paradisalogs | A Spring without a Winter

Phoebe had been taking a walk to get some fresh air and enjoy the feel of having magic for a little while longer before heading to the Dead Zone. Needless to say she was surprised when she saw the elf with a sword. Not that she saw an elf, of course, but that he was practicing his sword fighting outside in the snow. She smiled and watched him for a moment, admiring his technique. It'd been some time since she'd practiced her sword fighting and it was nice to see someone else using a sword who wasn't actively fighting someone.

It was another moment before she approached with a wave and a smile, "Hello."

Celeborn was just about to continue with his training until the approach of another sparked his intrigue. "Greetings." The elf replied quietly once the woman came near. While it's truly a little too cold for anyone to be lingering outside, Celeborn honestly would rather be out here than indoors. The biting cold helps him focus better or so he would claim.

He obviously didn't know the brunette, but that doesn't stop him from being somewhat cordial. Though Celeborn wouldn't be surprised to know if this woman; like many others, were friends with Galadriel. His wife is a little bit of a socialite here.

Now that she had his attention and there was no danger of getting in the way of his practice Phoebe stepped closer, gesturing slightly at the sword in his hand. "I hope you don't mind my interrupting. I was just watching you. I don't get to see many people with a sword in their hand who aren't fighting for their life."

She laughed, smiling sheepishly, "I'm sorry, I'm being rude. I'm Phoebe Halliwell."

The elf glanced briefly at his sword. "Ah, how true. This sword is no idle trinket nor is it a toy." A dark gaze clouded his vision as he eyed his sword with morbid fascination."'Tis a tool of death. A weapon forged to take the life Ilúvatar has granted." Celeborn nearly whispered as he sheathed his sword. As much as he prides himself in his skill with a blade, Celeborn was more fond of writing than anything else. He merely trains now for the sake of keep his body and mind focus.

"Worry not." His mood lifts just a little. "You interrupt nothing, my lady." The elf bowed. "I am Celeborn, Lord of Lothlórien. 'Tis a pleasure to make your acquaintance." Phoebe shouldn't fret if Celeborn sounded a little too formal.

Edited 2013-01-27 04:20 (UTC)

Phoebe nods in respectful agreement as he speaks. She had actually been reluctant to learn how to use a sword at all, but Cole had convinced her that she may need it to go up against demons who used swords as well as magic. She was grateful for it, now, but she has a deep appreciation for the danger of such weapons.

Her smile brightens to a grin when he introduces himself, "Oh! I'm so glad to finally be able to meet you! I've been friends with Lady Galadriel for some time, now." The warmth is evident in her eyes as she thinks of her dear friend, "She actually did me the honor of officiating my wedding last year. She told me that you'd arrived. I'm just sorry that we hadn't had a chance to meet til now."

Cimorene had been pleased to discover that the wardrobe in her room here was just as accommodating as the one in her rooms in Kazul's caverns when it came to providing sensible dresses suited to her purposes. Whether that was sorting dusty treasure rooms, cooking, or hiking through snow and practicing her limited sword skills.

That last was what had brought her outside this morning. Putting on one of the warmest and most sensible of the dresses, she had strapped her sword securely to her waist and set out purposefully into the snow. Perhaps she could find some isolated place to practice.

Inevitably, she is drawn to the sounds of someone else practicing. She watches silently for a moment than hastily drops into a curtsy and loudly greets him. When meeting strange persons, it was best to err on the side of politeness.

"Good morning, sir. I wish good fortune on all your endeavors."

While he may not seem quite aware of Cimorene's presence at first, Celeborn certainly noticed her once he sheathed his blade. It would seem that Celeborn wasn't the only one hoping to get some practice in today. The sword strapped at the girl's hip gave away her intent, and he chuckled.

"Greetings, my lady." He replied elegantly with a slight bow to match her polite curtsey. "You are too kind to wish such good upon a stranger."

Unlike the princess, Celeborn went without his heavy cloak and coat, and settled for just the warmth of his pale blue robes. The Elves of Middle-Earth weren't immune to the cold, but the cold barely nips at them as badly as it does their mortal cousins. He could easily linger out here for hours. Yet, eventually he would have to retire and seek the warmth of the nearest fireplace.

Edited (reformatting!) 2013-01-25 00:58 (UTC)

"It is only polite." She straightens back up and gives him a pleasant smile. "I am the princess Cimorene of Linderwall. Although I prefer my current title as Chief Cook and Librarian to the King of the Dragons."

A princess is she?

Well that explains her impeccable sense of manners. Not all royals were known for their etiquette, but most are proper enough to be well liked amongst their people. While he honestly never heard of Linderwall until now, Celeborn doesn't doubt that Cimorene is well loved.

However, he does notice she lacks the timidness of a young princess. Not many maidens like her would strut about with a sword tethered by her side. Celeborn's curious enough to inquire a bit more about her name and title, but after proper introductions of course. He's certain that there's a long and fascinating tale behind her current ties with the King of Dragons.

"I'm grateful nonetheless, Lady Cimorene." He states with a nod. "I am Celeborn, Lord of Lothlórien; the Realm of the Galadhrim."

If Cimorene had known what he thought about her reputation in Linderwall, she would have laughed. She was well aware that in her parent's kingdom she had been considered to be stubborn, improper and unprincesslike. And that was before she had run away and volunteered to be a dragon's captive princess.

As she had been told many times, it was simply not done. But she had done it anyway. And she could not find it in herself to regret any of it.

"A pleasure to meet you, Lord Celeborn. Are you related to the Lady Galadriel? She spoke to me not long ago."

At the mention of his beloved's name, Celeborn smiled. "She is my wife." He said with much pride. "We have seen the stars rise and fall together. The two of us inseparable by our bond and love." It's amazing that even after all these years how in love he is with Galadriel. This will never change even if they were to die because like them; their love is eternal.

"Many know of her, and many more will so learn of her." Celeborn's smile widened.

"How wonderful for you." Cimorene even meant it. She might not believe in a happy ever after for herself. Not in anything more than she had achieved already in making a life for herself that was interesting and useful. But it was reassuring to see that others could find it.

Now only if she realized just how long they've been married. The two of them are nearly as ageless as Arda itself. Their bond has remained strong throughout the ages. Neither war or despair could separate them, nor Paradisa. Somehow even after Galadriel suddenly found herself here, Celeborn soon followed.

"You humble me." The silver elf replied quietly. "I certainly pray that such happiness shall find you." She's a little young in his opinion to be married, but such was the way of Men. However, her occupation alone somewhat implies that Cimorene may never know this kind of happiness.

"Who is this King of Dragons?"

"Her name is Kazul. We met before she became King, when I became her princess."

Cimorene often thought that Kazul was the best friend she had ever had. Kazul had given her a home and useful work, even when she had been nothing more than a runaway princess with the unheard idea of volunteering to be a dragon's princess.

And because of that her tone is a little defensive. She'd seen what Galadriel's opinion of dragons was.

Likened to his wife, Celeborn doesn't share a particular fondness with dragons. In truth, he honestly dislike the creatures. Not even Daenerys and her wonderful hatchlings did much to change his perception of dragons. However, he did sense the defensiveness in the princess' tone as she spoke of Kazul. The King of Dragons apparently was truly a "queen" instead. A female dragon who taken Cimorene to be her princess.

Such an oddity wouldn't be heard of in Middle-earth. More likely than not, a dragon like Kazul would be a beast comprised out of evil and not kindness. If it hadn't been for how fondly she spoke of Kazul; Celeborn would've assumed the creature kidnapped her.

"Flame and water rarely meet." The elf said cautiously. "Surely such an unlikely bond is met with great disbelief."

"It isn't usual, no. In my world it is more common for princesses to be carried off and held captive by dragons. But I volunteered for it, and I am quite happy with my current situation." Some irritation slips into her voice. "Not that anyone is willing to believe it. I have had to speak for three hours and more before trying to turn away would be rescuers. Some of them refuse to go away until I offer to fight them myself. Kazul is far too busy to deal with that kind of nonsense."

Edited 2013-01-25 21:58 (UTC)

A slight frown settled upon his lips as he listened to Cimorene. Nothing about this strange tale made any sense to him. The dragons of Middle-earth were always more fond of riches than women. Such beasts had no need for either, but even Smaug himself preferred gold. This was why he eyed the princess with a hint of disbelief.

While this may seem like an harmless endeavor for her to be claimed by Kazul; Celeborn couldn't help but wonder how long such a friendship would last. Dragons, after all, are monsters. He couldn't recall any encounters with dragons that ended peacefully. Those who came across such evil rarely lived.

"Be at peace, Cimorene." Celeborn said gently as to not tempt the girl's wrath. "I would be one of the last to try and part you from Kazul. Your business is your own, though I do suggest caution." He certainly hopes that Cimorene's tale shan't end in tears. If many still sought to "rescue" the princess from her scaly friend, then surely trouble brews.

Cimorene barely stops herself from jutting her chin out stubbornly. After her experiences over the last few years, it was her first reaction. By necessity she had become a very determined and persistent arguer. Sometimes it was her only defense against the constant complaints of her improper and untraditional ways.

But at least this Elf seemed willing to listen to her. Or at least allow her to live her life in her own way. That was more than many people in her world had given.

"Dragons are no more dangerous than many of the other creatures of my world. And they are much more sensible than many of them." Wizards, for one.

As always, Galadriel's approach was quiet, nearly silent. She stood watching him practice for a time, admiring the fluidity of his swings and his natural athleticism. Even neglecting practice as he has done, there was no denying that he was skilled. And she was appreciative; she had, after all, seen those skills put to use in her defense and the defense of their people.

But when he pauses and rubs his shoulder, she steps forward, frowning slightly.

"You should not strain yourself, my love."

Her approach was soundless, but as usual he could sense her. Celeborn gave his wife a slight frown as she came near. He knew that his wife often loved to brush her bare feet against the short dewy grass. However, the cold may be too much for her if she decided to tickle her toes against the snow. While he's not too susceptible to the cold; Celeborn doubted her fortitude.

"I am well." He lied as he reached for her hand. Gently stroking his thumb across her knuckles, Celeborn curls his fingers around hers, and leans down to kiss it.

"Though it wasn't my intention to lure you into the cold."

He needn't have worried. Galadriel certainly had sense enough to wear to shoes in the snow. And after having crossed the Helcaraxë, this cold was nothing. She withstood some of the harshest environments in Middle-Earth; a little snow would do her no harm.

"You forget that I am a healer. I know better." Her expression lightens slightly as he kisses her hand. As soon as he releases it, she reaches over to massage his shoulder.

"I am not so fragile." He didn't need to protect her- from worry or from the cold.

It's just like a husband to fret over the well-being of his wife. Even though he knows that she's quite sensible and made out of hardier stuff than most warriors, Celeborn can't help but worry. She is the only other person besides their daughter who could stir such protectiveness in him; no matter how irrational.

"It would seem that I do." He stated with a sigh once her hand rests upon his shoulder again. The massage felt nice, but would probably feel even nicer indoors next to a roaring fire.

"Do you believe I've harmed myself?"

Of course, the massage had served a dual purpose; she was as focused on finding the source of the problem as on bringing him comfort.

"It is nothing serious, I think. It has been long since I have seen you practice. Some small ache is natural." Her hand drops back to her side and she leans over to press a swift kiss to his neck. "However, I would not push yourself too far too quickly."

A slight chuckle left him once he felt that kiss upon his neck. Celeborn then turned fully towards his wife, and leaned forward to kiss her cheek. It amazed him sometimes how darling she could be. While the gesture was a simple token of her affection; it spoke volumes to him.

"You speak the truth, bessig." He replied in a hushed whisper. "It has been far too long since I last wielded a blade." With that told, he sheathed his sword. He'll have other time to practice. For now, Celeborn planned to spend his time with the one he cherished most.

"I do fear I've become too fond of the pen rather than the sword."

"We both have, bennig. After all we have seen, does it not stand to reason we should prefer the former?" She looped her arm through his and leaned her head against his shoulder. It was a bit unusual for her to be this openly affectionate in public, but she was feeling rather sentimental at the moment.

"And you have always had a way with words." It was part of what won her over in the first place.

Celeborn smiled once she rest her head upon his shoulder, but her wise words left him thinking of the past. There's a reason why he laid down his blade in favor of a pen. All the death and destruction he had seen and survived was enough to make Celeborn forgo his sword. Memories of Doriath was still quite fresh within his mind, and the Last Alliance between Elves and Men wasn't so long ago. He remembered all that transpired. Everything from Morgoth's rise to power and the kinslaying were still fresh within his memories.

"How true." He replied quietly. "My words a sharper than any blade, yet they do not kill." While Celeborn's not so much of a pacifist, he certainly doesn't believe in killing out of spite. He would much rather spend the rest of his days in peace other than in peril.

"They may be sharp when necessary, true enough. But I would much prefer to hear you speak softly. You have skill in that also."

Words of war, words of wisdom, words of peace, and words of love- in her opinion, he had a way with them all. She raises her head to meet his eyes with her own. "Will you walk with me?"

"Then shall you have me whisper only sweet nothings to your ear?" He joked idly with a small hint of a smile stretched upon his lips. In these wonderful times of peace, Celeborn has no need for sharpened words.

"Of course." He happily answered. "I have no need for my blade anymore." Celeborn said as he brushes back a loose blond curl behind Galadriel's elegantly pointed ear.

"Lead on."

And she began to walk with no real destination in mind. It was a pleasure just to stroll about the grounds with him on her arm. Or she on his- there was little distinction in her mind. "I would have also your counsel and your wisdom." But then her smile took a little mischievous turn, almost turning to a smirk. "Yet I will freely admit that your suggestion does have some appeal."

The mischievous smirk she given him was enough to coax another smile from Celeborn. He honestly loves seeing this carefree side of Galadriel. It's a rare treat to see her unburdened with the affairs of others. More often than not, his wife acts as the envoy of truth for those who seek it. Capable of viewing both the past and the future, Galadriel was more often than not feared by those who only knew of her by name. Yet while by his side, she doesn't have to fulfill her role as the Lady of Light.

"You humor me, my lady." He chuckles. "However, I would rather be all that you desire and need."

"And so you are, my lord." She gives his arm an affectionate squeeze as they continue to walk. Her words are said lightly and with a mirthful tone that belies their sincerity. It was easy for a casual observer to overlook Celeborn- to see only Galadriel and her obvious power. But, in truth, they were far more balanced. He grounded her, offered her support, kept her from the worst of herself. She was blessed to have him in her life and she knew it.

Legolas walked quietly along the grounds of the castle, his Galadhrim bow and a quiver of arrows hanging on his back overtop his cloak. That the castle had given him the bow that Lady Galadriel had gifted him more than a century ago was something he was thankful for and yet, he was not. It meant his loss was still something he had yet to discover and that bothered him.

The sound of a blade cutting through the air made the prince stop, gaze following the sound to Lord Celeborn and watching him for a moment longer. He realized how rude of him it was though to simply watch and approached soon after, bowing his head respectfully.

"Would that I could offer you an opponent to train against, my Lord."

The Lord of the Galadhrim was quick to greet Legolas once the youth came near. Celeborn knew that facing Thranduil's heir within a duel would prove to be rather interesting. While the Elvenking certainly has more than enough quirks to render him unlikeable by most; Celeborn knew Thranduil's son would not be without skill in combat. This was why he accepted the prince's challenge with a slight bow.

"Only you offer yourself as my opponent, Legolas."

If only he could challenge the Silver Lord. Unless of course, there were a blacksmith in town that could offer him an acceptable blade to purchase. Nothing, of course, would match the beauty and strength of an elven blade but it would be better than nothing. He would prefer his own weapons though and he was sure that none would blame him for such a desire.

"I've no blade to put against yours. The castle saw fit to return me only my bow. Unless of course you would be patient enough for me to go into the town and find an acceptable weapon."

Celeborn waved his hand dismissively at the thought. "No." He sternly declined. "If the wielder possesses no kinship with his sword, then the blade itself is rendered as useless." It would make little sense for him to spar Legolas now. Without a suitable blade to match his Elven crafted sword, the prince would stand very little chance of defeating him. The odds would he shifted in Celeborn's favor, and that wouldn't be fair.

"Instead, I propose we spend our time admiring the outdoors." The Silver Lord paused briefly before another chuckle hummed upon his lips. "That is unless you still fancy wine above all things else, ioneg." He's hinting to that week he had to spend as Legolas' caretaker.

Perhaps the castle would be gracious enough to give him his swords another day. Perhaps even his begetting day, though he'd not even thought of that day in a great many years. If it weren't for the memory their kind were gifted with, he'd have forgotten when it was. All the same, he would later go to find a blade to train with and commission a pair like his own be made. The young prince was not entirely comfortable with having only his bow for defense.

"That would be-" Legolas cut of, looking blankly at Celeborn for a moment before his ears started burning in embarrassment. For a moment, he looked like the pouting little elfling that Celeborn and Galadriel had found in the kitchen but he quickly straightened up and tried to retain what dignity he had left.

"The wine here is not entirely satisfying. I would prefer to enjoy the time out here."

Looking absolutely humored by Legolas' response, Celeborn decided to ease on his jest before the younger prince bursts into theatrics. He could only imagine the hell the little prince must've reaped on Thranduil during his youth. "I'm more than grateful to see you returned to normal." He replied with a faint smile.

"I had quite the time trying to convince you of a proper bedtime." Much like his daughter when she was very young, Legolas would forsake sleep in hopes of snatching cookies and other treats out from the pantry. The little elf was quite the nuisance, but it didn't help that Celeborn would sneak Legolas' treats whenever Galadriel wasn't looking.

Edited 2013-02-13 17:37 (UTC)

"As am I. I've certainly changed quite a bit from the little imp I once was."

His childhood was, likely, a subject that Thranduil wouldn't touch upon with ease. Legolas had certainly been a handful as a child, so much so that he'd once been taken out in the forest to see just what else his father and his people had to worry about without the prince getting himself into trouble on an almost daily basis.

"As a child, I recall that it was nearly impossible for anyone to enforce a 'bedtime' for me." A devious twinkle appeared in his eyes as he grinned to the lord. "I often snuck out of bed when I'd thought enough time had passed since I'd gone."

The days of painting outside in the warm weather were well behind Steve. That doesn't mean he's out of ways to hone his skills. It just means they won't be his artistic ones. The shield strapped to his back should be hint enough of that.

Steve had gotten in the habit of practicing with his Christmas gift since the shield since it showed up last year. He wasn't making any progress with it naturally until he transitioned to the large physique he enjoyed today. Even then it had taken a considerable amount of practice to figure out the tricks. (There's undoubtedly a funny story how he found out that if you throw it at the right angle, the shield will return.)

Generally he liked to do this alone, but even if he hadn't been a little shy about practicing with a crowd seeing an elf or really anyone wielding a sword would have cut his plans short. Steve realizes that not for the first time he's staring at something he considers amazing so it's time for an apology. "Celeborn." There's a small nod before he continues, "I didn't mean to intrude. I'll just give you some space." He will probably turn to go unless the other man says something.

Just in the middle of a few more practice swings, Celeborn stops suddenly once Steve greets him. It's been a long time since the two last spoke, but the wise old elf never forgets a face. "Greetings." He replies with a slight nod before sheathing his blade.

As much as he wants to get more practice done, his aching shoulder suggests otherwise. Therefore, Celeborn decides to indulge himself in conversation for the time being. Which also translates into Steve having no chance to escape. While Celeborn is often referred to as aloof and distant, it would seem that Steve is quite similar. Though instead of being distant, the young man seems hesitant and timid.

"You intrude on nothing more than the disillusioned grandeur of a war weary warrior, my friend. I welcome you."

Edited (late edit I swear) 2013-01-26 05:26 (UTC)

Steve will halt his escape plans then. He offers the other man a smile. "Well as long as I'm not intruding. It's not every day I get to see someone swing a sword. We're more the gun carrying type where I come from." Of course he doesn't quite fit the mold of that carrying around a red, white, and blue shield. Bucky had always been better at fitting the ideal man than him.

At the mention of firearms, Celeborn looks a tad perturbed. "The gun?" He never heard of such a weapon until now. Middle-earth isn't exactly that advanced yet to master the making of firearms. The only weapon possibly similar to a gun during the Third Age is perhaps the crossbow. Guns weren't invented as of yet, and hopefully they'll never will be.

Steve realizes his mistake quickly. It's hard to strike a balance between knowing everyone's normal was different here and not automatically assuming the person you're speaking with knows nothing of your culture. It is simple enough thing to fix thankfully. "It's sort of like a bow and arrow if it was made of metal. Robin Ho- Clint would be able to explain the difference better than I could." He pauses to think it over a little more. "Pretty sure guns a lot deadlier though. You don't need any skill to fire one either, but it helps." Agent Carter comes to mind as an example of that.

The more Steve spoke of this seemingly mythical weapon, the more Celeborn finds himself hoping that such destructive power never takes rise in his realm. Imagine how powerful Sauron's forces would be if they mastered the production of gunpowder? The creation of firearms would change the very dynamic of warfare. Many more would suffer at the hands of those drunk for power, and many lives would be lost.

"Any weapon that doesn't require skill; is a weapon not worth owning."

Steve nods. He can see the his point to an extent. It is simply the way things were for him. Guns were an old concept even in his era. "That's modern warfare for you. There isn't really any chance to learn something like that."

Steve gestures to Celeborn's sword. "I taught myself how to use this." He taps the shield lightly with his knuckles.

Manfred, unlike many of the others among the Park here was not here to spar. He owned no weapons of equal aside from a foil back home at his estate that would be hardly of any merit or use enough to indulge Celeborn, and he did not make a point to gravitate towards such activities given his profession. However, the display before him does interest him.

He did not know much of his elfin acquaintance, therefore observance would be not above him. The veteran prosecutor lingered but for a moment to see the graceful arcs and elegant movement of the sword before deciding to approach. Like the snowy surroundings Manfred himself bore a distinct frost in his bearing, a coldness that was austere as it was evident. As quiet and as foreboding as a wintry storm he hovered on the edge of the forested place, stepping out cautiously. A chance meeting such as this was not one he should've taken lightly. They had not spoken since the incident in the library, after all. He announced his presence therefore, with this greeting:

"I see you are skilled in swordsmanship. A curious practice. I myself have not engaged in it."

It's been years since Celeborn last practice his swordsmanship and to be honest, he felt a little rusty. During younger years, he was much faster with his thrusts and more precise with his stabs. While he's certainly not bad, Celeborn wasn't a vision of perfection anymore. Of course this might be difficult for Manfred to tell, especially since the mortal never seen him fight. If others were here, they would quickly point out his flaws. This was why he greeted Manfred's words with a soft chuckle.

"Is it truly so uncommon?" He asked with a tinge of surprise. "There's twice as many who are skilled in this practice, than there are of those skilled in others." While traveling through certain regions of Middle-earth, you're more likely to meet a sellsword than a farmer. Being able to wield a sword can literally save your life. This Doriathrin Prince learned that eons ago.

"Tell me, what brings you here?"

Edited 2013-02-13 17:20 (UTC)

A vision of perfect was exactly what he'd been interested in, but while he has a precise eye he did not hold experience in the matters of elves and swordplay. No doubt had he known of it he'd have been quite impressed. But yet Celeborn's deduction would not prove incorrect.

"No, but it is no longer so prevalent where I come from. It is more...a leisure hobby given the peace that reigns. Or at least, the use of it has become outlawed."

Manfred smirked, leveling him with a flat stare.

"Strange, isn't it? The differences in worlds...I find it a necessary skill moreso in those who wish to hone their senses. I myself was once a fencer. No longer, however. My profession does not allow time to meddle with such idle fancies. Or at least it has been years since I've seen another wield a weapon with such prowess."

Sadly modern times had more or less seen the sword written out of history. Battles of blood and blade no longer existed, except perhaps in the odd case. Or in the way of certain cultures...

"The castle isn't the only place I wish to occupy. Purely coincidence, if you can believe such a statement. What of you? Merely to practice your skills?"

A Spring without a Winter

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wait, is Phoebe from Charmed?

she is, indeed!

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Hope you don't mind a backtag! I was on hiatus but I wanted to tag this.

No, it's fine!

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