paradisalogs | Deck the Halls

Entry tags:

Deck the Halls

Who: Thranduil and you!
What: Thranduil arrives! Kissmas shenanegins likely.
When: Now
Where: Floor 3
Rating: ... kissmas shenanegins likely. PG-13 to be safe?

When Thranduil had taken a step forward and found himself somewhere entirely different from where he had intended to be, the first thing he did was stop and examine his surroundings. Behind him was an open door of fine wood, behind that was an entirely unfamiliar hallway, in front of him was a room. It was furnished richly - too much so for his tastes, especially after having spent the past several thousand years becoming accustomed to the constraints and realities of living in Mirkwood, and even longer away from those whose business was crafting luxurious items that fulfilled no other purpose; the wood-elves made many beautiful things, but rarely anything so needlessly opulent. The sheer extravagance of his surroundings was in itself off-putting. Luxury was all well and good, but this....

Half because of the room and half because he should have been in a forest, and was beginning to wonder if the creatures he had come to attempt to dissuade from disturbing his people had somehow managed to reflect his magic back at him (but he was not asleep), Thranduil had turned and walked into the hall. It was nearly as rich as the room had been, gold and rich fabrics strewn everywhere, expensive woods and stones and glass as clear as water unfolding like a painting.

This was not home. This was nowhere familiar.

Exploring further was probably a good first step.

The door behind him had, in graceful script, his name on it, which was both thought-provoking and rather disquieting. It did, however, make him decide that it was as good a place as any to set down the bowl half-full of Dorwinion wine he was still holding, from the feast which he should still have been at; he had no real desire to carry it everywhere he went. Which left nothing to do but explore.

He both did and did not fit in with the grandeur of the castle - his robes were fine enough when the source was considered, but still rougher than what he was surrounded by, and there were a few dead leaves caught near the hem. He was crowned in leaves, with flowers braided through his hair, and although beautiful gems and gold and silver were winking at his belt and collar and fingers, they were not what lent him the aura of splendor that he carried with him. It was how he held himself which turned this all into a place where he could belong.

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Legolas had gotten just a bit more used to the castle and its magic by now than Thranduil obviously would have but that didn't prepare him for this, for some urge to kiss or allow himself to be kissed to overcome him. It gave him an idea, however faint, that the castle could very well be responsible for the sudden affection from the king. One doesn't spend almost a week as a fawn without getting an idea of the magic castles capabilities.

"Please, there is nothing to forgive. I know that you would not have done it were some other power not at work."

His words came in the same flowing language though slower, Legolas still surprised by the kiss. It had been a long time since he'd been kissed by a parent, he was too old now and other things were expected of him.

Thranduil turned to look at their surroundings, eyes scanning for anything, finding nothing. Only the halls and their decorations, gaudy furnishings and opulent arched ceilings strewn with bits of plants.

"Something else, at least, has brought us here." There was no reason to assume... but yes, there was. Thranduil paused mid thought and turned to look at Legolas, more completely. That was not what he had been wearing a few moments past - it was, in fact, nothing he recognized at all.

Was he, in fact, his son? Or was this the creature whose power had brought him here, clothed in a familiar form? He is already standing tall but somehow seems to pull himself up without moving, a mantle of cool dignity settling around him as he looks down at Legolas, suddenly looking for imperfections, for something that did not seem right.

"There is. The castle, it seems, is sentient. It brought us here. Or so I have been told with little reason to doubt." Along with various other things but that could wait. There were more important things at the moment, like the fact that Thranduil was here.

Legolas didn't move for a moment, noticing the look from Thranduil. That he suddenly seemed much more authoritative, more like the king he was in Mirkwood. It wasn't surprising but it made Legolas straighten himself, the picture of an obedient subject.

His clothes were certainly different by his own view. He'd kept careful care so far of his traveling clothes and wished up new clothes, as often as he dared, but otherwise he still wore the cloak he'd been given when departing Lorien. With the potential dangers, he didn't dare not keep it with him. He was also armed but that wasn't very different from how he behaved back home. Only his bow was different and he still had his white knife. Aside from his clothes and mild change in weaponry, there weren't any flaws to find.

"My Lord, is something the matter?" He had to ask sooner or later and the question came with a concerned step forward. Unfortunately, that only brought him in range of the mistletoe once more and the same thing that had made Thranduil blind to their surroundings affected the younger elf.

Another step forward brought him close enough to the elf-king and he leaned up enough to press a kiss against the kings cheek. Only to reel back a moment later in mute embarrassment that now he'd done it as well.

"You have been told? How, and by whom? For surely you could not have been here more than a few minutes - you were at my side as we feasted." In different clothing (in particular there was the cloak, which shifted like water and seemed to be of elven make but was not familiar to him), with different weapons at his side. But in manner he seemed bright and diffident as ever, and he stood tall and proud.

Something made him still as Legolas stepped forward again, as his lips brushed against Thranduil's skin. When it passed he took a step back again. "You say we are in a castle? Perhaps, then, we should first leave."

Feasted? It's been at least half a year since he'd last been in Mirkwood, last joined in a feast. Not long before he'd been sent to Rivendell. Of course, he knew the time differences by now thanks to Galadriel meeting him his first day and running into Thorin and Bilbo.

"I met with others the day that I arrived. Little over a month ago."

That would likely make no sense to the king. And it would be difficult for him to explain himself when he was still not so well accustomed as the Lady of Light.

"There is a forest outside of the castle grounds that I've spent much of my time in. If you would prefer we go there."

Thranduil is clearly startled at that. "A month? But..." Impossible. It had to be. He is now visibly unsettled, though he was doing his best to once again get control of his expression.

"That, perhaps, would be best. I am no stranger to stone walls, but there is magic of a kind I am unfamiliar with at work here, and it would be good to again see trees."

Legolas isn't going to argue that it seems impossible but when one is faced with a Hobbit that's about seventy years younger than he should be and a not!dead dwarf... well, the impossible starts to seem possible.

"The forest then." He smiles, content to go and find his way back among the trees. And pleased that he'll be able to show it to his father. Speaking of magic though, there is something he should probably start off with.

"Have you met anyone to explain the losses to you?"

He inclines his head, waiting for the other to lead the way - he certainly doesn't know his way out, and wasn't entirely sure there was one. Logic would dictate that there was, but logic would also not have pointed to any of the rest of this happening, so perhaps it was best not to trust it for now.

"A loss?" That would be a no, Legolas.

He nods and leads the way, moving through the halls easily. He knows his way through at least the first few floors of the castle by now, if only because he'd gotten lost one or twice when he had first arrived.

"When we first arrive, the castle takes something from us. A belonging, a memory or skill."

There's also the temporary losses that Galadriel had explained to him and that he's recently experienced. Though he'd rather not get into that just yet. He still has moments where he's slightly off balance with just two legs.

He frowns slightly, partially because he doesn't like the sound of it and partially because he hasn't noticed anything.

"I do not feel otherwise than I always have." Though the very idea of the castle taking something.... "Who is it that brought us here?"

He hadn't liked the idea of it either, still doesn't, but lying about it or trying to soften it would be appreciated. He knows that Thranduil would want the trust of things.

"It may not be something you notice immediately. It took me longer than it should have to discover my loss." Of course, he hadn't actively been trying to figure it out, had no reason to try looking so far as he had back home.

"No single person is responsible. It was the castle itself."

"And?" Thranduil's voice is soft, slightly dangerous, though the danger was not directed towards Legolas - this was his son who had apparently been robbed. It was, however, difficult to know who to confront about that, apparently. "What was stolen from you?"

Thranduil's eyes went to the walls again, lingering. Opulent yes, but there was no sign of life, as it is typically known. The stones breathe their stories, not all of them friendly ones, but they seem no more awake than most, and less than some. But there is a sense to them, a hum as of trees that did not have to be friendly, and it was disquieting.

"You said there is a forest? Then let us go."

He knows that tone and recognizes that it's not directed at him. He only worries for what it might lead to and answers quickly rather than let the king worry that it may be something worse than what it is.

"My sight has been dulled. Where once I could see leagues, now my eyes can see no better than that of a Man."

At least his skill with blade and bow hasn't been affected. With Thranduil here, he didn't want his skills to be in any way compromised. Which means he'll be practicing more than he has been. Regrettably, it hasn't been as much as it should have been.

Nodding, he begins to lead the way along the familiar halls. What noise came from the stones is more of less ignored by the son, he's not interested in the stories of the castle unless from those he trusts.

Less grievous, perhaps, than it might otherwise have been, but worrisome in its own way. To hear so easily of an elf losing something that was born into the race was deeply unsettling, and Thranduil's eyes took on a hint of worry as he looked at his son.

"You must, then, be careful. To lose the keenness of ones sight is not so bad as to lose it entirely, but may be dangerous enough in its time."

He would watch him, protect him. It was ever thus, of course, Thranduil guarded those around him, but such a disability could be more than troubling in the wrong situation, and merited extra caution.

He tries, oh does he try, to look unbothered by his Loss. If only to ease his fathers worry, make it easier for him to worry about himself while here. It will make it easier for Legolas to keep him safe here, as well. He reaches one hand out, lightly touching his fathers shoulder before falling to his side, a promise that he'll be careful.

"I have been safe thus far. My other senses have served me." And they'll compensate, just enough he hopes, that he can continue to serve Thranduil as he had in the forest. After all, he's already seen the castle turn him into a fawn. He doesn't want to know what it might do, and in worse, to Thranduil. Or those around them.

Casual touch does not frequently happen among Thranduil and Legolas, and so the touch to his shoulder is surprising. This time he does not react, however - startling things are becoming less startling, perhaps, or perhaps it is that the silent reassurance is welcome enough.

"What are the dangers of this place?"

It does not but, here and now, where Legolas can't offer any words of promise that he'll be safe, can't guarantee anything, a touch can tell more than the words ever could. It's all he can honestly give and words can be made into lies by the castle.

"I have not found any dangers yet but the castle can... change us. Physically." This is going to be one of the worst parts, he feels.

"I spent a week as a fawn."

He's shocked again, and struggling not to show it. He does stop, and stare at Legolas.

"You spent a week as a fawn?"

It takes a moment for Legolas to realize he's stopped, turning to look back at the king. He knew that there was little chance of him reacting differently but seeing him stop is a surprising confirmation.

"I did. The castles magic at work. Thankfully, I had friends who kept care of me and kept me from danger."

Thranduil steps closer again, not from the strange compulsion which has affected them both already, but of his own will. He stops close to Legolas and gently lifts his chin, quietly looking him over. He seems fine, at least.

"Truly, you were unharmed?"

He lets his chin be lifted, meeting his fathers eyes and giving him a smile to reassure him. It's not often that he can openly show his concern for Legolas but he knows it's there.

"Truly. I was frightened at times but unharmed."

Thranduil breaths out something that is almost a sigh of relief. "I don't like to think of you reduced to something so helpless."

There are orphans enough made of the animals in Mirkwood - they raise some of them themselves, should they find them. There are many others who die, many who are not orphans who die. This place may not be so dangerous, but there is still much that could have harmed him. Not only any natural predators who might exist, even; it would have been easy enough for someone to shoot Legolas and eat him.

"Resourceful as you are, I imagine it would be difficult to defend yourself in such a form."

Edited 2014-01-01 07:55 (UTC)

"I understand." He can only be glad that Thranduil hadn't been there to witness it. Although, in many ways, it would probably have been easier than trying to make others recognize that he was not simply a fawn of Paradisa. Some thought that the cloak that had been draped over his back was some kind of joke.

"It would have been. The Lady Galadriel found and cared for me however, as did Ashura. I did not have to wander the forest alone for long."

He finally drops his hand and moves away, fingers gentle and lingering just a moment longer than they have to. He's allowed to be a father, now and then, and here there is nothing to stop him being so; there so often is, at home. There are so many other things he must also be. He touches Legolas as rarely as Legolas touches him, because gestures of affection do not really fit in with the distance which must be maintained, the respect. But every now and then, he can afford to let it happen.

"Galadriel is here?" He does not recognize the other name, but it is good to know that he'd been taken care of.

It's nice when they can afford to be father and son though, each moment cherished. He knows that he is loved but he likes the brief, gentle reminders. And he knows that Thranduil's being a king must come first, it's something he's always respected and knows that, with the condition of Mirkwood and the ever growing presence of spiders, that's what his people need most.

"She is though she claims that she has been here at least two years when it had only been fifteen days prior to my own arrival that I'd seen her last."

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