eachdraidh | Video; Both Courts

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Video; Both Courts

[ The locket turns on, allowing a glimpse of the bailey in Caer Glaem while Celeborn is figuring out how it works. He's been at court for a few days but keeping to himself. There are so many people in the castle, a babble of voices and stray surface thoughts, that he's spent most of that time just learning his way around and avoiding the larger gatherings. Finding this outdoor haven feels almost like a reward for his patience. There's still so much to absorb, and this - figuring out how the locket works - is one he feels he can put off no longer.

He stares straight ahead; tall, handsome and silver-haired, garbed in soft gray traveling clothes. The elf's expression is slightly wary (speaking to anyone and everyone, no matter where in the Drabwurld they are, reminds him sharply of Fëanor's palantiri and look how those turned out). ]

Le suilon (Greetings).

My name is Celeborn, lord of Lothlórien in my world. [ He trails off for a moment, not entirely sure what to say next. 'My world'. It still feels surreal, stepping through a fairy ring and traveling far beyond Arda. If he understands right, beyond Aman as well. This isn't his home. Although the little he's seen in certainly beautiful. ] I am a newcomer. Like many of those now here in this castle.

If there are any other natives of Ennor, I would be pleased to speak with you. My own people especially, but others as well. [ Celeborn pauses, then forges onward. ] While it grieves me that war against the long dark rages in other lands, I will do what I can to aid in its downfall.

Na lû e-govaned vîn. (Until next we meet.)

[ The locket feed darkens after a long pause, once Celeborn figures out how to turn it off. ]

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[Galadriel is stunned into silence for a moment when she sees that face. She had come to this world from the docks of the Grey Havens, fully prepared to bear the burden of a parting with him. But that did not mean that she relished the thought. Selfish as it was, a part of her could not help but rejoice to see him here.

And- the bailey. She knew that place. It was only chance that had her in Caer Glaem, a desire to see to a few errands, to wrap up some business here, and to give Arwen and Celebrían some time to themselves- but what chance! She will not second guess her good fortune, in this case.]

My Lord- my love- do not move one inch. [And with that cryptic message, she turns off the locket. Just trust her.]

[Having her mother with her has been a blessing. One that she had never expected and sometimes questioned if she deserved. Arwen arriving is a heartbreak and a gift, one she isn't planning on wasting (though a part of her wishes now that she had gone to Caer Glaem) while they're in this world. And now her father.

Tears prick at the corners of her eyes, hot and persistent, at the sight of him and the sound of his voice.

Exactly like I remember, she can't help but think. But he's so far away right now and she doesn't want to leave Arwen. And she can't risk trying to bring Arwen to Caer Glaem in case what the Seelie might try to do. And the last thing she wants to do is make enemies of the court though there's no doubt that she would for Arwen's sake.

Still, it's nearly impossible to believe and she rubs at her eyes, wiping away the tears in the hopes that if this is a trick, it will disappear as her sight clears.

The view doesn't change though.]

Atto.

[That she speaks Quenya with a pre-Exilic lilt is probably a dead giveaway that she is not of Middle-earth, but the brightness of her eyes, filled with the Light, is a clear sign as well.]

Amatúlië. Elen síla lúmenn' omentielvo. (Welcome. A star shines upon the hour of our meeting)

I understand your wariness in this place, Celeborn, but may it please you to know there are many others here of your kind.

[ Celeborn of Lothlorien Maglor hears and sees the silver hair that marks those of Thingol's line.

Now that I see him, she does resemble her father, also

But the memory of blood and tears rises up to choke him, and Maglor turns away and does not respond to the post.

Let his cousin and his niece have their joy - he will not spoil it ]

[ Imladris has become a quiet ruin, Lórien is silent and still, even Fangorn is said to have entered a new slumber that will last for no one knows how long — these days, in the Age of Eldarion's death and the fading of Thranduil's kind, when people speak of the Elvenking it is always his seat in Eryn Lasgalen to which they refer, and even then without much belief that the Elves still exist. The forest renamed with Celeborn after the War of the Ring still keeps the mountains as its southernmost boundary and before returning to the Drabwurld, Thranduil cannot recall a single mortal venturing into his realm for at least a hundred years. Keenly does he feel how being one of the oldest Elves left behind, by his own choice, separates him from Celeborn and the rest in Allaidh Darach. Even Legolas. He is a thing that sinks in its roots and does not like to be shifted, will bear the passage of time well and not feel his own autumn in Ennor for many Ages yet — because of that he thinks, I would not know what to say, when he sees Celeborn on the locket and wonders idly in disconnected emotions whether he will look upon the necklace and one day see his Elvenqueen smiling back at him.

There is a distance in me, it separates her from my heart and I cannot mend myself so she will find me here. I know she will not. I feel it.

If Thranduil feels a dull pang of something like a wound in his chest when he observes Galadriel instructing her husband to not move an inch, it could very well be the reason the Elvenking does not immediately reply to Celeborn. There are so many reunions in the Drabwurld that it makes him long to see his lost love and fearful of the possibility of ever laying eyes on her again. He has not been jealous of that easy intimacy for longer than he can remember. It is the strain of trying to protect his son from torture and an ever-present shadow that looms on Legolas's heels which causes Thranduil to wait an hour before responding to the locket; he supposes his friend has met and comforted his lady by then, and the timing will be better suited to all. ]

[There's no hesitation in turning on the feed, a mixture sadness and joy shining in her eyes. Her arrival had left her exhausted - though not exhausted enough to be unable to greet one she cared deeply for. The darkness that had once been slowly been stealing her strength was lifting with every moment she passed here, though her features were still somewhat paler than they should be.]

Grandfather... Nae saian luume'.

Celeborn, lord of Lothlorien. [Idril dips her head in greeting, genuine welcome shining in her expression. Galadriel will be, of course, happy; she has spoken now and again of her husband in their travels together.] I welcome you to the Drabwurld.

Le nathlam hí, hîr vuin. {"You are welcome here, beloved lord."} I will answer what questions I can, but, like you, I am newly arrived in the Drabworld.

{Times differ and he isn't sure what Celeborn has experienced. What matters first is reunions. Then...the rest.}

How do you fare?

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