eachdraidh | ❧ 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. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I was right, then. ( In her assumption that he's an elf. Score one for Lydia! She's not really sure how elves are a real thing, but then again, she wasn't really sure werewolves were real until a year or so ago. She had no idea that she herself was something supernatural until recently. Her mind is open to far more possibilities now. Like maybe all of them. )

Those are very beautiful meanings. But I prefer your pronunciation. ( Her smile widens. )

I'm Lydia. And if you ever find yourself looking for a student to teach your language, consider me a volunteer.

Lady Lydia, then.

[ An unexpected angle, but one that ticks up a smile nonetheless. Sindarin is difficult, deriving from the forgotten (and banned) Quenya with more alterations than genuine words, but as distracted as he is with his intentions in the library he won't deny her the opportunity she craves. At least a little, here and there, until Legolas might assist her in greater depth. ]

To begin with, Gîl síla erin lû e-govaded vín, which is a pleasant enough way of saying 'A star shines on the hour of our meeting' and denotes respect. Appropriately, you might wrap your tongue around Ú-bedin edhellen.

[ Which he repeats once more, with the th and general H's breathed through the clear view of his pronunciation, before translating: ]

'I do not speak Elvish.'

Oh, you don't have to precede my name with 'Lady', I'm from a completely different era. ( And, with the look of things, universe. But she's not about to discount the possible existence of elves in Beacon Hills. Not yet. It's every bit as possible that they're right there mixed in with every other insane thing. Still, there are more interesting pursuits of knowledge to be had in the present moment, and Lydia listens very carefully to each syllable. It takes only a second or two to process. Her pronunciation isn't completely perfect, but it is nearly without flaw, even on the first try. She has a natural aptitude for pretty much everything. )

Gîl síla erin lû e-govaded vín. ( She scrunches her face up, displeased with how she didn't sound exactly like him. She tries a second time, then a third, before she's satisfied. ) That's an interesting greeting, actually. Are stars significant to you?

( Her repetition of the second phrase is polished the first time around. She's already picking up on this language. Not that learning a couple of phrases is a complete fluency by any stretch of the imagination. But still. A girl who gets bored with Classical Latin and decides to learn Archaic Latin just for funsies doesn't have much trouble. )

Ú-bedin edhellen. How would I ask if someone who does speak Elvish whether or not they know the common tongue?

[ A different era is something that makes him smile, understanding her meaning completely. Her pronunciation of Sindarin is a fair approximation, passable in imitation to the degree that it might confuse Elves who can't see her when she speaks it. ]

We love the stars more than any other people, Lydia, for they were the first lights that the Eldar ever beheld when they walked through the darkness.

[ A long story, and a sad one, but the explanation suffices. ]

"Istog peded —", followed by the name of whichever language you choose.

( Every word he says has a sort of velvety smoothness that leaves her hanging onto each one, eager for the next. He has an unearthly haze about him that is, quite frankly, soothing, and she's fascinated by his language and the stories that come with the origin of his people. She can tell, sort of, that asking for more details in that particular story would be poorly timed at the moment. But she'll have to ask him sometime. )

We have names for the stars, where I'm from. But I'm not sure we love them quite that much.

( Lydia smiles and offers a repetition of his phrase, with an addition of the word 'English' at the end. Then she wrinkles her nose and scrunches her lips. )

Also Classical Latin, and Archaic Latin. Do you have those, where you're from?

[ He shakes his head. ]

No, I have never heard of them. How do they sound?

Well, Classical Latin... Stella splendens in contionis hora.. It's the same as your gîl síla erin lû e-govaded vín. When it comes to Archaic Latin, things can be a little more complicated.

[ He tests the words on his tongue, under his breath (Stella splendens in contionis hora), and seems pleased with the flow of it. ]

A musical language, to be sure.

The original, actually. ( She's practically beaming, now. ) Archaic Latin is a little bit more complicated, particularly written. But we can save that for another day.

You shall have to pen me some phrases for common use. I would do the same for you.

I'd love to! It's a fair exchange.

Until then, Miss Lydia. I must return to my business in the library today.

I'm not really well-versed in the art of war, though maps aren't too hard to figure out. Good luck! Feel free to ask if you need any help with anything.

❧ video; 01

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video. pets the clever girl, yiss

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video. aka i can't find any decent resources on old latin right now will need to research more later

video. i usually have 4 tabs on elvish open shoot me now

video. i may actually buy a book. or go check something out at the library. because uh. need.

video. i bought a latin dictionary for fun, sobs

video. man you are as cool as me. Sob.