Thranduil ❧ The Elvenking (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
woodking) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
paradisalogs2013-12-07 10:01 pm
woodking) wrote in paradisalogs2013-12-07 10:01 pm
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.
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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Time would tell, he supposes. The thought leaves him slightly disgruntled. But the look encompasses the rest of his surroundings as well, which once again are unsettling. He tries to conceal that as well, but there's a trace still in his eyes and manner when he looks back to her with another question.
"Do you know where we are?"
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"None have yet found a means of leaving this land and few have ventured from the castle for long." For a variety of reasons, but she'll pause there and let him ask his own questions.
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"Or are the same tricks practiced outside these walls?"
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"We are bound to the castle from the moment we arrive, whether we will it or no. One may only travel so far before one becomes keenly aware of that fact- it calls to us, for lack of a better term, and it seems more than capable of simply returning us here at a whim. There are some, of course, who live outside the walls- in the nearby town or the forest. Yet even they are not always spared these tricks, as you put it."
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"Still, it seems a forest would be pleasanter, even if it is not wholly spared. If nothing else, these halls and rooms are somewhat... over done, to my taste."
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"You are free to do as you like, of course." It's not as though she particularly cares.
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"It is kind of you to give me your permission. Do you know of any reason why I should not?"
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"Do you insist on misunderstanding me? I am well aware that you have no need of my permission, Thranduil. I mean to say only that the forest will likely serve you as well as the castle; it is more a matter of preference than aught else."
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"I thank you for the information on the Castle and what is happening, it has been illuminating."
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"There is more I could yet tell you, but perhaps I should instead direct you to your son. He, no doubt, will be capable of explaining matters in a more acceptable way."
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"Now it is you, Galadriel, who insists upon misunderstanding me." It's the second comment that draws him up, that makes him suddenly sharp and fierce and protective. "Legolas is here?"
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"Who else is here?"
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She watches his face once she says the names; how he reacts will tell her a great deal about what time period he's from.
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"Thorin? Son of Thrain, son of Thror? I had thought that line had died out some time ago."
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"The very same. He is alive, I assure you, and bears you no small amount of ill-will for reasons that I am certain you will hear a great deal about."
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"What quarrel may he have with me? Unless it is that I did not move to rescue his father, but his plight I heard of only after his fate had been sealed. I do not know if he was dead, but I would not send my people to die in that place of evil, and he cannot honestly have expected me to."
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"I only give you warning; I make no attempt to explain it."
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He remembers Doriath, of when Thingol had been murdered by the dwarves he had commissioned, of the wars that followed. They both had been there.
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She remembers Doriath too. Even if she is more forgiving than her husband, she does not forget.
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"How is it possible for us to have been brought from different times?"
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