gondolin_noble | (no subject)

"I spent some time with the Doomsman of the Vala." He replies, off-handedly.

Yes. He did that on purpose.

He's ancient, he's wise, he's a peerless warrior... he's also very much an elf with an elf's love for provoking reactions.

Edited 2015-11-18 06:57 (UTC)

Unfortunately his reaction from her is a blank look. "The Doomsman of the Vala? Sounds ominous."

Glorfindel does not pout, but only because he's had millenia to learn to not do that. The reaction is usually better than that.

"You might call him the Lord of the Dead."

"Oh! Did you die, Glorfindel? Who killed you?" Alana says, her eyes widening. "And how did you come back?"

That is much more gratifying, and he graces her with a enigmatic smile.

"Oh, the minstrels tell it much more elegantly than I... and more frequently as well. I should let one of them do it." Finishing his wine, he stands and offers her a hand. "I must give you something to look forward to, after all."

Alana stands and takes his hand. "Well, I shall look forward to that, then," she says, offering him a look. "Are we heading out?"

Edited 2015-11-18 07:08 (UTC)

"Last call will be soon, and doesn't the old story say I must return the princess to her castle before she turns into a pumpkin?" Glorfindel asks with an impish smile.

"In my world, it's her coach that turns into a pumpkin, but the general idea is the same," Alana says, smiling a little. "Home might be a good idea."

"How very curious, how would they fit?" Glorfindel asks with true curiosity as he makes his way through the thinning crowd. Never mind that a princess who turns into a pumpkin if left out too late doesn't make much sense either, outside of fairy-tale logic.

(Of course it makes sense, it's a curse placed on the elvish princess by a dragon who became enraged that the princess was more fair than any prize it could hoard.)

(Makes perfect sense.)

(Glorfindel always had fun doing the dragon's voice when he told the story to the twins and Arwen when they were little.)

(... Who are we kidding, he still does it when asked.)

"I think the coach is much bigger while it's a coach," Alana says, following him. She adjusts her cloak around her shoulders, hiding her wrap dress from prying eyes.

Glorfindel keeps up the line of questioning as they ascend through the circles of the city - where the coach's appointments those of a normal coach, or were they more of squash? Where-ever did the coachman sit? Did the horses try to eat the pumpkin-coach? In all honesty, it's done on purpose - a tall starlit elf-lord, expounding upon the problems of a pumpkin coach as the white gems in his fair hair glitter as brightly as the stars overhead is a memorable sight - very few people will remember the person walking with him, at this rate.

That, and it's fun watching Alana try to answer such ridiculous questions.

They are near the first circle, the torch-lit courtyard visible overhead, when there's a shrieking cry in the night. The stars over the city are blotted out suddenly by a swiftly-moving something.

Alana's answers trail off at the shriek, and she glances up to see a giant eagle sweeping its way across the sky. "That's impressive," she murmurs to Glorfindel.

"Manwe's messengers." There's a fondness in his voice as he watches the eagle tilt and whirl, riding the eddies. He spent much of his first life making friends with the eagles who nested around Gondolin, and has heard since what they did after his fight with the Balrog. He never got the chance to thank that particular eagle, but he made sure to extend those thanks to the eagle's kin, when he got the chance.

Politeness is important.

"They do still like to keep an eye on things, even in this Age."

Alana watches the eagle soar across the night sky, the master of all it surveys. "They're huge," she says superfluously, shocked at just how much of the sky the eagle takes up. "Are they intelligent? They'd have to be, to be messengers."

"They are, very much so - a very proud and polite kind." Glorfindel agrees, beckoning her towards the closest section of the city wall that rings this section of city. Solemnly, he raises his hand as if to hail the giant bird.

Or to hail it in truth, because almost before he makes the gesture, the eagle turns, banking sharply back towards the city.

"Do remember the thing about politeness, I'm not sure I know this one." He murmurs, sounding pleased.

"You're hailing it?" Alana says, her eyes widening. "How do I address them?"

"My lord or my lady works fine." Glorfindel has time to assure her before the wind of the eagle's backdraft from pulling to a stop steals his words. Massive talons strike sparks off the stonework as it lands, towering over elf and human alike.

Glorfindel bows - not in the overly acrobatic fashion he prefers in-bar, but deeply and courteously.

He does rather like the eagles.

"Lord Glorfindel, you fly far afield from your northern eyries." The eagle remarks, and the voice brings Glorfindel's head up in a hurry.

"Lord Landroval, it is a pleasure - allow me to introduce the lady Alana."

Alana executes a deep curtsy, holding her skirt. "Lord Landroval," she says, bowing her head. "What an honor to meet you."

The eagle bobs his head, turning this way and that to stare at Alana with his wide golden eyes.

"Well met, youngling. It is gratifying to see this one keeps his ability to be sociable when left to his own devices." The eagle announces, ignoring Glorfindel's look of outrage.

Alana chuckles, shaking her head. "Well met. Glorfindel has been a lovely host this visit. I couldn't ask for a better tour guide."

"It is gratifying to hear." Landroval replies gravely.

"If you are quite finished?" Despite what Glorfindel said about politeness, the elf seems almost openly combative. It is an act, borne of long familiarity and shared experience. The eagle spreads his wings, forcing Glorfindel to skip back a step or get knocked clean off his feet.

"Have a care that he stays in line, with his lord away there is none to check this chick's behavior." Landroval advises Alana.

Alana grins at the eagle, bowing her head. "I suspect he can take care of himself. After all, he is responsible for his lord's sons. If he's trusted with them, I suspect he's responsible enough to care for himself."

The eagle makes a scornful clucking sound, as if doubtful of this logic.
"He is not always so careful with his own person." Landroval notes.

"Come, Landroval, it has been almost a millenia." Glorfindel protests.

"Since the last time. Disaster is well due."

Eagle and elf eye each other pointedly.

"I have heard of wild kine near Dunland, if such would serve." Glorfindel offers, and the eagle bobs, settling his feathers.

"They would be passing fair hunting, to be sure."

Alana's amusement only grows as she watches the exchange, and she ducks her head. "I shall take your wise counsel and look after him," she says to the eagle. "Thank you for your concern. I am grateful, though some of us may not be."

Said with a brow raise at Glorfindel.

"Get ye gone, giant featherduster, you have corrupted the poor lady." Glorfindel huffs, shooing the giant bird, as if even his weight would make any difference if Landroval had a mind to stay.

"Give my greetings to Elrond's children, flower-lord." Landroval instructs, unruffled by Glorfindel's attempts to shift him. "Fair skies and good hunting to you, Lady Alana."