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@multipleoccupancy
Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Independent Multi Muse from various fandoms Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Β Follows back from bertievi
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Mild Delays
Hi! Stuff's happening, good stuff but it's all happening all at once and my brain keeps exploding about it all and flops between work mode and disbelief mode.
I am about and will pick at things as I can but the activity level will drop here for a while as I handle everything happening. Just a head's up β¨and an appreciation for your patience π
πππππππππ & ππππ ππππ @multipleoccupancy
Lucretia stood still as her King paced slowly around the room. It was as if her feet were buried into the ground itself, for she did not move at all. Her shoulders square and her chin lifted just enough to listen, but not too high that she would seem disrespectful. It was the stance of a soldier, an oak that did not bend even when the strongest of wind whipped its trunk.
"I understand." She nodded briefly at the warning, seemingly unfazed by the worrying news. Lucretia took it very seriously, of course. But she was ready to fight endlessly for her people, and for her King. "Our army is strong, my King." But so was the foulness that grew ever bigger, festering in Mirkwood.
Another nod. Lucretia was a cold woman, but she was far from heartless. She loved her people, and she loved her soldiers. "Crystal clear, sir. I will not spill the blood of our people needlessly," she assured him. Greenwood would always be her only priority.
"With your authorization, I will send out scouts to survey Greenwood's borders, and ascertain Mirkwood's foul influence." Lucretia did not want to fight this fight blind. "We will not yield any more of our land to the evil that lies in Mirkwood."
Thranduil had always appreciated the steadfast loyalty of his general. For all his people had been through, the losses they had suffered and the growing shadow that still threatened them, he needed someone in command of his forces that would execute his will and that he could trust would do so loyally. He hummed as she reassured him that their army was strong, "I wish for it to remain so," that meant protecting their forces, realm and training up new elves to bolster numbers for the coming war for control of the former Greenwood.
He turned to a decanter of wine and started to pour out two glasses as he listened to her plans, trusting her judgement and considering their positions for what they needed to do to ensure their plans would work and that they could indeed stand alone against Sauron's forces entering their territory.
"Send scouts as and where needed, you are right, we cannot trust only in the eyes of the forest if not supported by our own verifications. The woodsmen can be so easily swayed or confused by that which they lack the experience to understand." Men did not know Sauron, they had not stood upon those fields and faced him themselves, they did not know the darkness that he wielded. "I would see with my own eyes should you come with me, while I trust the resilience of our people it may be that we both must assess for ourselves what it is that lurks at our boarders, waiting." He passed her a glass of wine as he walked by, still elegant and careful as he went. "That way we have better chance to protect our own."
"Red deer, of course. Some fallow deer too, for a little colour. Size and appearance is important for posturing." Which was to say, they were only there to show off the fact they could be afforded. Mycroft highly doubted that any of his ancestors were actually interested in the deer, but they made them look good and they provided good sport on occasion, so buying and maintaining the herd presumably hadn't been a difficult decision to make.
He nodded in response to Moriarty's comments about foxes and cats. Not for the first time, Mycroft was struck with the thought that he rather missed having a feline companion. His childhood one had made him happy, so it wasn't hard to imagine he'd feel the same way as an adult. But the hair made them impractical, and besides, he'd hardly see the animal! A little happiness didn't seem worth the investment.
"Did you lure the pigeons in too, or was feeding them a habit strictly kept for public spaces?" Mycroft asked. Did Moriarty have similar thoughts to his own about cats? The pigeons were nice, but not worth the nusicance of having them making a home in his garden? He imagined that would be the case. Pigeons were interesting, but they could be terribly noisy sometimes.
"Do you miss them? The pigeons, that is. I'm sure could find you some bread tomorrow if you would like to attempt to befriend the local population."
A mix of deer made sense for such an estate he supposed, though he wasn't one to go shooting himself, he was not of the right class to merit it even with his fortunes and personal friendships, Moriarty had never much found the appeal in it. He was much more comfortable shooting people point blank as necessary in order to get his way, animals did not have the same pay off as people did in his opinion.
Surprised that his hobby of feeding the pigeons came up directly, he paused in his walking and glanced back to Mycroft once again, it wasn't accusing but it was cautious, of course that was how Sherlock had discovered his red book, he'd told him as such.
"My garden wasn't safe for them," he said instead, "they would have fallen prey to the cats and the foxes. I reserved their feeding to public spaces, it did not then limit where it was I could indulge." Moriarty had on very rare occasion still utilized messenger pigeons but he did indeed enjoy the little birds, thinking them rather cute and pretty in their own way. Which made him all the more surprised and admittedly touched at the offer to be able to feed them while he was staying with Mycroft.
"I do," he confessed honestly, "for so long they were the most essential part of our long distance messaging. I also enjoy the iridescence of their feathers in certain light. They are intelligent in their own way and seemingly still very loyal to people while they remain in our company whether people appreciate them or not." A short but heart felt little ramble about them. "I would like to feed them if that is possible," he confirmed for the offer in the end, why ever would he pass it up? "I assume you would not enjoy them being fed in the gardens here though?" So would they be heading into a more built up area? He hoped so.
The winter air carried a crisp chill with a sharper bite that the more kindly autumn breeze. If Bruce had counted his steps between there and his long, arduous escape from the shadow land, he wondered if he'd sooner run out of numbers before running out of energy. The lands bloomed with far more forests than Mordor-- all of them now leafless in dormancy, save for the sparse stand of evergreens dotting the landscape. His breath billowed out before him as the Olog lumbered forward on all fours, quieter and steadier than a two-legged gait.
The dried meats that Bruce had swiped from his captain's quarters had all but lasted him a few weeks. He could imagine Gunag's fury at not only the Olog's desertion but the lowly pit-fighting Troll pillaging his precious pantry would most certainly salt the wound. Good. The captain deserved far worse a fate than mere inconveniences, but Bruce was left to choose between vengeance or freedom.
He chose the latter.
However, the leather pouches adorning his belt weighed less with each day. He was running low on food and supplies, and heading closer into Elf territory. Not that Bruce had ever met an Elf. If he was honest with himself, Bruce wasn't even sure that he'd recognize an Elf if he did meet one.
The Olog rose his head into the air, and chuffed audibly. Each inhale stung the inside of his nostrils. With such a frigid air, Bruce was shocked if he'd ever catch scent of anything-- wait!
There was something on the breeze. Not an Orc. Not quite a Man. Something drew nearer. Self-preservation be damned, the Olog couldn't help but feel a bit curious about just who traveled the forest nearby.
@multipleoccupancy, for Bilbo
The journey back from Erebor brought a mix of feelings with it, while he was pleased that his friends had returned home and he had all the more friends after the battle, the ache of losing Thorin, Fili and Kili would linger for some time to come. The way back offered him some comfort in returning to walking, one foot in front of the other. Gandalf had temporarily left his side to tend to matters Bilbo assumed most urgent and the Hobbit thought that walking alone was not so bad after all he had been through but the lonely thoughts after the loss of his friends did make it feel just that bit colder somehow.
Passing under trees and enjoying the dappled shade they provided from the afternoon sun, Bilbo was watching the way some of the leaves moved in the breeze when he heard something that must have been very big, chuff. He'd been foolish to not pay more attention to his surroundings and froze on the spot, moving only his eyes to begin with in an attempt to spot what company he had stumbled into. Off just to his left he spotted something large on all fours, they'd seen each other, surely and Bilbo debated with himself what to do, panic said to put on the ring, tiredness told him to wait.
For a good long moment all he did was stare at the other under the trees. He looked like a troll but that wasn't possible in the daylight, was it? Or maybe it was, he was no expert. Bilbo's heart raced and yet he had spoken to trolls before, they were not reasonable from his experience but this one, troll or not, did not seem to be in a hurry to cook him yet.
"Good afternoon," Bilbo offered out after a moment of uncertainty, a nervousness causing him to swallow and his fingers to open and close against his palms while he resisted the urge to put on the ring and waited to see if the large being amongst the trees would respond.
βΒ Β .Β Β .Β Β .Β Β ππΒ Β ππΒ Β πππΒ Β ππΒ Β πππΒ Β ππππππΒ Β ππΒ Β πΒ Β ππππππππΒ Β ππΒ Β πππππΒ Β toΒ Β remainΒ Β idleΒ Β ,Β Β myΒ Β lordΒ Β elrondΒ Β .Β Β βΒ Β butΒ Β theΒ Β voiceΒ Β ofΒ Β determinationΒ Β soundedΒ Β muchΒ Β lessΒ Β certainΒ Β ,Β Β whileΒ Β oneΒ Β handΒ Β heldΒ Β herΒ Β bandagedΒ Β sideΒ Β ,Β Β (Β Β theΒ Β remnantsΒ Β ofΒ Β painΒ Β everΒ Β presentΒ Β )Β Β beneathΒ Β herΒ Β faΓ§adeΒ Β ofΒ Β prideΒ Β andΒ Β honorΒ Β .Β Β alasΒ Β ,Β Β aΒ Β handΒ Β reachedΒ Β forΒ Β theΒ Β woodenΒ Β chairΒ Β -Β Β (Β Β aΒ Β stiffΒ Β bodyΒ Β )Β Β allowingΒ Β itselfΒ Β aΒ Β mereΒ Β inklingΒ Β ofΒ Β muchΒ Β neededΒ Β restΒ Β .Β Β βΒ Β .Β Β .Β Β .Β Β thanksΒ Β toΒ Β theΒ Β remarkableΒ Β skillΒ Β ofΒ Β yourΒ Β healersΒ Β ,Β Β myΒ Β painΒ Β isΒ Β nowΒ Β bearableΒ Β .Β Β theΒ Β woundΒ Β wasΒ Β farΒ Β graverΒ Β lastΒ Β nightΒ Β .Β Β β
"I might find myself wishing it were in your nature if I will have to keep asking you to rest." He was glad when she did not let pride get in the way for sitting down and resting, though he smiled for the comment on the other healers. "Your wound would have crippled any other it might have been inflicted upon, it seems the strength of Rohan lies deep within you," a quick check of his eyes where she was holding her healing wound and Elrond relaxed that bit more. "A few more days of rest," one of his eyebrows cocked to emphasise it, "and you will be able to return home."
A blog page nobody asked for but you're all getting anyway.
Every muse relevant post tag has now been compiled into a page for convenience just in case, for whatever reason, someone comes along and wants to access one of them specifically.
Absolutely no need to even look at it, this is just a simple 'blog maintenance update' in case that whim and fancy takes you one day, you'll know there's a specific page for it now β¨
"You are supposed to be resting. It will do you no good to undo all of the healing by walking around before you are ready." Still, Elrond pulled up a chair beside his own for them to sit with him. "Does the pain still linger?"
Me thinking about the chess and fight scene in Game of Shadows.
Why didn't you pull out your epic sleeve gun and just shoot him, Moriarty?
Buddy, I love you and I know you have to be dramatic and you really enjoyed showing off your boxing moves but... you had a little tiny draw spring gun in your sleeve which you have managed to get away with using several times already, clean as a whistle innocent little Maths Professor who is only at the summit as a friend of the British PM and a genius to offer some counsel. It'd have been very easy to smear dead Sherlock's name and then go after Mary and Lestrade for essentially robbing you and donating your money to charity based only really on what was your coded book keeping as a maths professor.
You could have left Watson to Moran too, he'd have enjoyed that I'm sure. You didn't think this out well fella :/
Why couldn't people just mind their own business? It was a question that Theo often found herself pondering, and she had yet to formulate a satisfactory answer. She didn't want Albus Dumbledore's concern -- nor did she think she needed it. She knew how to deal with bad things, didn't she? After all, she'd had plenty of practice. Life went on. Life always went on. And Tuesday was Tuesday, whether Theo fainted in class or not. True, the ever-present sadness that she'd grown accustomed to seemed to weigh more heavily in her chest this year than it had in years past, but surely that was merely the result of the Dementors' presence at Hogwarts. It would go away once she was back home for Christmas, and Christmas was only seven weeks away.
Theo refused to admit, even to herself, that right now those seven weeks felt like an eternity.
Instead, she said, "Professor Lupin seems to be very well-versed in his subject. I believe I've learnt more from him in two months than I learnt from Professor Lockhart in an entire year. It's been a wonderful change of pace, sir, having a Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher whose classes are so informative."
Draco might take pleasure in mocking Professor Lupin for his lined face and shabby clothes, just as so many of the Gryffindors enjoyed mocking Professor Snape for his unkempt hair, but Theo cared far more about her professors' abilities than she did about their appearances. The instructors at Hogwarts hadn't been hired to look glamorous. They'd been hired to teach, and both Professor Lupin and Professor Snape were quite skilled in that respect.
At least it would be some time yet before Theo had to face a second Boggart. Right now Professor Lupin was teaching her class about various Dark creatures that lived in water -- grindylows and sea serpents, kappas and kelpies. In fact, Theo had been considering approaching Professor Lupin after her next class to enquire about whether kelpies might have been the source of the Muggle legend of the Ceffyl DΕ΅r. But she would have to be sure to wait until her fellow Slytherins were gone before revealing that she'd been reading a book about Muggles. What if one of them told their parents, and their parents told Theo's father? Leontius Nott would surely be disappointed to learn that his daughter was wasting her time on such a trivial topic.
With the praise for Lupin, Albus was sure to smile and there was at least an element of pride there too. While there was a looming issue hanging over Lupin if it were discovered he thought the position suited him but they all knew that it would not last, such was the curse upon the job but that didn't need revealing to young Miss Nott as she reminded him of last year's teacher and Albus used every last muscle of restraint not to roll his eyes at Lockheart's mention.
"A good teacher provides lessons effortlessly and their students learn without realising they are doing so," he mused and raised something of a playful pair of eyebrows as he added on, "Not everyone is gifted in that regard." That was all he would say on Gilderoy Lockheart and that was likely for the better.
"I am pleased to hear that you find Professor Lupin's teachings to be more suited to your style of learning." He figured she was trying to subtly change the topic from the boggart and Albus obliged for now though he would undoubtedly circle back later as teachers tended to do. "I understand you are doing exceptionally well in your studies so far this school year as you have the last two," he chuckled fondly, always proud of his students though those who were excelling in their school work were something of the jewel in that pride, even if it was not always obvious. "What I wonder, is it that you intend to do with these grades once you finish your education at Hogwarts?" An easy topic for a teacher and he hoped one that would distract her enough from the boggart topic to forget about it just enough before he'd bring it back up.
Character Headcanon Generator Game Tagged by : @mr-nott & @rosier-and-wilkes Thank you :) Tagging : @hvbris, @cbitus, @imjustanauthor, @bettingonhouse, @omniishambles, @brittunculii @wolves-of-etoile and anyone else who sees this and fancied it, just tag me so I can see too! (Multi's, one of your muses will fit what's generated π)
Lorenzo & Nate
ππππ & πππππ @multipleoccupancy
"Of course, I'll send you my articles," she promised, touched that he still wanted to read what she wrote. "But I don't know what I could possible write in a boring town like Hawkins." April sighed. "With a bit of luck, something interesting will happen."
Theo's encouragements were emboldening, but how she could really fight this? Diana was her legal guardian, now. And April knew enough to know that she didn't want to end up in the foster system. As much as she disliked Diana, she was probably the better option.
"I know you could. I'd go to yours, too." She sighed. "This sucks. I don't understand why she wants to move in the beginning of summer, too. We could have moved at the end of August! But no, she says she wants me to acclimate... It's a fun way to say that I'm going to spend my summer in a tiny, boring town."
Summer was approaching quickly, too. Soon, April would be forced to leave the town she loved, and the friends she cared about. "I want to enjoy New York while I still can. We should go to the Bronx Zoo, this weekend. My treat! Or, really, I should say Diane's treat." April rolled her eyes. "She's trying to buy me into behaving, these days."
He couldn't imagine what interesting things might happen in the middle of nowhere. He was still half imagining an old west town filled with cowboys, livestock and dust. Theo still nodded though, hoping that she might find something to write about out there.
It was hard to know what to say, the whole situation sucked! He wished she could stay at least for one last summer but adults dictated everything in their lives and it was usually very unfair like that. Theo sighed too, annoyed at Diane but also at the way New York had treated April and her family already. He wanted her to be safe but he didn't want that to mean that she was gone forever. "When we see each other again," because he was sure they would, right? "Do you think you will have an accent?" He raised an eyebrow at her, trying to get her to laugh. "Think yoohr gonna talk like this?" He teased her with an atrocious attempt at a Southern accent despite Indiana being very much in the North!
With the suggestion of a trip to the zoo at Diane's expense, Theo chuckled but did not say no to it. He also wanted to spend as much time with April as they could manage before she had to go, he would miss her terribly. "Ok, lets do it, maybe we can get in to see some of the feeding things too. We can go first thing if you want?"
ππππππ & ππππ ππππ @multipleoccupancy
"Thank you kindly." The Coveys had found their way to Rivendell, where music had been traded for food and shelter. Not everyone in Middle Earth was welcoming, not even all the elves. But they were guests at Elrond's table, and Lucy Gray did not take such hospitality for granted. She also enjoyed the beauty around her. Nature was omnipresent here, hiding Rivendell and surrounding it softly. She found the place to be quite inspiring, and songs were already writing themselves in her mind.
"We Coveys have been writin' and playin' songs for centuries, sharin' them to anyone who cares to listen."
She was pleased to hear that he was so appreciative of their way of life. "That is mighty sweet of you to say," she hummed, her voice still melodic even when she wasn't singing. "I can't imagine any other way to live. We Coveys don't like stayin' anywhere for too long. The world is too vast, and life is too short. For us humans, at least." A playful smile curved her lips.
"Not everyone thinks like you," she admitted, though she did not sound too fussed about it. "But I reckon people only judge what they can't understand. Coveys have always been travelin', we're happier on the road. I don't think I could sing if I stopped movin'. Like a birdsong in a cage. I doubt they sing with a lot of heart."
Elrond nodded as she confirmed the Covey people had been doing their singing and travelling for centuries, he wondered if he should mention crossing their paths before though admittedly none had ever come to Rivendell, perhaps because it would not have been on the maps and paths used in the First Age. He made no mention of it and smiled at her thanks and her way of life, even returning the little playful grin. "It would be sad if the world lost any more of its music and voice."
It faded as she expressed her thoughts on not being able to travel and indeed that not everyone was as welcoming as he and his people. He gave a low hum in thought for it, agreement but something more pondering too, Sauron was doing fine work in having people close their boarders and turn inwards. He suspected there would only be more hostility ahead for the Coveys.
"The world is changing," he acknowledged softly, "people often fear what they do not understand, it is an easier path to defend against what is unfamiliar but it makes the world much smaller for such people." He thought of Gondor, Rohan, Erebor, even Mirkwood and Lothlorien were usually unwelcoming to strangers, with their own good reason though Elrond tried to keep his boarders open for those seeking rest, healing and protection from the shadow.
"Though you are small in number, I believe that your people walk among some of the tallest towers of cultures, for you see and experience it all as welcomed witnesses. It speaks volumes of those who would shut you out be they afraid or corrupted. I think it is of vital importance that Middle Earth remain connected and your songs and visitations to the realms are invaluable. You should carry that with a deserved pride though I understand that pride will not diminish the worry nor the need of a safe place to eat, rest and recover. I wish I could offer you my hospitality beyond Imladris." But of course he could not. "You have managed so far without my help," he smiled, "the road grows darker ahead, I imagine you have seen that too in your arrival?"
MULTIPLEOCCUPANCY
Multi-Fandom-Multi-Muse including the following LOTR muses
Bilbo || Elrond || ThΓ©oden || Thranduil || Gandalf
Very lore relaxed, no pressure multi para RP across fandoms.
OC and Crossover friendly.
My LOTR muses are not available for shipping.
Please read the rules before interacting and double check the muse list and interaction advice on the pinned post before interacting with the blog. Mun is 30+ in GMT time zone. Long time LOTR nerd, 15+ years of RP experience.
Dog wouldn't mind Lorenzo being there. He had a strong protective streak to him, but he was pretty friendly underneath all that. It just took him a moment to accept strangers, that was all.
And anyway, the priest clearly wasn't a threat. Jeremiah wouldn't have invited him back to his cabin if he'd sensed any kind off feeling about him. This was a good thing, of course. Jeremiah could handle trouble, but he never appreciated it in his doorstep - especially not in areas where people actually lived - and, to be quite honest, looking at Lorenzo, he wasn't convinced a fight against him would be easy. Sure, priests were supposed to be peaceful, but look at him! He wasn't exactly built like a twig, was he?
Mind you, bear spray probably worked on Catholics too. Jeremiah was pretty sure that not even the Pope could ward it off.
"Why would you need chalk-"
Jeremiah cut himself off as he realised what the other man was talking about. Presumably part of his plan to help him keep things away from his cabin included drawing runes or something like that. That was probably okay... Jeremiah would need to cover them up, though. Once in a blue moon, he had a visitor or two. It wouldn't do for them to realise his cabin was the site of some kind of ritual.
"Oh, yeah, I think that'll be fine..." If it came to it, he supposed he'd just have to buy more paint later.
Jeremiah had Dog hop into the back of the car first, before placing the cans of paint down on the seat next to him. Dog seemed fine with this, though he still kept a close eye on Lorenzo, watching him warily.
"The paint - it'll, um, it'll work even if a rug covers it up, right? Or whatever else? Doesn't have to be a rug. Unless it does have to be a rug?"
The check on why he might need something to mark the cabin with was going to be met with a casual but truthful explanation but Jeremiah seemed to have worked it out without his clarification. Lorenzo just smiled as Jeremiah confirmed he could use the paint if needed, he'd prefer to, chalk could be so easily erased after all. He just watched as Dog jumped into the back of the car and waited for Jeremiah to settle him before he'd get into the passenger seat.
He had a valid question of course and while Lorenzo had been quietly reminded of a secluded monk or something of a hermit in speaking with Jeremiah, it was good to know that he had guests often enough that he had the mind to hide any sigils that he might draw for him.
"Si, a rug will work," another smile but he hoped that was some reassurance, he'd learned enough over the years to check under some rugs when entering a room for that same reason, especially with high profile exorcisms. "Et es less about the visibility of the markings, there are blessings to be done but paint will last longer than chalk. Et es no' forever fix," he went on to warn him with a more serious look, "Et will keep things away and even some from seeing you but the paint will peel and the blessings will weather the harder they must work." It was easy for him to keep them well maintained in the Vatican but he had spent his life learning how to do it. Jeremiah would not be able to do it on his own.
"You will show me what you have found and I will put the right blessings in place." He managed another smile, still gentle and patient. It was clear enough to him that the Appalachian Mountains were demanding on Jeremiah.
@multipleoccupancy . Oceanne has the bright idea to steal from Elrond π«£
When Oceanne was little, she used to accompany her father on his many travels to acquire rare and precious artefacts. This, of course, usually involved a lot of stealing. But Oceanne was then small and nimble, easily slipping inside castles unnoticed -especially with the help of her father.
Now that she was grown, and her father much older, she traveled alone. But the purpose was the same: stealing artefacts to then bring back to the shop to be sold. She did not see it as a crime, and why would she? She had been raised by a man who had taught her otherwise. That it was fine to collect, amass, and sell. This was the only thing differentiating his greed from one of a dragon. Because, unlike a dragon, Dimitri was happy to sell his precious treasures.
While Oceanne was no longer small, she was still nimble. Her feet touched the ground softly, barely making any noise. She also had on her side her father's many spells, artefacts and weapons, which he always let her borrow from the shop before she left.
But stealing from Men was a lot easier than stealing from Elves. Men's fortresses were big, noticeable, and easy to sneak into. Rivendell was another beast entirely. It was tucked away in a valley, surrounded by mountains and rivers. Secluded and secret.
That was not to say that Fish did not manage to enter the hidden refuse of the Elves. She did. She was just very careful about it (though perhaps not careful enough).
Emboldened by her success, she made her way through the elegant corridors. She did not know exactly where AndΓΊril was kept, she only knew that it was here, in Rivendell. She did not know why it was so important, either -all she knew was that her father wanted it. And Fish was a dutiful daughter.
Focused on her quest, she heard too late the soft footsteps that echoed behind her. With nowhere to hide, she turned to face who had caught her red-handed (but she had not stolen anything yet, at least).
"Sorry to intrude," she said, polite, as if she was not a thief!
The trouble with trying to steal from the elves was that they tended not to actually sleep. That night, unfamiliar footfalls and attempts to try and be undetected had lured none other than Lord Elrond from his study in search of who he had initially thought could have been Bilbo Baggins. Instead his search had lead him to a stranger who stood in his halls and politely apologised for it.
He took a moment to assess her, powerful beings often appeared at his home but they were usually known to him. He did not recognise her, nor did he get the sense that she was sent by the Valar. There had been no messengers of expected arrivals from other realms which meant that she had at the very least just wondered in.
"It is not often we have a stranger who walks so brazenly through our halls," he warned with a certain edge to his voice, uncertain for what she might be or what she was there for at all. There was plenty in Rivendell to bring both the most noble and those with darker intentions. "I invite you to speak your name and your intentions here, wonderer?" While the edge had dulled a little into a curiosity, Elrond was more confused as to why she was there and how she had managed to get so far into his home without being stopped or him being informed.
Open: ThΓ©oden
With the foul breath of Mordor curling at the gates of Minas Tirith, ThΓ©oden's thoughts turned to the enormous task that lay ahead. Watching his Riders of Rohan prepare to ride out, the dance of the horses, the tears of the wives and the confusion of the children were their own burden but he could see in the eyes of each of his riders that there was a determination, a certainty that what they rode to was death or glory. A final fight that would determine not just the future of mankind but of Middle Earth itself.
He could not let fear or doubt settle in his mind, his unease of their potential ride to their doom was buried deep within and while he felt secure in his temporary isolated position outside of his longhouse, he'd have to be mindful of his words as he felt another take his side.
"This battle will have high demands upon our resources, I want Edoras secured but prepared for missions of aid to the outlying lands." He shot off with an order, whoever was with him was an ally and if they were an ally he was expecting them to pull their weight in any way a king would expect of them. "Can I entrust that preparation to you?"
