(no subject)

[starrydome]

A young elf lord walks through the door, windswept and chilled and so glad to find himself here of all places instead of where he was.

(At Court. The Lady Galadriel is leaving Lindon and everything is polite smiles and politer words and so many things churning just below the surface that his temples throb constantly)

He is dressed for the occasion, in silver and white and deep blue, his outer tunic stiff with embroidery, his fingers practically dripping with jewellery.

(He rather likes gemstones. Not for their value, but for their beauty. The way the weight of them keeps his hands from fluttering nervously).

He closes his eyes, breathing deeply, as he rolls his shoulders, and then he makes his way to the couch in front of the fire.


{ooc note: pre-Rivendell, pre-rings, pre-Celebrian.}