Introducing the People of Paradisa

[silvertree]

Who: The Lord and Lady of Lothlórien & Everyone
What: While the two love birds have a romantic picnic within the courtyard, several nosy imps decide to crash their little party.
When: Midday
Where: The Gardens
Rating: PG-13 and much embarrassment on Celeborn's part.

[The gentle autumn breeze welcomed the two star-crossed lovers as they dined together upon several blankets spun from the finest wool. It was the perfect afternoon for a picnic, one comprised of clear sunny skies damped in bright cyan and fluffy white clouds that rolled past in an endless march to the distant horizon. Such a day was like most others here in paradise but what made this day so unique from others was two lovers who sat under the shadow of a sturdy maple tree. They dined and laughed in unison, the two of them greatly enjoying their time together in the form of flirtatious quips and innocent kisses. It was quite ridiculous how in love these two were but anyone with eyes could tell that they're definitely take their vows seriously.

Gently brushing his lips against Galadriel's hand, Celeborn was honestly not aware of the small crowd that gathered nearby. It seemed that many of Galadriel's friends have taken an interest in their timeless romance, many of which seemed more impish than curious. While he most certainly welcomes any and all of his wife's dear friends, Celeborn might be the first to remind them that this sacred time he shares with his beloved is his and his alone.

The Lord of Lothlórien can be a tad selfish like that.]

The glorious shine of the day fails in comparison to your beauty, my eternal queen.

[He whispers quietly with a faint smirk curling upon his lips. Celeborn could go on for days in admiration of Galadrial's celestial beauty but he rather not embarrass her so in public.]

Comments

[inafadingcrown]

Oh, I made my choice in that matter long ago, Celeborn the Wise. [And she's satisfied with that. It's nothing like "Galadriel," the gift he gave her, but it will do.] I will let her name you as she wills.

[silvertree]

[ Goodness, had he known that calling dear Lucrezia an "imp" would cause him so much trouble...]

Very well. Then what shall you name me, Lady Borgia? I'm rather eager to know.

[heloise]

[ She peers at his hair. ]

L'argento. For your beautiful locks.

[inafadingcrown]

From your native tongue?

[silvertree]

[ It only takes him a mere moment to guess what that word means. ]

Silver?

[ A humored chuckle escapes him. ]

Very fitting.

[heloise]

Close enough. [ She thinks maybe she should have given him something Spanish instead. ] Or Plateado.

[inafadingcrown]

[A little laugh] And she continues! How many languages do you have at your command, dearest?

[silvertree]

[ Celeborn's brows furrow at the second suggestion for he cannot trace its origins easily like the first. ]

[heloise]

Not as many as you do, Galadriel, and far less beautiful.

[inafadingcrown]

How can you be sure, dear one? Do you know how many tongues I speak?