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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[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?

[ 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.

[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!

[ ~~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?

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.

[ The trees. Caught between suspense and patience, he nods agreeably. ]

Very well. You know where to find me.

[ Even without the library having been mentioned, he guesses. ~~#wizards yo~~ ]

[Radagast sniffs the air before looking back at the bird, nodding knowingly before looking back at Thranduil. He grins, wizards work in their mysterious ways.]

Ah yes, I believe I do!

[ Radagast. Did you just sniff out the Elvenking, oh Valar.

Passing a hand over his face, he politely asks, ] Might your friends remain in your hat while you are inside?

[Missing Gandalf now, aren't you Thranduil? Radagast doesn't seem to notice the Elvenking's expression as he tips his hat up to let a couple more birds take shelter there in the nest as he begins his journey.

The more the merrier?]

Certainly, though they are quite friendly, very talkative!

[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.]

[ 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. ]

[ 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. ]

[ Valar give him strength. ]

Perhaps it would be more expedient to close the locket.

[ Is there a rule about hanging up on Maiar? There probably is. Erring on the side of caution forever. ]

[ 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. ]

[ 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.

[ 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. ]

[ 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! ]

[ Strangely enough, Thranduil did exactly the same thing this morning after breakfast, memorising as much of the castle's layout by exploring as he could before retiring to the sanctuary of the library. ]

I've not met with many soldiers since I arrived. [ Out-and-out soldiers, anyway. ] Did you arrive with any companions of a like mind?

Lady Stone.

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

Do I find you well?

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❧ video; 01

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