eachdraidh | ❧ video; 01

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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. ]

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[ 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?

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.

I shall make the request personally. [ Don't mind the indignant tinkling of fairy-talk, or the chuckling of his own voice after. ] Where are you now, Professor, so that they might seek you out?

[Luckily Charles own amused smile was hidden as he listened to the exchange, even if he couldn't understand the words, the chuckle was telling.

At the question, he cleared his throat and tone of that amusement before responding.]

I am in my room.

[Which is decidedly less grand than Thranduil's. Charles had been a little surprised at seeing the grandeur and perhaps his pride had taken a small hit but nothing he couldn't shake off.]

[ The fairy can be heard whisking off, along with the sussuration of robes as Thranduil begins heading to the library. The connection severs, with no great regard given toward what might amount to modern phone etiquette because elf. Lothdithen, as the fairy has been named, might stick her tongue out at Charles and waggle her wings cheekily, but she refrains from messing up his hair, at the very least, and beckons him through the castle.

Thranduil stands by a table in the grand library whenever Charles arrives, poring over books and scrolls littered from where he collected them after breakfast. ]

[The disconnect might indeed have been considered a bit on the rude side but Charles wasn't going to take it personally. He'd received worse from Erik.

The fairy was met with a ready smile that turned into a scolding tsk as the tongue business but Charles was prepared and wasted no time in following her. It also allowed him to keep her on task and ensure she didn't sneak into his hair!

The library was awe inspiring and here Charles became a little distracted as he looked up and along the rows of stacks. Thranduil may have heard a soft 'ow' as Lothdithen had to grab a lock of dark hair and tug the telepath back on task!]

Alright, alright there is no need to be quite so impertinent. Ah, do not even think about trying that again or there shall be no extra cake.

[Once Thranduil came into view, Charles broke off his conversation with the fairy and smiled at the tall elf. Executing a neat bow at the waist, he approached the table, eyes going almost immediately to the books and scrolls with obvious fascinating.]

It appears as if you have already been busy, your Majesty.

[ He inclines his head in greeting, far preferring this method rather than over the locket-magic. ]

Well met, Professor. I find myself without a kingdom to run and an excess of time on my hands, as you can see. [ As to the table, he leans over a larger version of the map the fairies first gave him when he arrived, better detailed. ] Caer Scima is the stronghold of the Unseelie, far in the northland of Dorchadas.

[ It ought to be refreshing not to have evil lurking in the south, yet it makes no difference to one as old as Thranduil, he who knew the master of Sauron far in the north of a now sunken realm. ]

Their lands appear to be larger than Glaschu, our current point of defence.

[At the greeting, Charles stepped closer to the table, his eyes going down to the maps, attention coming to focus on the one Thranduil indicated. Fingers resting lightly on the edge of the table, he frowned pensively as he studied the topography.]

Larger, yes but do we know what sort of resources that provides them?

[Though he was not as well versed in practical warfare as say Erik, Charles knew how to read a map and he also had a depth of history, some of it recent for him, to draw upon. Larger lands were a plus if they yielded resources but they could just as easily be a liability. Attempt to protect all and you protect none.]

This is us, yes?

[He circled a finger around Glaschu, wanting to be certain he was accounting for the whole of it.]

[ He lifts a few books to one side, planting a thick, dusty tome in front of Charles; ye olde monster encyclopaedia, of sorts, already browsed through. Thranduil's attention returns in no short supply to the map, roving it pensively as he answers. ]

Orcs, trolls, witches. None of which I would dismiss in battle.

[ A nod of assent; yes, that is them. ]

[Orcs, trolls, witches ...

The stuff of legends and fairy tales in his world. Of course, elves fell under that category and he's already spoken to two. Straightening, Charles reached up to rub pensively at the nape of his neck, his lips twisting in a rueful expression.]

Creatures like this would be the result of genetic mutation in my world. Finding them here, is taking a bit of adjustment.

[Alright, time to dither on the unknown later. For now he'll make note of the book with a slight nod of his head and look back to the map.]

Given the number of people I saw in the hall for the feast, we should at least have sufficient numbers to protect these smaller borders.

But I cannot help wondering if we know yet why more peaceful means of resolution to conflict have not been explored?

'Genetic' is not a phrase I am familiar with. Mutant, however, says more than enough.

[ Orcs, for example, though he'll casually veer right over that comment and delve into the plans with Charles. ]

I will certainly advocate a peaceful resolution if the opportunity is afforded to us. There was a distinct lack of those who have seen battle at the feast, not least the children. War will only bring grief to this castle's inhabitants.

[Something about the way the word 'mutant' is spoken, makes Charles glance up and a cautious expression enters his eyes.]

War brings grief to all involved, except perhaps for those who profit from it's execution.

[His lips tighten as he briefly recalls Shaw's plans. Was it only days ago he flew into battle for the first time to stop a war? It felt like a lifetime ago.

Fingers tapping against the map, he looked up and around at the library.]

The answers may reside somewhere in this library, though it is going to take time to search.

In the meantime, do we know if a recruiting effort like what we've seen here, is happening for the other side? Has anyone heard from other ... honored guests who are perhaps not within these walls?

No one profits from the execution of war, [ he says firmly, though not directed necessarily at Charles himself, ] and if those who believe they have are unable to understand this, they ought to be removed from a position of power before more die in their stead.

[ After all the wars, the battles, the sackings and horrors, he's not about to brook a discussion on the subject. ~~Sorry, Charles.~~ Moving swiftly on, Thranduil finds he agrees with him at large. ]

I've not heard anything from Caer Scima, as they call it, but if there are orcs in residence I can assure you their plans will involve the defiling, murder and consumption of every individual within these golden walls, Shards or not.

[Stubborn, though he could be on a number of subjects, discussing the habits of warmongers seemed rather pointless at this juncture. Perhaps warmongering was something unique to humanity. Those people who grew rich in selling weapons to both sides of a conflict only to walk away, counting their dollars as blood ran on both sides.

His eyes turned back to the tall elf and Charles straightened a little ~~it was a lost cause, he was still woefully short~~ and he frowned, pensively.]

It will not help us to build theories on insubstantial speculation. Until we know what or who is over in Caer Scima, planning for specifics may not be in our best interest.

I would say we need to know what lays to the north, at least more so than we do now.

[With his last words, a speculative look moved into Charles' eyes and he looked back down at the map.]

How far, would you say it is to the northern borders?

They are allied with Caer Scima just as surely as we are not, Professor. I know orc-kind all too well and their preference in serving the ill-omened. There is no insubstantial speculation on my part, you may rest assured.

[ A correction, but a by-your-leave one. ]

A long and hard ride. Perhaps a month or even two, in Elven regard. It depends on the terrain and the native dangers. My son is riding south-west to explore the territories there, for the moment, yet he will return if we have need of his services. Legolas can cover a great deal of ground and the lockets will allow for him to report at a moment's notice.

[ A ringed finger draws a line from Caer Glaem to the mountains in the east. ]

I would prefer for him to confirm where we might usher those who are not warriors, in the event of an attack. When his business is finished, he will investigate the fortress of Cothromach.

I do not deny your experience with orc-kind. [Charles gave ground, though perhaps there was a hint of stung pride there: he'll get over it.] But rather, we need to know who else may be up there.

[Still, this was not a point to start an argument over and crossing verbal swords with Erik has at least taught Charles a little (very little) bit about not getting bull dogish on a point without good reason.

Glancing back down at the map, Thranduil's estimation was not particularly encouraging. He was going to assume that when he said 'Elven regard' he meant horseback. Fit horses with good riders could easily travel fifty miles a day, add that to a month and the distance was daunting.

At least for what he was considering.

Looking up into pale eyes, Charles weighed his choices. He would be exposing his ability, in a rather significant way and he was still, at the end of the day, here alone. No Erik or Raven at his back and he would be giving up the element of surprise in terms of his mutation.

The cool demeanor of the Elven king did not exactly invite careless expectations of friendship. But at the same time, Thranduil carried the air of authority that engendered the desire to give full commitment to the success of their situation.

Decision made, Charles took a deep breath and shook his cuff back off his wrist.]

Right. Then let us see if we cannot cover a bit more ground, in a shorter span of time.

[Lifting his hand, he touched two fingers to his temple, his gaze dropping to the map but their stare was turned inwards. Though he did not require the gesture of his hand to his temple for casual uses of his telepathy, something like what he was about to attempt required full focus and the childhood habit was helpful in that regard.

Within the psychic winds, it was difficult to find a sense of direction and it took Charles a couple of moments to identify groups of minds (not identity) of Seelie to the south and west. With that as a reference point, he looked up to Thranduil for a moment before closing his eyes.

Pushing outwards, Charles tightened his focus northwards and sent his consciousness winging outwards. It was not the rush of thousands of minds as had happened when he'd used Cerebro but he felt small tugs as his thoughts raced northwards.

When he reached the boarders of Caer Scima, there was a detectable uptick of conscious awareness but he was at almost the full extent of his powers and it was like trying to see deep into the dark, with just a pin beam of light. He winced slightly, as he caught whispers ... nothing clear enough to be a voice or a clear identifier but enough to catch the threads of confusion that mirrored those in this golden walls.

There were others, like them in their bemusement at their change in circumstances but just as Charles tried to tether himself to one, he bumped into an unpleasant but familiar sensation. The scream of nails down a chalkboard, the hard ricochet like bouncing into Emma's diamond form. It was distracting and with his concentration broken, he snapped back to himself in the library with a small grunt.

Exhaling a slow breath, he leaned his hands on the table and blinked a couple of times, shaking off the sudden shift from the psychic to physical landscape. Then he looked up at Thranduil.]

There are others, up in Caer Scima, like us. Well, not you and I obviously. [He pushed himself back upright.] But more than orc-kind. I believe we can confirm that the other court has been recruiting as well.

[ To say that Thranduil isn't expecting Charles to do anything at all like what he does, in fact, succeed with, would be a gross understatement. He seems indecisive until the fingers touch his temple, and then Charles is gone, winging away from the library like a bird while standing right there. The Elvenking knows of the Arts Galadriel utilized and has witnessed her brilliance first-hand at the tearing-down of Dol Guldur, the strength of her abilities keener than a knife's edge. Her telepathy too is fabled, a terrible and fine thing to be respected as much as it is avoided (in his opinion).

Thranduil touches the professor lightly on the arm as Charles comes back to himself and relays sensitive information, a little breathless. ]

You have a great gift. One I did not ever think to pair with you, but the skill I only now witnessed was close to the equivalent of even the most capable of Elves.

[Much as had been the case when Radagast had responded favorably to his telepathy, Charles blinked at Thranduil, initially bemused but then openly pleased. It was heartening not to immediately fetch up against distrust when his mutation was involved.]

It is something of an emerging step in my species. [He acknowledged.] Genetic mutation and evolution for humans, there are others in my world with a wide range of incredible gifts; telepathy happens to be mine.

[There was a look in his eye that indicated the Professor would like nothing more than to launch into a full discourse on the subject of mutations, genetics and humanity but even as he took a breath, Charles reeled himself in. Now really was not the time for all that, even with Thranduil’s positive (comparatively speaking) reaction to his telepathy and the mortal visibly reined himself in.]

But, thank you. [He finished, the gratitude for Thranduil’s acceptance and also for what Charles could see was a compliment indeed; to be compared favorably to elvenkind.] However, I fear our questions have just expanded two-fold. We do not know who is to the north, in terms of others like ourselves.

If Caer Glaem has brought in a wide representation of beings from other worlds, with a wide range of abilities, then it must stand to reason that Caer Scima is following a similar path.

[Once again, Charles looked around the grand library at the books waiting patiently upon their shelves, his eyes slowly coming back to the tall elvenking beside him.]

I believe, we have quite the task before us, Majesty.

Edited 2014-04-10 14:04 (UTC)

Rather a mutation for the better than the worse.

[ He says it quietly, with a solemnity that he dismisses in favour of pushing the main topic at hand just like Charles; details can be indulged at a later date. Thranduil doesn't bother eyeing the stacks. They are grand and wide, peppered with ancient statues and other sources of information, all of it fine and fragile and extensive. ]

It stands to reason they also share the locket-magic. An infiltration of their home would take too long, but we might invade their confidences if they believe us harmless pacifists with none of their wildness or smarts.

[ As 'good' as Thranduil identifies, it does not bode well for those in Caer Scima with the Woodland faction from Middle-Earth having been brought thither, far more dangerous than their gentler kin in Imladris and Lorien. ]

[Charles’ lips twitched slightly as he recalled Radgast’s gentle, yet stern admonishment about the use of his mutation. The Brown wizard had struck upon a nerve and also touched at the core of the distrust Charles usually experienced from people who were unnerved by his mutation: even other mutants.

However, one did not directly contradict a king (well, at least not on a relatively personal matter) and he merely bowed his head slightly and put his focus back on the more important topic of their conversation.

Charles was … well … not harmless precisely but he was definitely given more towards searching for peaceful solutions than perhaps Thranduil and the Woodland faction of elves. He may have genuinely missed any potential irony in the elvenking’s statement and instead he considered the words on their merit alone.]

It could benefit those of us taken, from both sides, if we can develop lines of communication between ourselves. At least until we are able to get our arms around the heart of this conflict. Even if they are not predisposed to the idea of cooperation, I cannot believe they are any more comfortable in the position of pawn, than we are here.

That only serves to make them more ruthless. [ An observation not without merit. ] Wolves backed into a corner will bite, however much they bark the rest of the time. We should not put our forces in harm's way, if at all possible, nor allow the faces of any of our infiltrators to be seen.

Infiltration may not be that difficult a prospect, should we choose to pursue such a thing.

[Charles said in a pensive tone and there was a long pause, one during which quite a bit crossed the telepath's mind and perhaps reflected upon his face before he reached up and rubbed at his temple.]

But first, we should determine what sort of 'force' we have here. I've met quite a few people with a wide range of abilities, skills and experience. Coordinating our numbers will require some creativity and a bit of flexibility as we are varied in our strengths and weaknesses.

You would be better suited to reporting on that than I, Professor.

[ With a note of mild amusement. ]

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❧ video; 01

Voice!

Voice! \o/

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voice -> action!

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