Pass the Wine [Winter 2711] {Legolas}
Aug 2, 2018 0:49:42 GMT -5
Post by RUIVO on Aug 2, 2018 0:49:42 GMT -5
Ruivo had watched, with his one eye he had watched the center of the Hall of Fire, barely taking his eye from Tauriel. If Celleth had been re-formed on earth, he would be looking upon her there, with Norochil's hair. Smiling, frowning, resolute; all of her facial expressions matching. He could not miss a fraction of the passing evening as he watched the trio standing while the music played. Watched their interactions with one another. Young, they were. So young. Elrohir the eldest, but the others not much more than a millennium in age.
He had once been so young, standing in a ballroom, with Celleth on one side of him, holding to her husband's arm, full with child. Unknown to him then, but the very elfling he and Mithiel would raise together. His Mithiel, smiling on his own arm. With Leptafinyo making a fool of himself with his jests, and Vercano laughed in front of them as he held his sweet wife, surrounded by the elflings of his line already grown. Young, they were all young then, and they were family. What he had of family, in the truest sense of the word. They too had been family to Mithiel, who had lost all of her own. All of them family together, as Tauriel had now. He blinked, and sighed.
Tension drew between the Prince and Lordling of course. There had been nothing but tension between the two youth of these realms for over a thousand years due to his auburn haired cousin, and the feud between the two elves who sought her, and in the end, who was Ruivo to say was wrong. Tauriel had chosen whom she had chosen, and though Ruivo was certain he would not have made the same choice for her; he could only wish for her to be happy. Perhaps there was yet good to come from this union. He could not fathom it, but it may be there.
He sighed, watching as the blonde Prince of the Woodland Realm seemed to take his leave, though pausing upon the look on his face, Ruivo changed his mind of standing and observing. It could be better that his own frustrated gaze was not upon the young couple. Perhaps a better omen for them than his half blind face watching them. He wished to go find Mithiel, yet in the same moment, something of the Prince's dour expression he recognized… the loss. He too knew loss.
Legolas was a youth; here alone as a messenger to his Adar, and he did not deserve the treatment which Elrohir had dealt, after all these years, Ruivo felt he did not deserve it. Perhaps a few words… a few swift words, and then he would go seek his Mithiel. Though, plans do not always go as intended, as he would soon find out.
Following the elf out into the winter courtyard, Ruivo stood, glancing about until his eyes came upon the youth. “Legolas...” he began, his voice not harsh, but kind. The way he used to speak to Norochil in the days when his son had been of the age. He approached the blonde haired elf. There was nothing he could say. Nothing to make things right, nor better.
“I was headed to the kitchens.. If you needed to… get a drink, I thought I might show our guest where to find what Imladris has to offer.”
He had once been so young, standing in a ballroom, with Celleth on one side of him, holding to her husband's arm, full with child. Unknown to him then, but the very elfling he and Mithiel would raise together. His Mithiel, smiling on his own arm. With Leptafinyo making a fool of himself with his jests, and Vercano laughed in front of them as he held his sweet wife, surrounded by the elflings of his line already grown. Young, they were all young then, and they were family. What he had of family, in the truest sense of the word. They too had been family to Mithiel, who had lost all of her own. All of them family together, as Tauriel had now. He blinked, and sighed.
Tension drew between the Prince and Lordling of course. There had been nothing but tension between the two youth of these realms for over a thousand years due to his auburn haired cousin, and the feud between the two elves who sought her, and in the end, who was Ruivo to say was wrong. Tauriel had chosen whom she had chosen, and though Ruivo was certain he would not have made the same choice for her; he could only wish for her to be happy. Perhaps there was yet good to come from this union. He could not fathom it, but it may be there.
He sighed, watching as the blonde Prince of the Woodland Realm seemed to take his leave, though pausing upon the look on his face, Ruivo changed his mind of standing and observing. It could be better that his own frustrated gaze was not upon the young couple. Perhaps a better omen for them than his half blind face watching them. He wished to go find Mithiel, yet in the same moment, something of the Prince's dour expression he recognized… the loss. He too knew loss.
Legolas was a youth; here alone as a messenger to his Adar, and he did not deserve the treatment which Elrohir had dealt, after all these years, Ruivo felt he did not deserve it. Perhaps a few words… a few swift words, and then he would go seek his Mithiel. Though, plans do not always go as intended, as he would soon find out.
Following the elf out into the winter courtyard, Ruivo stood, glancing about until his eyes came upon the youth. “Legolas...” he began, his voice not harsh, but kind. The way he used to speak to Norochil in the days when his son had been of the age. He approached the blonde haired elf. There was nothing he could say. Nothing to make things right, nor better.
“I was headed to the kitchens.. If you needed to… get a drink, I thought I might show our guest where to find what Imladris has to offer.”