(Galadriel is fairly used to getting mail but she'll be a bit shocked to receive any in Thedas. For any notes, missives, letters, or other communications.)
She begged for the assassin's life, but condemned her father with the same breath. I have questions, but there will be answers eventually. If she is ready for comfort, I beg you offer it.
[ thranduil hesitates, in a very unthranduily way. ]
He had a knife. I was angered, and suffering the effects of poison. My hand is wounded, but it is healing. She is frightened, and may be slightly singed.
[His request barely merits acknowledging. Galadriel would have offered comfort or the option of it whether he begged it of her or not.]
Poison?
[Perhaps this assassin hadn't been completely incompetent, then. Her concern is mitigated somewhat by the knowledge of what hideous poisons Thranduil could likely survive and how this world lacked anything equivalent to the venom of Ungoilant's progeny.]
I shall do what I can about both states, though I expect the latter will be more easily solved than the former.
Magebane, [ he admits. ] Tampers with the connection to the Fade. He put it in either my food or my wine, because Gwenaëlle was also— somewhat stunned. I am not sure the whole of his plan and nor do I care to learn it.
He lives. She begged for his life and I will do this bloodlessly if I can.
[ he anticipates galadriel’s reaction well enough. ]
Your concern for my well being is touching. I will gladly allow you the right to do whatever you want with the next assassin.
[At this some amusement does creep into Galadriel's voice. Thranduil has his elk once more and, off all creatures, its gait was not the most forgiving. There was an ideal place to ride upon it and several that would bruise even an elf if they were forced to suffer perching there.]
You have him draped over your mount, concussed, and traveling toward the employer he failed?
I daresay I can think of few fates more apropos than that.
I shall attend your wife and to your burning chambers. Be well, cousin, and do not perish in Halamshiral. It would be a terrible fate to leave this world in so garish a place.
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no subject
[ thranduil hesitates, in a very unthranduily way. ]
He had a knife. I was angered, and suffering the effects of poison. My hand is wounded, but it is healing. She is frightened, and may be slightly singed.
no subject
Poison?
[Perhaps this assassin hadn't been completely incompetent, then. Her concern is mitigated somewhat by the knowledge of what hideous poisons Thranduil could likely survive and how this world lacked anything equivalent to the venom of Ungoilant's progeny.]
I shall do what I can about both states, though I expect the latter will be more easily solved than the former.
Do I need to dispose of the body?
no subject
He lives. She begged for his life and I will do this bloodlessly if I can.
[ he anticipates galadriel’s reaction well enough. ]
Your concern for my well being is touching. I will gladly allow you the right to do whatever you want with the next assassin.
no subject
[Her deadpan is more lilting than most but no less dry.]
Has he at least been restrained and shuffled off to some cell, or has she begged to spare him that fate as well?
no subject
[ when the arts of mirkwood would have allowed thranduil to drag him into unwilling sleep. ]
I am returning him to her lord father in Halamshiral.
no subject
You have him draped over your mount, concussed, and traveling toward the employer he failed?
I daresay I can think of few fates more apropos than that.
I shall attend your wife and to your burning chambers. Be well, cousin, and do not perish in Halamshiral. It would be a terrible fate to leave this world in so garish a place.