memory. open to both courts.

[orcsurfing]

[ All around is white, snow whips across the picture along with long strands of pale golden hair. A pace or two away a couple figures stand huddled together, pressed against a wall of a mountain. Two tall men, four hobbits whose heads barely stand above the surface of the snow, A DWARF* that stands a little taller yet still, and a greying man dressed in greys in a pointed hat. The image, oddly enough, shows them from somehow above all. ]

If Gandalf would go before us with a bright flame, he might melt a path for you.

[ For some, perhaps a familiar voice, for others perhaps not. Light of heart and little troubled by the storm. The man in the pointed hat answers him. ]

If Elves could fly over mountains, they might fetch the Sun to save us.

[ But no matter the wizard and elf exchanging jabs at each other, there are still Men with ideas here. One speaks: ]

Well, when heads are at a loss bodies must severe, as we say in my country. The strongest of us must seek a way. See! Though all is now snow-clad, our path, as we came up, turned about that shoulder or rock down yonder. It was there that the snow first began to burden us. If we could reach that point, maybe it would prove easier beyond. It is no more than a furlong off, I guess.

[ Another - the tallest - answers him: ]

Then let us force a path thither, you and I!

[ And for a moment there it seems that would be the end of the conversation, the camera - so to speak - follows the toiling men, the way they work through the snow with great trouble yet also with some success. Yet not before long, Legolas speaks up again, his voice rising easily in the noise of the snow storm. ]

The strongest must seek a way, say you? But I say: let a ploughman plough, but choose an otter for swimming, and for running light over grass and leaf, or over snow - an Elf!

[ With that said, he springs forth nimbly. The camera briefly showing his feet on the snow, sinking but only a little, leaving little imprints in the cover of snow. And he runs light and easy. ]

Farewell! I go to find the Sun!

[ He says with a last look to Gandalf first, then to the toiling men, Aragorn and Boromir. For them, he has a wave of a hand, before he speeds off. ]

( ooc; paraphrased book excerpt, sassing off to a maia, have at! visual aid, I mean what. *blanche is a loser kill me now I FORGOT GIMLI )

Comments

[orcsurfing]

Cruel fate you wish upon me, Thorin Oakenshield, though I do not believe even a wizard as great as Gandalf could achieve such a feat.

[ And yet Legolas doesn't sound bothered at all, his voice light and playful as it is with just about everyone who has witnessed this little memory of his. He doesn't mind that they had, though it confuses him as to how it was plucked off of his mind. ]

[goldsickness]

Nor would an elf, even as light-footed as you may be, would manage to find the Sun no matter how fast or far he may run.

[ Spoken sharply, quickly enough, since Legolas sounds far from truly wounded at his words. Not that Thorin would particularly care for it even if he did. ]

[orcsurfing]

Oh, I am certain I could find it, now bringing it back with me is another matter! I do not think even a song could tempt Her to sidetrack from Her great journey from East to West.

[ Still entirely unperturbed, taking Thorin's sharp words and jabs with good humour. ]

[goldsickness]

Should you have sung to it, it might very well have had it going on with its journey even faster than before. You would have made the day much too short.

[ He can continue with this all day. ]

[orcsurfing]

You find my voice this greatly unpleasant? Ah, that is a shame for I know plenty of the songs of your folk.

[ Hohoho, bring it. ]

[goldsickness]

[ Quickly: ] No. I would rather not see or hear them slaughtered during my lifetime.

[orcsurfing]

Slaughtered! [ Exclaimed in mock offence! ] I find I could improve on them, rather than slaughter.

[goldsickness]

[ If only were it true offense. ]

Words highly spoken for such a short elf.

[ Oh yes. He went there. ]

[orcsurfing]

[ ... ]

And that is an unsurprisingly low blow!

[ Yet his eyes are all alight with great amusement and on the tail end of his exclamation comes delighted laughter, bubbling slow within his throat and rising into something truly joyful. Contrary to how teasing the words, or perhaps it's exactly why he's laughing. ]

[goldsickness]

[ Unexpected the reaction, but only to an extent, a startled silence following laughter he was definitely not expecting in return. Yet, he does not take offense in the words, mostly because a dwarf will hardly find any insult in being called short. ]

Indeed, as all my blows will be, given where I stand. I am a dwarf, after all, it is only natural.

[orcsurfing]

[ Likewise, Legolas can hardly be offended when the banter is so delightful. He still sounds ever amused, laughter in tone. ]

Perhaps then I shall lend you my box to step on, at times, so you may speak with me at the same eye level, when I am not using it to do the same when speaking with the other elves.

[goldsickness]

I need not be at your level to look you in the eye, elf. I've no need for your box.

[ A moment, then all too mocking. ]

Though I see you do, seen as you call it your box. Are you often accustomed to using it when you are with others of your kin, is that it?

[orcsurfing]

Does it not hurt your neck to always have to look up? I find it vexing at times, and the muscles of my neck and shoulders stiff and unpleasant.

[ Exaggerating as usual. ]

A box is merely one of the means, my creativity goes far beyond just that.

[goldsickness]

Perhaps you lack the strong muscles we dwarves are blessed with.

[ Or maybe he just doesn't care that much about looking at elves or men in the eye. ]

Keep your creativity for the times you wish to look upon the ones of your kin in the eye yourself. Seems to me that you need it.

[orcsurfing]

Perhaps so! Such is my luck, not only do I lack the height but also the stubborn dwarven neck.

[ He shakes his head. ]

I will not run out of it, worry not! Though your concern is appreciated, Thorin.

[goldsickness]

[ ... how dare you. ]

I know not where in my words you have understood that I was concerned in any way, but I assure you I am not.

[orcsurfing]

You are not? I beg forgiveness for my assumption in such case.

[ Ohoho, yet he doesn't sound like he believes Thorin one bit. ]

[goldsickness]

Are you often this insincere in your apologies?

[ Elves! ]

[orcsurfing]

I am merely not convinced, though I am sincerely apologetic for my assumption nevertheless.

I still am, even now.

[ Though he still sounds so very amused at the entire thing. ]

[goldsickness]

I see you still carry with you the habit of calling me a liar.

[ And Thorin sounds all the more frustrated because of it. ]

[orcsurfing]

Calling you stubborn is more like it now.

[ He thinks you have warmed up to him, but he says nothing of the sort, but the genuine frustration at least makes him ease up. ]

This is no cause for concern, in any case, whether you have it or not.

[ Easy way out right here. ]

[goldsickness]

So you simply change from one insult to the other.

[ But he doesn't sound all too offended at that. At least that one is no lie. ]

Then that settles that. I shall spare my concern for those things which truly matter.

[ Basically, not you. ]

[orcsurfing]

Stubborn seems more amicable with you, upon the first look of your reaction! Perhaps because it rings true? And truth cannot be an insult.

[ In the end, elves are just as stubborn. ]

As you should!

[ Encouraging that entirely! ]

[goldsickness]

It can be as much of an insult, depending on who it comes from.

[ And Mirkwood elves aren't up there on the list for Thorin, really. ]

[orcsurfing]

What if it is one who acknowledges both the good and the bad sides of it?

[ Like himself! ]