Evenstar

elvenrule:

     A calculating gaze was cast to the other as his posture straightened, their eyes at a near-equal level. It was without strain that he saw Elrond in the she-elf, their features similar in a manner most seen familially. Had he not thought to his son by then, the king would show a greater deal of surprise to her claim.

Despite the gaps in between his abductions, Thranduil did not receive a sliver of information regarding his son in the city. Doubt was written in his schooled expression, unable to mask the flickering gaze between Arwen and their surroundings.

❝Well met.❞  His wary expression softened soon after he spoke, his shoulders lax in comparison to earlier. Although he was not yet sure how to see the younger elf, her family alone earned his respect.  ❝Your father has my esteem, and you no less.❞

❝My son — Legolas. He was in Rivendell last you know?❞  Concern clouded his deep voice in spite of his attempts at neutrality. After months of distance from his family, the elf was quickly reminded how PAINFUL the memories could be. It was his reason for detachment in these days, but perhaps a change was in order.

❝I suspect you were on route to the metropolis? I will accompany you.❞  The unspoken implication to converse was clear by his delicately upturned lips.

Some notes of tension wore his face for a moment, and then gone-- but a father’s love could be strong indeed, she knew quite well. And surely her own parent had earned each elf’s respect and general fondness-- but truthfully the same could not be applied broadly to the ruler of the forest now called Mirkwood, though it was not always so.

After the council, Arwen was uncertain as to whether the forest had been plagued with that which created the ring. Tainted. Corrupted. But perhaps that played on rumor altogether too much, and she did not wish to offend her only elven friend from her land with talk from wagging tongues.

“Yes, he had departed my father’s lands but a day ago, along with a... company.” A company that happened to include the son of a dwarf imprisoned on Thranduil’s own lands. 

That fact had been a slight oversight, and she fought to keep growing nervousness of her face. “He was with a man you might know, though he goes by many names-- his woodland name is Strider.”

He so did enjoy watching the massive metal machines known as ‘cars’ moving about. Somehow, it was both terrifying and awe-inspiring to watch. He had no idea what was at work to make them move as quick as they did but it was fascinating to him. There was a certain kind of power that roared from it with every movement it made. The acceleration caused it to growl and scream, as though it were an angry beast charging.

How strange to find such things in a world he didn’t know. And yet he saw a familiar face that was completely aware of the fact that there were large metal machines shifting about wildly. Yet she seemed not to care. Which was… very concerning to him. “Oh, hell…” He whispered softly.

His form became completely enveloped in shadows and his form popped up from her own shadow. His arms attempted to wrap around her and, should he succeed, would carry them off to safety. Safety likely coming in the form of the sidewalk across the street, popping up in a shadow within the alleyway.

“Now, last we met I didn’t particularly take you for a fool. Stepping out into the middle of the road like that is rather dangerous. One would assume such from the fact that those things are made entirely of metal. And they move at a tremendous speed. Now… what were you thinking?”

In something like an instant, a man leapt from out of her shadow, wonder of wonders, and-- arm about her waist, moved her out from the stone path with the strange creatures. It seemed that they were now across the street. The she-elf took in the familiar attitude of the man, and the magic, and his outward look, eyebrows raising at every turn.

“Last time we met...? I believe I would remember if I’d met a wizard, especially one that looked like you.” Arwen carefully pulled away from his arm, but remained near. “I suppose then you could tell me both my name, and your own, then. I should like to know an elven wizard.”

@luthiensdaughter

     Strolling past an array of individuals daily, Thranduil was not easily intrigued by strangers. Many bored him with their average tales and such lackadaisical personalities, though the city offered few alternatives. Those of his kind seemed far and few in numbers — one might say he had better chances in meeting a Peredhel than a full-blooded elf. Unfortunately, they would be right.

Still, he preferred half-elves to dwarves or men.

Intent on avoiding such unsavoury individuals, he prowled the great forest district for days on end. As someone who did not require sleep, his time was often used to map the labyrinth-like woods. T’was a task he was tending to when a stranger came in view, her footsteps untraceable despite the mud left from a stormy week. Unsurprising that she would pass without a sound.

Arwen tread the damp paths leading back toward the tall buildings, her hems carefully held up out of the mud. On her homeland she would not worry about such a thing, but here, and without her own sundries, the she-elf had no replacements for the clothes upon her back.

Wrapped in thoughts, the dreamy voice fairly burst into the quiet night. Her eyebrows raised quite high in moderate disbelief as the golden-locked elf inspected both her clothes and herself. With all deliberate speed she dropped the hems of her garment slightly.

Humans were, overall, less accepting people.

“My… apologies.” He muttered, wincing a bit at the searing wit that came shooting from her mouth like an arrow. Dwarves were a rather sore subject with him. “Hah. I see you are not above hurling your own wittiness about. I wish that I could assure you that my father hadn’t laid with a dwarven woman but I could not do so with certainty. I would not be surprised if he were to lay with a sow when her udders are at their most full.” He ran his fingers back through rich brown hair, leaning his head to one side. ”I fear my growth is simply stunted, it seems. Perhaps by some curse placed upon me by the gods from birth! Olidammara has not seen so fit as to bless me with height.” Naturally, no such anomaly had been placed upon him.

To his bow she offered a nod- he’d given no title to entitle him to more, she supposed. But at least now his tone was more suitable, not that the maiden could really seek too much honor, having done little but be born to a lord, and having the likeness of her four-times-great grandmother. 

It was a shame that the bright lights had nearly drowned out any attempts at stargazing. Zelda had hoped she would be able to get a clear look at the night sky, if only to observe the stars as they were. Perhaps she would even be able to glean if they were similar to Hyrule’s stars. If that were the case, there was still some hope of returning.

…Right?

Through sheer force of will (and a map), Zelda came upon one of the parks in the sixth sector and set about trying to read the night sky. Only when she’d begun drawing an admittedly rough star map did she notice that someone was watching her. With a bow of her head, the princess smiled softly. “Good evening. Am I in your way, perhaps?”

In her home, the lands of her father, the rude roads between Rivendell and Lórien- all throughout Middle Earth, so far as Arwen knew- the stars were friends, guiding lights, beloved as one might love a distant relative. Untouchable, but kind, reliable, and true. To be in a place where the stars were permanently smudged, and when visible, strangers- it was as though a limb Arwen did not know she had was gone.

Here, in the quiet park, it seemed there was another who found the stars strange. In the low-light, the she-elf could tell the other mapping as best she could. Just then, their gazes met, and the other spoke.

“Ah, my fair lady.” He dipped into an exaggerated bow, a hand draped over his chest and the other wide out to one side of himself. “A pleasure to see one half of my kind around. I am ready to be looked down upon!”

He knew this from the current situation at hand, a smile reaching his face as he thought to the relief of seeing any familiar individual.

Watching his companion talk of the former dwarven king, Frodo lightened the imaginary weight upon his shoulders. If only for a brief moment, he could feel the happiness she passed to him from teasing around and it was a blessing in its own right. He needed her spiritedness to keep his own afloat. ❛You’ve made a good point.❜ He added with his lips tugged upwards as well. ❛As long as I’m not asked to take sides in a disagreement.❜

The skies were lit above them by the sun, dappled with occasional clouds like freckles on its peerless complexion. Arwen spared a glace for it, and saw a gentle, sad look upon his face. 

“Do you know there are so many people, from so many fantastic worlds? There were two men- humans- who told me of ships they’d piloted through the skies, like the night was just a vast ocean to be traversed.”