milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Jack sits in one of the chairs by the fireplace, singing to his daughter in a language long gone. The words would seem familiar, though: all lullabies, are their core, are about the same thing.

Love you, precious child. Love you.

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[On the contrary. All of Tolkien's writings canonically exist in Gorlim's world. His own part was supposed to have been written by the Elves, just as The Hobbit and LotR were written by Bilbo, Frodo, and Samwise, and the tale of Aragorn and Arwen was written by Faramir's grandson. He thinks of Tolkien as having collected and organized writings from his world.]

Gorlim beams at him. "In what Age?" he asks.

[ooc: ah, okay. yes, I know about the red book and all, but Jack can't say, "Your writer got his ideas with some help from me." That would be bad ;).]

"A very early one," Jack says.

"Did you ever see Dorthonion?" he asks hopefully. Jack would be the only one besides his wife who has -- at least from the perspective of living in it.

"In a manner of speaking," Jack says, and plays with Georgia's little hand.

Gorlim bounces Kelly a bit.

"I see."

And decides it would not be a great idea probably to mention his name to Jack. Treason isn't the way to become on of the popular kids.

Jack doesn't judge. He's lived too long for that.

"Our daughters know more about each other than we do," he says and holds out his hand. "I'm called Jack Green."

He pauses, hesitates, but takes his hand at last.

"Gorlim, son of Angrim, of the House of Beor," he says quietly.

There is recognition in Jack's face, and then he smiles and nods. "Pleased to meet you."

"And you, sir," he replies, relaxing a little. He's never sure when someone's going to recognize his name and decide to try to hunt him down.

"How do you find Milliways?"

He tilts his head a little, seeming almost birdlike.

"It's what it is. I died and ended up here. It's how things are."

"Very stoic of you," Jack observes.

"You caught me in a good mood."

He's a good little angstpuppet when the situation calls for it.

"It's hard to regret as much when I'm holding hope itself in my arms." He grins at his little grey-eyed daughter.

Jack nods. "It's hard to regret anything when you're holding them, isn't it? And they're so small and full of potential."

"They are," he agrees. "And my little one will be unBound when she's older, I think. She'll be able to travel, to leave here. She's alive." He lifts her up above his head, making her chirp happily.

"Very much so," Jack says quietly, watching Kelly play.

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