stormaktstiden | (no subject)

[ Valinor has been nothing but kind to him so far, Legolas thought. When he wasn't out and about exploring with Gimli, he was meeting the other elves, slowly getting to know all those who have sailed far earlier before him or those who have never left. Never having seen the light of the trees, he can only but admire all those who had. Their glow such that it could almost outshine the stars, skin fair and their beauty immense.

The parties held in the various houses and courts, on the other hand, were most amusing and entertaining for him. It seems the constitution for wine that himself and his father possessed (or perhaps developed was the more accurate descriptor here) was still a rare trait among the elves, even the high elves of Aman. There he stood for the moment alone and unharassed, with a goblet of wine in one hand, perfectly sober among the many tipsy elves and smiling fondly. Some faces were already familiar, some others not quite, and yet others familiar only from the stories he had been told as an elfling, the rare times his father could sit him down and actually get him to listen. Those he had looked upon with great reverence, that is right up until he's approached by one of such.

To his credit, Legolas doesn't stutter or flush right away, he merely turns to glance behind him with a cocked eyebrow if there isn't anyone there instead and when he returns his look to the one he recognised as Fingon, he smiles politely and inclines his head in a greeting just as polite as his smile in the language commonly spoken here. He had to learn, of course, but it came easy. Much like a lot of other things. ]

A star shines on the hour of our meeting.

The smile is returned, though with one much more open and unguarded, warmth and a hint of amusement in his eyes and words as he offers the other elf a plate with snacks - tiny, elegant affairs, that probably can be found somewhere around, but most of all go well with the wine which is offered by the host. And while that is not Fingon - Findekáno again, now - he has found a plate of treats to be a very fine opener of a conversation, be it with those with whom he has not spoken in a long time, be it with those whom he has never met.

"May it shine only upon joy and gladness, on a fine evening such as this. ...Or so it seems to me. I hope it has been to your liking as well?" If he steps just a bit too close and his eyes rest on Legolas just a bit too firmly, searching for something, he at least doesn't mention it. It's as if he is subtly searching, semi-stealthily (the wine isn't particularly nice on true stealth) trying to find an answer - measuring.

What he might be looking for can perhaps be assumed, by one who notices the glances which mostly go to the top of Legolas's head and both their shoulders, two or three times, before his smile widens just a bit and he relaxes some more.

Edited 2014-06-12 06:52 (UTC)

Finding himself with a plate of all sorts of delightfully looking, and as Legolas is certain most delicious in flavour, snacks is startling. Just a little. His smile widens into a grin, his eyes crinkle a little at the words. He can tell when alcohol began making its way along an elf's veins and affecting both the flesh and the mind. He had watched it happen plenty already, but he minds it little. "Of course it has," different than what they held at Mirkwood, different yet even from what they would host at either Eryn Lasgalen or Ithilien. Those were high elves here, though, fair and powerful and varied like any other elves. Some were kind, some were haughty even towards their own kin, especially such as himself: a young, Third Age elf.

Nobody was ever openly cruel, however, simply sometimes Legolas felt a little insignificant, small.

And always, always he felt small in the most literal sense. For the high elves were not only noble, but also tall and always he had to look up. Idly, he sometimes thought to Gimli and the dwarves and he realised that here and now, he at last understood how they must have felt all the time.

At least this one here, while taller, doesn't tower over him a good foot or two above. It's refreshing and Legolas helps himself to an offered snack, continuing easily to engage in conversation, "Fine food, fine wine and even finer company. 'tis all an evening requires to be pleasant. Perhaps the song could be a little more lively, and," he most certainly spent a little too much time with the dwarves in his time, because, "More motion and dance, but their lack is not enough to spoil the experience."

There is a twinkle of mischief in the taller elf's eyes, if only for a moment. "No finer company than I am enjoying right now, surely." There is laughter in his words, his words not dishonest but not said with too much earnest, either. In the few words that they have exchanged, the younger elf has seemed pleasant enough a conversational partner, and as he continues, the Noldo's eyes light up like those of one who has just been offered the opportunity to take part in the most exciting hunt.

"Would you like to dance? While what can be found here might not quite be what you are used to, I have been told that I lead quite well." And he would like to have a partner with him who would be inclined towards more ...animated styles than those mostly danced here. Perhaps not less formal, but certainly with more vigour and spirit in them.

Laugher meets laughter, the humour and mirth both matched in Legolas's own eyes and face. Though not without a pinkish hue to his cheeks from blood raising to the surface which he does try to hide with theatrical gestures that carry too much flair to them than is truly necessary. No other way but to divert attention from it. He pops the treat into his mouth with a push of a single finger and a wide grin as he chews through it and swallows. Only then does Legolas speak, keeping his voice even, "Then I ought to let you in on a secret," in a tone most inconspicuous, a whisper almost as he rises to his tiptoes briefly, "Thy company is Legolas Thranduilion and ..."

A pause to pluck the plate from Fingon's hands to put it on a table instead. Bold, perhaps, but all in an attempt to cover up for his fluster at both the attention and the offer. Bolder yet it is of him to accept that offer.

"He will gladly submit himself to your lead in a dance."

Hopefully without giving in to this dizzying giddy sensation, ah how embarrassing it would be to swoon right here and now. Yet little of it shows to the outside world, he is the same bold and joyful prince as he has been known in his father's Realm back in Middle Earth.

A hand is offered in return to that acceptance - he can feel his brother's eyes on the back of his head, but it is a festival and just that Turu is always more concerned with proper conduct and the eyes of the other does not mean that his elder brother has to be; particularly when he is not planning on anything that would step outside of even the most narrow definition of accepted manners.

"Legolas Thranduillion - it is my pleasure to be granted a dance with you tonight." There is more in his eyes now, curiosity. "I spoke to one years ago who claimed your father as his son; you resemble him some." Though not in demeanour, at least not at this time.

Hearing this, Legolas startles if briefly. His eyes grow wide in surprise, lips parting with a soft, sudden exhale. Though the corners of his mouth turn upwards in a continued smile. Grandfather, he thinks, and wonders when he will be able to find him here and if Oropher would know him at all. Ever since his arrival, his time has been taken up with far too many matters that prevented him from doing what he truly wanted.

To travel, to seek out those he had known briefly, or never knew and should.

Still, a dance with Fingon the Valiant? That has to count for something truly magical.

"The pleasure is equal parts mine," if not more, in truth! The pale flush that bloomed across his features remains, it makes his face feel a notch hotter than it normally does. Even more so now with the contact, even more so with the prospect of this dance, but it's not something that could ever stop him, "That you spoke with my grandfather, however, is now a great reason for me to ask you of what stories of him you may share. I have never known him."

"It was a brief meeting only, and we spoke more of what had befallen in his time than of his family; though I could feel his thoughts dwell long and far with those that he had left behind." The Noldo's steps are light as he leads the other to the dancefloor, for once not having to look up as he speaks - an odd sensation, and Legolas seems shorter to him for it than he is.

"You must meet him; it will surely be a glad surprise for him to encounter a grandson so splendid, if he never knew you... though surely he will have heard of your existence by now, as so many have sailed before you." All whom he knew to remain in Middle-earth have long since reached the shores of Aman. A curious tilt of his head, and the flush goes not unseen, but unmentioned - it is not the first time for him to get such an reaction, though he cannot quite place the exact source of it yet. "What kept you so long?"

A chuckle slips past his lips. Easily Legolas accepts the compliment with a light tip forward of his head, his smile speaking volumes for gratitude.

"I shall seek him out the moment I may escape the clutches of those who desire news," or those who know of his role in the War of the Ring. It was overwhelming, the sort of attention he sometimes got, though thankfully not so much or often that he couldn't handle it. "What kept me? My father, his people, our trees, and friends that became most dear to my heart! The first sight of the sea has awoken a longing so very deep, yet I could not leave while they lived and cut my time short of their company."

Short and lithe he may be, but not without a great amount of grace to his movements. Though the dances of the Noldor are far more controlled, far more delicate and polite than what he's used to, still the motions don't seem to hard. So when the dance begins, Legolas manages to follow.

Fingon is a skilled leader, his steps precise and announced in his movements, his hands and legs doing the work that might be done with other parts of the body under different circumstances - but he barely knows Legolas yet, and tipsy as he might be he does not want to be more intimate than strictly necessary.

And Legolas is a delightful partner, though it takes Fingon a bit to adjust for the lack in height difference, or rather the lack in superior height of the other. He's fairly used to everyone being taller, or at most around his own height.

"You made friends among mortals?" His thoughts wander back to his own friendships with secondborn, long past and passed on. His rare encounters with dwarves, too. And of the small man (?) whom he had the pleasure of taking dinner with decades ago. "You must tell me more of them."

Smooth and graceful, Fingon's lead urging him ever so gently into spins, and winding path all around the floor. They weave through all the other couples without once bumping into anyone, or even as much as nudging or brushing against. It's slower, but there's pleasure to be found in this sort of motion as well.

"Amongst the Men, amongst the Dwarves, amongst the Hobbits!" The memories, though painful now with all of them having passed, are still delightful and Legolas doesn't hide his joy at an opportunity to speak of them. One more thought comes to him, however, and with a peal of laughter he adds another exclamation, "And, of course, amongst the Ents as well!"

The first elf, perhaps, to ever exasperate an Ent! Thy name is Legolas.

"The times in which we have all come together were dark, with long shades reaching for all of Middle-Earth and among them evil ever stirring, yet the bonds it forged were strong and held fast for all their lives."

"A hobbit - I think I must have spoken to one, not too long ago. Old, and he seemed to be a man to me yet he was not; his ears and feet spoke otherwise, and his height besides, though I have heard that men have grown shorter as well over time."

He leads them around another pair and almost misses a step when his sister raises an eyebrow at him from over her partner's shoulder, to which he just smiles. There will be teasing later, he just knows it.

"His name was Bilbo."

FINGON Middle Earth Pre-Fingolfin's death	ELROS Middle Earth Childhood	AREDHEL Middle Earth Pre-forest
Fëanor Middle Earth ota	Ambarussa Middle Earth ota	Dís Middle Earth ota

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Fingon, gimmie tipsy flirting!

I'm great at going to bed apparently

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Let's tango >D

omfg skjshfd

I'm so sorry about the eternal delay akdjasda

no worries!

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