❧ 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

[orcsurfing]

[ And so he shall take two, and perhaps company now that the idea is growing to be more... concrete in his mind. Legolas stays the way he is a moment longer, before straightening himself again, his look at the locket still on the dubious side. ]

It certainly seems faster and far more convenient to communicate with the mortal men and all [ He pauses briefly, wondering how to put this: ] the other beings present who may not be able to understand the birds.

But it still feels unnatural.

[ Which, frankly, means Thranduil will not escape the fate of serenading sparrows and the like. ]

[firith]

Of course, but do not spit on its usefulness just yet. If it allows me to speak with you across hundreds of leagues, I can find no fault with it in the here and now.

[ Sparrows are welcome, thrushes and even nightingales. He'll just have to send something bigger to Legolas, on principle. ]

[orcsurfing]

I shall not, of course, and I will use it when I see fit.

[ Unnatural as it may be, Legolas is not stupid, mind. He can recognise a value of it and he can acknowledge it, no matter his personal feelings on the matter, but there is still one thing. And it is said with a tease: ]

My only wish is that it does not replace all our contact. While I remain in Caer Glaem, I demand to speak in person with you... always.

[ Because he knows his father wouldn't. ]

[firith]

[ Adopting a solemn expression he used to employ when teasing a much tinier elfling with dire consequences for such offenses are breaking into the larder, he hums. ]

The Elvenking, I hear, does not take kindly to demands being made of his person ...

[orcsurfing]

[ . . . he knows this look, he knows this tone as well, it's been a while already since it held real power over him. Since he could be so easily fooled, doubts still linger for Thranduil certainly knows quite well how to make the act seem real.

Still, though, without much for fear, or shame, or even unease, Legolas reaches out a hand then the other to pluck the crown off his father's head. Carefully, reverently, but this is still what it is. ]

And Thranduil, I hear, indulges his son in matters of such importance to him.

[firith]

[ Wooooow. Leaning over, he arches a brow. ]

If you break that, you will carve a new one with the smallest knife in the castle.

[ Touching him on the arm, Thranduil smooths down his own ruffled crown with his other hand. To placate Legolas, he relents. ]

I doubt I could escape your clutches even if I wanted to.

[orcsurfing]

[ He knows to be careful with the crown and he is as he sets it on the table with great care before returning to sit comfortably once more. Just to get it out of the way and... not risk any more than he already had. Ah, relief. It's safe.

Legolas steels his own expression into neutrality, feigned, but accurate and most natural looking. ]

I could let you be if you wished me to...

[ Most curious. ]

[firith]

[ Any teasing falls flat when he reads the stoicism mirrored back. His hands rise to cup Legolas's face and a dry kiss is planted on his son's hairline, his voice low and dependable and private as Thranduil leans back. His hold is secure and does not fall. ]

I will never leave you. Not with a thousand leagues between us or a continent, or an ocean, or the stars. We shall not be parted again, henig vuil, that I promise.

[orcsurfing]

[ His act has an unexpected result, but not at all unpleasant to Legolas. He smiles softly at the kiss, puts his own hand - just one - to one of the two on his cheeks. ]

I will hold you to that, though it is a promise I seem to have drawn out of you by force.

[ He sounds both abashed and apologetic. ]

Goheno nin.

[firith]

Ú-moe edaved, Legolas.

[ A hand slides up to ruffle the sleek hair at the back of Legolas's neck before he steps back, a smile touching his eyes as he gives the lanky legs on the armrest a push. ]

Get out of here and make yourself useful.

[orcsurfing]

[ Aah, he ducks from the ruffling albeit it's only with half the heart to it and a quiet burst of breathy laughter; easily Legolas slides off his perching spot with the shove, to stand again.

Here in the privacy those rooms he doesn't mind the affection, if of the teasing and playful sort. Here is where they allow themselves such, in the first place. ]

I will and as promised, I will return to dine with you before I set out. Expect me at the usual time.