#«ＷＨＥＲＥ ＷＥ ＨＡＤ ＴＨＥ ＭＡＳＴＥＲＹ» — second age

[elerondo]

Some people Elrond has definitely challenged to single combat when he was a proud (and sad) Crown Prince of Lindon.

Ereinion Gil-galad, obviously. At their tulmultuous beginning. "You cannot keep me here. Come, I'll show you all I have learned from my father." Elrond doesn't win, not when he moved with anger and sadness instead of clear strategy. He was incredibly embarrassed, had to pretend to be nice for like, a month.

Definitely Thranduil. A 'bully your classmate' kind of situation because he desperately wants some connection but is too proud to admit that to a Sinda.

Galadriel and Celeborn TOGETHER. Almost like a last ditch effort "You want to leave Lindon at this inconvenient time? Come and cross over my dead body." i don't think they took him up on it. All of the Kingsguard had to come remove him.

Not Oropher ... because Elrond thought he and Thranduil were friends. Elrond might have humbled himself and pleaded with Oropher not to leave.

Annatar, multiple times. Every time Elrond had to step foot into Eregion, inexplicably his blood boils for reasons unbeknownst to him. He is irritated he cannot see through this glamour that Annatar has on. Every challenge he says, "If I win, you get out." Elrond never wins, and a terrible weight settles upon him ever after.

[elerondo]

that moment Pingjing, wearing black and red, controlled himself for exactly .2 seconds before he screamed in court.

exactly what his dad told him Not To Do.

but he did it anyway because he cannot be controlled and he will not yield to politics

[elerondo]

you're a tough one to read , but i can see the kindness in your eyes . ( jewelbeloved )

prompt.

THE FORGE IS ELROND’S HIDING PLACE. If he cannot leave Lindon at will, to visit the dwarves, then this was the place he came to have a peace of mind. Where the only noise was the roar of fires and the sound of metal upon metal. But of late there was another presence, the voice of a living soul, the sound of charcoal on paper. Odd things in the vicinity of all that which burns. So unaccustomed to a kind word, the Crown Prince dodges it swiftly, ❝ Is that what you are drawing? ❞ He knows, it wasn’t just that. Still, a boyish grin was turned to her just moments before his head was down again, observing and tinkering with the skeleton of a crossbow, sweat glistening on a face both young, and etched with grief.

What use was kindness, he thought, a compromise with no promise of returns. Yet the world has not hardened him enough. How he hates that he was still soft on the inside, able to be dented, able to be hurt, with no recourse. Annoyed by his own thoughts, hot breath was exhumed, noise covered by the smelter. ❝ Aren’t you bored? Just sitting there? ❞

@jewelbeloved

[elerondo]

continued.

AS STONE MARBLE ELROND KNELT FOR LONG DAYS, before Tar-Minyatur’s grave the herald of Gil-galad was a willing slave. The first day set in disbelief. The second day regret, heart-wrenching regret.   Why do I serve a stranger King, instead of my own brother?   The fifth, today, a stillness bordering on insanity. I have missed so many of the years we could have had. Elrond moved only at the sheer surprise of seeing Maedhros, his father, at his side again. They had hugged tightly, while his star - lit eyes were still pinned on Elros’ tomb.

❝ Elros was willing to pay it. ❞ His twin brother, elder by mere minutes, knew well and went into mortality with full knowledge. ( or was it? was it full knowledge? what all could they have known when they had spent not even a quarter of their lives? ) ❝ But I am not willing. ❞

Elrond slouched now, felt comforted by Maedhros’ presence that he allowed his spine to rest on his knees. Such counsel, so gentle, felt foreign coming from the ones that got away. ‘Twas a mournful sniffle, an ugly groan that answered Maedhros, ❝ What do you know? ❞ Hands fly up and down in rebellion. Face contort in a struggle of not wanting to cry anymore. ❝ You didn’t survive. ❞ BECAUSE YOU JUMPED. ❝ I survived! ❞ Elrond hit his own chest. Heavy breath was a sign of his kindness, that he not say more of the grief between them. What if he chased Maedhros away? So he turned to Elros’ tomb again, hands reaching out to grasp the carven shape, almost hugging it in full if only his arms could reach all sides of it. ❝ I am not willing. ❞

@nuruhuine

[elerondo]

IT WASN’T THE ANSWER HE WAS LOOKING FOR. It seemed improbable to Elrond that Gil-galad might have any care for him at all. To Elrond, the High King was a stranger, a tool by which the Feanorians used to relieve themselves of burden, the object of their guilt and misery, the final result of an evil mission. Now, it seemed, Gil-galad has taken over the thorn in everyone’s eye. He owed Elrond nothing, and there was no justifiable reason. Unless, of course, Elrond was of use. And if he was, he has not figured it out yet.

❝ I don't belong here! ❞ Can’t Glorfindel see it? If he is Sinda, then how could he be the Crown Prince of Lindon? If he is Noldo, why does he not fully understand the language which they speak and write? Why does he not have a name from his sire, like everyone else? Where could he be, then, if not here. In Numenor with his brother, to be an alien among Man? Or, In that fire?   Where I belong, I do not have a name for it.   ❝ So, no! I’m not happy! ❞   It seemed pointless to talk about it, to really talk about it, for there is not a word in this world to utter things that he himself did not understand.

So the Prince plopped down on the grass, holding his head and glared at the tree opposite him.

leash prince to Glorfindel : why should i care ?

Inbox Answered---

--- Finwians were such amusing folk. Oh granted, the boy before him looked more Sinda, but to Glorfindels mind his attitude about Gil-Galad and everything pertaining to him was distinctly Finwian. 'Why should I' he asked, and Glorfindel chuckled softly. It felt familiar. Argon, Aredhel, Finrod, Turgon--the list went on in those of his family long gone, who at one point or another he'd heard those words echo. He missed them all mightily

"Gil-Galad means you well, you are some of his last family you know. Though you were raised with our cousins the Feanorians, and a bit with your Doriathrin relations--you still are family to him. He cares, though he is worried a little too much for your safety. I'd give you more free rein if I were he, but he is still young. Not much older than you, in fact. When he was young his father sent him away to be raised by another, and then died." He sharpened his blade with a rock and looked to Elrond. "And then there's you, running off into the blue at the least chance. Has it ever occurred to you the heartache he might feel if he lost you? That maybe that's why he drags you back under armed guard?"

Another chuckle. He threw the rock and replaced the blade back into its sheath. "Why do you run? Are you unhappy here?"

[elerondo]

[ UP ]:     sender extends a hand to the fallen receiver to help them to their feet after a fight/sparring match. ( laughingmaiden )

@laughingmaiden sent A PROMPT.

Brows danced on the young Peredhel’s face, all bright yet jaw hardened by taut thin lips. The crown prince was clearly irritated to be beaten on his buttocks by his elder, but he only had himself to blame. If I’d use my full might, I would destroy her. I would. An arrogant thought does not come to fruition, for Elrond held himself back as was habitual to him. He was never one to practise with another for an extended amount of time, knowing how much his stance and fierceness bothered the public eye. Even with his platoon, he demonstrates, he corrects, but he never entertained a duel and never participated in any tournaments. For this he was often called lofty and proud.

Damned if he did, and damned if he didn’t.

❝ You win this time. ❞ He took Lalwen’s hand roughly to help himself up off the ground. ❝ I’m done here. ❞

[elerondo]

Early Second Age, Elrond visiting Elros ❤️ because we need this. idr know about Numenor customs, so I just sneak me chinese culture into this. just a tad, if you can recognise it.

Elrond had the best welcome he’s experienced, ever. When he got down from the ship and arrived at the harbour, Elros had been there with a King’s escort. The two brothers exchanged a formal greeting of the elves, extending a hand from one’s heart out to the other. Then, as was befitting of Elros’ title of Tar-Minyatur, Elrond knelt down on one knee and kissed his brother’s signet ring. His entourage would bow low as well. They were in another’s territory now, an independent state where their ward was blood relation to the King, but of lower status. This ceremony was watched with hawk eyes by all around them, and it would be known that Elrond was a subject of the crown here. He was not just an ally. It was fortunate that Elrond did not live on Numenor, or he would be expected to bow to his twin brother in public at every meeting. He was not sure if he could stomach that kind of manners in the long term. Elrond does not even give Gil-galad the same respect ( yet. )

As the brothers exchanged pleasantries, stable guards of the men quickly came to lead the elven cavalry, gaining a head start on the journey to the capital. Two magnificent creamy white steeds trotted to the entrance of the port, pulling a sizable carriage that looked like it could sit at least six adults. However, it was apparent that only King Elros and his brother Elrond would depart for the capital in this fashion. Lindon’s own royal guards stayed behind and beside the carriage alongside the King’s guard to walk with the carriage.

It was only a short way from Romenna to Armenelos, but the carriage and escort had been instructed to travel slowly so as to afford the reunion more time before duties and preparation would tear Elros away. Elrond’s eyes were rather glued to the gleaming pearls that lined the vines of roses hanging from the low roof of the carriage. The shiny pearls were in all sizes and complemented the vines so very well. His hands could not help but come up a corner to touch one as a gentle breeze swayed the vines.

King Elros helped himself to the wine, pouring both of them a goblet. It was apparent that Elrond was distracted, but it didn’t matter. ❝ Do you like it? ❞ asked he with a smug and satisfied smile on his face, then taking a long drink from the cup.

❝ I do. ❞ replied Elrond, his tone gentle as he regarded his brother for a moment before they went up to observe the shine of the pearl again. He was caressing the large one of the corner bunch. ❝ From Mithlond? ❞ They had to be, for he remembered always diving when he visited his brother in Mithlond all those years ago. These pearls were just different from the ones found in Forlond. Naturally bigger, brighter, requiring more care and polish.

❝ Indeed. ❞ King Elros nodded and leaned forward to the small table between them, taking hold of a goblet. ❝ Hey, ❞ He passed the cup of wine to Elrond. ❝ I will not ask twice. ❞

A look passed between, a long moment of silence.

Then a smile grew on both their faces, and giggles so unlike grown elf and man sounded from the carriage. ❝ Yes, brother king. ❞

As Elrond dipped to take a sip, King Elros asked, ❝ Would you like to keep the pearl? ❞

Elrond’s choke on the wine was highly amusing. So was the modest cover of his mouth. King Elros did not wait for an answer as he put his cup down and stood up in an awkward position, as well as he could in a carriage meant for comfortable sitting, and he reached for the pearl Elrond was touching just before. Elros plucked it, miraculously not destroying the perfectly lined vines.

❝ Here. ❞ he said, putting the big pearl in Elrond’s lap. ❝ I will have a nice box made for it sent to your quarters later. ❞ then he sat back down, looking no less regal in his robes.

❝ A box would be nice. ❞ Elrond replied, looking down at his pearl with a childlike glint in his eyes. This was not food, or berry, but a permanent gift from his brother. A box would be nice, and Elrond could put additional runes on it to preserve it throughout the ages. The long ages after his brother is gone from this world.

Something to remember.

Elros could not stand the silence. Why did he think this would be a happy tour? He reached over and cupped Elrond’s face. ❝ Come now, look up. Nothing witty to say? I would have thought you wanted it made into something else. ❞

❝ Tsk! Stop treating me like a child! ❞ Elrond bit back, trying to shake off his brother’s hand, but only succeeded in baiting pinches from Elros’ naughty fingers. In truth, he missed the physical contact. They should have always been as one. ❝ Anyway, no. ❞ The pearl on its own was good enough.

A laugh rumbled from Elros’ chest, yet it was short lived. He expected something more than a no. But, it seems that Elrond was still the master of both tides: Insults, and silence.

Elros nodded and sat back in his seat obediently.

The flower covered pathway led to the King’s house, and as they walked, soft conversation flowed between them. King Elros sent a man off to order hot meals for Elrond and a member of Gil-galad’s kingsguard, for he was only allowed one non royal companion with him in the King’s house. A spacious room they entered, and the crystalline chandeliers caught Elrond’s eye immediately. His own room in Forlond, though generous, was nothing like this. Ornate furniture filled the antechamber, all topped with either gold or jewels, and it made him feel like the large pearl that had caught his eye earlier was little compared to the treasure this room alone housed.

Two maid servants came into his view as Elros pushed him to enter the inner chamber of the suite. ❝ I have — I have my own men. ❞ Elrond tried to contest with a hush voice. He didn’t want to make it sound like he didn’t appreciate the servants’ presence. But, his sentiments quickly died in his throat as Elros squeezed his shoulder, bringing him close.

King Elros shook his head stiffly, his expression covert and he whispered, ❝ Remember who you are. ❞ then he let Elrond go and addressed the two maid servants. ❝ Attend to the Prince of the Noldor. I want his desires answered with prudence. ❞

They curtsied and Elros left swiftly.

❝ Would you like to change out of the ceremonial robes, Your Highness? ❞

❝ Uh... ❞ Elrond looked quite like a deer caught in headlights, entirely unprepared for the attendance to come so quickly. ❝ Yes, please. ❞ and he was prepared to follow them to wherever the bathroom was in this huge suite he has all to himself. Would there be a private spring or a pool for him? Could he swim it?

His footsteps were stopped as they quickly cut in front of him. A pair of hands started to untie the sash from his back, and another loosened his collar. Surprise coloured his face, but his arms quickly spread out like how Gil-galad would when he changed the High King’s armour. Soon enough, he was left with beige robes and donned a casual coat. He asked for his schedule for the day and learned that his brother was busy with instatement of the Numenorean army, and the kitchens were preparing for a grandiose dinner feast to welcome him officially. It would also be when he would meet his sister-in-law. Elrond was definitely looking forward to that.

As the maid servants went out to the antechamber to unload his bags, Elrond took to the velvety looking couch that lay just a few from the huge bed. On the marble table was a plate of mouth watering grapes, and he was reminded about how famished he was. He wished that the meal Elros’ ordered would come soon. But, for now, he quickly plopped himself length wise on the soft couch, relaxing and breathing in its freshly washed scent. He took a stalk of grapes and began to nibble at them. They were large, juicy, and incredibly succulent. Elrond could not stop himself. It was a break from the rigidity that had followed him from the harbour.

❝ Has this all been to your liking, your Highness? ❞ His guard’s footsteps and words reached his ears, and that was when he took a few moments to swallow and lick the pulp juice from his lips.

❝ There is nothing better than the present. ❞

Though all manner of him now was lackadaisical, and he tried to sound lighthearted, there was still much that weighed on his mind. Elrond pursed his lips for a moment before he continued eating. He pushed a plate slightly towards the kingsguard’s direction, ❝ Try them. ❞ There were a lot of feelings spoken in his heart, but he found that he had not the courage to speak them aloud in conversation yet.

[elerondo]

The Crown Prince had pondered long upon the matter of the south departing from Lindon and what that could spell for the authority of the High King.   (   waning, surely, as power leaves the havens for the land of hollin.   )   For many hours Prince Elrond had stalked the halls of the palace, quietly seething and holding his anger at bay as he ruminated on how to reveal his mind to Ereinion Gil-galad in a way that would not land him in prison.

❝ Why can’t you be honest with yourself ? ❞ Question from @traitorousone pierced the veil of his mind and disturbed the roiling waters there. It was unwelcomed, and Elrond did naught to mask the venom of his words.

❝ IF I WERE HONEST , I would muster a sortie and fence Harlond with a league of swords ! ❞ That would prevent their departure for some time, but not permanently. Elrond exhaled a hot breath, leaning against the wall, somehow a little calmer as fell thoughts were released from his tensed shoulders. ❝ Yet Ereinion is more gallant than I, and he would sooner toss me into prison than raise a weapon against our kin. ❞

« kin »   Starlit gaze dimmed, spiraling down a darker canyon as he tilted his head to look away from Loki. The sounds of weapons clashing upon Sirion rang as ghosts in his ear.   My own words reveal the likeness of my fathers.   ��� Sorry, I don't mean to, ❞ Elrond cannot change his nature, and he regrets if any of his speech had stirred memories in the other.

[elerondo]

The familiarity of her gaze on him was like water upon flames; it splits and sparks and irritates Elrond. As though at a courtly party, he was a stranger, stiff and glaring.

The crown prince has never been a stranger to truth and its harsh realities, and Ereinion Gil-galad was ever at his mercy when he spoke at length.   ❝ You facilitate the gap well enough. ❞   Elrond came out the womb of the wild wielding the sword before he could climb, and many old ministers would say he is too much like Maedhros.   ❝ The divide you are causing m— Ereinion’s kingdom warrants the crime of treason. ❞   Elrond stops short of calling Lindon ❛ my people ❜. There would be less of a disappointment when all things break and sunder as they are meant.

❛ i fear that if we drift much further apart, the rift between us may never be healed ... ❜ a calm exterior betrays deeper feelings that bubble beneath the surface, galadriel's bright gaze dimming, lifting to drift across the face of her friend. a face she has seen grow from childhood, the noble brow of his father and calm steadiness of her mother. elrond is a heart she feels responsible for in a way few others can comprehend. a politician he may be, but her kin he is - first and foremost.

❛ so speak - say your piece. i would rather stand the lash of your words than the silence of your judgement ... ❜

starter for @elerondo

[elerondo]

@gildinbainas   /   continued

ELROND WANTS TO BE A WOLF . Was he not the most beastly among the fine lords and ladies of Lindon ? When night shrouds their journey in darkness, signaling a time of rest and recovery, it only serves to amplify the voice of his fathers.   « Do you know how a wolf pack travels ? »   Maedhros recounted one day,   « I will teach you, Elrond, so that one day you can be a greater leader than I. »   To do what the Fëanorians could not. Slay Evil. Take revenge.

The soundlessness of his breaths was a meditation on words long ago. His greatsword lócënehtar leaned idle at the head of the bed, the humming of inscribed runes heard only by himself. It was a weapon suited for a great many uses; Shielding, healing, killing — much like its Master. His hands are in front of his chest, ready to wield it and command his runes at any moment’s notice.

❝ If we were wolves, I would be the Alpha pack leader, ❞ and if he moved even slightly, Thranduil would hear the clank of chainmail beneath leather and cloth, so he doesn’t. ❝ Being the strongest, I am at the front of the pack, the vanguard. I will keep the watch, to strike first and kill all our enemies. ❞ The ease in which he announced it was like an instruction in the universe, quiet and deadly.

The gods have blessed Elrond with many gifts, as though to make up for everything they had taken away from him. His body was a study in traumatic childhood loss. Dissect him and one will find all the pits that his loved ones have left behind. Greatness was an expanse of a sanctuary to be carved into, gradually, painfully, always, and forever. Was this not the choice of immortality ? That fateful day, he had given himself up as a machine of the gods, whether he consented or not. Was this what it meant ❛ To rue the day you were born ❜ ?

But, must he ? Was there no fighting back against destiny ?

❝ I will protect you, Thranduil, ❞ he does not wish to lose another dear to his heart.

[elerondo]

❝ to have every young knight and lord fawning over you…what a misery. ❞ [ second age káno … making a joke ? a miracle ! ]

HOW MUCH OF THAT WAS BECAUSE OF HIS RANK ? The crown prince cannot help the tight girdle that wounds itself around his heart, so that no flowers can grow there. Neither silver nor gold could catch his eye, for such metals oft lost their shape in the fires of the forge, and whatever painstakingly engraved there became loosed.

❝ Adar, ❞ Elrond greeted Maglor with a narrow of his eyes, clear disapproval of the jest. He could not shake his head for they were still in sight of the platoon that had sent him off for the night. Brothers and sisters in arms were dearer to his person than the bright sons of Gondolin. To remain polite, Elrond still gave a modest nod to a visiting commander who stood front of the battalion.   That elf wasn’t even supposed to be with Elrond’s company today.   The ellon’s lips curled up immediately, waving at him, and only Maglor would hear Elrond’s very annoyed exhalation as he touched his father’s arm lightly, ❝ Let’s go. ❞

As soon as they were up the winding stairs of the tower and out of sight, Elrond nigh shoved the brocade wrapped box into Maglor’s chest, ❝ I’m sure you’ll appreciate those treats better than I. ❞

@luredeep gets a late night snack :D   /   PROMPT.

[elerondo]

MANY CONCERNS TRAILED AFTER THE MARCH OF THE IMLADRIM IN THE WILDERLANDS . Elrond cannot deny that Maglor’s avoidance of the ring has affected him greatly. In these hard years after the war, when mud and blood still stained golden armour, the distance between them became heavier on the Lord’s soul. In a shadowy corner, Elrond might surmise that his father bore avoidance of him in general. In all essence, it was a ridiculous and irrational thought, yet it does not cease its assault upon his mind. A mind many revered as wise, lordly, and in more private counsel, deadly. However, none of such praise could quell the cloud of doom endlessly looming over him.

The legacies of his houses sat heavy upon his shoulders, and in the lordship of Imladris Elrond had more to prove than others. For while Celebrimbor might be criticised by careless mouths, due in large part to his belonging to Feanor’s house; Elrond was appraised with conflicting accounts that slipped between halls silently, yet not unknown. Ereinion Gil-galad’s return to Forlond has well and truly left the ambitious Crown Prince to his devices, and that usually would be joyous news for him if not for the grief of separation at all fronts. With his King, with his father.

Elrond does not stop trying, however. He sends various messengers into Maglor’s vicinity, careful in his orders not to intrude upon his father’s privacy but still close enough to spread favourable tidings of the fortifications in and around the Vale, and hope that at least some would reach Maglor’s ears in good faith. Elrond was not that audacious to show himself around Maglor, as his father had made it very clear that he’d wanted no sight of the ring. 

So when Lord Elrond’s path trudged almost too close to the tower where the Feanorian lived, he had to stop the cavalry behind him before the company would enter the market boundary. His starlit gaze was forlorn as he looked up to the balcony of Maglor’s chambers. So taken by the yearning to visit his father that Elrond did not realise Maglor was at the steps of the tower’s entrance, looking directly at him, until his commander came nearer by horseback and tapped Elrond on an armoured shoulder, ❝  My Lord, ❞ he greets, and Elrond’s sight is gently redirected.

At first, Elrond was at a loss, his breath caught. He wanted very much to go to his father, and so his steed betrays him by turning its head in the direction of the tower. Elrond pulls on the reins, quite embarrassed but with a firm, ❝ No, halt. ❞ The ring was on him, so he shouldn’t.

Then Elrond chanced a glance at Maglor in the distance and saw that his father bade him forward. At once he swung down from his steed and followed after @luredeep to a place of privacy, aware to keep the ring on his hand out of sight.

❛   It is not that I doubt your strength, Elerondo, nor your wisdom.   ❜     Years of distance had seen many a thought come and go,     though the fear yet remains,    the fear that plagues he who has only a son remaining,    his nephew slain in pursuit of the rings Makalaurë still does not fully understand.     ❛   But it is the love I hold in my heart for you    ...    For I have buried father and brothers and kin.     You bade me once live for you,   and so I have.    Though you might not forgive my absence,    I could not bear   ...   One son is already lost to me,     I cannot bury another.   ❜     The fire and despair of their dispute years ago have faded,    now there is but grief and shame,     for not having protected his nephew,     for standing helpless as history begins the cycle anew.     ❛   I cannot despise you,     nor can I cast you aside.   ❜      I already did,    once,    when I sent you to the very man who gave you this burden.      ❛   And I shall always come when you call.     But this I cannot watch,    nor can I lose you to power.   ❜

While Elrond bore witness to all his father had to say, he stood at a distance not too far, and set his hands behind his back. Elrond’s heart sank heavy, but nevertheless he was valiant and this he spoke, ❝ I forgive it, Adar. E’en before this hour, many days have I given to the matter that divides us, and I found no demerit on either part. ❞ Indeed, Elrond did not lie when he said that he understood Maglor’s concerns, but neither would he turn from his path. The Valley of Imladris must flourish and become stronger than any elf or man ever saw this side of the sea.

Thus Elrond declared with all faith, ❝ The ring has no master of me, neither at the beginning nor at the present. It may be that I still have long to go, but none can say that the Crown Prince of the Noldor disdains the great quest that has been set upon him. I yet choose my path to be walked in the light of valour, and not by fire or brimstone. But if so comes the day that darkness consumes all, and I must rally all the might of the Noldor as in the days of Beleriand, so it shall be, ❞ and Elrond has no desire to lose to the Enemy.

[elerondo]

BEFORE THE AGE OF LINDON WAS SET ,   whatever he knew was through experience. Sweet abashment painted his bright countenance as he revealed,   ❝ I … have had my fair share of chanced disasters. But I would say, their colours. Far different from the danger signals of fauna, bright colours of flowering trees and bushes are a sign of good meal. ❞

There were no books to aid him in his youth. On the wildlands, there was only one thought: to survive. And to survive meant to tread with utmost caution.   ❝ By memory even better, of course. You seem to me scholarly, and I am sure the tutelage of Celebrimbor would serve you far better than rudimentary tricks from a rough hand. ❞

"here's how you stay alive. herbs of goodwill or malice can be distinguished even to the untrained. you just need to take a close look at its colour, its veins, and its roots too if it is availed to you." Holding a bark of willow, the herald explains with too much intensity on his young face, as one sadly quite experienced in treading the wilderness. "It is too easy to die by accident in this world. Don't let that be you."

--- He had her attention. Of course that was the easy part, he always had her attention. Fascinated by his mind, she nodded in acknowledgment, eyes darting between his hand and his face. Intensity had her heart rate speed, but she studied the bark and delicately plucked it from his fingers for a closer look.

Her mind was an ever constant vacuum of thought, eager for new information. Elrond had a special talent for enticing her hunger. Humming, she worried her lip for a moment, formulating questions which she proceeded to slowly put into the air.

"What are your favorite tricks for distinguishing them? Are there similarities between different plants that are shared to determine the good and bad? or must you simply train yourself to know each by memory?"

[elerondo]

@suresha / continued

ELROND OFT LOST HIMSELF WITH THE SWORD . So much so that most if not all of his spars would draw High King Gil-galad’s ire, resulting in long and loud lectures in the office. Elrond was a deadly silent fighter with the occasional grunt and heavy breath. The young Crown Prince had Maedhros’ stern, wartorn face, along with the heaviness of his strikes. His decisions never tarried, for a split second distraction meant death in sunken Beleriand. The swiftness of his steps came from Maglor, who taught him how to bend and be agile, and be adaptable as water on the battlefield as much as a fire blazing through the grounds.   To utilise deceit whenever necessary.

It would seem the war has never left Elrond. All fifty years of him resulted in Thranduil’s utter defeat. Elrond held his glare so intensely that those hands of surrender took him a few seconds to register. Cheeks would move to release the tension in his jaw, having trouble coming out of the woods of Beleriand that clouded his senses. His shoulders would lax eventually, his fingers elegantly twists sword down towards the ground ere he sheaths it into the soil between them. Then, he walks to pick up Thranduil’s weapon as well, returning to push it into the Sinda’s breastplate.  ❝ Keep the swords. Come on. ❞  Elrond tilted his head in a gesture, bidding Thranduil to follow after him. He turned to the crowd, picking two out randomly.  ❝ You ! You ! You’re up ! ❞  and they scrambled from their seats with their weapons, entering the training ground.

Gil-galad had come to watch when he was informed that his ward would fight the son of Oropher. He stood on the bridge overlooking the grounds, a hard frown on his face when he saw Elrond force the Sinda to back up without any compromise. He sent a royal guard to call for Elrond’s presence before him immediately.

Under the Crown Prince’s tent, Elrond snapped at the guard in rebellion.  ❝ Can’t he see that I’m busy ? ❞  Gil-galad’s domineering presence never failed to raise his temper, but Elrond had to relent before the High King would come down here himself. Before Elrond went out, he took two bottles of mead from the cupboard and placed it on the table for Thranduil and he.  ❝ Please excuse me. ❞  Elrond said with a downturned frown.

The argument was quite loud when King and Prince met each other.  ❝ Why are you like this ?! One slip and you would have cut him in a friendly spar ! ❞

❝ W E L L , I didn’t cut him, did I ?! ❞  Elrond shouted back even louder.

They would have this verbal match back and forth before Elrond stormed back to the tent, his mood entirely soured.

[elerondo]

IT WAS A DARK ROAD THEY’D BEEN ON , ash and soot clung to their faces as weariness did. Some with wounds of the body, and others with wounds of the heart.   They had lost their homeland.   A familiar injury to Lord Elrond.   Though a missive had come suddenly from the lady Galadriel, the valley of Imladris was far from ill-prepared. For many winters the Vale had been a ready stronghold, just as the High King Gil-galad decreed. The Elvenlord was himself come fully dressed for battle, with many provisions of drink and food, potions and salves, along with the frontmost battalions of the Crown’s troops — of which Elrond was the Commander.   More will follow soon.

❝ If you lead the people with the goodness of your heart, Halbrand, then king of them you shall be, ❞ Lord Elrond spoke with ease ere he raised a gauntlet hand that was quickly tapped by a passing storm of the Imladrim on horseback. ❝ Against the lasting Evil, we must be bold and united, ❞ Elrond took the liberty to close the distance and squeeze Halbrand’s shoulders so that none but the man could hear his whispered words in confidence, ❝ Stay strong, I’m here now. Everything will be well in due time. ❞

Then Lord Elrond pulled back, ❝ The cavalry will conduct frequent patrols to ensure that no more harm shall follow. Come, King of the South, tell me your numbers and what all had befallen you that was not regaled in my kin’s letter. ❞

@kingiinthesouth   /   continued.

[elerondo]

It is the year 700 of the Second Age. Elrond was in one of his caves in the Northern Lindon forest. He could see the peak of Himling from here. Hugging his legs, staring out forlornly, with nothing but poisonous plants surrounding him as part of an ongoing experiment. Elrond was hiding from his princely duties, hiding from the summons to Harlindon.

Elrond didn’t want to have to send off Tyelperinquar. Lord Oropher had already left with Thranduil. Now, Tyelpe will leave too, with Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel in tow. Power and people are leaving Lindon. Ereinion would be very sad. And Elrond—Elrond will be helpless.

Elrond is helpless.

It reminded him too much of the past that he thought he had managed to run from. It reminded him of everyone choosing everything but him.

The tears start falling, coaxed by sea salt in the wind.

One day, he thinks, Ereinion will be forced to make a choice, and that choice would not be Elrond. It cannot be you, the gods say. Why not, he cried out to nothing. Even the waves drown his pleas. Even Ulmo won’t bless him. His dreams forced themselves into the forefront of his mind, as if the Valar say that they have already given him the reason. They told him that there was something rising in the East. There was a lot of fire. Fire, fire, fire, a new city, and then more fire. Though fire was Elrond’s element, the one in his dreams were not his at all. It was darker. It wasn’t healing, like the kind of warmth he felt coursing through him when he treated his military brothers and sisters. It was fell, putrid, and it made his own fire burn hot in anger.

His dreams must be an enemy, then. It must be.

One day, Elrond would be forced to make a choice. One day, not a very fine day, Elrond knows that even he cannot choose himself.

But to the children of Elrond a choice was also appointed: to pass with him from the circles of the world; or if they remained to become mortal and die in Middle-earth. For Elrond, therefore, all chances of the War of the Ring were fraught with sorrow.