eachdraidh | {Video/After the Feast: Open to Seelie & Unseelie}

There is a magic here that I have never encountered in all of my journeys across Middle Earth. I do not know what to call it or even where it originates. {His anger over having been taken from the final battle at the Black Gate has diminished. In its place, Aragorn looks solemn and paler than usual.} I can only ask that it returns me from whence I came. It is of the utmost importance that I do not -

{For the first time, his voice cracks and he falls silent.}

There is a battle. It will decide the fate of my world. If I do not fight within it; if I do not lend my strength to my men, more of them will perish. {Perhaps they will lose heart. Perhaps all of them will die in the face of their greatest fear. All of the possibilities are incredibly grim.} I must return.

My name is Aragorn, son of Arathorn and I am the rightful heir to the throne of Gondor. My place is with my people and my friends.

{No feast can distract him; food is naught but a texture against his tongue. Now isn't the time for joy and festivities. Rather, his entire attention is fixed upon that which he can't see anymore.

The Black Gate.

How far has he been transported? And by what sorcery? He holds onto his sword - the reforged Narsil - tightly, ready and waiting to draw it free from its sheathe.}

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{He's welcome to all the parties.}

If all are lacking, how is it we were brought here? {Someone has the power - they just aren't sharing.} On that, we agree. Wars are difficult to wage even with significant reason.

We have no reason to arm ourselves against each other.

Edited 2014-10-04 07:51 (UTC)

I've heard it said that sorcery is a sword without a hilt, there is no true safe way to grasp it. Might be that even the fairies cannot control it so well as they like to make it seem, else why would they call for little highborn girls who've little and less interest in the makings of war when they ought to seek soldiers tested and blooded in their own wars? [It's something Jon has thought way too much about, since the bloody fools sent Sansa off to fight a battle before he ever came - Sansa of all people: his sweet, scared little sister, who used to like songs and pretty things, whohad never plucked up so much as a knife save but to cut her food.

He does seem to remember himself before his diatribe can get too out of hand, though.] --I'm sorry, my lord. You must yet be confused, this place is very strange when first met.

An accurate metaphor. {His lips quirk before he gives Jon's words ample thought.} It has been my experience that different races cannot always distinguish the strong from the weak.

{Why should fairies be well-versed in Men, Elves, Dwarves or any other race they brought into their war?}

I am burdened with questions. {Everything is falling into place where the Drabworld is concerned, yet he still wonders why there has to be a war at all? What are they fighting for? Or against?} I have fought in many battles and heard many reasons, but this one is by far the strangest.

I fear the only one who could answer me are the fairies themselves.

No one, fairy or otherwise, should call on those he doesn't understand to fight his battles for him. If it's been lifetimes and they've still made no effort... [Well, it certainly doesn't improve Jon's opinion of the situation, and of their sires.

Still he gives a nod, a look of weary familiarity crossing his long, sullen face. He has been down the same road with many different people, asking those questions.] They would have us think we fight to save the world, all worlds - but do you know, I've asked men of the Unseelie court, and they say the imps give the same excuses. [His mouth twists slightly. He really does hate politics and the ambition of politicians. He eyes the rightful heir.] What is it that you've fought for, before this place?

Ignorance is a rampant pestilence amongst many races. {Unfortunately. It is his experience that understanding yields far better results.} Then the true reason must be known only to them.

{Which doesn't necessarily mean it is any less important. Aragorn inhales deeply and steps into another room, examining the contents at a glance.}

We are treated as honored guests. {Suspicious and distracting. He will be more comfortable in less ornate rooms.} The fate of my world. Darkness had fallen and there was one who sought to annihilate all other races.

... Aye. [Jon himself has a king's rooms, a thing he's certain was meant to mock him, as the name Lord Snow had once been. It was his brother that had been king, his brother who was good and worthy and trueborn - not him. Not the bastard.] But a gracious welcome is no guarantee that a man holds no daggers behind his back.

[And Guest Right means only so much anymore. Jon is not exactly the trusting sort.]

Only one?

I can sense the daggers and I fear they are closer than we realize.

{He won't be put at ease by comforts. Nor will he allow himself to become drunken on the wine the courts provide.}

He led an army unlike any my world had ever seen. His power was far too great and few could oppose him. A fellowship of brave Men, Elves, Dwarves and Hobbits sought to bring justice to him and his lands.

That's why... some men seek to leave, to divorce themselves from the war in which they've been asked to fight.

[Jon's lord father, as an example. And the Elvenking has said as much as well.]

I've met men and elves and dwarves, here... but not Hobbits, I don't think.

Are you one such man? {He doesn't judge; he hasn't made up his mind yet beyond sticking by his friends.} They are much smaller; they would not seem more than a child in height to a full-grown man.

[Jon barely keeps from squirming a bit. The Sellie monarchs had done him some honors, he couldn't deny that, but...] My family is here, my little sisters, and I do not wish them caught up in this war. They've had enough of that where we come from.

War ravages your world as well? {That is something they share in common.} What are the names of your sisters? I have met four young women thus far.

Aye, it is several wars at once, in truth, but men have taken to calling them the War of Five Kings. [He hesitates, but doesn't see any harm in a simple truth in the end.] Arya and Sansa Stark.

{Video/After the Feast: Open to Seelie & Unseelie}

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