video ─ both courts.

[seidhe]

[ 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. ]

Comments

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[firith]

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.

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[seidhe]

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. ]

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[firith]

Death always frightens me.

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[seidhe]

Everything dies, such is the way of the world.

Do whatever you wish with your boons.

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[firith]

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?

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[seidhe]

[ 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.

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[firith]

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. ]