(Elvenking)—❧ Thranduil Oropherion (
firith) wrote in
eachdraidh2014-04-05 05:17 pm
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❧ video; 01
[ 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. ]
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. ]
action
He looks around wildly for a moment before his gaze falls upon Thranduil there.]
I hope I did not keep you waiting long. [He said as he made his way over towards where the Elvenking stood by the table.]
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[ Books on the monsters of the Drabwurld, notably the orcs, witches and fouler breeds. Gentle golems and unicorns fascinate him but are of little enough threat, so they fall to the wayside. The largest map is held down by paperweights. ]
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The trees spoke of another court, one of darkness and shadows. [He said earnestly though he seems more serious as he looks up at Thranduil.] And foul creatures which walk this world.
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The Unseelie Court in Dorchadas. [ A tap to the illustrated little castle higher up. ] I like not the lay of their lands, there is too much room for orcs and other foul beasts to hide as they please.
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I take it none have been up there? [Though he would prefer to stay to his forest, the brown wizard knows he's the only of the Istari here, if the duty of going north falls to him that he will not refuse.]
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When he returns in a week or so, I will inform you of his report.
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I have been planning to go up to the Forest of Breagha myself shortly, I have heard whispers from the trees.
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[ He hasn't yet had the opportunity to go into the forests, instead allowing Legolas to do so in his stead. His son's reports will be as accurate as Thranduil's own, after all. ]
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[Radgast's eyes darted around even though they were alone here before he finally looked at Thranduil.] They whisper of creatures we know not of in Middle Earth, Thranduil, perhaps they may well be a great deal worse than orcs.
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If there are creatures of shadow worse than orcs, my own thoughts fly to balrog-like beasts. Is this what you mean, Ragadast? On such a scale as that.
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[ A nod. ]
If none object, I have experience enough in holding down a fortress and will do so to the best of my ability.
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Will you travel far?
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Until then. [ Inclining his head. ] Galo Anor erin râd gîn.