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elrondperelda @ : Practicalities
Morn dawned glorious that day.
Elrond was already at the dinning room dajacent to the family quarters when the sun rose. Unwilling to wake up the servants only just gone to rest some, he himself fetched a simple breakfast and took some small bites of dark bread and some leftover of lamb and cheese. From afar he could see his daughter Arwen playing in the borders of the woods, her movements creating pathways in the fading mist even if her feet left no path to be followed. Elrond enjoyed the serenity of it, knowing in his heart, for good or for evil, that he would loose it in the upcoming days.
However, needs must then as they had ever, and Elrond could not risk loosing any more time than what already was lost to acceptance. With a heavy heart he tore his sight from the lovely maiden dancing in the mist and went to see to the supplies for the journey.
Erestor has let himself in unannounced: it is nigh impossible to knock with both hands around a sizeable stack of papers, and Elrond's door was ajar. Either that, or his mind is elsewhere. It's not in his character to sneak up on Lords, but he finds that he has done just that.
She looks so carefree, Erestor murmurs, without thinking about it (but probably startling Elrond somewhat.)
Apologies, my Lord, he says, more clearly. The door was open - and - he makes an attempt to gesture the load in his hands with his chin, with some success. Well, I apologise for bursting in. It seems you are already busy, though. I hope you'll find these relevant. He puts the papers down and leafs through them in a businesslike fashion. Here we have an inventory, and some projections for what we'll need for the winter, in case you are thinking of sending Thranduil a gift. I've also sketched out what we might say to him - that will need work, I think - and there's a rudimentary dictionary of Northern Silvan in there too. Erestor finally pauses. Good morning, my Lord.
Elrond nearly drops the carefully packed bottles of miruvor on the ground, but manages to catch himself in time. Were his mood a little brighter, he would have found it funny. It seemed the whole valley was acting clumsy of late...
He merely grunts and nodds at Erestor's attempts of explanation. However, before he could get to speak something remotely more articulate, Erestor was launching himself at it. It was disconcerting at best that the Lord of Rivendell could not get a chance to speak in his own parlor.
Morning, he says, still somewhat dazzed. I was already seeing about the supplies, but there is no reason not to take a look. For the discussion... I think we might be terribly lacking in authority in this case.
hmmmmmmmm.... this has some possibilities. Hmm... Hu-hum... A dictionary? How on Ea did you get this?
Erestor flinches at the mention of Ea, and it takes him a full few seconds to realise what Elrond is talking about. Valar... he is truly becoming paranoid.
The Silvan lady Eámanë has given me many materials dealing with the language. I drew it up from her word lists. He suddenly looks anxious. Should there be a section for grammar? It's not so different from our own, but it might be useful... I'd probably better get to work on it.
That can wait, my friend. Do not fret over such little things.
Elrond takes a deep breath and says dreamily, almost absentmindedly.My sons are restless. Some outdoor activities should remedy that, but I wonder if the strain of keepng up with the intrigue and ettiquette that follows it may not cause them some grief. My heart is torn in this.
In any case, the preparatives shan't take much longer, and the company may leave in three or four days. What do you think, meldonya? Is there anyone you would have gone with you, or that you think maybe is not best for this quest? be frank ith me.
At that moment he hears a timid knock, and a pale golden head enter the parlor.
Your timing has always been something of a wonder to me, my darling. Mayhap you feel when you are needed most. Come now, and take a look at these drafts.
Eamane fights the blush valiantly, and strides to where the parchments lie, focusing her eyes on them. The nerve! She had been called, though she had thought it would be a private meeting.
Maybe Elrond would argumentate three was still a private affair, but Eamane doubted it was as innocent as he acted.
It looks good to me.
Well, that's good, says Erestor, a little uncertainly. He glances at Eamane for signs of tiredness and having stayed up dancing all night. As usual, she looks as fresh as a spring flower.
Your sons would be welcome on the journey: none in Rivendell are as valiant, and I may safely say that now Glorfindel isn't here to hear it, he says to Elrond. There is a diplomatic neatness to it, and the sending of the twins might appease Thranduil for Legolas's involvement with the quest of the Ring. Still, Rivendell must be our priority. Would you not rather have them here?
Yes, yes, you are right... That might set the scales back into balance.
As for me... there is not much I can do now, the risks are the same whether they stay or go...
Elrond pauses his reverie, and realizes he is speaking his mind too much. That would be of no importance were he alone with his counsellor, but there was the lady Eamane to take into account.
I will send with you some of the beings dearer to my heart, lady, he says quietly. Then he turns to Erestor. See that you are ready to leave in two days. This cannot be delayed any further.
The first thing that runs through Erestor's mind is 'Two days? He'd imagined it would happen at a leisurely pace - a few weeks, maybe, would be considered rapid diplomacy. Speeches would be written and re-written, gifts tinkered with... all this took time.
Still, given the season and the snow, it might take them months to get to Thranduil's realm. Somehow, that wasn't a comforting thought.
Two days... aye, my Lord. I'll see to it.
I know you will. Lord Elrond shoots a grateful glance to his friends, and then turns his attention once more to the reports.
I will try and make the party sizeable enough you may have safety in numbers, he declares, not one hint of pain showing in his stance, though he is once again forced to remember that hideous incident when Celebrian had to be rescue from the orcs' dent, so battered and bruised it had toook everything in him to revive some of her spirit. She was safe now, safe at Eldamar, waiting for the day they would all be reunited agin.
Do you have anything else to discuss with me? Surely it was rude to send them away, but the lord needed some time to gather himself back together, and the couple needed to sort out whatever it was that made them jumpy with each other. Tension was never good, and should be avoided if possible, specially when one was alone in the wilds.
Eamane cannot help but being shocked at the unseemingly abrupteness of lord Elrond- a lord, that she could tell by experience, hardly ever taken to mood swings like Thranduil. She had but being called in, and now she was being rushed out!
Something ought to be the matter. It was just not like him at all.
She was not sure she wanted to pry.
Erestor had told me of your desire to send some artisans and bards along with us, she finally said,I will discuss with him what options we have, and bring our choices to you later for approval.
Elrond does not seem to be paying a whole lot of attention, so she hurries out of the veranda, trying to conceal her bafflement.
With your leave, my lord.