry around preparing for war is much watching ants; curious for a moment but boring swiftly after. [ Ants so easily crushed, decimated. Mindless drones in service of a queen, ha. ] Glosse, que bloed raenn aig a' cuislean dhe weddin. They will bleed you dry and the fault shall lay with you for letting them.

[ Single eye looks away from the locket, hands busying with his self appointed task. ]

I wonder, once the smoke has cleared which among the swine shall climb on top the pile of corpses and proclaim 'I win.'

[ Such a happy fellow, aint he? Ah, but before ending he picks up the separate arrow and holds it for the locket to record. ]

Your arrow, Elvenking. [ Inside joke, none of you will get it. ]

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[ His laugh is the first in days, clear and fond. ]

I hope to remain so in your eyes. You are not wrong, I would hardly be here if the vampires would keep their fangs to themselves and out of Elven throats. [ His tone gentles a fraction around the edges. ] Will you not come and ride with us? Your business is your own, of course, but your company is missed.

[ The sigh that leaves him is almost dramatic. ]

I would offer the services of a Witcher if I knew his location. [ Geralt would solve the problem one way or another, or at least aid in solving the problem. ] Just my company?

[ His smile morphs into a brief laugh. Elvenking he may be and husband he is, but Thranduil isn't above teasing. All in all, Iorveth really does need cheering up, even more so than Nuada. ]

What more should I say? I could wax lyrical about the hue of your eye but I doubt either of our hearts would be pierced by such an underhanded ploy.

[ He would scoff and say he needs no such thing, for he is clearly a happy elf, not at all grim or cruel or especially brutal in certain opinions. ]

You would be right. [ It amuses at least, bringing a sharp smile to otherwise tight lips. ] It will take much more than sweet words to pierce my heart.

As long as you have no intention of falling for a mortal, I've no objections. Legolas is similarly tasked, in that vein.

[ Smile drops, head cocking to the left. ]

When did that become a concern of yours, Thranduil?

Ah, then the Elves of your realm do not die when they bind themselves so? Two of the fairest ever born in Middle-Earth went the way of withering and rot, you must pardon my unease on the matter.

No, any who mate or otherwise with a dh'oine do not wither or fade. Few ever do these days, after what happened to my people during the war and the constant prosecution that followed there is little love between the races.

I will not fade, Elvenking, of that you can be assured. I have hundreds of years left my life, if battle does not claim it first.

Only hundreds? You are younger than my son, Iorveth, it saddens me to hear you will not yet live to even his age. [ Cocking his head unblinkingly, birdlike as he flits from one thought to another. ] Unless something can be done.

Not many own the constitution for true immortality. Do you own such strength?

[ His brow furrows. He had not given much thought as to the span of Thranduil's life nor his son's, it was not a subject of any importance. ]

What is flitting about your mind, Elvenking?

That I do not wish for you to die, not now or in eight-hundred years. I am thinking that I could ask real immortality of a boon.

Have you grown so fond that my death frightens you? [ What does he make of this? Instinct says to deny him this as he did the offer to restore his eye. ]

Death always frightens me.

Everything dies, such is the way of the world.

Do whatever you wish with your boons.

Iorveth.

[ A gentle word, that. It likely isn't often, or at all, but Thranduil makes it so for his friend. To remind Iorveth someone wants him safe and eternal. ]

We have a new world here to do with what we will, to prosper, and I will bear your cares if I can. Stay with me away from the wilderland of ruin, mortal or not; stay with me, be as my son, as I think on you. All will be well. I will tear down those who would cause you harm, I will do it for all time.

Thrice I ask in all seriousness, Elfling, stay with me. Will you allow me to give you this gift if I may?

[ Conflict rages like a storm behind his single eye, uncertainty writing itself into the lines of his face.

It is clear no one has ever spoken like this to him; clear by how his shoulders grow taut, his eye wide. Decades passed since any expressed such care, he is like a stunned deer in the face of it.

Stay he asks, stay. And all he can think is I must return to Saskia. ]

You should not want me for a son ─ I am not a kind elf, blood and death is my trade. And peace I cannot stomach. [ One day, one day, one day, not now. Iorveth fights, for that is what he does best. ] Do not seek to protect me, rather let me loose on those your call enemy and watch them bleed.

[ It could help, something in him reasons, lessen the chance of death and further the possibility of returning to the dragonlsayer's side. ]

Give your gift, I doubt I could sway you against it.

I am not a kind Elf either, yet you find such generous names for me. [ He hums his assent. It's too tentative a subject not to at least broach again and again, especially somehow not over the lockets. ] We will speak more on this matter later.

[ And he cuts the feed, because kings don't do smalltalk if they don't wish it. ]

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