Mild disappointment might have planted its seedin him for the uncertainty brought to keen ears through her response. But it had sounded genuine, which held value of greater measure to this king; one who could not abide liars in his vicinity. Would rather have them sew their mouths shut than twist the truth. And so Thranduil quietly accepted, granting Morgana some room for her woken curiosity and watching it unfold in her pale green gaze, in the manner that trailed her digits along the light silk of curtains. He beheld those motions, aware that the body language revealed details a voice might fail or refuse to convey.
She reminded him of a child in that moment, a poor bloom nigh dying from an absence of light and beauty of things considered trivial, ordinary, took for granted by most. ‘ How long were you caged ? ‘ That query sprang into his mind, haunting him but refusing to cross his tongue — time shall tell enough, he would not want her to inquire anything regarding his grief either.
❝ Mayhaps you asked the wrong questions ❞, laced monotonous timbre what suggestion capped a prolonged pause. An idle shrug rolled his shoulders, fluid stride coming to a brief halt when his guest studied the decor and once again would solely the nearby waterfall’s ceaseless tune fill that returning silence between spoken lines. ❝ That last time. One would be foolish to ignore that the years have brought change upon a number of things, as the seasons lure from the soil different blooms. ❞
the right ones. the question itself was labyrinthineand could lead her down too many paths to follow, and to think that she could one day see that they all be answered was in itself an impossible undertaking. she could not have describedwhat she felt; a myriadof tangled emotions that resembled envy, despairandglee. for she was at the moment in a place where most young women of the east had only heard tall tales of, and she was being entertained not by some hunter in the woods, but by the woodland realm’s king.
hand pulled away to hide in the bustle of her skirts, the young woman’s dry mouth stretched into a nervous, mirthless smile. all was done for the chance to be polite, and to have etiquetteshine through where the weight of her adventure had left her bones quite bare. ❛ icannotdeny that, for the world is hardlythe place it once was, and if luck is on our side then i can only hope that it will continue to change for the better. ❜
skirts sway with every way she turned, and by the way her eyes flicked and glanced at all they could ingest, one could think her lost. morgana appears, if anything, like a plant growing in the wrong biome. a flower in need of shade where it now finds the sun. her extended silence is only met with her laughter, evidentially realizing her own anxious fidgeting, and she apologizes again, profusely this time, and says: ❛ i couldn’t be happier to have so knowledgeable a partner to speak with, but i hope you forgive my lack of prior planning. i know notwhat to say, or what to ask. while once i was surrounded by books and took pleasure in talking… i’m afraid that as a conversational partner, i am veryout of practise, and therefore for such an occasional am verypoor.❜
Some odd form of reliefoozed into an every fiber of his very being when cluelessness surrounding her visions found keen hearing; experience, innumerable encounters with even more individuals granting Thranduil the luxury of trust in the truthfulness behind her words. Avoiding his gaze whenever it became unsettling, this stare seemingly able to glance through flesh and behold the soul itself; bowing her head and unoccupied fingers seeking the cloth of soiled dress to hold onto something. Very courteous in demeanor, she struck him as none seeking to stir trouble —- appeared rather desperate despite all composure greeting his senses. Thranduil presented himself reticent on the subject of the blood possibly or not running through her veins, might wish to peek through raven locks in an attempt to find revealing earshells but opted against such invasive tactics.
‘Will you be leaving, too?’ Sole query sufficed to crease the elvenking’s brows, if mayhaps not for the intimacy in it but the roots to her curiosity. Why would she want to know ? He scanned the stranger thoroughly, lids narrowed briefly by a mere twitch ere fluid gesture of one hand toward hovering paths would announce the end of idly standing around afore the throne. Two guards shall accompany them, the king and his guest whom he led to the gates of meeting chambers; more private and yet not private at all.
❝ Whether you are of mortal or undying blood seems to matter fairly little for now ❞, cut calm timbre into prolonged silence at last. ❝ And ere we understand of which significance those visions are to not only yourself but to this land as well, for I highly doubt those hints rest upon mere whim, you barely waste my time. ❞ With his choice to let her stay at least for awhile, long enough to fill a likely empty stomach and bless exhausted skin with the freshness of water, none but Thranduil himself elected the fate of his time. Endless amounts that he had.
❝ While I refuse to promise answers where I can give none, I wonder; Do you feel closer to the nameless roots of your sights ? Is that needsatisfied? ❞ The question rang as genuine as it was meant, neither skepticism nor mockery lacing his tone whilst he seemed to glide across the twilight-painted path. His ignorance toward the interest in himself possibly sailing was intentional, clung he to the hope that Morgana’s depiction of a vision did in fact not present Legolas.
, bedraggled gown following a few inches behind her at the pace the king had set. to move so freelythat is, to stretch the ache in her knees and no longer be boundbyproprietyto stand in one place before the throne, was a welcomegift to morgana.
❛ it pains me to admit that i, in good faith, cannot say. ❜ followed beyond the gates of these chambers, her eyes began to crawl along the carven decorum, trailing up to the cavernous ceiling and the beams of luminescent twilight that peaked in from the arched windows.
nearby she thought that she could hear the faint trickle of water, and for the briefest moment moment she became immensely distracted by the glitter of silver embroidery on drapes ! she reached out to touch and test the unfamiliar texture. the strange sensation of soft silk pressed to the pad of her thumb, though sillyto her in hindsight, brought life back into her eyes, and curiosity both renewed and cast aside in favor of retaining her earlier disposition.
her voice dropped into an breathless sigh, cutting when whispered, but respectful in its lilt. she was quite severeon herself, and on the notion of such ‘gifts’ being better left unread.❛ i feel as if i know lessthan when i first arrived, and that more questions have since been unearthed in trying to get them solved. still, i am unable to piece together a adequate picture of what is being shown to me… and i know not whether to blame fatigueormyselffor lack of good judgement.❜
Motionless, resembling a monumenthewn from marble more than ever, Thranduil stood at as courteous as comfortable distance. His own attention momentarily pinned to the fabric — how it gently swayed upon receiving curiosity’s touch through a stranger’s fingertips. Rooted in what twilight filled this chamber, MOONLIT strands kissed by faintest tinge of gold, the elf allowed for a lackadaisical smile to replace flawless nonchalance. ❝ For the better ❞, poured that slice of repetition forth in tones audibly skeptical.
There was reason behind that. None the ELVENKING rushed to lay bare just yet, for Morgana’s unexpected laughter stirred in him a breeze of irritation which tilted his crowned head a tad.
Her further confession posed another revelation that suffocated an any grain of speech otherwise escaping his mouth in response. She must have been lonely for a tremendously long time.❝ You have come to gather answers to your visions. The only one here whose forgiveness you need has to be yourself …. ❞ And he gestured for one of the waiting servants to prepare the table with some food and drink, ❝ … for I doubt it makes any difference to me if you find those answers or fail ❞, ere aiming for one of the chairs to halt behind it.
In fluid motion, one richly adorned hand pointed toward a seat across from the one he had picked for himself. Expectation that his soundless suggestion be heeded lifting prominent brows, alow which STEELY eyes averted from his guest in no moment. ❝ This would be the best imaginable opportunity to collect practise, then. We will begin with something simple ❞, the sound of wood grating along stone sent a swiftly fading echo up into the heights. For those chambers all might seem smaller than the great hall, the walls but were all reaching for the sky.
❝ You said you bear hope for this world to continue and change for the better. What meaning does that term hold from that perspective of yours ?Better. ❞ A servant returned to place a wooden platter on the table’s center; it carried a glass bottle filled with spring water and two glasses. Thranduil thanked them with a subtle nod. Returning the gesture, that same servant exited swiftly. ❝ The definitions thereof vary as do the lives roaming our world. ❞
, and she had begun to wonder… had she a right to inflict her questions upon so noble a person for her own benefit? she shuddered to think that she should fail, and that all would be for nowt, or that she should lay her head back down upon when she made her bed within the wilderness with nothing but doubt to fill her head. NO. she had every right. she who had toiled through for years through the dark, who had seen the emptinessof the human soil. she would make no apology for seeking the answers she deserved. still, tempestuous turmoil shown sharplyin every crease around her eyes, though feet did carry her to the end of the table where she sat as directed, though with no small amount of nervousness.
where she hoped to smile at him and alleviate some of her own trepidations, she found only the deepening lines on her face. how confusing he was, electing her to practice, as if she were speaking to a common man off the beaten path between one city and the next. what would she do if her answers were not satisfactory? if they failedto miss their mark or worse, if they offended him? he might as well have been staring down at her with a ghastly grin wrinkled on his lips and a gaze filled with fire.
but it mattered not, did it? she made it here. she had. and not a damnedperson could take that from her.
then she looked on him, and every ounce of callous preparation seemed to fade from eyes to lips into an expression of practiced calm. ❛ better ❜, the young woman echoed again, tasting it as it rolled on the back of her tongue, on the tips of her teeth. ❛ the meaning i propose would be: the propensity not for progress, but for kindness. for the world needs nothing if not more of it between one man and the next. ❜
she hid her hands in her lap and straightened her posture when servant made their hasty exit, and anxiety set back into her eyes. she sat perfectly still, fingers wound tight around one another to pull on hempen rings, and scanned him for anybreak in his demeanor; any little clue that would tell her if she had said the right thing or not.
glancing around the table setting, she added: ❛ i’veoften found that kindness is the trait missing in dealings between people who would benefit of it the most. one never knows the pain or torment another has endured, and therefore how even an ounce of tenderness or goodwill might change their lives for the better. but the world is oft bereft of this. men instead find solace in tearing one another down. and inflicting pain on those differ. i’ve been laughed at for this before. for having a child’s dream. ❜
