#withweightedhand

[sempiternaladagio]

In some things the details were a fog – they were uncertain, unset perhaps, yet still he knew. In that knowing, that uncertainty, he waited. Námo was patient, but in that rare gap in prescience budded a small agitation in the form of restlessness. It wasn’t to last of course, for the Dwarves of Nogrod were easier to see.

Námo would not allow Mablung to continue wandering his halls in search of him, though he had not been far, and Míriel watched from the distance at her current stow with a quiet smile. Námo had never spoken his purpose to her for he hadn’t any need or reason; it was known. Many that resided here for long were of similar state of awareness, and they knew the reason the Master of Visions chose to manifest from the darkness within corporeal body near the captain’s side. Sheer fabric wrapped around dark limbs, silent as his step, and he placed a hand on the shoulder nearest for he understood the reaction he’d receive and was wholly unconcerned.

And with an airy voice, odd in disuse, he spoke: “Come with me.”

[viridfelicity]

Late. Later than expected, Beleg thought when the bridge leading to Menegroth finally came into view, the forestry here divided by a large canyon. The city itself well hidden within the towering mountainside, unnerving more in the darkness with the water that cut through stone to pass a river where they may have once been able to walk many years go, lush plant-life finding ways to flourish and climb within the gap making the distance seem so much greater. He lived far as most his tasks were away from the city, and compared to the miles of forest this was a sight that would never get old.

Tonight was different in that the view held little impact on him as the stone beneath his feet became dirt once more and the bridge lay behind. Nothing more than moonlight aided the journey into complete darkness where only once the short passage underground would conceal the heat of fire were torches used. Beyond the bevy who cared for the horses, the guards, and stables lay the gates of the city and when opened brilliant light flooded the corridor for a few mere moments.

Beleg could tirelessly wander but this wear was not his body though it felt heavy with the thoughts that weighted him. It was disappointment and he was being a child about it; reminding himself that there was plenty of time, that it didn't need to be now, and that he was being silly didn't bring him out of it. In spite of himself he managed not to be grumpy when he spoke with Thingol; he could be far too eager about some ideas.

But, he wanted–.

He'd not expected to see Mablung until the next eve in spite of his pressed roaming, so when the other captain came into view, albeit already far ahead, Beleg ran for the staircase the other was partway up. "Wait!" Beleg called, catching the banister to brace himself, arrows rattling against one another in their quiver, a flurry of white wool in the sudden stop. "Mablung, wait! I need your attention for a moment," he'd forgotten the time and that his voice would carry, thoughts set strictly on chasing up the stairs after him.

[captainofthewoodlandguardar-blog]

WITHWEIGHTEDHAND SAID: I WOULD MAKE SUGGESTIONS, BUT I ALSO LIKE MINE SWEET. ‘W’A …THAT AND IT’S JUST A BAD IDEA BECAUSE I’D GO TEST THINGS…

I can see us drinking our own mixes and claiming them to be certain tolkien characters, and then just being so royally fucked up and reenacting scenes.