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Damn the elf. [Oct. 19th, 2004|07:36 pm]
[mood |melancholymelancholy]

She's angling for me to invite him. A fresh face, one unknown to Thranduil - oh, and someone other than a politician or a warrior. She may as well say his name. Not to mention that he used to be a herald, and we have an odd shortage of standard-bearers with clear voices now that the war is come. One thing that I will say for him is that he is brave, although that could be because the happy world which he inhabits doesn't feature danger and darkness.

Would that it were my company that she desired so much: but neither of us ever speak it. It is as if such words are forbidden.
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OOC [Oct. 9th, 2004|11:20 am]
I'm going to be without internet access until the 16th, so until then no posts from _erestor_ and _lindir_.
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Well. [Aug. 20th, 2004|09:27 am]
At least my Lord didn't catch us having a snowball fight, or indeed doing what we may have been doing just before he arrived.

She makes everything wonderfully, beautifully confusing. I can imagine it will only be more so when we get to her homeland, if my Lord hasn't become more preoccupied with teasing me than the mission of diplomacy.
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Ugh [Jul. 21st, 2004|09:44 pm]
How anyone can actually take pleasure in drinking that poison is beyond me.

It has done a wonderful job of melting my ink, though.
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Musings on defence [Jun. 28th, 2004|08:02 pm]
[mood |worriedworried]

Evil things may not come into this valley, and the power of Elrond keeps phantoms and spirits at bay, but who can protect us from evil thoughts?

This evening's entertainment was subdued; the music was quiet and half the wine was left untasted. It is clear to me that the people of Imladris are uneasy, nervous - as well they should be. For good or ill - and most likely ill - the One Ring is in the hands of a hobbit already falling under its spell, and eight others of varying honesty. I trust Lord Elrond's judgement, of course, but who can see all ends? No wonder the people here are afraid.

I must speak to Elladan and Elrohir about the state of affairs outside the valley, if they are both well enough to talk (and however battered and bruised, they always are) and decide what defences will be required to protect our home. Wooden fences will not keep the orcs of Mordor at bay, should they come, but they will do something for the morale of those still here.
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Erestor and Eamane #2 [Apr. 9th, 2004|04:09 pm]
When they at last stop walking, it is at the edge of a stretch of cultivated lawn behind the Last Homely House. Although the tables with jugs of water and sweets are gone, the targets have been put away and there are no spectators today, no rustle of applause except that of the dry leaves. He hopes Eamane would recognise it as the practice field on which they sparred almost a hundred years ago.

Do you remember this place? he says, folding his arms around his body against the chill breeze, a wry smile on his face as he remembers.
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(no subject) [Mar. 10th, 2004|09:27 pm]
[mood |confusedconfused]

Veiled words, saying things we do not really mean... what has changed? Little indeed. And yet much.

I am different, and so is she. I can hardly believe it - a teacher? Eamane? Not to be unkind, but I never believed she'd have the patience. Yes, she has changed, subtly, and I hope when I looked into her eyes to see if she had bonded during our years of separation, she thought nothing of it, or dismissed it as mere polite curiosity.

And what have I done this last century? Many things. There are few students to teach now, for our race is no longer in its youth, and I do not believe there will be many more Noldor born in Middle-Earth. I have devoted myself to my studies, to books, slowly becoming wiser and more sage as the years went by. Supposedly. I have not travelled, nor have I needed to, as the world is growing dark and fell outside our bright valley and we do not venture out unnecessarily. My life has been quiet, uncomplicated, until now.

Ai, what is happening to me? Must I go to pieces every time I am reminded of some element of my past?
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A chance meeting [Feb. 21st, 2004|06:11 pm]
(( OOC: This is a backpost, set a few days before the Council of Elrond. For those of you who might be wondering, these two are refugees from another RPG. They have some 'history' together... ))

For whatever reason, Erestor couldn't concentrate on his work. He had meant to have the translation finished by the end of the day, but events had rather changed that. Now it seemed unlikely he'd have it done for the end of the day, and was rather annoyed with himself for that.

He found himself nibbling the end of his quill. Glorfindel considered it a disgusting habit, but with a smile, he told himself that Glorfindel was not there. Erestor found it aided the thought processes.

Yet he still could not think clearly enough to get the work done. He came to the conclusion it was too quiet, although noise was usually his greatest enemy. Giving up, he laid his work aside and put on his boots and a warm winter cloak. A stroll around the valley would surely clear his head...
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OOC: Erestor's bio [Feb. 20th, 2004|11:47 am]
To save space on the userinfoCollapse )
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