[His first comment is so out of place that he startles a voiceless laugh from her. Her shoulders shake once, sharply, but she doesn't withdraw or seem inclined to continue laughing.
As he continues, though, her expression shifts. She is uncommonly open, right now, and her brows furrow with, at first, confusion and then shock. She is no stranger to arts that bend time, but this--even though Samwise Gamgee wore a cloak of her make, carried one of her own personal affects, and claims they had yet to meet, she couldn't have guessed, wouldn't have guessed--Legolas had seen the turning of the Age?
Sauron was--would be defeated? Her woods had not burned? Celeborn was not lost?
The sheer scope of what he is implying, what he suspects, is so vastly different from what she has resigned herself to that, for an instant, there is an expression like awe across her features. She has only been in Thedas a short time but that grief, that fear, had already begun to drag her down. Like a lead weight pulling her beneath waves, it had been relentless and now--now it was lifted, insofar as it could be.
She had been brought to her knees with grief and, now, she shook as the weight of it left her.
For the first time in Ages, she lacks words. She couldn't thank him for what he had told her and he couldn't have known how it had ailed her. Without thought, she reaches forward, wraps an arm around his far shoulder, and draws him into a tight embrace. It is something she has never done, nor something she would have expected to do, but she can think of nothing else to express the magnitude of her relief, of her gratitude.
She mutters quietly, words and phrases archaic to the point that they are near nonsense, but her meaning is not hard to gather.
She'd had no idea, she had seen none of it, she hadn't dared to hope.]
no subject
As he continues, though, her expression shifts. She is uncommonly open, right now, and her brows furrow with, at first, confusion and then shock. She is no stranger to arts that bend time, but this--even though Samwise Gamgee wore a cloak of her make, carried one of her own personal affects, and claims they had yet to meet, she couldn't have guessed, wouldn't have guessed--Legolas had seen the turning of the Age?
Sauron was--would be defeated? Her woods had not burned? Celeborn was not lost?
The sheer scope of what he is implying, what he suspects, is so vastly different from what she has resigned herself to that, for an instant, there is an expression like awe across her features. She has only been in Thedas a short time but that grief, that fear, had already begun to drag her down. Like a lead weight pulling her beneath waves, it had been relentless and now--now it was lifted, insofar as it could be.
She had been brought to her knees with grief and, now, she shook as the weight of it left her.
For the first time in Ages, she lacks words. She couldn't thank him for what he had told her and he couldn't have known how it had ailed her. Without thought, she reaches forward, wraps an arm around his far shoulder, and draws him into a tight embrace. It is something she has never done, nor something she would have expected to do, but she can think of nothing else to express the magnitude of her relief, of her gratitude.
She mutters quietly, words and phrases archaic to the point that they are near nonsense, but her meaning is not hard to gather.
She'd had no idea, she had seen none of it, she hadn't dared to hope.]