✦ ✧ ( fearduath )
SHE UNDERSTOOD THEN, yet insecurity had overridden any logical thoughts that had came to be. So used to ridicule and doubt, it was almost ritual to laugh at such comments. Laugh at the doubt and the hurt that came with it. Guilt pooled in her gut now, realizing his words had not been meant to harm. Concern, perhaps, though that could be a reach.
A wrangled sigh leaves her, hands folding as she considers his words. Courage. She had not thought of such a thing, it was not courage. There was no courage in placing such little value in her own life. Selfless? No, she was not – merely fulfilling a purpose not her own. Selfish, if just to ease herself of the pain.
“ Do not apologize. I am quick to judge – being a woman such comments are not uncommon. ” A wave of a hand and she dismisses the apology, her expression that of discomfort. She felt torn between the truth and relief – how could she admit to such cowardice? “ Fear is understandable. It is easy to lose hope in such times, but that is all we have. Courage … is left to those who devote themselves to the greater good. ”
"Perhaps where you are from." The words are clipped and lined with irritation, though it isn't directed at her personally. He's ready to go off on a tangent about how being a woman doesn't make a person any less valuable or deserving of any insults where he's from; how he was raised —- and he wants to think how all elves are raised -— but wasn't she raised by elves herself? It's a disappointing thought —- one he isn't keen to linger on.
The thought quickly dissipates anyway as he turns toward her, slow but steady in his movements. There's a silence between them as he allows the words spoken to really dig their way into his conscious, and for once, he feels a strange sort of sympathy for the girl. With a light exhale, Thranduil's features soften and there's an unreadable expression on his face.
"Courage," he says, voice low and gentle, "is not what you think it is. It is not assigned to heroes or only those willing to sacrifice their lives." His eyes avert from her to focus on the space behind her, as if watching a distant memory play out. "It is strength." And just like that, his eyes are on her yet again and he's leaning down so that he's eye level with her. Warm hands find hers; whether she allows him to take them is her prerogative. Either way, he doesn't falter in his speech. "Strength in the face of pain, or of grief. You have shown strength in the face of both; I have seen it with my very eyes."
“Now, what do you say about that?”
