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eachdraidh2014-07-25 05:30 pm
orcsurfing) wrote in eachdraidh2014-07-25 05:30 pm
video. open to both courts.
[ Legolas has waited several hours to make this announcement. Grieving, weeping with quiet tears for the half of it, gathering composure and thoughts for the other. He still hardly feels the strength needed to say what he has to say, hardly feels himself having the competence, yet it must be said and he makes a good show for it.
His shoulders squared, head held high no matter the shame he still carries with his hair cut short as it is, his face seems carved out of stone into an expression of firm neutrality, yet not without the soft edges of gentleness. What suffering there is is hidden deeply and out of view. The light in his eyes has dimmed, and with the usual cheer and laughter missing from the picture he makes, his presence seems hollow.
A shadow of his usual self, yet he holds himself together all the same. The Prince he should be, his father's son though not once in his life has he been truly prepared to take over his father's role.
He never wanted to either and especially not like this. ]
Elvenking Thranduil has vanished from this world, leaving behind his shard.
[ His lip doesn't tremble, there is no pause, his voice is even. ]
What he has set out to do, I will carry out in time. 'tis a promise to the shard-holders and the natives of the Drabwurld alike. What begs to be repeat now, with my own voice, with my own words, is that I have forsworn all allegiance with either Court and I will build a home for all who wish not to be drawn into the madness of this foolish war.
[ Time for play is over, time for growing up at last has just begun. He takes no title, names himself no Prince nor King nor anything much really. ]
Those who had unfinished business with him are welcome to bring it to me, his son Legolas Thranduilion.
[ A beat of a pause then in a tone far gentler, yet at the same time tired, he adds. ]
And to those who are to partake in the upcoming battle, I wish you luck.
[ Be safe, he wishes he could say, but the words get stuck in his throat. Then mimicking his father's attitude, he shuts the locket without another word.
In what little time he was speaking the sharp edges of the shard in his hand cut through skin with the force of his hold on it, blood trickles down, painting red flowers on the floor, but he barely feels it. Body numbed to pain with the agony of the soul, he feels himself cracking and crumbling and shattering all over again. What strength that returned over the weeks spent at the Station, seems to be now fizzling out with every quiet breath.
He feels more alone than he has felt in all his life, not knowing if he'll ever see his father ever again. Not even knowing what has happened, in truth, just that today he was simply gone and on bed there lay a shard.
This isn't Arda, this is Drabwurld, will they ever see each other at Aman again? Or has he lost his father for all the rest of his life? ]
( ooc: there'll be a delay before he begins responding and all responses to this post will be in voice only. Thrandaddy is gone, babyleaf's gotta grow up asap and pull his act together. :c )
His shoulders squared, head held high no matter the shame he still carries with his hair cut short as it is, his face seems carved out of stone into an expression of firm neutrality, yet not without the soft edges of gentleness. What suffering there is is hidden deeply and out of view. The light in his eyes has dimmed, and with the usual cheer and laughter missing from the picture he makes, his presence seems hollow.
A shadow of his usual self, yet he holds himself together all the same. The Prince he should be, his father's son though not once in his life has he been truly prepared to take over his father's role.
He never wanted to either and especially not like this. ]
Elvenking Thranduil has vanished from this world, leaving behind his shard.
[ His lip doesn't tremble, there is no pause, his voice is even. ]
What he has set out to do, I will carry out in time. 'tis a promise to the shard-holders and the natives of the Drabwurld alike. What begs to be repeat now, with my own voice, with my own words, is that I have forsworn all allegiance with either Court and I will build a home for all who wish not to be drawn into the madness of this foolish war.
[ Time for play is over, time for growing up at last has just begun. He takes no title, names himself no Prince nor King nor anything much really. ]
Those who had unfinished business with him are welcome to bring it to me, his son Legolas Thranduilion.
[ A beat of a pause then in a tone far gentler, yet at the same time tired, he adds. ]
And to those who are to partake in the upcoming battle, I wish you luck.
[ Be safe, he wishes he could say, but the words get stuck in his throat. Then mimicking his father's attitude, he shuts the locket without another word.
In what little time he was speaking the sharp edges of the shard in his hand cut through skin with the force of his hold on it, blood trickles down, painting red flowers on the floor, but he barely feels it. Body numbed to pain with the agony of the soul, he feels himself cracking and crumbling and shattering all over again. What strength that returned over the weeks spent at the Station, seems to be now fizzling out with every quiet breath.
He feels more alone than he has felt in all his life, not knowing if he'll ever see his father ever again. Not even knowing what has happened, in truth, just that today he was simply gone and on bed there lay a shard.
This isn't Arda, this is Drabwurld, will they ever see each other at Aman again? Or has he lost his father for all the rest of his life? ]
( ooc: there'll be a delay before he begins responding and all responses to this post will be in voice only. Thrandaddy is gone, babyleaf's gotta grow up asap and pull his act together. :c )
no subject
Still. He doesn't look entirely pleased with the frog. Less of that, maybe. ]
I think that people often see what they want to see. You can be the nicest person in the world, or the most broken, and sometimes people can be so blinded by prejudice or misunderstanding that they don't see all the good inside of you, even if it's a tiny little piece. That's one of the downfalls of people, though, I suppose.
I never thought him heartless, though.
[ She really doesn't mind babbling on about her school, not when Legolas looks so rapt and interested. She's almost preening with the attention -- and how had her attempts to comfort him turned into a lecture again? ]
There's an enchanted hat - the Sorting Hat - that the founders created way back when. You put it on your head and it kind of... Reads your mind, almost? And it tells you which house you're best suited for.
no subject
I am glad you had seen him as he truly is and think of him so.
[ What she said? It's all true and it goes not only for the Men, but for the Elves, for the Dwarves and likely even for the Hobbits. Odd as it may be, with all the differences among the people, there was this single quality they had all in common.
The mention of the enchanted hat though... ah. That's truly bizarre and his puzzled look at Hermione says just that. ]
Enchanted items are not unknown to us, though I would never have thought to enchant a hat. Though it sounds a powerful skill to know one's heart inside out.
no subject
He was very protective of you. I saw that, and - it could only have come from love, I'm sure of it. He loves you so much.
[ She lifts her shoulders, unsure of his thoughts and letting him have them to himself. She can't help but reach over and break a piece of chocolate for herself, though, taking a bite out of it before she hums, swallows and continues with her lecture.
Even she has to admit the Sorting Hat was particularly special. ]
There's a song about it, actually, that he sang during one of the school opening feasts. "While still alive they did divide their favourites from the throng. Yet how to pick the worthy ones when they were dead and gone? T'was Gryffindor who found the way, he whipped me off his head. The founders put some brains in me so I could choose instead!"