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

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{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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[Oh now really? Gimli is torn between smiling and swearing that they got the lad as well, and right before one of the battles.]

Then you'll be pleased to know that you win the battle, aye, and your throne!

[ cue sparkle eyes. she is a fan of yours already.]

They only return us when they want to.

[A battle to decide the fate of Middle Earth? This sounds terrible and worrisome, but it also reeks of future shenanigans he is sure he shouldn't be apart of and so he hesitates to say anything at all.

Curiosity wins out in the end.]

Unfortunately those that rule these lands don't care much for our own troubles. I have seen others try and find a way back home to no avail. Some have left, but it would appear completely at random.

I am sorry, I wish I could be of more help to you.

[ There is a point at which all of this becomes too much. Reunions tearful and equal parts balm and painful to his heart. Many faces he had not seen in a great many years, many faces he had yearned to see here for they brought comfort, yet all at the same time he did not wish this fate upon them. None of them. They deserved the hard won pace, every single one of them.

In truth, these years should be few and insignificant for an elf, but during his time spend among the mortals, Legolas had learned to appreciate every brief minute and now it was difficult to cast this aside. And he didn't want to anyway, as it was something so very close to his nature anyway.

A deep ache blooms in his chest, equal parts grief and joy and tears that he had thought ran dry already upon all else that happened in the span of so very few days. He's been in the middle of a whirlwind of most conflicting emotions for months now, and it all comes to its climax, to its crumble and doom tonight. Though his tone is calm when he finally speaks to the locket and asks it to carry his voice, it is also quiet, hushed so that not too much leaks past but the joy. For joy is the emotion that overwhelms all else, no matter the traces of guilt that it comes with.

Aragorn should not suffer this fate. Gimli should not suffer this fate. Nobody should. And yet if the existence of their own home is at stake, Legolas could ask for no better allies. ]

I fear, my dear friend, 'tis an impossible you ask. Though I wish every day that it was not so.

However if a place among friends will content you, I have such to offer.

Edited (word repetiton...) 2014-10-01 07:21 (UTC)

[ John is in Caer Glaem himself -- the stables now, checking on the number and quality of the horses. Not that he admittedly knows much about horses, but those who work in the stables do. ]

You'll find that the fighting here involves the fate of your world, too. But Legolas can tell you more than I can.

You're a king? [ He looks the type. Ruggedly handsome, fairy-tale like. The cadence in his voice is something Kelsi pays particular attention to, mostly because she's used to fishing around for pleasant tones for her music. That's not weird at all, right? ]

Maybe if you help here, you get to go back? That's how it works, right?

[ she does not necessarily want to speak with him. indeed, she is happiest when she ignores all strangers. but she hears that arya speaks with him, and so must make herself known. just in case. ]

I am sorry, your grace. [ he's heir to a throne, is he not? and therefore she will trade with him courteously. ] I am certain your people and your friends must indeed miss you.

[ even if you don't look much like a king. so scraggly! ]

You'll need wait with the rest of us, your grace. [There is an incredibly forced amount of absolutely no respect injected into that title.] There ain't no fetching yourself home just by saying so. You're sharded and stuck like the rest of us.

[Bloody highborns.]

[Big wide eyes peering.]

Didn't know the kings of Gondor still wanted it. Are you for true?

The fortunes of our world are no longer of greatest immediate import. Calm yourself.

[ It's the year of Eldarion's death, a genuinely decent length of time since his father Aragorn, King Elessar himself lived. But this is not the great king as he was known to Gondor; this is merely a ranger busy with his wars, climbing that ladder to greatness to prove his worth. Thranduil is rather glad of it, since Aragorn will be much more suited to circumstances here if he isn't toting an actual crown, recognised by a people, and drawing attention to himself.

It means the Walker can run around with Thranduil's son and keep Legolas safe. ]

I am Thranduil, Elvenking. You know my son, Legolas. Will you be travelling with him in the Drabwurld of Allaidh Darach? I would know your plans, if they fall into line with his.

[For all intents and purposes, Aubri looks like a large bird on the close-in view of the locket; it's a little different though and one might, if looking closely, catch the edge of a wing settling behind him. His ear tufts are pricked forward, head cocked to the side just a little. Not quite just a bird.]

I dare say that those who rule this place do not care much for your obligations. I'm sorry.

[ A lot of what he's saying sounds familiar - Middle Earth, especially, and Hermione pauses before she smiles. ]

Are you a friend of Legolas and Gimli, by any chance?

Aragorn, son of Arathorn, take heart. What is meant to come to pass, will.

[ Mention of Gondor is the one thing that rings familiar to Thorin's ears. Yet, he is certain with only this that this man is, much like many a people in this place, from a time different than his own. Something he is yet to understand, but that he cannot deny when proof is presented to him.

So he doesn't question the statement that Aragorn makes, neither does he point out it has been nearly a century since Gondor had a king. Erebor had no king for a long time either, it does not mean that would not come to change one day - soon. ]

Those which hear your message and answer to it cannot grant you passage back to Middle Earth. Much like you, we are all stranded in these lands, and you will find that some of us were in situations likewise grave, though whether or not to the same degree as yours - I could not tell you so.

[ That is an awful lot of words considering who they come from. And he's not done yet. ] There is more to this place, however. I do not know how much you have been told so far.

Take heart, Elessar. I have seen the end of your battle- and of the war itself. The future holds much promise, for Middle Earth and for you.

[Hello, grandson-in-law.]

[ There is only so much she can do while Legolas lingers in this state, the enchanted sleep that as it seems, captures one or another every so often. She is told he will be alright, yet it is beyond her not to worry, even if in turn only makes her feel more useless.

But she'll not linger with him as well, not for long in any case. After making him more comfortable she eventually decides to explore the area, thinking of visiting the yard where practice is happening - she might not be able to use the sword at her waist to the best of her ability while her arm still recovers, but she can lift it somewhat. If only she can help others train, then it will be good enough.

Legolas had told her already, of course, that Gimli and Aragorn were here, news that she took with great joy. Having been plucked from the heat of battle, she had not parted ways with either of them on happy memories, and though she knows that with Aragorn it will no longer be the same, she hopes still to see him, and see that he is well.

Though she does not go in search of him especially, she comes across his path nonetheless, as she takes a turn at the end of a hallway and all but walks right into him. ]

Oh...! [ A surprised sound as her step falters, but when she looks up and recognizes him, she smiles. ] My Lord!

[Aragorn caught the attentions of Arya and Sansa and even Gendry? You better believe Jon is going to crash this party too.]

Neither man nor fairy has power over sending you back, I don't think. Some are here for lifetimes, and some are sent away after only a few turns of the moon, whether or not they want to be. [It's not fair (but Jon doesn't say that because he's A Man Grown, and that's boy talk.)] It's a poor way to wage a war, in any case.

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