video. open to both courts.

[orcsurfing]

[ 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 )

Comments

Locked voice

[orcsurfing]

[ If there is one message that surprises him most of them all, it's this. That it comes in the first place, the content of it and the raw feeling behind it. Why, he wants to ask first and foremost, the first drop before an avalanche of more questions spills through to crush all uncertainties, wipe all confusion off his mind.

What he says in the end is different. He has but barely recovered, barely has the pieces been brought together, the cracks filled and the gold set, if you will, when another grief struck and threatened to shatter him. ]

I will not disappoint him, I never could bear that. This much you may be certain of.

[ With more conviction that he felt while addressing all the Seelie and Unseelie alike. Odd how strength comes from the most unexpected sources. And yet there is still a worry to confess and it slips past his lips before he may think better on it, before he realises who it is he's confessing this fear to. ]

Yet I fear... I may not see him again. He was ever the single one constant in all of my life.

[ Unchanging, unwavering, a pillar he could always count on, regardless of the time that passed between one time and another that they have seen each other or the space even as vast as the sea between Middle Earth and Aman that separated them. Knowing that Thranduil was out there was a comfort. This is different now.

Ah, but it catches on quickly enough what he said and to whom. Legolas says no more, all silent but for the sharp inhale of realisation. ]

Re: Locked voice

[avisionofwar]

[ Celegorm's breath catches in his throat, and in the dark of the Unseelie encampment, his eyes squeeze tightly shut.

Have I honoured you father? Have I honoured you?

His men have shed enough blood to make a river, all for his Oath, and the shadow of it seems deep and dark and stretches far behind him. And this, what's happened to Legolas, seems like an echo of The Oath's Beginning.

His father's father's blood a red swath across the floor, a gemstone.

So he pours what light and his power he can into his voice, clutching so tight to the locket that his knuckles go white. ]

He was not the only constant, Prince of the Wood. What of the earth beneath your feet? The light of the stars through the leaves? The wind in the boughs, and all thought of home?

Whenever you see these things, you will find a touch of your father there. The memory of him as he was, supporting you, sheltering you, lighting your way. For not a thing exists which is ever truly beyond us: we are all a part of the strange fabric of form and life, and as all flesh that dies becomes again a part of the earth, so too your father will always be a part. A part of you. A part of all that is.

[ His belief in this is a powerful thing; and the sound of his voice is rich with the force of his conviction. ]

And you are never alone.

[orcsurfing]

[ Oh he feels this power, he knows it already. It tickles and tugs on his thoughts, weaving between them and leaving an impression. So strong and clear it may just as well be the perfect mark of Celegorm's conviction, branded upon his very soul. Much in the same fashion he had branded his skin, yet bringing comfort instead of agony. It soothes like the sweetest balm and his breath trembles now. No longer does he have any tears that could fall with this relief, with this realisation that Celegorm is right. With time Legolas would realise it himself, not without stumbling, not without wavering, yet he's spared this trial and error.

He sits back, with a sigh, eyes closing. ]

Even here, on this land that carried him, in the face of the Sun that touched him, though it is not Arda. Even here holds memories good and precious, after ninety years that I have not seen him.

[ No matter though, there is a thought that nags him and finally Legolas voices it, looking at the locket once more, though his voice grows uncertain. ]

You are weary, your thoughts should not be with me. Waste not your power, for you may need it...

[ He trails off, biting the inside of his lower lip, his expression set into a frown, confusion apparent yet the locket only carries the silence that follows. Finally though, he breaks it again to add. ]

Though once more I owe you my thanks.

[avisionofwar]

No son worth his salt could have heard you, and said nothing.

[ The words are soft, rough still, but very certain. ]

You owe me nothing. But... I shouldn't tarry. My men...

[orcsurfing]

[ For a moment he remains silent. ]

Even so, a thank you is all that I can offer for... concern. [ No matter how inexplicable it is for him at the same time. His uncertainty a clear note in his voice, so clear it may just as well be a question. ] And kindness.

[ And more silence follows, the weight of those words palpable at least for Legolas. ]

I wish it had not come down to this and that a peaceful resolution has been possible. I pleaded with Clarisse myself, but at the time I had thought you would push through with the attack regardless.

[ He thinks he knows better now, thus the admission. ]

[avisionofwar]

[ Peace. The word makes Celegorm want to weep, and laugh, all at once. His shoulders shook, and his ears were full still with the sounds of battle. ]

Peace is a dream, Legolas. A swiftly-fading dream that not even the Ainur could craft for themselves for long. I learned long ago that clinging to it precipitated only more suffering. I cannot say if I would not have attacked them in time. Caer Scima has made itself a home to me, who had been bereft of home, a beggared prince who had failed all who relied upon him. I swore when I came that I would not fail again, that I would not trust to an unreliable peace, that my vigilance would not waver.

Let others say I am an affront to the light; let them call me ignoble, blackguard, whatever words they wish. If I am effective, if I guard what I love well, if I honour my father, keep my oaths, and guard mine well, I am satisfied.

I thank you, for bargaining with them on my behalf. I wish it had come to better end.

[orcsurfing]

What you seek is peace, merely you know that it is won with hard work. When all else fails then with battle, if we must, [ when there is no hope, as it was against the Enemy, the war and all the battles, ] but there are means to build peace that do not lead through bloodshed and suffering.

[ But hearing all of this, it seems every time they talk he learns more, he understands more with ease that he truly finds staggering. And each time they talk he feels at a loss for words, while his heart goes out to Celegorm and his fate, no matter the deeds he may have committed in all his life. ]

Keep your home safe, but do not march on another's home in an attempt to forestall what may not come to be at all. That is all I would ever ask, even if Caer Glaem is not a home to me and never will be again.

[ There are people there he still cares for, however, and them he would wish to spare this pain. Them and oddly enough Celegorm himself. ]

So do I, but alas... there seems to be no stopping what has already began.

[ Silence, then quietly. ]

Be safe.

[avisionofwar]

[ Quietly, but with feeling, ]

And you, Legolas.

[orcsurfing]

[ There's a brief moment when Legolas thinks he has said something wrong again, but it's quickly overshadowed by a more accurate realisation. There is battle, and Legolas himself said that Celegorm should not be getting distracted. ]

I am away from the battle, I will be safe. Now go.

[avisionofwar]

[ Legolas can hear Celegorm's hesitation, the sound of smooth hair spilling over a shoulder-- and Celegorm does indeed go, but not before a quick, ]

Thank you. Farewell.

[orcsurfing]

Farewell.

[ Quiet and before more hesitation comes, before Legolas himself is overtaken by such, he shuts the locket and terminates the feed.

Only when he does this, does he realise that unlike the previous times the tension in his shoulders wasn't so great, the nervousness did not subdue him as much as it did before. Their conversation was strained, sure enough, given the subject matter, yet it was easier at the same time. Legolas feels lighter for the words that have been said, they have brought the comfort they intended to bring, he feels.

Still, all of it is far too confusing and his feelings spill all over the place, pulled in different directions at all times. With regards to this battle and Celegorm himself. ]