🖊️ @finestprint - Tumblr Blog

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are you in the market for a travel-sized journalist? paperwork? more paperwork? or a seriously obscene amount of paperwork? then boy do i have news for you

this is scribbly bringing you an independent, literate, selective portrayal of alfur the elf from the netflix series hilda. i’d love to get some interactions started around here so if you would be interested in interacting please ⭮ or ♥ ! thank you!

#( author's notes ; ooc )

borealisreina:

It had been a while since Elsa had seen the little elf in her home gardens back in Arendelle, but now she had returned to the Northuldran Forest to spend some time up with her mother’s people. The summers in Arendelle could get dreadfully hot, sometimes more than what Elsa could usually stand, but the climate up further north was more suitable for someone like ‘The Snow Queen.’

But when she heard that chipper little voice, she stopped in her tracks. It did take a second for her to actually spot the little fellow among the leaves on the bush, but once she did she strode over to him with a beaming grin.

“Why, Sir Alfur, how wonderful to see you again!”

She leaned down to be at a better eye level (something she learned was polite when speaking with little folk like Jiminy), and listened as he started speaking of––

“You mean the Earth Giants?” Elsa had perhaps less interactions with them as she did with the spirits of Fire, Air, and Water. The giants tended to roam the forest on their own, sometimes leaving gaping holes as footprints. Elsa would visit them to ensure they were content and not about to crush her people’s village. Which they were still very capable of doing if they so wished.

“I was actually just on my way to go see them. I don’t suppose you’d have the time to tag along?”

“Earth giants, I see...” He’s writing this down. “And that’s what you’ve been calling them? Are there water and air giants, then, or...”

He’s certainly never heard of any. Though the giants he’s familiar with could very well be considered to be made of earth, as well, there’s not exactly any other variety–– so no one has ever felt the need to specify, he supposes. Giants are giants. Not to be confused with forest giants, which are another thing entirely. Smaller, for one. If that means much of anything at all when one is discussing giants.

“No matter. I was actually hoping you’d take me to go see them, I must admit. Elves and giants aren’t historically on very friendly terms with one another. I don’t think they’re aware that we’re not on friendly terms with them, but we’re not, all the same. Too... stomp-y. And to think the Northern Counties thought humans were bad. We’ve never had any trouble with giants, ourselves, but there’s been plenty of tales, let me tell you––”

He doesn’t even wait for her to offer a hand, he just makes the leap from the busy to her arm to scale it.

“...Anyway. Yes, I was supposing that humans and giants might have better odds of getting along–– enough that I could get some notes taken on them for the sake of writing up a report or two?”

#borealisreina #( reports ; ic )#( journal entry ; threads )

ofguardianhound:

Charlie could immediately tell whoever this was, was a terrible and I mean terrible liar. It didn’t bother him, not at all, it just confirmed that whoever was there was just as scared as he was to a degree. He listened to whoever it was that was speaking, watching down the street to see any movement. He could see what looked to be some small creature poke its head out from around a trash can and the hound tilted his head a little to the side. Was that what had made all that commotion a few moments ago? It couldn’t have been. It was… tiny.

❝Erm… Yes? I was the one who said all that.❞ he responded with just as much confusion and slowly approached him, not trying to be threatening, more curious if anything.

❝And you were the one who made all that commotion a minute ago? How.. did you do all that? You’re tiny. I.. don’t even know what to call you.❞ he responded, trying to wrap his head around the entire situation as it was. He didn’t know what was going, all he knew was that whatever was in front of him was really tiny and looked sort of like a human. Just with a pointy hat and some type of heavier cloth material. What would someone call something like this? An elf? Maybe. He didn’t exactly know.

❝I’m taking a wild shot in the dark here and guessing that you usually don’t come across animals that can speak?❞ he asked as he stopped a little bit away from him and sat down to show no threat to him, ❝But, I guess I can say the same to you. I haven’t met anything like you before. What are you… An.. Elf?❞

He was just trying to figure everything out. It may take a minute, but it’d become clear eventually through one way or another.

"I- yes, I’m an elf,” a tall elf, he thinks haughtily, but decides to let the ‘tiny’ remark lie where it is for the moment. He doesn’t budge from his position, just barely peeking out from around the bin to survey the animal from what he deems a safe distance. The rest of his questions are dodged quite deliberately. He isn’t about to go talking all about the creatures and spirits he may or may not have met to some strange animal- if it even is an animal, as spirits are capable of taking many forms.

And he’s not about to get into the origin of all the racket, either.

“...But I would expect you to have known that if you’re able to see us. What are you? Even an ordinary talking dog-” a contradictory sentence in and of itself, but no matter, “would have had to sign a contract, and I would have recalled if there were any talking dogs in our records to begin with. I would know. I’m usually the one bringing people contracts.”

The rest of the elves aren’t big on being seen. Alfur isn’t, either, of course, but he’s far more open to the idea of passing out contracts than any other member of his species is, for whatever it’s worth. He would wager he’s the one responsible for a very solid portion of signatures they’ve acquired in recent months, bar none.

#ofguardianhound #( reports ; ic )#( journal entry ; threads )

|| ( bartell vc) i want that twink obliterated

#( author's notes ; ooc )#tbd ;#'tall for an elf' my ass. look at him

@eclipseduet ; ♥ for a starter

It’s a windless day today, warm and sunny; ideal weather for elves, or at least for Alfur, who has been itching to get outside after a week full of nothing but rain. Make no mistake, he’d gotten plenty of work done in that time, and that was always nice, but... that work has to be organized at some point, so that it can be sent out, and being cooped up indoors with piles of paperwork spread across the floor to organize doesn’t sound as appealing as it normally would given Alfur is feeling just a little cooped up.

The balcony, then, works just as well for the purpose. He’s more than content to sit out there, instead, piles of tiny papers stacked neatly around him as he sifts through them- this still needs to be revised, this is ready to be sent out, this will be filed away with his own personal records-

It goes on and on. There’s more than he’d expected, but then he’s been living here for longer than he’s bothered to keep track of now- to the point that it feels more like home than the Northern Counties did, which is a thought that comes close to alarming him. Attachment to human cities is no reason to neglect doing his paperwork; no reason to go and get himself properly exiled.

“It’s a mess,” he speaks over his shoulder to the window, although no one is there to listen; perhaps he’s become accustomed to speaking his woes aloud to Twig, who is incapable of verbally expressing annoyance with this habit and therefore a spectacular listener. “Keeping it all straight, sometimes. I don’t know why they even bother making me send in reports when they don’t care at all what I write about one way or another.”

#( elf mail ; starters )#eclipseduet #( reports ; ic )

@frimaerke ; ♥ for a starter

Elf mail, though available nearly everywhere, doesn’t have post offices situated everywhere. In fact, it has no post offices situated anywhere even remotely close to any human population... which, if you are an elf (the only elf, even) living among humans, is a bit of an issue if you want to send a letter. He would wait for a courier to pass by, but that would only happen if someone sent mail to him, and as far as Alfur is aware no one is inclined to do so.

Oh, well. So he’ll have to use human postal services. That works just as well, he supposes. Even if it’s not nearly as efficient. It isn’t as though he’s in a rush to get a letter sent back home.

“Is this where letters go?”

The voice that poses the query is small and from an unknown source; as is the minuscule letter that manifests out of seemingly thin air, set neatly next to a pile of human-sized letters.

“I need one sent out to the Northern Elven Counties. I don’t suppose you’ve got a proper address for that in your records.”

#( elf mail ; starters )#as always if you would like anything changed let me know !#frimaerke #( reports ; ic )

@drawndemon ; ♥ for a starter

“You ought to show me where you came from.”

Alfur doesn’t do introductions. He just pops up atop Bendy’s head out of seemingly absolutely nowhere at all, with not so much as a ‘hello’.

“And the rest of the creatures like you. The golems made of ink. I’ve never seen anyone, wizard or otherwise, manage to make something alive out of something so... well, you’re surprisingly solid for an ink spirit, is all I mean to say.”

#( elf mail ; starters )#drawndemon #( reports ; ic )

lil starter call! || give this a ♥ for a written starter.

(or reblog, if you’re a sideblog.)

#( author's notes ; ooc )

platinumft

I like this one

#( more of a writer ; visage )

fclsusrex:

Starter for @finestprint

Yozora had no idea where he was as he walked down a dirt covered path, dual colored irises of blue and red scanning his surroundings as he could faintly feel a aura, like someone was watching him but who?

He remained wary as he continued walking before taking note of the sun setting as he rested against a nearby tree all the while keeping himself warm with a fire spell as eyes soon close, soft breathing filling the air as he was deep in slumber.

Alfur knows trouble when he sees it.

When you spend so much of your time attempting to not be seen, you develop a habit of knowing when you have been seen. Or sensed, at least. Add in the fact that the fellow’s smack dab in the middle of an elven county (he wonders, time and time again, what it is about humans that makes them so inclined to leave their cities and come out into the middle of nowhere- do they just want to inconvenience the elves?) and you’ve got a recipe for legal trouble- he’s an unannounced visitor, whoever he is, even if he is in the records proper.

They ought to just build a big fence, really. Like the humans did to keep out trolls. But the elves can use it to keep out humans. It would make everything so much simpler.

“Hello! You there!” Alfur has to run to make it to his spot in a decent amount of time, sprinting and hopping til he’s close enough to make himself heard. “I don’t think you’re permitted to sleep her, actually, you’re really quite close to the city center... it’s a mess of legal trouble, I’m sure you understand. You haven’t got a permit, is all.”

#( reports ; ic )#( journal entry ; threads )#fclsusrex #it is! thanks!!

@borealisreina ; ❄️❤️

With a one-two-spring, there’s Alfur, up atop a bush and waving. He’s been busy - well, sort of busy, although not in the ways he would like; but Hilda is a full-time job, sometimes, and he can’t help but to feel partially responsible for keeping an eye on her what with Mum having to work to support the lot of them and whatnot.

He’s been off being dragged into adventures, is what he means to say. And by adventures he means danger, more specifically. He really did mean it when he said he’s never been so stressed as he is living with Hilda. Not that he’d trade it away for anything.

“Elsa!” He chirps, as chipper as he ever is, though he’s not here for a pleasant visit, either. Alfur doesn’t really do casual visits. He’s here for work. He is always here for work, wherever he is. “Did you know your geographic region is purportedly home to a large number of mountain giants? At least, according to our records... and our records are never wrong.”

Not to brag.

“Funny, you think you would have noticed them by now.”

#( elf mail ; starters )#( letters ; answered )#borealisreina #He Missed Her he just doesnt say these things

ofguardianhound:

[starter for @finestprint]

Charlie had always heard about there possibly being different creatures that existed in the world. Was it a surprise to him? Not really, but he also paid no mind to it in the first place. The entire thought process behind it all was that there might be other creatures out there and were usually just myths and legends told by humans and other animals to spread rumors and the idea that there could be other life existing among them. Was there probably life that existed among humans and animals? Oh yes, definitely. Had anyone ever found anything? Not really, maybe a few things here and there, but the vast reaches of what Charlie and others did in heaven was massive, so they could never truly tell.

That day finally had arrived for charlie. A new assignment for a kid that lived in the city of Trolberg, somewhere that he hadn’t been before, nor had he heard of. It was an interesting name for the town, especially knowing nothing about it, and received the info he needed about the kid and took off. It didn’t bother him that he had a new assignment out somewhere he hadn’t been before, but it slightly worried him about new places he had to go because of that reason. He didn’t want to show up at a town, only to realize the entire city is in chaos and everything burning to the ground, because he knew those types of cities existed out there.

But… He was surprised when he got there and had a look at the town for the first time. It was a nice little town, nestled away with some mountains, not unlike any other town that had buildings, shops, people, animals. Completed by a wall that surrounded it, most likely to keep people from invading and taking over. Maybe other creatures as well? He didn’t know, but anything was possible here he guessed. He made his way to the ground again, becoming visible as he always was, a normal-looking hound, on a quest to find his new kid. He didn’t know a lot about him, besides the fact that his name was David and he lived somewhere in the town. At least he had a name and description, but that was about it. Ah well, he’d find him eventually, or he wouldn’t. One of the two.

For now, he just ventured around the city, sniffing different things from food to plants, just kinda getting a feel of the city. What seemed to put him off a bit was that he kept seeing something out of the corner of his eye running around. He could never get a good look at it, but he knew something must be there. For now, he’d ignore it, heading off down more streets and alleys to find David. ❝They never give me good enough information for finding these kid,❞ he muttered and poked his head overtop of some bushes to look in some homes, ❝Always just give me a name like David and what they wear and that’s it.❞

He gave a short scoff as he continued walking down more streets, brushing past people, many probably thinking he was a stray of some sort, which wouldn’t exactly surprise him. He just wanted to find him and get to actually know the kid more. But, for the time being, he couldn’t exactly do that. Because something, or someone, had caught his attention. His ears perked a bit, and he turned his head to look down another side street, to see a lid of a trashcan rolling down the path and bumping into his leg. Someone was there. But who?

❝All right, I know someone’s there. Come on out.❞ he called down the street. He just hoped whoever it was wasn’t wanting to attack him. That would end in disaster, in more ways than one. But, he knew someone was there. He thought he could keep seeing slight movements. Was he going insane? He hoped not. Wouldn’t exactly be an excellent thing for what his job called for.

The worst case scenario? Just another dog or something roaming around. He had plenty of homes nearby, so he’d at least by in proximity of places to run to.

Well. As far as landings go there’s certainly been far more graceful ones. He’s told Mum that the balcony is far too difficult to climb down from, but does anyone ever listen to Alfur’s suggestions for remodeling the flat? No. Yes, sure, he can make it down nine times out of ten without incident, but on the occasions that he misses a jump it’s just a great deal of trouble.

Particularly when it makes a racket, which it very rarely does- and their sidewalk isn’t particularly busy, usually, except for when it is.

Like it is now. Busy enough for someone to take notice, at least. Alfur, a bit winded from his fall, shakes his head to bring himself back to coherency quick enough to respond. An uncomfortable laugh accompanies it, discomfort at having been heard and a self-conscious sense of foolishness for having fallen to begin with.

“No, ah... no one! No one’s there. Here, rather. Just... raccoons! Rats... normal city creatures.”

Alright. So he’s not very good at this lying thing. But it’s easier to pass himself off as a ghost or a talking rat (a talking rat who is very good at hiding, naturally) than it is to make yet another human sign the paperwork- let alone a human whom he hasn’t personally verified can be trusted with the paperwork. If you go around letting every human you bump into sign willy-nilly then you’re also going to end up with a village that’s stomped flat. And that’s just a lot of unnecessary trouble for everyone.

Still. With a somewhat weary sigh, he has to admit to himself that no one’s stupid enough to fall for an excuse like that.

“...Please don’t come and verify, there’s really not any need...”

Wait.

Alfur peeks his head out around the trash can to peer, squinting down the alleyway. There’s no one there, just a dog, looking intently down the street towards him... but Alfur’s never met a talking dog. He’s never met any talking animals, at least not ones that were truly simply animals. Raven hardly counts, of course- he’s not a real raven. But by all accounts, this dog looks remarkably normal... and if he isn’t dealing with a normal dog, then, well, the Elven Counties will most certainly want to hear about this.

“...Was it you who said that? But you’re just a dog!”

#long post ;#ofguardianhound #( reports ; ic )#( journal entry ; threads )