[ the three of them drift around skyhold with a vague, constant awareness of one another, a tug dimmed by the veil. aragorn resonates in it too, as does samwise, but to lesser degrees, someone dropping a nail on marble compared to the high, clear note of a flute.
he finds her easily with this—it makes sense. elves are not meant to be alone, so with so very few of them here, their dimmed fëa sing out to fight the loneliness. she weaves; the dust motes from the loom are bright in the sunlight of this little out-of-use room, and with the noise of the beater he ought to have found her even without the song of her fëa. thranduil does not close the door behind him, only walks to the window and looks out, over the vista- or appears to. he has never learned for sure how skilled the lady is at stripping away the illusions he cloaks himself in, if she knows the extent of his injuries.
he does not say: ‘i was looking for you’, or ‘we need to speak’. they are both far too old and far too jaded to need to bother with flowery pretenses alone. they are elves. for all the animosity between them—thranduil’s, really, there are some things that are truth. ]
We must approach the Dalish. [ he speaks in quenya. he was fluent, before the fëanorians came, and after his father’s death, he spent a considerable amount of gold retrieving books written in that tongue to keep his own sharp. ] Once this matter is taken care of, the men will be weak.
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branchandroot
12th bloomingtide
Date: 2016-05-13 05:14 am (UTC)he finds her easily with this—it makes sense. elves are not meant to be alone, so with so very few of them here, their dimmed fëa sing out to fight the loneliness. she weaves; the dust motes from the loom are bright in the sunlight of this little out-of-use room, and with the noise of the beater he ought to have found her even without the song of her fëa. thranduil does not close the door behind him, only walks to the window and looks out, over the vista- or appears to. he has never learned for sure how skilled the lady is at stripping away the illusions he cloaks himself in, if she knows the extent of his injuries.
he does not say: ‘i was looking for you’, or ‘we need to speak’. they are both far too old and far too jaded to need to bother with flowery pretenses alone. they are elves. for all the animosity between them—thranduil’s, really, there are some things that are truth. ]
We must approach the Dalish. [ he speaks in quenya. he was fluent, before the fëanorians came, and after his father’s death, he spent a considerable amount of gold retrieving books written in that tongue to keep his own sharp. ] Once this matter is taken care of, the men will be weak.