#halbrnd

[ga1adriel]

❝ i once dreamed of this place. it's real ? ❞

❛ that depends upon your intention. ❜ the land before them ripples with possibilities, both as certain and wavering as the affection that soars within her still. a feeling she wishes she could shake, as she looks back over her shoulder toward when he stands with feet firmly set, ocean eyes drawn from the vista that stretches out before them beyond the cliff edge, toward the limitless horizon of the western seas. beneath the hard fought calcification of her heart, galadriel knows the truth. that none of this truly exists. that it never did. the peace that she feels as the warm wind drifts between her splayed fingers, stretching as if trying to capture its essence. the feeling that flickers between them as her gaze finds his own. none of it is true. all of it is drawn from a well with a poisoned centre.

and yet they are here. together. at what feels like the edge of the arda. although both of them know far better than that.

her attention is captured by him alone, despite the way brightness of arien's charge illuminates the sky before them. this is but the frontier of men and beyond lies a land that neither of them would ever freely admit to wishing to visit again. their reasons may differ, but the truth of it rings out between them — a song that few could understand. the melody is too discordant, twisted and strange. for who would not long to know eternity ?

❛ if you believe it to be real, it will be so. ❜ galadriel's palms itch, her eyes dipping for a moment before they return to linger on the face she has not seen in so very long. the heavy tick of his jaw as he comprehends her words, the glint in his peridot eyes as he glances away before returning to her. she can barely look. her heart stutters beneath her breast, beating a quiet rhythm that has always belonged to him alone.

❛ the men say that dreams reveal our true desires... ❜ her voices carries upon the sweet breeze as her lips part, her gown billowing and wrapping around her legs as she feels the heat of him draw closer toward her. the flickering flames of treachery that seem so at odds with the man who looks back to her with such anguish. a feeling that must be reflected in her own eyes as she fights that pull that makes her want to move closer. to scent the very flames that lick around him still. flames of industry and power, beget from the kindling that she helped to catch and smoke so long ago.

❛ ...perhaps, they speak the truth ? or else a pretty notion. ❜

come closer. her spirit waivers with a longing she wishes she could deny. always reaching for him despite the way she knows he will burn her, and turn her very essence to naught but cinders and ash.

[ranasta]

⊱ for elrond + galadriel ! ┊ what is their favorite colour ? early bird or night owl ?

Elrond likes blues very much. And greys, like misty mornings. He likes a dark blue like the night sky, foam green, moss green and cold colours in general, that may also delve into plum or lavender. Galadriel is the opposite, she likes warm colours, like red, orange and yellow. The blues she like are rich like the ocean or sapphires. She likes brilliant gold and silver.

Elrond is a night owl, who stays up long and then tends to sleep in if he can. As a half-elf he needs more sleep than elves, and goes through a regular REM sleep like humans do. If he goes to bed too late and something wakes him early morning, he's bound to be very tired, but he can't change his inner cicadan rhythm. But Galadriel is very much an early riser. It's mostly her inherent restlessness that has her start her days earlier than most and she can get away with far less sleep than Elrond. / @halbrnd

[ranasta]

@halbrnd

There was a deep restlessness inside Galadriel's heart. It kept her from sleeping and resting. Any waking moment was spent with a sense of unease. She prowled through the streets of Eregion like a tiger, putting the other elves at the same sense of unease. It was to Galadriel as if the world had changed. When she gazed outside the city walls, she saw a different Middle-earth. A heavy shrowd had started to settle over it, and nobody else seemed to notice.

It nearly drove her mad, until one evening, when the sun had just began to set and the sky was dipped into rich orange and pink. Even during this favourite daytime of hers, she saw the darkness that marred the beauty in the sky. And so she made her way to Halbrand, who had just recovered from his grave injuries, thanks to the help of Elrond and the healers. Why Halbrand? This was a question she didn't dare to answer, or to examine any closer. All she knew was that he promised a kind of soothing of this agitation that plagued her.

"Get up." She didn't even announce herself when she entered the man's room. Her long golden hair was braided and fell along her back. The bow in her hand, along with her hair being secured out of her face, probably already told Halbrand everything he needed to know. "We're going hunting."

[saintsdawn-a]

the woods are dark and deep, and they are fond of tricks. a sound here. a shadow there. the itching sensation of being watched; hackle raising and finger twitching, seeking comfort from the sword.

↬ @halbrnd says, “ i could have sworn i saw something. ”

a sound bubbles from their chest, to their throat, and out of their mouth. the fear worries that it will draw the something closer. the fear also wants to ignore this. so it does, and all focus turns toward the sound. to act mortified of their laughter never crossed the knight’s mind, and it never will.

“ did you ? of course, and why would the woods allow us to pass without conflict ? ”

[tidalhaired]

“ do you think there’s something wrong with what i’m doing ? ”

Starlit eyes watched Halbrand work in utter fascination. Blacksmithing never failed to impress Elrond. He himself was more drawn to the less physically taxing crafts, like calligraphy and music, with woodcrafting large figures posing as an exception.

He found it admirable that smiths didn't only possess the raw strength to lift heavy hammers, but also the endurance to spend their days in a hot, loud environment. Elrond himself had already gotten uncomfortable, with the forge being too hot and the air filled with the very distinct scent of various irons, smoke and coal. The shattering and clanking of the anvils had become a source of agitation.

"Wrong?" he asked surprised, lifting his gaze from Halbrand's working hands up to his face. There was a trail of black soot on his left cheek. Elrond, despite just being an onlooker, doubted he looked any better. It was impossible to spend hours in a forge and not get dirty. "Not at all. I've just never seen this kind of technique before," he admitted. "Granted, I'm far from an expert. I've just observed many blacksmiths before. There's much you can teach them."

[saintsdawn-a]

↬ @halbrnd says, “ don't. don't thank me. ”

don't thank me, he says, and florence thinks it odd. it lacks the humbling humility she expects from such a demand, or, at least, it is what she assumes. it is what she has, does, and will do.

“ very well, ” starts the knight, “ i will not thank you. ” the words try to choke on the air they take in. still winded from the fight, still trying to recover from the harsh ground. even now their shoulder screams, and it worsens with a grimace when they reach out to set a calming hand on their ferocious mount.

“ but you did help, and we are relieved to be standing. ” the horse less grateful, of course. “ but this isn't a ' thank you, ' just the mindless rambling of gratitude. ”

[ga1adriel]

❛ ...when i am not otherwise occupied. ❜ her brow furrows, not as deep at the ancient knots that cover the trees that surround them; but delicate and full of expectation. weary. watching him feels more trepidatious than it should - as if she is making a study. but of what and what she is never sure. being in the company of men, of this man,  is still a relatively new concern considering her path has drawn her from the mortal world for so very long. galadriel finds herself at a crossroads of understanding, toeing the line between the old and the new once more. although perhaps she is no real stranger to it. only to him. to how he makes her question her own steadfast beliefs and understanding of how this middle earth should work and how she ought to feel in his company. her gaze cuts through the half light cast by the dappled leaves above them, the flicking dying glory of it casting this king in a glow that seems to illuminate him from the inside - spreading to cover the life that grows and thrives around them.

her fea aches with the weight of what they have seen, what they have done together. an ever considered pull within her heart, shattered and pieced back together so often that the cracks within it are thickened with growth - the expansion of her perception.

yet here, within this quiet glade - she feels that @halbrnd sees her more than she would like. yet he senses it too, knows that the feeling is reciprocated despite their many differences. the unease within her spreads like a twisted bushel of wild strung vines.

❛ i had hoped it would bring you some peace; a chance to feel at ease if only for a short amount of time. yet i must confess it has done little for me. ❜ she huffs softly, nose twitching as she finds herself drifting toward a fallen tree, resting her knee upon the gnarled breadth of it before stepping gently to the other side and allowing herself to sit - perching upon the half rotted wood to look up to him with a quiet expectation, cheeks flushing in a way she cannot seem to stop as she regards him above her.

❛ how do you fare? truly, i wish to know. i would not have your own fears burn within despite how you might consider mine more troublesome. ❜

[nuin-giliath]

❛ you trust me , don't you ? ❜  ─── for galadriel

Her head turned left and right, desperation in her eyes as elves and men fell to the ground and orcs kept coming like there was no end to them.

Galadriel was tied up and chained as if one set of binds wasn't enough and even in her rage, she took pride in that small fact alone. They knew she was not someone they could underestimate.

Halbrand was beside ber, bound as well, while they were made to stand, no doubt to be taken to their master, when she heard him speak. Her head turned swiftly with rage burning in her blue eyes as strands of her hair, loosened from her braid, danced around her face.

Galadriel looked into his eyes and lowered hers, swallowing her pride and rage as she nodded swiftly. "Yeah. I do. But I don't know what good that does. We're outnumbered, our weapons have been taken and everyone that's not dead or dying, is very wounded." She sighed and her eyes got lost into the distance as she leaned on him without knowing. "What use is a flickering light when there's no end to this darkness..."