#noldclante

[valar-critical]

❝Fëanáreeee, oh darling wife of mine, tell me... how might I lure you away from that forge for a night out? Hmm~? It has been so long!!❞ (a pouty Nerdan appeared)

Had it been anyone else in all of Arda speaking to her in this way, Fëanárë would be irate, indeed, and there would be no chance of going out. Lucky for her Nerdan, then, that they were the exception to all her rules.

With a sigh, she put down the stick of graphite (her fingertips were all quite blackened) she had been using to sketch her latest project and used her clean hand to rub at her brow.

“Has it been so long, Istyar? I feel as though I’ve been in the forge for an hour or two, at most. Of course, the last time I said that it had been two days,” she amended, muttering that last admission in a low, sheepish tone of which many later historians would think her incapable. (Perhaps she was incapable of it, in general. It was reserved only for them, Nerdan, her heart, without whom she often thought life would be without joy.)

“Where is it you wish to go?”

[chainsxwsmile]

noldclante

@chainsxwsmile / cont. ♡

˗ˏˋ 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐘𝐄𝐒, 𝐖𝐈𝐃𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐂𝐊, stayed fixed on the enormous creature before him as he, against all better reason, slowly lowered his elven blade. His father had warned him, an age ago, that he was far too trusting & that his naive heart would be his undoing someday. His cousin's husband Celeborn would say much the same now, disapproving of his friendships with dwarves and his policy of welcoming all peoples into Eregion without reservation. Oh well. ❝… A-and I shall cut you down if you… if you make any sudden moves!!❞ Eru help him. He knew he sounded nothing like the formidable warriors of his kin because he wasn't one. Celebrimbor was an artist! His hands were made to create art, not shed blood, & he looked the part as well — a fine tunic of cool pastel hues and the most magnificent jewelry adorning his forehead, neck, and ears ; all of his own making. He'd heard rumors of mithril deposits in these hills & couldn't resist investigating personally. Instead of mithril ore, the raven-haired noldo had stumbled upon this… ... well, this monstrosity. At least it seemed capable of reason and could speak the common tongue. There had been whispers lately of dark forces gathering in the east, beyond the mountains… could this be a creature spawned from that darkness? A shaky exhale. ❝So… what are you, exactly? And am I about to be surrounded by more of you?❞ As much as he tried to steel himself, a hint of panic still bled into his words.

chainsxwsmile

The extravagant jewelry hadn't been lost on the Olog-- though, he had previously been far more occupied with the blade pointed at him. Still, such fineries weren't like anything that the Olog had seen before and curiosity beckoned him closer.

Bruce hadn't much past experience with other peoples besides Orcs, with whom he was forced into captivity within the regiment camp. Orcs had no desire to create delicate fineries. Whatever life existed for them within the ashy mountains didn't allow for luxuries. Metal was reserved for weapons and armor only. What scant materials available went into survival-- usually against other Orcs-- for Bruce had seldom come across another Troll.

Even on strangers' ears, the Elf's threats felt forced and unnatural. Yet, Bruce's previous battles in the fighting pits warned him against underestimating an opponent. However wavering the Elf held his blade, the Olog had no doubt that he'd use it if the Troll forced him to do so. Still, the Elf did not advance. So, Bruce took a step forward on all fours, curious with his head tilted to the side.

Humored by the stranger's question, the Troll flashed a few sharp teeth in a low, rumbling chuckle. "I'd've thought that an Elf would've known what a Troll is," Bruce answered. "Unless, of course, Trolls're rare 'round these parts." He wouldn't know. He was simply passing through.

"I reckon you're an Elf, unless I'm mistaken." The Olog took yet another step closer. "Don't think I've come 'cross an Elf b'fore."

@noldclante

[wreathcrowns]

source from @noldclante

THE ELVENKING hailed from Amon Lanc, the seat of his throne in the land of Rhovanion over the Misty Mountains. He was dressed in royally emblazoned robes befitting that of a decorated elvish commander. Emerald green speckled by a champagne river of constellations, and his waist belted loosely of the same pale gold. If one were learned enough, and had the luxury of a closer look, the stars reflect the same ones that shine over Greenwood the Great.

Along with standard black high boots, it was a fit made for long travel, not to outshine the host of Eregion. As well he gave off the impression that he was armed to the teeth, sharply suave and poised to strike at a moment's notice, if the accompanying mail & leather kingsguard was not enough.

As one of lofty stations, and even prior in the dark beauty of Menegroth, King Oropher was no stranger to a mix of cultures.  ❝ Fret not, dear friend. ❞  he gave a reassuring squeeze to Celebrimbor's hand.  ❝ Greenwood is a large kingdom housing many roads, intersections, and locales. I have been a long acquaintance of the necessity to maintain relations, in hopes to prosper the future after me. ❞  Oropher downed his glass in one drink, and smiled around the glass.  ❝ If you don't mind thinking about some business this day, you must introduce me to the alcoholic selections this side of the mountains. ❞  of course, elvenkind who were masters of the wood and land had such fondness for fruits, wines, and other related preservations of.

Oropher wouldn't mind establishing trade and cultural exchange between Eregion and Greenwood, and secure the roads and rivers between them. ❝ No obligations, of course. I ask only due the length and rarity of my journey. ❞

[wreathcrowns]

source from @noldclante

❝ Aaah !! ❞  the little one whined, with his good hand outstretched for his twin brother to come with, lest father forgets that there were two of them.  ❝ Rosse !! ❞  and his twin dropped the wooden sword ( surely stained with Elrond's blood ) in favour of holding brother's hand.

With any sort of movement, the wound on his arm prickled, and he could not stay still, keeping Elros firmly behind him. Where he got the strength of will through his pain, only the universe knows. ❝ Kano … the grass did it. The grass is sharp. ❞  but unbeknownst to Elrond, there were bits of broken splinters in the red of his arm to disprove his claim. The twins had sparred quite ferociously, taking joy in modelling after their foster-fathers' spirited battles against dark forces.

Elros held his tongue, lips downturned and quivering, looking mighty guilty. He had always been the more stoic of the two, and did not find lying to come easy. They were just wooden toys, and so Elrond had grabbed it in haste to gain an advantage. If they were forged of real steel, surely Elrond would not have decided so. Surely. Sometimes, even Elros thought that his twin was of a too cunning nature.

[admirableringmaker]

Celebrimbor as a romantic candidate WHAT who said that....

Suggest a victim romantic candidate

"Lord Celebrimbor?" Annatar giggled, which was rather sinister. "I am flattered..."

[wreathcrowns]

∗ 59﹕ sender prevents an injured receiver from getting up.  (Tyelpe -> Oropher)

It was not a difficult thing to do, as @noldclante blocked him from sitting up. There were bandages across his torso from taking two slashes at point blank range. ❝ I have no wish to trouble the lord of Eregion .. ❞ further, Oropher could not stop Thranduil from seeking out the nearest settlement for aid. Being bedridden had its disadvantages, and losing control of his son was the least of many. The Sinda lord tries to gain a foothold in his pride, ❝ You should have seen the orcish hoard. ❞ they were many in number compared to him and his friends. All dead not far from here.

❝ We almost made it over the mountains. ❞ sighing, and almost out of breath, Oropher relented from speaking more.

[wreathcrowns]

source from @noldclante

Steel-grey eyes surveyed the flora of beautiful gardens as though King Oropher was looking over detailed maps on a stone carved table. He scrutinised every colour and pattern, intending to commit to memory such that he may share his findings to the gardeners back in Amon Lanc. The flowers were beautiful, the bushes lush, very different species than one would find in the grand expanse of Greenwood the Great. He might not be able to grow them to exact measure, but he would try, so as to bring different cultures and experiences to the Silvan elves, for they were not as fond of strange travels as he was.

Oropher had long heard a hushed, familiar voice around him, but it was soft enough such that exact words could not be discerned. He assumes that the founder of Eregion was busying with the guests around, for there were many, so colour him rather surprised, pleasantly, when a bouquet of brightness was presented to him.

As one who must consistently look past appearances, and carry a nature of suspicion befitting a ruler of multitudes, the soft organ behind his ribcage would betray this long practiced forbearance, and begin to tremble ; as when light falls on a pit of darkness, and shadows scatter about in ecstasy, and in fear.

Oropher's eyes searched Celebrimbor's, eager to discern any kind of deception or falsity in the Noldo's praises. But there was simply nothing to gain with this gift, for Oropher would be gone after this excursion, and each would be back to his station, with nothing between them, save business.

❝ It pleases me. ❞  he answers with the regality of a King, yet his heart drove him forward, taking the bouquet in one hand. Mere action already betrays his desire truly. The King should not be passed anything that had not gone through an envoy, or one of the kingsguard. But here he was just a Sinda who harboured a want of something nice, for himself, and no one else. Not for his people, nor for his son. So, with selfish thought, Oropher drew nearer to Celebrimbor's ear,  ❝ You've sufficiently disarmed me. ❞  when he pulled back, a smile, genuine, bloomed on stoic features.  ❝ This shall be preserved in my memory forever, Lord Celebrimbor. I only wish I can stay true to this figure of your praise, as you have, with your nature of unending brilliance. ❞

[ranasta]

@noldclante / cont. X

Elrond knew this would be a mistake, but he had to try. He wasn't obligated to wrangle Maglor back into civilization, and didn't have to beg or keep asking, because it hadn't been Elrond who just up and left without any care for the feelings of others. Maglor was selfish and wallowed in his own misery to a degree that was very immature for his age, but Elrond did ask at least once for his own peace. He wasn't going to move on with the knowledge that he hadn't even tried once, even if the result was predictable and disappointing.

"I'm very sorry your brief passion project of old bothered you. Then stay right here, or wander a bit, so that I won't find you again." Not that Elrond would be looking again, but it would keep Maglor on his toes and that gave him an odd satisfaction.

And that would have been it, but Elrond didn't want to part forever without giving the other a piece of his mind. "Perhaps once you've tried thinking about what I want, instead of what you want, you might want to reconsider. Unlike the rest of my family you've managed to keep me alone, in a society that is just as foreign to me as it's to you, even while being alive and right here. And yet you still insist on keeping apart. What exactly is it that you punish me for?"