milliways_bar | Entries tagged with glorfindel

The door opens, letting in late summer air, scented by woodsmoke.

The elf lord making his way through it hesitates briefly - and then he walks through, smiling.

He is wearing armour. It's dusty, maybe even a little grimy up close, beautifully wrought in silver and bronze and burgundy leather. His cloak trails after him as he walks to the bar.

"A glass of water, if you please, my lady," has days, as he pulls off his leather gloves.

He had learned to be glad of the small, unexpected pauses. And now, coming straight from hunting orcs, to find his home full of surly dwarves, and the esteemed members of The White Council - he could do with a respite.

"And a glass of wine."

{ooc: brought to you by a rewatch of The Hobbit}

starrydome

The weather in the Hidden Vally is cruel and cutting this winter and spring seems determined to stay away.

When Elrond walks through the door, he brings snow with him, dusted across his cloak and boots and lodged in his braids.

He brushes the snow off as best he can before he settles down in front of the fire to warm his hands.

shadow_and_flame

All is still in the mountains. And then the horizon erupts in flames, the deep pink and purple flaming into impossible red, as the ground shakes with the deep, deep, deep call of a drum.

A demon from an ancient world stirs.

A creature of shadow and flame, the Balrog sets the ground alight as it crawls fluidly, digging claws like steel into the earth. Fire wafts from its nostrils and eyes; fire crackles across its massive body. The odors of blood and charred flesh flood the air around it.

The Balrog surveys the bar, still a ways off. Wings stretch as it raises itself to its full height, an inferno standing firmly in place. Swinging a hand out, the Balrog conjures a fiery sword. A multi-pronged whip made of molten lava cracks in its other hand.

Its roar of challenge is deafening.

(OOC: Obvious warnings for violence in most threads, not so obvious warnings for eye squick in the Yrael thread.)

starrydome

It still seems strange, a room set aside for physical activities. But it is wet and cold and windy outside and the last few days have been long and quiet and filled with thoughts of what might have been.

So Elrond is here, dressed in soft pants and a sleeveless tunic. His feet bare, his hair braided.

He stands in the middle of the room. Still. Quiet.
Then he moves.
A high kick, a twist, a punch, a fall, a roll, a defensive circle.
Still.
Quiet.

gondolin_noble

He knows Lord Celeborn means well.

Lady Galadriel means well, also.

The entire might of the Galadrim forces mean very, very well.

Glorfindel would just like one day to run the patrols of Imladris in peace, without nosy cousins suggesting 'improvements' as if he hasn't been doing this sort of thing for literal ages now.

Surely the lord and lady won't want to stay and coo over the new elflings for too much longer.

Yeah. Glorfindel is pretty sure they're staying for the next century.

That'd be why there's an elf, clad only in simple (if highly embroidered) linens out at the pells tonight, the gemstones in his hair flickering in the moonlight as he beats on imaginary foes.

It... might need to be replaced after this.

gondolin_noble

(OOM:

The leaves were long, the grass was green,
The hemlock-umbels tall and fair,
And in the glade a light was seen
Of stars in shadow shimmering.

Or: Glorfindel takes Alana to see real stars, because the bar's are insulting.)

guppy_sandhu

It's Life Support time with a new crew; Guppy is joined by Cadfael, Alana and Sam Wilson.

As is custom, the table is set with food (including sweet potato cake and some sort of honey pudding. There's various options for people who can't eat various things too.

As always, there's a sign on the wall behind the circle of chairs.

Life Support
Got problems here or at home? Want to talk to someone or meet new people?
Want to come and test out our new team of volunteers?
Come and join us!
Free food!

[ooc: Open to all, threadhopping encouraged, all tags will be picked up by at least one of the crew. Open until the next one in approx. 1 month.]

gondolin_noble

An early fall storm isn't much of a problem to an elf lord (he was visiting the tree again, the one that told on him to Elrond). It does, however, mean he has to undo all of his braids, dry his hair, and re-braid everything. Since it is a time-intensive task, he has camped out in front of the fire with a plate of food and a bottle of wine, lounging like some great golden lion.

gondolin_noble

It was bound to happen sooner or later.

Glorfindel has been remarkably well behaved. For a markedly long period of time, he has kept quiet, recuperated, and did his best to not be a worry.

But it could only last so long.

That'd be why there's an elf at the pells, moving with the grace that comes with thousands of years of practice.

It's impressive, while it lasts.

gondolin_noble

Glorfindel is pretty sure that he is going to die of boredom.

Actually, no. If he fails to get better in a timely fashion, he's fairly sure his lord will change his mind and send him to Namo as quickly as possible.

Same goes if he manages to rip his stitches. Even if they itch infernally.

Thus, there's an elf on the couch, tuning a harp, and generally trying to stay out of trouble. Honest.

Do you think Elrond would notice if he had some Dorwinion?

starrydome

{A while ago a hero of the ages stumbled through the door, convinced that his oath had finally been upheld. He bled on Autor but did not draw his last breath after all, as the trees told on him to his lord . Elrond, who was the lord in question, sought out the miracles of modern medicine and the aid of Guppy Sandhu. And in the end, Glorfindel was stitched up and Elrond took a much needed nap.}

gondolin_noble

Glorfindel is thankful.

His oath is finally, finally fulfilled.

He can go home.

Maybe it's... not quite the way he envisioned.

Namo is going to give him that disappointed expression again, he's just sure of it.

Glorfindel stumbles into the bar, bloodied and bruised and victorious. He gives the barroom a somewhat despairing look, however - he wants stars, and the song of the trees. That shouldn't be too much to ask.

gondolin_noble

There's an elf, who quite frankly has never been on a shelf, and would be horribly confused by the idea in general. In fact, this elf is lounging by the fire, idly tuning a lap harp that he picked up from the Bar.

gondolin_noble

Glorfindel did not mean to come here. His lord's twin-born sons have reached the age that they are getting into everything, and it has been decided the best way to burn off such... unending energy is to give them arms training.

Glorfindel's not entirely sure what he did wrong to deserve such punishment.

But it still stands, he did not mean to come here, he meant to retreat to his rooms and sleep, but it seems mysterious taverns have other plans. Glorfindel modifies his accordingly, heading for the warmest section of the lake shore to lounge like some kind of golden great cat.

starrydome

Spring is almost there, at the Keep. Everyone has been sent out to dig for roots and gather buds, even the smallest ones, the Peredhil. And they are good at it. Small but strong. And hungry.

He has been so focused on carrying his treasures in his upturned tunic that he just walks through the door and doesn't realize that he is not back at the kitchen, but in this place, this place he has been to once before, until he looks up. And stops.

There is a small, hungry elfing with his arms full of buds and roots just inside the door. He's thin and dirty but his hair is elaborately braided.

starrydome

Lionel had woken up alone.
He was used to that.

He still felt woozy but had an idea that he would feel better once he got out of the bathrobe he was wearing.
Comfortable as it was.

He'd seen people downstairs get stuff and though it made no sense to just ask for things like that, he tried. And it worked.

So he got dressed (comfy sweatpants, short sleeved colourful shirt, and a pair of thongs) and ignored the hair (he felt like a shampoo commercial, as he pulled it back, clumsily) and the lack of facial and body hair.

He also asked if he could have a bit of - well, you can't fault a bloke for trying.

He didn't get any.

He was quitting anyway, so it didn't matter. He'd just sit here with a beer and people watch.

starrydome

Elrond is concerned.
He had brought some letters to work on, but he is feeling odd.

At first he dismissed it, but now, several cups of herbal tea later he must admit the truth to himself.

He is sick. Strange as it sounds there is no other explanation.

At least he now knows how a fever feels.

(ooc: elves can't get sick but he is because I say so. And soon he will be Lionel from Little Fish)

gondolin_noble

Glorfindel strolls into bar, a wreath of golden beech leaves twined into his hair. If he particularly minded, he could always blame the elflings that made it, but... well.

He helped. A lot.

gondolin_noble

There are times when it truly does not help to be an elf. Especially not one of the few who can still ride unafraid to distant points - that sort of attitude lends itself towards duties others do not have to bear.

Like checking on the young daughter of his lord in Lothlorien and getting caught in a horrific storm on the way home.

He blames Galadriel. What's the use of having that blasted mirror if you can't at least make sure the courier is going to make it home safely?

...

Fine, he's safe, but soaked, and he doesn't appreciate it.

So now there's one tall disgruntled elf-lord dripping on the woodwork. Sorry. Maybe someone can find a towel?

not_only_wisdom

Nynaeve could still hear the cries of the wounded children, the screams of the dying villagers, the howls of the Darkhounds that seemed endless in number --

But so, too, could she feel the Warder bond to Lan, her husband, seated firmly in her mind.

She counted it (and her new self-knowledge) well worth the cost. But now, that so-necessary errand handled, it was time to get back to the White Tower for her night of contemplation.

Preparing the weave for Traveling away from the Black Tower is the work of several moments, a fine feat considering her current state of exhaustion.

But when she steps across the threshold and is confronted with the bar, Nynaeve pauses, lips pressed tight together, and takes a deep breath. This could have happened on a better day, when her hair hadn't been burnt off and she were not so badly exhausted.

The Light burn Milliways, anyway.

"And here I'd thought we were done with the place."

Well, time to make the best of a bad business. Perhaps some tea will see things begin to sort themselves out.

A newly-raised Aes Sedai can hope.

sunbaked_baker

Sunshine is curled up under a blanket on the couch near the fireplace, fiddling with her new camera and looking at the pictures she'd taken earlier that day at her half-brother's 18th birthday party.

Sunshine had promised Kenny a scrapbook photo album of the event as his gift, so he could take it off to college with him next year. For now, though, she's having to weed out the ones that are out of focus. She's still learning all the settings on this thing.

Supremely botherable.

Current Mood: calm

gondolin_noble

The front door opens and an elf slides through.

Like one does.

Actually, this one was kinda thrown, and manages to come up both (mostly) on his feet and still with his hunting knives in hand.

Though he does make an epic pissy face when the door he just came through promptly disappears. That troll should consider itself lucky.

starrydome

There is an elf lord in the Bar. He has spent a great deal of time in the Library the last few times he has been here, and so he has noticed nothing strange about the woods, nothing odd about the cold.

In fact, he is happily perusing a large tome on the history of publishing, turning each page with the care that comes from normally dealing with far more fragile books.

He is occupied, but not at all adverse to company.

gondolin_noble

The front door opens, allowing in a blond, grey-cloaked elf, carrying something in the crook of one arm. Something that requires being sung to, evidently. He takes his new surroundings in stride, making himself comfortable on the couch.

He's not above taking advantage of a pocket in time to make better acquaintance of this little elfling.

gondolin_noble

There's a golden elf lounging on the couch, studying the floating screen that's been following him about like a lost puppy with quite a lot of bemusement. Most of the... reconfigurations? it offers are completely ridiculous, at least to his mind.

....

It's the one option on there that's kept him from dismissing the screen altogether.