#dunadaneth

Motionless, the lithe emissary stands, back casually leaning against a tree, arms crossed at her front. Lithe form is not cloaked in the black robes of her order, but black is her Rhûnic garb which stands in stark contrast to the vivid colors of her surroundings. Stare sits inward so that kohl-lined eyes appear stuck on no point at all. Weary mind, however, ruminates on her predicament. Out of sight are the elven sentries spread about her perimeter, bid to keep her from wandering too far among the estate before it is time to return to her quarters. But what is there to do but wait? Wait until the one she seeks arrives. Time is costing her everything.

❛ why? because my people have an affinity for stone? ❜ he had yet to work with precious rocks, metals, and gems himself, but his mother and uncle had turned the skill in it into an art form. creating beauty out of natural elements was a point of pride for the khazâd, but as with most things, he had diverged towards other interests — much to his mother’s chagrin. ❛ you would know more than i. you’ve seen the world through a lens that i’ve only ever dreamed of attaining. ❜ while he enjoyed running trade between dunland and ered luin, there was still an entire world out there that he had yet to experience.

his heart ached for it.

Long had the Dunedain been spoken of in the halls of Imladris. Their chieftain had been raised there before venturing north to take up the mantle his father left. Intrigued, Tirron had gone with Elladan and Elrohir on their last venture to the lands of rangers. 

 The journey had revealed truly how much time had passed since he had walked the earth. Buildings and monuments that still had the clean cut lines from the quarry were now broken, a pile of rubble at the bases of once-great buildings. The regrets of the years spent recovering settled heavily on him. There was much time to make up for.

In Esteldin, the twins had introduced him to the few rangers who were present. Tirron found their culture fascinating, and wished to know and do more. That desire is what drove him to return to the North Downs. The tendrils of evil had been creeping from the east. Even Angmar, the cursed womb, had sent creatures issuing forth. If he was to help in the war effort, that is where he would start.

A late summer sun shone into the settlement of Esteldin, lighting the brownstone and creating an atmosphere of warmth. Tirron approached the first person he came across. 

“I just finished my training for today.” the young scout said, plopping her behind on the nearby stone fence that encircled the gardens. The moment she sat, her knees made a loud cracking noise. She immediately jumped back up, realizing the surface was wet and now there was a round, wet stain on her trousers. Scowling at the stain, Sidhen tried covering it with her tunic but to no avail. She’d have to wait for it to dry. “Mother said to go ‘round and ask if I’m needed anywhere.” 

Not that Sidhen was incredibly eager to do garden work, just after finishing a 3 mile lap around the settlement at Dagoras’ behest, then having to aid Ferrif with skinning some rabbits.

     “This is the first time I’ve found myself in one, believe it or not.” Tauriel looks around warily, raising her torch to light the ancient sconce on the wall. Ideally, elves would have little use for a crypt. But she supposes that Men would always need them, war or no. It is a grim thought, and one she never expects to be used to. 

starter for @dunadaneth​

LONG HAD THE ROAD TRAVELELD BEEN ON DUSTED HEELS OF A CRYPTIC NAME AND THE ACHING WORDS OF A FATHER’S RELUCTANT BLESSING. A tenuous string that seemed to lead nowhere and EVERYWHERE, yet the PRINCELING found himself to hold within his chest no great haste. Perhaps simply for the c o m f o r t found in a mind kept busy. A mind that longed for home, distracted and far beyond the ringing of BATTLE and broken bonds. Though not yet had GREENLEAF managed to clear the clinging char of dragon fire and the cloying stench of orc from his senses. Yet, unfamiliar lands offered a great many things....and it gave a tentative hope to a troubled mind that some EASE may be found along this journey.

The ancient shadow and  S P R A W L I N G  twisted thicket of Eryn Galen long since distant, it was the world of MEN the cloaked figure of the Thranduilion now moved within. A world in which so easily did the APPEARANCE of a lone stranger seem quickly to draw close observation and hard, studious gazes. Legolas found himself often to be significantly more at ease travelling planes of green and WATER. And thus, when particulars allowed, did tuck aside the enduring flow of the ANDUIN.