fairynuff | TEST DRIVE MEME

[ The Greenwood in this world is peaceful and beautiful, the trees whisper kindly, surrounding every being that enters with love and affection. So ancient, so lush, so peculiar when compared to the forests of Middle-Earth. It's a sight to see and it quickly became Legolas personal favourite area, large and vast, and a comfort to wander in in either sunlight or starlight. He could live here, he certainly could, though at all times there has been a shadow on his mind, a shadow of a different desire. A gentle shush of waves haunted him in the times of rest, much as he tried to ignore it all. In Middle-Earth he wished not to leave too quickly, wished to stay until staying was no longer possible, his heart torn between the love of those who would remain, out of choice or out of lack of it, and the intense longing to set sail.

Here, it was impossible to sail to the Undying Lands period as he had quickly found out.

Another war, another conflict he has been pulled into, something he currently needed some respite from. Thus, here was he. Outskirts of the forest by the plains, or the mountains, or the heart of it, wandering without much aim and marvelling at its beauty. Bow in hand, as it always is, a single white knife of the elves at his back with a quiver of arrow to accompany it. Not even the softest sound manage to escape elven ears, and yet this forest is filled with so many of them that in the end even a wood elf can be sneaked upon, until it's too late and a crack of a branch gives away the approach. Legolas spins around, in a blink of an eye there is an arrow in his fingers, nocked on the string of the bow and pointed towards the approaching creature.

Friend or foe? Dumped between conflicted sides, warring with each other, surrounded by creatures many and various, unknown and unfamiliar, he honed a sense of a healthy wariness within his heart again. And many were first greeted with the shining and sharp tip of an elven arrow, shaped like a leaf, rather than with a friendly touch to a shoulder. Though he wished he could have put behind him the memories of the War of the Ring. ]

Halt! Who is approaching?

( OOC: OR HONESTLY ANYTHING ELSE... assumed CR is fine with cross-canon, since I'm going along with him having been there a while, etc, etc, etc. Basically chill to all the things. )

[ For all the world, this Greenwood is most like to the one they called home before ever the Shadow sought to pollute Rhovanion. Here, amongst the fairies and golems, with a thudding of golden hooves and flash of a green Seelie cloak, rides the Elvenking on his steed; a unicorn newly named Estellio for the easy bond forged between beast and elf. He tracks his son for the latter half of the afternoon when the sun is warming through the leaves, pausing to gain his bearings now and then. It's when Estellio stands on some bracken that the sharp call to his left alerts him to having already found Legolas and he turns the stallion with a gentle tug on an aureate mane. No saddles are needed for the elves, so Thranduil tightens his knees to stay in place as they emerge from the tree-line. ]

Someone you know very well, I should hope.

[ He does not wear his crown here, not while riding, and his long hair spills over a shoulder as he regards his child. ]

Were you planning to stay out here all night?

[ Instantly, Legolas relaxes when the familiar and so beloved voice reaches his ears, when his father rides out towards him and stops near-by. The arrow returns to the quiver and he puts the bow to his back as well, to have both hands free now. Instantly also, a smile comes on his features, curling the corners of his lips and easily reaching his eyes. He approaches with quick steps, reaching a hand to touch the steed's snout, rub gently along the nose, while he looks up to his father with a look that betrays both joy and amusement.

His voice is all easy tones and subtle, very private, laughter; a little more free now that there are no guards to watch the way the Elvenking and his son as they speak privately. ]

That was not the plan, though it appears I must have misplaced my sense of time this morning if you rode out to find me. It seems your game has found you first, however.

[ And his gaze shifts from Thranduil's face towards beyond the canopies of the trees with a pleasant sigh. ]

I did not realise it was so late already.

That was not the reason I came to uproot you, for which I apologise. I might have awaited your return, but I wished to take the air.

[ The unicorn snorts happily, lipping at Legolas's sleeve. Above, Thranduil tips his chin away north-east and slides to the ground, pacing on the unicorn's other side as they start a slow aimless amble through the forest. Best to give the beast a chance to catch its breath and eat. ]

Have you been to Cothromach?

[ It reminds him idly of the times home, when he was nothing more but an elfling and the long walks through their home under the light of the sun or a starry sky with his father, and it's a comfort. Lightly, he rescues his sleeve from the beast's mouth, and rubs the gentle arch of a neck, strong with muscles taunt and tense beneath the warm skin and he continues on along with Thranduil. ]

You need not apologise, father. I am glad to have you join me.

[ At the question, he cocks his head slightly, in wonder as to what brought it on. ]

I have not yet. This forest and its secrets have been occupying all my time as of late and I still believe there is more to discover. Why do you ask?

It is called an aelfen-dwarven city, built by both races. I've not the time to spare on such a journey. I thought you might visit in my stead and relay the bearing of it back, when you return.

[ Such a sanctuary has never been in all his long years on Middle-Earth, not on such a grand scale. Statues front the entrance, the books in Caer Glaem's library say — an elf and a dwarf, one at either flank. ]

When I am finished for a time with my interests in the main castle, I have a mind to go there.

[ An offer that fills his heart with joy (with sources oh so various and plenty), makes him straighten his back even further to walk proudly alongside his father. The restlessness stays with him still, the energy of the early springtime of his life. And a thought of travel still is an exciting one, as attached as he might have grown to the Greenword forest he so favoured. It is almost as if he had grown addicted to it, or perhaps it's the health of it that makes him feel so at ease at all times.

Legolas brushes away a branch in his way, delicately lifting it with the back of his hand and releasing it behind him as he passes by. ]

If you wish me to, then I shall set out as soon as I am able.

[ He speaks without a single doubt clouding his voice. ]

It sounds a city with a great deal of interest to me as well, despair as I may to leave the forest behind.

Despair but a little, Legolas. The forest will still be here when you wish to return.

[ Pleased as he is, his words twist in amusement. When the unicorn stops to munch on a tussock of rich wildflowers, he gives it some space and almost absently rests a hand on one of the trees. The Greenwood here has a gentle way about it, almost as peaceable as a mother's touch, and he understands all too well in his own right how addictive it must be for any elf, let alone one so young as Legolas. ]

How long have you been abroad here, now? By a recent count.

[ Quiet hints of embarrassment resound in his voice with a truthful admission. ]

It is still almost like leaving home for the first time, though home it is not...

[ Perhaps he had grown too comfortable here, but he couldn't feel much remorse. His father is here with him, though unlike Legolas, Thranduil is a little less out and about among the trees, more willing to remain in the castle and learn of this world. Still, it only serves to add another level of comfort to Legolas' stay here. Something which makes this bearable so easily, adds a sense of familiarity to what's otherwise too strange.

Though his thoughts often stray to other friends that he would hope to see and with whom he wished to share the experience. ]

It has been three months, in which winter has given way to the stirring of spring.

I remember.

[ Spoken under his breath, still loud enough for elven ears to pick it up, he plucks a handful of grass and takes it to the unicorn, stroking through its glinting golden mane as it eats off his palm. His gaze rests on Legolas. ]

You ought to meet some of the people in the castle. We were called here to defend this place, and it would do you good to at least know the faces of your allies.

[ If not their names or anything else about them. ]

[ Legolas' eyes flicker to his father's face to meet his eyes, still bright blue in the soft light of a dying day. Indeed, he caught the words, nothing more but a soft gasp that could easily be lost within the whisper of leaves moved with every, even the gentlest, gust of wind.

He wished not to force him relive memories unpleasant, painful perhaps, Legolas isn't certain, reading Thranduil has always been a task nearly impossible. Though his father could read him like an open book. ]

I have met some of them, before I began to wander...

[ But he couldn't quite not answer the call of wanderlust within his blood, to ease the longing for the sea that would otherwise overtake him. ]

When I return from Cothromach, I shall strive to stay behind at the castle more often. [ He stops suddenly, a thoughtful pause before he asks a question of his own. ] How do you find our allies, father?

[ There is a terrible satisfaction in knowing the sea cannot take his son away from him in this land. He is covetous of Legolas's time and company, but only inasmuch as any father would be if their child decided to leave for a distant shore, never to return unless joined by their parent's volition. How Elrond bears the loss of Arwen's immortality is a source of mystery and second-hand pride in the other elf-lord's self-control.

Legolas wanders these woods because they feel safe and he has trouble standing still. He wishes for that final journey to be taken and, until it is, he will be restless evermore. Thranduil answers him after a short pause where he puts these thoughts to the back of his mind, all of them sparked by his son's tell-tale phrasing. ]

I do not trust all of them. Some are wily and others foolish, but the greater numbers appear to have good hearts. The majority, if nothing else. I would not trade any one of them for the likes of Caer Scima, if the tales of the Unseelie court stand true.

[ It was all ahead of them, the inevitable parting and the conversation - debate, more than likely - in which Legolas would try to convince his father to travel beyond the shores of Middle-Earth with him, before they have been spirited away to this world to lend their skills. And this now should be nothing more but a delay as well, until the day comes when their task is done and their time at Caer Glaem comes to an end.

Only so long can Legolas deny the yearning in his heart, only so long is he willing to do so. The delay is welcome, in any case.

In an instant the wind picks up, a single powerful gust that sends petals, shaken harshly from the newly bloomed flowers, and leaves dancing through the air between them. A colourful display that lasts a handful of moments, before it all dies down. ]

It is the most we can ask out of a mismatched lot such as it is, I suppose, so long as there is willingness to work together for a goal we all ought to share. [ He brushes off some that caught on the golden mane of the unicorn, plucks out those that tangled within the golden locks. ] It is a preferable lot, indeed...

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years later I return...!

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[Janine has probably been seen flying far above, a creature like a long-necked bird but featherless and without much tail. Flying, she's fast and often tips her head so one eye looks down at the ground below.

On the ground she is a quadruped and quite large. Here, now, she jerks her head back. There's a touch of blood and fur around the tip of her beak.

She genuinely hates to show fear. Janine's empathy lets a frission of it be picked up on anyway. She might be able to intercept an arrow from a far enough distance, but not from here.]

:Someone less jumpy than you.: [Okay, pause to make her seem calmer.] :I'm after rabbits and that sort of thing. Nothing bigger than a cat, I promise.:

[ It is... the most bizarre experience of most so far in this strange land. Elves are not unfamiliar with a kind of telepathy, a sharing of thoughts among their kin or only with those able. Not unfamiliar with the ability of reading thoughts of beasts, whether clear as a day or simply muted impressions, or of plant life. But this seems on an entirely new level and it startles Legolas more so than the odd appearance of the beast.

He takes in what it says, but the arrow remains nocked, his bow remains raised. And his words are a quick string, a little harsh in his surprise. ]

What are you?

[Janine shuffles a little from one foreleg to the other, backing up half a pace.]

:Quetzalcoatlus. Sort of what eagles would be to birds if all other birds died. Look, do you mind? I'm not gonna try and hurt you.:

[Before she inhabited this body, she was human and all of fourteen.]

[ While some have been in this strange land for some time, others have only just arrived. Aragorn was first unsettled when he found himself in such a strange place, and took away from the grant entry hall. There were no answers among many of those others who had arrived, and if he knew anything well enough, it would be the land.

He's well aware of the wars waging, and like Legolas, it reminds him too deeply of the battles in Middle Earth, the long and difficult journey to put an end to Mordor, to quiet the fires of Sauron so that peace may reign in its place. Sauron does not prevail here, he can feel it, and yet here lies a different evil altogether, surely. But there is always peace in the land, peace when one turned and looked first at the very earth they stood on. That, of course, is where his heart is rooted first.

He'd tried to remain in the brush, remain unseen and undetected, for he can hear noises ahead despite the gentle hissing of leaves in the breeze. If he may find his way out of the wood then he would at least have the sky as a compass, would be able to at least seek out his starting place.

Before he may consider anything else, he has a hand rested firmly at the hilt of his blade, and is staring down the narrow length of an arrow. The snapped branch underfoot, he curses himself and slowly. He remains in the shade, dipping only so he may see just who bears such a weapon, for the voice gives him pause. ]

I pray we be friends, else this land has too changed that.

[ The instant recognition comes to Legolas, he lowers his bow, easily returns the arrow to the quiver at his back and a smile stretches his lips. It's a sweet and joyful smile for a sight of the face of a dear friend soothes all worries and concerns. The distance between them vanishes in a couple quick and light steps that don't seem to bend the grass beneath the feet, and Legolas puts his hand to Aragorn's shoulder, grip firm and friendly, in a greeting in a way of the elves.

It is no surprise, in this case, that he did not catch the approaching steps until the last moment, it was nothing more but a stroke of luck in Legolas' case, and bad luck in Aragorn's, that gave away his position to the elf. ]

Aragorn, my friend! What a joy it is to see your face again.

[ It hasn't been a long while in the eyes of an elf since his arrival here, since he's been spirited away to another realm full of unknowns and folk strange and foreign. But enough time has passed that it's a relief to see another familiar face. Though a face changed from how he remembered it last. More youthful once more, a detail maybe important but one that Legolas brushes off. He's well versed enough in the ways of this realm, by sheer experience rather than from pouring over the various and many books in the library of Caer Glaem, that these tricks bother him no longer.

If nothing else, it is a good thing to see Aragorn in the full summer of his life. ]

Had I known to expect you, I would have come to out greet you as is proper.

[ the woods haven't exactly been fenris' first go-to place for relaxation. and yet, today, he embarks there out of almost necessity. things are turbulent at best back in kirkwall—they are all upon the brink of something that sits stale and stagnant in the air, choking anyone with each breath. and to be dragged here, to a fight he has nothing to do with, nothing on either side to care for...

it is too much to stand and he doesn't like it.

there is a quiet comfort within the forest that fenris needs. first and foremost, and perhaps the most important point of all: there will be no one around. and that is what he needs. the silence and solitude so he can think. it's laughable, really, that he is finally free completely, only to find himself ensnared once more, forced into something he wants no part of.

this just stands to reason that no man will ever be truly free.

a large greatsword is strapped to his back, nearly the size of himself and gleaming in stray beams of sunlight. his footsteps are near silent out of years practice at not making a sound rather than attempting to sneak up on anyone. he hears the shifting of a body, the nocking of the arrow—a sound he knows so well now from sebastian—and the voice.

fenris slows his steps, but never stops, not until the owner of voice and arrow alike are within his proper vision. his posture is slightly slumped; at first glance he gives no sign of being a feral beast. a slow blink as he looks from the point of the arrow to the face of the man.

no. elf.

at the very least, he doesn't appear to be dalish. a plus. ]

At ease. I mean no harm nor disruption.

[ The one who shows his face is kin, that much is obvious at the first glance. An elf will always recognise one of their own, but it is kin strange to him. Even with all his travels, even with all that he had seen already, he either hadn't seen all or as is the way of this strange world, it is kin of another time or another world, entirely separate of Middle-Earth, but all the same... in Legolas' eyes it changes nothing much at all.

He offers a smile, small and subtle, but easily reaching his eyes. The arrow returns to his quiver, bow lowered without a question. Wary he may still be, however, times of war - regardless of place - do not necessarily lend themselves to trust easily given. Had they met at the Seelie court, things might have been different, but alas.

Though in truth, not many of the Unseelie court would dare to wander this far south, beyond Caer Glaem no less and into the Great Greenwood. ]

My apologies for the harsh greeting. Times of war require a higher vigilance, though it is no excuse for my hastiness.

[ Soft tones, all polite and seemingly at ease, though his eyes remain fixed on the other elf curiously. ]

It is not a common occurrence to find one of a kin here in this strange world.

[It's a boy - small, dark-skinned and haired, wearing what looked like a down parka and blue jeans - or at least, it was something something that looked like a boy. It's a good seeming, and to most would be indistinguishable from a normal human, but there's something in his eyes, something old.]

Not your enemy, I'd like to hope - we get enough of that sort of guff normally, but luckily nobody seems terribly interested in enforcing the strict dividing lines. Put that bow down, I doubt it could hurt me anyway.

[ Elven eye, however, is a keen one. Both in terms of simple skill: seeing farther and in greater detail, distinguishing details in busy foliage easier, but they observe better too. Perhaps because they are not quite as hurried as the children of Men, or as focused on only certain matters as the Dwarves.

Legolas may not recognise what exactly it is that he picks up about the upcoming boy for what it truly is, but he sees the depth within his look. A look that says other, if not what exactly. This is no elf, for sure, but something else equally timeless and with a great many years behind it. ]

You are not an enemy if you are of the Seelie court, you are not an enemy if you wish not harm upon me or mine.

[ But he does lower his bow, returning the arrow to where it belongs in his quiver. He dips his head in a slight nod. ]

However, I must ask if you are willing to share this much, would you be equally willing to share more about yourself? You look a child of the Men, but you seem a child of the elves never having reached the age of majority yet with wisdom of too many years lived in your eyes.

I don't know about you, but I don't feel particularly eager to risk my life for yet another cause I have no real interest in, and this time around nobody's here to make me. Seems as good an invitation as any to ignore the war that's supposedly going on, at least so far as I'm able.

[It was impossible to entirely, of course, but he was going to do his best. No reason not to, really.]

See that, do you? You'd be surprised how many don't. But I expect most of them have low expectations. You're right that I'm not human. Or an elf, for that matter, though I'm guessing that's what you are. I am a djinni.

[ Curious, as about so many things here, Legolas listens and takes in all the information offered; learning, always learning, much preferring to do so by experience and on his own skin, rather than by pouring through thick and dusty tomes in the library. And this world has so, so much to offer. ]

It is within your right, or ought to be, to ignore a conflict you wish not to be involved in. I, for my part, have come willingly for I too have experienced times when darkness threatened to overcome my home and I wish it not, not even a threat of it, on another. [ So many years past, the times of the War of the Ring were still clear in his mind, as if it all happened only yesterday. The threat that weighted on so many, that took so many... Legolas shakes his head, brushing the thoughts aside. ] But no matter I will not make an enemy when there is no ill will.

[ But he cocks his head slightly, gives a smile that's small and fond. ] It is no surprise, in fact. Many have only the patience to look, but not to see and many details escape when one hurries at all times because their years are not limitless. I am an elf myself, indeed, but I have not heard of a djinni before.

[ No denying the curious tones that sound nearly a question in his last statement. ]

( forever apologies for long-winded tl;dr... sob )

[Bartimaeus had gleaned much experience in his long years, though not much was to his choosing. Some was to his liking, some not, but he took it and hoarded scraps close as long as it helped keep him alive. He took it wherever he could find, and would take it in this world as readily as that of the magicians, or the Other Place. Knowledge was useful, that way.]

In an ideal world it would be. Unfortunately I'm not sure those exist - I certainly haven't seen one, so even if they do it's not much use to me.

Ah. You're one of those, aren't you? An idealist. You'd do better to give up on your pretty ideals - they never last, in the long run. But I expect you won't. None of you ever do. [Too true - empires and regimes rose and fell again, all part of an endless cycle of decadence and corruption. He couldn't see this time being any different from Egypt, or Assyeria, or the Czech Republic. But he did not wish to make an enemy, so Bartimaeus flashed a cheesy smile.]

Well, that's me. Personally I couldn't care either way who wins or who loses, so long as my own skin stays intact. The monarchs don't seem to interested in forcing us to fight their wars, so I figure why ask for trouble where it's not needed?

[He hasn't heard of djinn. Bartimaeus cannot be surprised any more.]

Few enough people have, here. I suppose it's just as well - I'm starting to suspect that the only reason I only ever got summoned to the one was because nobody else knew about us. I can't imagine the workload that would have kicked off if more had - I mean look at this place. Brand new world, where as far as I know they've never had a summoning, and I get dragged in to fight in on of their wars. Only good thing I have to say about our current masters is that they seem to be largely incompetent, at least in the business of controlling all their new slaves.

(You're good! Here, have some tl;dr in return)

3 @ the great greenwood! open to all, brackets or prose

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whoops sorry, life happened (and still is...)

<3

ahhh maybe?

TEMPTS SWEETLY...!!

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apologies for the delay! life happened (and still is sob)

and now for something completely different

\o/

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