❧ video; 01

[firith]

[ Tiny, delicate little hands are the first sight to be seen when the locket begins to broadcast, closely followed by a pair of bright grey eyes. A fairy flutters from Thranduil's arm to sit on his shoulder and, pointy-eared as he is with a river of pale blonde hair (not to mention a crown of red berries and leaves), they make a fine pair, though neither of them appears particularly human. It isn't locked to one court or another, singularly because he isn't aware it can be, displaying the brilliant golden walls of a private solar in Caer Glaem. A king's chambers.

The feed shuts off abruptly.

Minutes later, it clicks back on to the sound of the tinkling laughter of the same fairy; someone is clearly learning how to use the locket's functions via trial and error. Judging by the first glimpse of him, he needs the practice. The third time he speaks, the message runs along the screen like a river of inked words taking form: A charming tool. And they will be able to respond in kind, you say? I think I will, yes. How do I —? Ah. Thank you, little one.

Fourth time is a charm; the locket is held at arm's length, affording the best view yet of a fascinated elf. ]

I am Thranduil, Elvenking of Eryn Lasgalen, that which is the Wood of Greenleaves in the land from whence I hail. I would welcome those with greater knowledge of the Drabwurld and the creatures within it. Well do I understand the nature of being summoned thus — that is not a point of contention for me, as it is with many of you.

[ The fairy shimmers insistently, drawing a glance. ]

Lothdithen will visit any who wish to further discuss with me the matter of the war and lead them to where I will be in the castle until nightfall. The library will suffice with its maps of where we might strengthen this fortress with our differing experience and arts.

[ There is no thanks, no goodbye. The feed simply ends with the tone of one who is not accustomed to bandying idle words. ]

Comments

Voice?

[excessivehubris]

[This is quite possibly going to be the most awkward self introduction ever. Not because Charles didn't have good manners; he did. In fact by human standards he had impeccable manners.

By Elvenking standards, however, he may be considered lacking in that department.

However, Thranduil had said some of the magic words. Discussion of the war and library. Two potential avenues for finding answers or at least exchanging ideas, about their current situation.

So, it was with a smile that he navigated the locket into functioning for him, returning what looked like a still picture ... odd but for now he'd hope for the best.]

Greetings, your Majesty. [He at least had enough sense to use what were hopefully the appropriate titles.] My name is Professor Charles Xavier and I would very much wish to discuss our circumstances as well as visit the library if it is open to us.

I fear I cannot provide you with any insight as to our situation, as I am newly arrived here but surely discourse of any nature could prove fruitful?

Voice!

[firith]

[ What a polite young man. He supposes everyone glimpsed at the feast will be discerning the best way to keep in contact via the lockets, marginally reassured by the look of the face on the picture. ]

I find that it is indeed open to us, Professor Xavier — to a point — and will be returning there shortly if you would be so kind as to provide me with your company. [ It's such a very large castle that he's been walking the hallways in the interim, taking in the general layout all morning. ] Do you require a guide?

Voice! \o/

[excessivehubris]

I ... [He began to demur the need for a guide. After all, setting out on his own allowed him to discreetly explore while providing him the very reasonable excuse of 'My apologies, I'm lost' if he poked his nose somewhere he shouldn't.

However, it would be rude to express an interest in speaking with someone, only to leave them cooling their heels while you took an extra circuit through the pantry by accident!]

I suspect that may be a wise idea. So long as my guide will stay out of my hair.

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[aiwendil]

[All that is seen is one wild eye at first because how does this thing work? Radagast doesn't like but he recognized Thranduil and he has to say something. There is a glimpse of his face, peering suspiciously at the locket before he speaks excitedly because oh my god, a welcome familiar face.]

I shall find you, I do not trust this method of communication!

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[firith]

[ Aiii. Smiling broadly to see the wizard, he raises his brows to try and stay him. ]

It does not seem of an ill-manner to me but quite effective, for all that I do not understand its magics. [ And really, Gandalf might have a lot more drive to him, but Thranduil will defer to any wisdom the Brown has to offer. ] Is there anything you wish for us to uncover, besides maps and the like?

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[aiwendil]

That is what troubles me, such strange magic! [Radagast's eyes dart back and forth even though there is no one but a friendly looking bird nearby. He slowly turns his gaze back to the locket, still unsure if he can trust this method of communication.

When he speaks again, he lowers his voice as if maybe that will make it more secure.]

I want to know what forces are at work here. I shall seek you out soon, the trees have been telling me many things.

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[chromosomes]

[ If John looks deeply uncomfortable, it's because he is. Still, they're here for a war. He knows how to do war.

Might as well get started. ]

Staff Sergeant John Grimm, United States Marine Corp. [ Not that it probably means anything, just like "the Wood of Greenleaves" doesn't mean anything to him, but he can respect rank and title. He's had practice. ]

I could use that guide. I'm down in the ward.

[ He could find it eventually, but John doesn't particularly feel comfortable with blindly wandering around the castle following a gut instinct. ]

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[firith]

[ A soldier, then. That's what he's gleaned, and a professional at that. Cultural differences aside, Thranduil knows how to put someone like that to work, a side-effect of military training no matter which land someone hails from.

The green fairy is sent away to find the Ward as he replies. ]

I have a job for you that I would prefer to discuss in person, Sergeant. At your leisure.

[ Which, judging by his tone, means ASAP. ]

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[chromosomes]

[ Thranduil is not his CO but neither was Sarge, really -- and thank god, because that had turned out badly. Still, they are in a war, and John thinks he would rather listen to someone who was brought here instead of the natives for now.

Besides, it's not like he's got anything better to do, short of staring at the native guards and trying to memorize patrol routes. ("Trying" -- the synthetic chromosome makes it less trying and more doing, and rather easily. It'd be nice if it didn't make things so boring.) ]

I'll start to head up as soon as my guide gets here, sir.

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[steeledskin]

[ sansa stark is similarly hindered by the locket's ways and means. but her grace and patience pales in comparison to the king's when she is found frowning and tapping gently on the pendant's face. a soft huff of breath, a shockingly unguarded look of dismay, and then she risks speaking: ] Y-your Grace?

[ if others have tried using the lockets, sansa hasn't dared to answer them. but the elven king! she feels some small whit of security in his measured voice. ]

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[firith]

Lady Stone.

[ A gentler tone is used toward her and a respectful nod given. ]

Do I find you well?

action!

[orcsurfing]

[ Legolas has watched the whole ordeal from somewhere beyond, present, of course present, but quiet when Thranduil acts the King he is. There is time for play, there is time for teasing, but it is usually when official business such as this is out of the way. What son would he be to undermine his father's authority with a background noise of giggles or laughter? Or with distractions beyond the small smile he truly couldn't help.

At the very least, he learns from it too the how-to of using the lockets they have all been gifted with (along with the map.) Though it isn't something he will so readily admit to. ]

Do you wish me to accompany you during all those?

[ No, dad, no: that would be the tone of this particular question. ]

Or do you have a different task in mind for me?

[ Followed by one more hopeful! ]

[firith]

[ His joy upon their reunion has hardly diminished, tailored into his bones rather than outrightly on display anywhere but the corners of his lips and in smiling eyes when he hears the transparent hint. ]

I had thought you might ride out and investigate our immediate borders, if the task is not too troublesome.

[ Legolas, do you really think he'd shut you up in a castle. ]

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[amplified]

( Lydia listened closely and considers carefully before she replies. She's not entirely sure how this magical communication device works yet. She'll figure it out eventually, she's sure, but for now... She's fascinated by the manner of speaking and the unique words, some sounding like a foreign language, that this man - elf? - is using. She's pretty sure he has pointy ears. Regardless. )

Can't say I've seen or heard of anyone you're asking for. Sorry. But! Out of curiosity... What's your native language? Where does your name come from? I've never heard anything like Thranduil or Lothdithen.

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[firith]

They derive from Sindarin, the language all Elves speak. [ Whereas the first rule of Quenya is don't talk about Quenya. ] My name translates in the common-tongue to Vigorous Spring, whereas Lothdithen means Little Flower.

[ An inquiring brow raises, mildly charmed by the earnestness of the inquiry. ]

And your name, my lady?

Voice

[fizzlesfolly]

[He almost didn't hear the delicate chiming coming from inside his jacket pocket. He reached inside and pulled out the intricately carved communication device that a fairy had previously given him. He opened it, watching as the man made multiple attempts to master the locket, before holding it at arms length.

The realization that it was not a man, but rather an elf, delighted the young hunter. Still uncertain of the locket, Garth hesitated a moment before responding.]

Hello..

[He paused, hoping that his message was being received. He still hadn't figured it out completely.]

Hi, I'm Garth. I'm new here, so I don't have a lot to offer on the topic of the Drabwurld, but I do have a broad spectrum of knowledge on the creatures with in it.

[He cleared his throat.]

So, I can contribute on that end.

[Garth stopped speaking, and closed the locket. Then opened it again. He'd figure this locket out, eventually.]

Voice

[firith]

Indeed?

[ Oh, there goes the — and again. Everyone is having a bit of a wild ride with the lockets, so he patiently awaits the moment they reconnect. ]

Have you quite mastered your scrying, sir?

[chiot]

Oh--'Ey! Ey, m'sieur. Madame? [ Which is it? Gavroche cocks his head to the side, decides it doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things, and grins. ]

I think we're here 'cause we're dead, huh?

[firith]

[ Lips twitching, he tries to keep a straight face and considers the boy's words carefully. ]

Why do you think that?

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[brainiest]

I understand why we're here too. It might not be an ideal situation, but we're needed. We can't just ignore that.

[ After a moment's pause, she offers a slightly nervous smile - she doesn't want to bother him with too many questions, after all. ]

Is Lothdithen your new friend? And as for defence and strengthening - I know a large amount of protection spells and charms. I'm not sure how effective they'll be in defending anything here, exactly, but it's worth considering.

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[firith]

She is.

[ Protection spells and charms ... That certainly delves a note of interest in his voice. ]

Indeed? So too do my own arts lean in the direction of enclosure and fortification. We might speak if you were to join me forthwith. I would be glad to hear more about these spells of yours in person.

Voice

[lastoftheline]

[The locket flashes with an image, and it shows just a quick image of Celebrimbor's face, which looks tense, and weary, his grey eyes slightly bloodshot. A moment of fumbling and the video winks out, leaving it voice only.]

We spoke at the feast. [His voice is as weary as he face appeared. ] Then, and still now, I would be happy to add my expertise.

Voice

[firith]

[ He stills when he hears the Feanorian's voice, gaze locked onto a corner of furniture as Thranduil considers his reply. It's a strange place to be in, to feel more competent and collected than those of legend and higher birth, though on second-thought is it really surprising after all Celebrimbor and his kin went through? Enduring is something the Woodelves have done for a long time, by his advanced years, and it might just be they own a foothold where it counts instead of the great deeds in sagas of old. He prefers that, if so.

Thranduil's pause only lasts seconds. ]

Your knowledge of such matters would be greatly welcome, my lord. Please, join me in the library.

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[tiaraaction]

[Before she even attempts to respond (to even attempt to figure out how to respond, for that matter), Usagi is taken aback. Thranduil is beautiful, even from the image presented to her from her locket. She has seen beauty plenty enough in this life and her life before. But Thranduil is almost surreal to look upon.

If she were to see him in the hallways, she might mistake him for the Seelie's own natives.

She fumbles with her locket, repeats Thranduil at least sixteen times until she's sure she's saying it right. She's never thought about the etiquette of Royal court before now. For all she's Serenity, she's also Usagi. Sixteen and brash and utterly out of her depth when it comes to proper manners.

She responds with a lot of hesitance. ]

I want to help! I mean, if I can.

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[firith]

[ His nod is obliging, a smile gentling when the enthusiastic girl pops up on the locket's screen. ]

As you will, my lady. On whose aid will I be calling?