@tharanduil said: mistletoe (accidentally bc he didn't pay attention kskd)
Their countenance kept others at bay, he thinks. At arms length- no, farther. Across borders and seas and skies, he keeps most, many people far away enough. His smile however, brought people closer. There was a general warmth about him, an aura of delight and frivolous things. Like he walked on air and danced in the clouds, there was never anything wrong when he was around and it would certainly stay that way until he’d leave. It was this jubilance and kind air that made people want to get to know him. But for whatever reason, whatever he says about himself, slips. Elehba was an enigma, not commonly known. People don’t forget him entirely ( as the memory is gone but a feeling remains ) Instead they look at him as a welcomed familiar face, and nothing more. He, on the other hand, has been able to keep up with every minute detail that passes through one’s lips during conversations. Sprinkle that strategically through their mingling and the opposite feels… remembered. They were not hard to remember however. He would remember for lifetimes to come.
He was of noble descent. Royal. His stature alone was intimidating even if standing shorter than himself. Hopefully the size of their abode was somewhat respectable. ( it wasn’t, a cluttered mess of books and relics and shiny things ) a crows nest, a dragon’s hoard, if you’d ever seen one. And yet Elehba invited him over, since it seemed fair. And Elehba dealt in fairness exclusively. He ushered Thranduil in hastily, leaving his steed outside to graze or do whatever those large standing creatures do in their spare time. He then offered a drink, followed by idle chatting that more or less left the hermit elf aghast or endeared. He spoke to plainly, severely, and he could only match it with a kind smile and a nod. He wished to speak more… astutely, but his time in a meadow has deteriorated those skills. He rambles, to put it plainly. He does hope he isn’t a bore.
Elehba let the king linger in his home, walking the small closets and treasure chests and trap doors throughout the cottage that seemed bigger on the inside in some way. But with the sheer amount of items inside, it was still regularly cramped. But there were so many fun things to take in, sights and smells, even sounds. A gentle chime rang in the background of their chatter, a tune of the wind. And the wind grew colder, more harsh as the day went on. It’s festive now, in his home, which was odd because nobody usually came over. Festive in a sense that he’s filled it with winter wonders and a menagerie of trinkets specific to the cold months. One of which was, a weed, hanging over one of the thresholds to another room.
It was then they felt their stomach jump to their throat. The two of them stood beneath the doorway with that dangling garland right above. He didn’t seem to notice, which was a relief and of course he could just go on about his business and not pay any mind to those white berried leaves but- he really couldn’t help himself in one way, shape, or form. Elehba waited until Thranduil finished his sentence ( something about a dagger he found wedged between the cushions of a chair ) before inhaling,
“Ages ago, now even, there are lovely little plants lost to history.” he began carefully, “Many believe them to be weeds, pests of plants, but once they were revered, used as medicines. Oh they would say they could cure any ailments! And could make a lovely, aromatic tea to boot!” The delight in his voice raised. He thought this silly and it made him smile, perhaps the nerves of it all. He could not possibly do as the great weed says lingering above their heads. It would be cruel and unusual punishment for both parties involved. A simple kiss, upon your lips, or anywhere, absolutely not. Now the king was exceedingly handsome and his eyes felt like fire and his voice was dangerous- but really that made Elehba more concerned in this situation. He’d scrunch his nose and nod silently if he did not have the self control and respect of a decent person. So he continued,
“I do like to honor these fallen plants, lost to time for their uses and blessings. There was one very powerful, for fertility and vitality. Those who cross beneath it’s sprigs are to share a kiss. For luck in their loving, their stamina, their potency.” Elehba spoke like a scholar, holding his glass in two hands and idly leaning against the doorframe. And with that they glanced up in a more obvious gaze.
“But … living alone, I really have no use for it do I? I hang it in a practice of respect for the plant, that’s all. I do not believe it would grant you any more blessings than you already have so, do not fret over the tradition.” Elehba said frankly with a gentle chuckle. He stepped away from the threshold, turning on his heel and the seafoam green robes followed suit. He does not know if that was the best course of action or not, or if he should have just ignored it all together, or if he was overthinking entirely. He felt his heart race with an anxiety that will hopefully subside. Still, he really thought the notion was silly, it tickled him. “Now, I do have quite an interesting sword somewhere, if you have the patience for me to find it.”
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