Well Met, Friend (May, 2500 T.A.)
Feb 26, 2018 13:31:57 GMT -5
Post by Elladan on Feb 26, 2018 13:31:57 GMT -5
There was a certain secluded place where Elladan often liked to sit, and read, or practice the harp. It was true, he loved to be the center of attention, when he was in company with others. But he also was content to keep his own company. He was good at keeping himself amused with his various interests. Life was not all about ranging throughout Middle Earth, tramping about with his kin – be they elf or Dunedain – in any sort of weather and any manner of inconvenient, uncomfortable and often inhospitable surroundings. He was all about orc hunting, or trying to spy on the doings of any of the minions of the Dark Lord. For though the Last Alliance had thought to wipe Sauron from the face of Middle Earth, evil, it turns out, was not so easy to annihilate completely. And so the work of those who would see it contained, and perhaps one day destroyed, went ever on.
Yet there was much more to celebrate about life, and the elves were famous for their creative natures. Music, art, literature – these he could appreciate and participate in, in between times of mucking about in gloomy forests and clambering over mountain passes. He relished the times when he would return to the hidden cleft in the foothills of the Mountains, and reunite with his mother and sister, and oft times his father too, if Lord Elrond had not accompanied him. He need never, it seemed, look forward to a reunion with his twin, his younger brother Elrohir, for the two were inseparable and rarely ventured out on such treks one without the other.
At home, though, they were not bound hip to hip, and though they invariably enjoyed one another's company, they felt free to follow their own pursuits as well. This was one such time, and with a small harp – something like a lyre – in hand, Elladan was taking himself to this favorite spot of his, that overlooked one of the many waterfalls that played a lovely backdrop of their own, in counterpoint to his own music. As he approached the ledge, carved of ivory marble, with veins of gold twisting throughout, his step slowed, upon seeing that another had chosen to steal away here as well. One with hair like unto the gilt threads in the stone about them, seated on the bench that ran inside the railed wall of the balcony which overlooked the spray and mists below. It was a familiar form, one fair to look at, as were all of his kin – but some more than others. At least, it was said that beauty was in the eye of the beholder, and for each, this face or that one might entrance more, or less. To Elladan, Thranduil’s heir was both fair to look upon as well as lithe of body and limb, already a keen warrior and a son to make any father proud – even that most proud of elves, the King of the Forest Realm.
Befriended long ago, in Legolas’ youth, Elladan approached with an elegant smile and a pleasant greeting, extending his hand in a gesture of delight. ”Legolas! I did not know you were here to grace us with your company!” His silver-grey eyes ran up and down the length of the other, and he nodded with approval. ”You look well. What has brought you to my father’s court? Is your father paying him a visit?”
He hadn’t heard of any such meeting being planned. But a King was free to go where he liked. To Elladan’s knowledge, though, the King of the Forest Realm rarely ventured forth beyond his borders.
LEGOLAS
Yet there was much more to celebrate about life, and the elves were famous for their creative natures. Music, art, literature – these he could appreciate and participate in, in between times of mucking about in gloomy forests and clambering over mountain passes. He relished the times when he would return to the hidden cleft in the foothills of the Mountains, and reunite with his mother and sister, and oft times his father too, if Lord Elrond had not accompanied him. He need never, it seemed, look forward to a reunion with his twin, his younger brother Elrohir, for the two were inseparable and rarely ventured out on such treks one without the other.
At home, though, they were not bound hip to hip, and though they invariably enjoyed one another's company, they felt free to follow their own pursuits as well. This was one such time, and with a small harp – something like a lyre – in hand, Elladan was taking himself to this favorite spot of his, that overlooked one of the many waterfalls that played a lovely backdrop of their own, in counterpoint to his own music. As he approached the ledge, carved of ivory marble, with veins of gold twisting throughout, his step slowed, upon seeing that another had chosen to steal away here as well. One with hair like unto the gilt threads in the stone about them, seated on the bench that ran inside the railed wall of the balcony which overlooked the spray and mists below. It was a familiar form, one fair to look at, as were all of his kin – but some more than others. At least, it was said that beauty was in the eye of the beholder, and for each, this face or that one might entrance more, or less. To Elladan, Thranduil’s heir was both fair to look upon as well as lithe of body and limb, already a keen warrior and a son to make any father proud – even that most proud of elves, the King of the Forest Realm.
Befriended long ago, in Legolas’ youth, Elladan approached with an elegant smile and a pleasant greeting, extending his hand in a gesture of delight. ”Legolas! I did not know you were here to grace us with your company!” His silver-grey eyes ran up and down the length of the other, and he nodded with approval. ”You look well. What has brought you to my father’s court? Is your father paying him a visit?”
He hadn’t heard of any such meeting being planned. But a King was free to go where he liked. To Elladan’s knowledge, though, the King of the Forest Realm rarely ventured forth beyond his borders.
LEGOLAS