OPEN RP POST

[loveathousandyearsgone]

Pretty straight forward. You have an idea you want to play out with Elrond, throw up a starter or plotting comment and we'll go from there. Haven't threaded with me before but want to try something different than how you found this journal? That's fine too! I'm always open to new RP partners. If you have questions, feel free to shoot me a PM if you're more comfortable that way.

Comments

[elrohir_elrondion]

It took much coaxing to get him to return to Imladris this time. Elladan seemed beyond exasperated by the time the returned home. The ride had been quiet, his mind lost in the torrents of thoughts and new notions he had not faced in his long life. Though he be young in relation to his people, the one that had his thoughts was far, far younger than he. Something that did in fact, make him wonder at himself.

This dilemma also led him to dallying alone along garden paths or, like right now, stay perched upon the large rocks that bordered the Bruinen in places. Elrohir sat quietly, a book open and forgotten at his side. Even books lost their appeal... something he could not recall ever happening. He loved books and the knowledge held within their carefully made covers.

Now, instead of studying such knowledge, he sat with a knee hugged to his chest in thought. Days felt shorter, yet longer as his heart continued to turn to one person. Each day felt too long, precious moments lost in a lifetime of a mortal. Ah yes, that was the problem... mortality.

Resting his chin on his knee, he distantly realized he had missed dinner the night before and breakfast that morning as well. He should go back and eat... sadly, he felt no desire to move and escape his contemplation of his emotions.

[loveathousandyearsgone]

For all that Elrond was used to his grown children coming and going, he still worried. He always would, even if Celebrian hadn't fallen the way she had, he'd worry. And wait, watching until he was certain all were where they should be.

But one of his sons had begun acting... different, of late. Distracted. Missed meals. Staying out longer than normal. And he feared the reason, felt it weigh his heart. He'd kept it to himself, just watched Elrohir closely. Waiting, for as long as he could bear. His son's party had returned, no injuries nor hardships were reported or given evidence of. And yet Elrohir hadn't gone to meet him immediately, had stayed out late just walking, he assumed.

That was yesterday. Even Elladan was frustrated with his brother, and finally Elrond went in search of the missing twin. He brought a small bag of food, enough for a snack for both to share. It really didn't take all that long, he'd long since learned the haunts his children vanished to (though he generally allowed them the luxury of believing his ignorance).

He said nothing when he came upon the seated form, simply stood a few feet from him for a long minute, then calmly took a seat beside him, looking out over the wild beauty of Imladris.

[elrohir_elrondion]

It took him far longer than he had any right to take at his age to notice the presence of his father. The soft rustle of robes was the only thing that alerted the younger twin to the other as he sat near him. Angling his head back, he smiled a tiny, apologetic smile that curled the corners of his lips and creased his brow ever so slightly. "Mae govannen, ada..."

He felt he could at least have the decency to look ashamed for his absent behavior. He did, after all, miss meals and did not greet his father as he should on arrival.

Brushing his long hair behind his ears, he let his eyes drift back to the running waters of the Bruinen. His eyes lingered long on the way the water tripped over rocks in the water while he carefully sorted his thoughts. Elrohir wanted more than anything to just talk to his father about this, but knew that it was not that simple. What would his father think of the thoughts he now entertained and longed to follow after?

Would he accept his son's wishes or forbid them? Elrohir refused to see his father in a negative light, but he knew he could not stand the other being disappointed either. "Did you happen upon me, or did you seek me out?" His voice came soft and happy, a light touching his eyes at the thought that Elrond would seek him out just to check on him even if it was a near elfling notion.

[loveathousandyearsgone]

The length of time it took to be noticed only spoke further of Elrohir's distraction. Elrond finally looked at his son when that head turned to him, and returned the smile (his was only warm, levelling blame on no one's head). "Mae govannen, Elrohir."

Really, he was mostly just relieved his son was alright. Though with something on his mind. His gaze lingered on Elrohir even when the younger elf looked away, just watching and waited. His patience paid off, when light and joy lit his son's face and voice, and his lips twitched in amusement as he looked back out over the waters.

"Does a father not have the right to seek out his beloved son when he has not seen him in some time?" Gently teasing, while telling Elrohir what he wanted to know. Elrond also shifted a little, close enough so their arms might gently touch.

[hikikomori_king]

Turgon is reborn late - much later than most might expect, unless they knew him well, grief and guilt stricken over the loss of his city, blaming himself for the longest time.

But he IS reborn. Eventually.

Like all Reborn, his memories are still patchy in places, the emotional connections not yet all remade in their proper fashion, although he knows who everyone is. Unfortunately, for the elf who spent the better part of three ages of the world in healing sleep trying to get over his guilt, the connections that come back the fastest are all the worse ones.

For the first several months, he bursts into tears every time he meets anyone from Gondolin. He punches Fingon, at one point, because black hair in the middle of a flashback made him think of his cousins, not his brother. He cannot bear to look at Elenwe.

And of course, for someone used to being fairly calm and even keeled, to suddenly have so little control over his emotions... well. To say that he is beginning to resemble Caranthir is probably unfair. But he is increasingly miserable and irritable both.

It is decided, for everyone's sanity, that it would probably be a good idea if he spent some time where he is not likely to be suddenly ambushed by members of his court, eager to see their king again, or... well. Many people, really. Just. Time for him to learn to be himself again.

Turgon has no idea why his father, brother, and best friend-cousin Finrod thinks that Imladris Wain is that place. But here he is....

[loveathousandyearsgone]

Turgon hadn't been the first Reborn sent to Elrond, though he would probably be the most difficult to help. He'd worked hard to gain what knowledge in the healing arts he hadn't had the chance to learn due to lack of teachers, and he'd had plenty of experience with Glorfindel and all that means. He was as ready for the former king of Gondolin as any could expect, or hope.

A set of rooms were readied for Turgon's use, overlooking a garden where he could (and would be welcomed to) swing from trees or walk to his heart's content. It seemed to him that a quiet place could only help, from what he'd been told.

He smiled as he greeted the Reborn with a hand pressed to his chest. Not a bow, but a respectful greeting between elves. And spoke in Sindarin, rather than the accustomed Quenya of Aman. Many of those in Imladris Wain did the same, though there was a noticeable lack of crowd.

"Welcome to Imladris Wain. I am Elrond Earendilion. What would you like to do first?"

[hikikomori_king]

You have Turgon's sympathies, also, Glorfindel was totally like that, even in Gondolin, it's not his fault

Turgon smiles at him and then freezes, eyes wide in surprise.

"Did... you say Earendilion?"

[loveathousandyearsgone]

Much appreciated great-grandpa!

Any nerves were carefully hidden, thanks to much practice. Elrond's smile remained as he inclined his head.

"Earendil is my father." A source of warm pride and love.

Let me know if I need to change anything!

[child_of_bhaal]

[ooc: AU where she goes to Arda to keep Maglor company/avoid horrible death back home. Vague time frame before Elrond sails?]

It was the only place she knew to go, thanks to pulling every story out of Maglor about this land that he'd give her. He'd told her about the twins, and how Elrond was a healer. So when they'd gotten themselves into situation with some particularly vicious orcs, and he'd gotten himself badly hurt trying to protect her (a completely unnecessary thing, and she intends to scold him once he's well again), she headed in that directions.

She'd gotten Maglor onto a Shadow Stead and guided it at a brisk pace into the forests that should take them to Imladris, not having any idea that maybe a horse made entirely out of shadows might send the wrong impression on the perimeter guards. So she's standing there trying to look as harmless as possible, probably with varying degrees of success. Her cloak and one of her swords do lend to people being more inclined to trust her, though she keeps the latter sheathed for now. A drawn sword, regardless of its magical benefits, does send the wrong message, when you're trying to look non-threatening.

"We mean no harm. I'm looking for an healer called Elrond. We need help, as you can see. Please." She knows maybe three or four words of the Elvish that Maglor speaks, so she hopes they understand the Common Tongue.

Nope! It's lovely~ <3

[loveathousandyearsgone]

Elrond occasionally went out with his patrols, particularly when there was a certain level of unrest sensed near their borders. Orc packs were a prime example of what would draw Imladris' lord out, especially when his sons ranged further out and would not return.

A shadow steed bearing a familiar elf had him raise a staying hand to his men, and he startled when the unfamiliar woman asked for him by name. Perhaps he shouldn't be surprised, knowing Maglor as he did, but he set it aside. A quick word in Sindarin had the patrol further surround the woman and wounded elf and he dismounted. He switched easily to the Common Tongue for courtesy's sake.

"I am Elrond. Let me see him," not that he would easily be stopped as he approached, accepting a water sack from one of his elves with a nod. "Orcs?"

[child_of_bhaal]

Her attention perks instantly when the dark haired elf claims the name of Elrond. She hadn't expected he would be part of his own border patrol, but that he is, in her opinion, speaks volumes. She blinks out of her moment of attentive staring, and nods.

"Yes," she sighs, the sound a mix of affection and frustration, and worry. "He stepped in to protect me, when he ought to have been keeping up his own guard. I can heal a little in a pinch, but he fell unconscious."

No, there's no masking of her concern. She is open with her emotions, her fear for Maglor and her hope that his, seemingly legendary son, could heal him.

"Can you help?"

[loveathousandyearsgone]

It drove Erestor up the wall when he did, but the former scout understood Elrond felt it necessary- for his own sake as well as the safety of all they'd worked to accomplish with Imladris.

His men held their silence at the confirmation but he could sense their anger. He wasn't too pleased either, and simply glanced at his vice captain, tipping his head in a meaningful gesture. The elf nodded and whirled his mount, barking a couple names to call a small portion of the patrol to ride with him. They'd track the pack to ensure no trouble would come while Elrond was distracted.

"He would," he returned, giving Maglor an exasperated look as he started gently checking him over. "I have seen and treated worse wounds, m'lady. He will heal, but we must get him to the House." A fact which would no doubt terrify his foster father, but at the moment, Maglor was unable to come to his defense. "Can this steed travel quickly with him unconscious?"

[twilightflower]

The sea is calm, welcoming the fresh arrivals to Aman. There are many to meet and greet those aboard the Elven ships, but not all make themselves immediately visible. She, in particular, is not known to many of the land's residents - by choice - and she ensures that only one Elf - one Peredhel - hears her song. The lyrics have been written for him to illustrate her pride in the well-lived life he had led. Each note is high and deliriously sweet - like the call of a nightingale - but Lúthien keeps herself hidden, cloaked and watching her grandchild from afar.

Once the song reaches a gentle conclusion, urging him to live well in these lands too, she turns and flees to the trees on swift feet, her heart warm from simply having seen him. He might see her figure, hooded and cloaked like some sort of spirit or wraith, yet her steps are much more graceful than theirs.

[loveathousandyearsgone]

No one else heard the song. Elrond knows, because he'd glanced at his mother-in-law surreptitiously, knowing Galadriel would return his look with one of her faint smiles. But it was missing. So he doesn't give it away, only escorts the hobbits to where he trusts they'll be cared for. Even sets Erestor to seeing to it. It's a song that tells a story he knows well, only in such a way that highlights the best of his life.

He slips away, resolving to find his wife later and reunite with her. One more glance to Galadriel and a silent message that he would find them all later, but that there's something he must do first. Then he follows the song a ways, listening to instinct as to where to go. Then stops, and in a somewhat bemused voice, calls out, softly.

"Might you show yourself?"

[twilightflower]

There are places to spy and she knows them all well. When she hurries away from where she sang to him initially, she seeks a tree that has proven useful in the past. It has branches low enough that she can climb up on them and peer over the Elven settlement below. However the moment her fingers brush a limb, she hears his call.

That is unexpected and her song trails off as she considers how to act. She does not want his day to be clouded; this is a day of joyous reunions! Lúthien is not filled with much joy anymore, yet he is precious to her nonetheless and she would gladly sit high in a tree just to glimpse him.

"There are laughter and tears waiting for you elsewhere, child." she does not lower her hood or turn to face him, "I am nothing but a shadow; heed me not."

[tar_minyatur]

They parted in anger, all those years ago. (Who else can hurt you the most, but the one who knows you best?)

Anger, but not hate, never hate.

But it's been a long time, when the first letter arrives in Imladris.

Dear brother, It reads, Elros' hand still a little messier, as if the writer hurried a little too much, a little smudged, as if he could not quite wait for the ink to dry all the way.

Are you still angry with me? I suppose you might be -
I wonder how many other people realise how long you can hold a grudge for. I'm still not sorry. I had to do this, you know. It does not mean I love you less. Ah, but I suppose you know that too, or you would not be so angry.

I miss you, you know. I keep looking for you over my shoulder, and you are not here. I am angry about that too. But we both knew we'd be angry for a long time. Still. I think I am not so angry, any more. I was always the faster one to cool, anyway. I would visit, but life as a king is surprisingly busy. I suppose Maedhros knew what he was on about, when he talked about kingship after all. You are laughing at me for that statement, aren't you? Yes,
yes, I know he was a king too.

I have good news though. And I think you're going to have to ask Gil-galad for a holiday.
I'm going to be a father!

Do visit

I think we are both ready to forgive each other by now.

Well


I lie

I forgave you long ago. I'm sure you did the same.

I miss you, Elrond.

[loveathousandyearsgone]

There's no reply for a long time. Months, in fact. Then, one wet day a boat for the market arrives and there's the usual bustle of activity as merchants unload wares for the next day. One of them slips off after helping, and makes their way through the streets, hood pulled low but there's a certain grace one expects from that of the Eldar.

On through various streets, up toward the King's residence the elf goes, pace seemingly unhurried. Any who stop him with questions are answered, and the questioners seem to hurry away.

Elrond of Lindon has come visiting.

He's escorted into one of the smaller waiting rooms, where he stands waiting patiently by the large window looking out over a wet garden, looking around the room itself.

[tar_minyatur]

The whole place feels new (but that's hardly a surprise, really) all bustling with energy.

There's a distinct Noldor feel to the architecture still - bits of Balar and Lindon. But there's a very Feanarian feel to some parts of it to, Elros flouting his childhood in people's faces.

But everyone speaks Sindarin, not Quenya (the accents are already starting to shift to what will become Adunaic later)

Elros is announced, however, the way he always has been to his brother. The sound of running feet, the familiar feel of the other half of one's soul drawing near, moments before the doors burst open.

"Elrond!"

Have an armful of brother.

[tauraran]

The minutes, hours, days, weeks stretch out endlessly while he stays in a drugged state. It is for his benefit, surely, for his wounds are extensive, but he feels...strange. Disconnected. There is only one voice that breaks through the haze and he recognizes it. The tone is familiar...comforting...

It never judges him or gives him orders. It keeps the pain at bay.

Then, in a rush, he wakes, feeling his body for the first time in...how long? The throb is dull now - not the intense, searing agony that had left him screaming for mercy. Though his throat is dry, he struggles for his voice:

"...El...Elrond?"

[loveathousandyearsgone]

Elrond's been fretting over one of his patients in particular. He has many, but one keeps him coming to check on frequently, leaving the same duty for others to his fellow healers. He spends much of his time at Thranduil's side, reading aloud to him or playing his harp and singing softly, encouraging healing- both physical and mental.

His friend won't wake alone, whenever he fights his way to consciousness, and he immediately sets his scroll aside to lean closer with a relieved sigh.

"I am here, Thranduil. You are not alone." He pours a small glass of water and holds it to the other elf's lips. "Drink slowly, my friend."

[tauraran]

The cool, refreshing water chases away the dryness and Thranduil drinks thirstily, cautious to raise his arms. One arm is surely bandaged and burned; his side is the same. Then there is his face. He can only see Elrond through one eye - the other is hidden by even more bandages and as he swallows the water, he feels panicked, fearful that he will never see as he used to - as he ought to - again.

"How... How bad?" he needs to know if his people will have the king they deserve, "I don't want to be crippled."

[tar_minyatur]

There is no advance warning, no word of ships or ... well, anything at all. Just a knock at the lintel of the door where Elrond is working, and then a brother's arms around him.

"You never write, you never visit! I've got a time limit now, you know!"

[loveathousandyearsgone]

There never is! And if it was anyone else, Elros might get a fist to the face instead of a soft laugh and hands moving to rest on forearms. Elrond stands and turns to throw his arms around his brother with a grin despite the painful reminder.

"Were it up to you, I would live on your island with you until that time is up." And he considers it daily. Weighing it against his duty to his king. He's not happy with either conclusion.

[tar_minyatur]

Never ever. Unless it's official, obviously.

"Clearly! As it stands, you will have to tolerate me visiting to stop you overworking yourself instead. You know brother, when Erennion Gil-galad writes and tells me 'I am worried about him', you probably are actually overdoing it!"

[littleromantic]

She is sitting primly in a dark room, her hands crossed in her lap. How she came to Imladris is anyone's guess, but she is definitely present and looking a lot out of place. And lonely. Yet she is obviously well-loved - someone has recently brushed her hair - and her red dress is clean.

"Excuse me?" she calls to the first presence she senses, not moving from her seat, "I seem to have lost my way."