rules to come !

whomst dare command a bitten tongue ? rain pelts & smites furious the dark courtyard without. the sheer force of the torrent had caused an insolent doe to dart for the nearest shelter, which just so happened to be the slate overhang of the forge. thunder rolls ominous above, a snake gliding the tumult. torrid air, filthy & ablaze, quivers 'neath heat that rages despite the gloom & oh, how he thrives in his domain ! basks, as a lion would bare golden belly to the sun's kiss. tempered steel rages with a humid hiss, an eruption of steam. he dips his head, attempts futile to relieve blackened brow upon a bare forearm that is equally as dusty, succeeds only in painting it further. fumes layer thick, fire snarls & he handles what his hand has wrought, turns the steel languidly, intent in study, aware of being watched. raffish features washed deep honey by flickering lustre as fingertips hover enticingly o'er blade's naked edge, yet his gaze is now solely upon her. a haughty leer cast through strands fallen stray o'er his brow, the clash of irises, verdant-flecked amber meet azure. ( save your breath. ) nostrils flare. he takes a breath … and yields. ❝ you wound me. ❞ so amiable a cadence, hand of mockery clutches his supple chest, fractured by her arrow fletched with such brazen words. brows lift, eyes wide with all the pleading innocence of a snared fox that one cannot help but feel sorrow for, yet the cunning twitch at the corner of sooted lips is unmistakable. ❝ if you truly wished me silent, you'd have sheltered elsewhere. ❞

this of course clashes with sauron's need for structural order & dominion … a territory with a will of its own, far from his instincts. yet halbrand here in this wilderness exists independently, here he can hesitate, almost. & so there is of course a dissonance with the shadow at his core. his entire identity already dwells on a threshold ( crownless & in exile, burdened morally & reluctantly laying claim to a kingdom. ) to be in the wilderness, to embrace vulnerability ( though the ferns furl in his shadow, hemlock bows its many bloomy heads, roots slither & recoil & prowling beasts may certainly cower ) mayhaps here, in this bower, lies the hopeless dream he could take another path, slip his self-imposed shackles of repression ...

a bold claim from one who's spent a millennia chasing shadows. how she bites so dangerously close to the bone! this brazen she-elf with her salt tangled gold mane, with little else to do but repose stubbornly as far from him as possible & pry with those cerulean-silver eyes that see all too deeply. ( oh he is aware she seeks to unearth, alludes to truth as if it were precious quartz concealed in coastal cliff's fissure ) & some things buried ought never see daylight again. brawned arms abdicate oar & he rests back 'pon scabbed elbows, soaked tresses dripping brine into his collarbone hollows. ❝ maybe i don't. ❞ a tilt of raffish jaw as weary eyes draw up to regard her, hazel & guarded. maybe i've been running for so long i wouldn't know where to begin. ❝ and yet you wear certainty like armour. ❞ cracked lips part to deflect, rugged timbre accompanied by a wry raise of brow. ❝ tell me, galadriel, who are you are without it ? ❞

❝ he wandered in the wood growing wild and lonely for many a day and searching for tinúviel ❞ ohh, dear enchanted beren ! [ & thingol too following melian's nightingales, finding her beneath the trees, her casting him into a great slumber & watching o'er him, his folk seeking him in vain & he caring for none but her upon awakening ... ]

so brings he his hunger to the table & seethes with starvation ⸻ oh, how the flame indeed devours! ( would that he could fall to his knees and beg for her to vanquish it ) he paces, tormented in the radiant darkness, a beast caged by his own making. to bow to him is to bare your throat & she, agonisingly, refrains ... leather boots pad soft upon woodland floor : the southron saunters towards his ire, celestial in her splendour, unpluckable flower of the moon. a flattered smirk tugs shadowy cheek, painted by the pleasure of the she-elf's understanding. ❝ you see much in me. ❞ a flicker of insolent russet lashes, an innate burning desire wrought in leaf-flecked gaze that refuses to part with the tantalising silvery ocean of hers, framed by that golden cascade of mane. her light, evident even in star-lit dim, splinters him & yet he basks in it for one delicious heartbeat longer. eyes tear away with hidden reluctance, lift contemplative to the rustle of crown'd trees & vast firmament above, his gentle tone rattles now vulnerable from throat's cavern. ❝ ⸻ even the storms we have suffered cannot quench it. ❞