Haldir of Lothlórien (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
marchwarden) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
towerofanimus2012-07-10 02:59 pm
marchwarden) wrote in towerofanimus2012-07-10 02:59 pm
Entry tags:
A Welcoming End to a New Beginning
Characters: Haldir of Lothlorien & Whomever else joins
Setting: Room 2-20, then the open halls of the Tower
Format: Action or Prose, whichever is fine. Starting with prose
Summary: Baffled and startled by his sudden presence here, a lone Elf decides to explore the Tower's Halls.
Warnings: N/A
A sense of dread washed over the proud Elf as his fingers curled around the cold steel pressed around his neck. Haldir didn't know what to expect when he first awoke. His dreary gaze was welcomed by a white ceiling that lingered above his paralyzed form. He could see nothing else at first but Haldir could tell he was resting on a bed of some kind. Remembering well that the last bed he slept in was in Lorien, the dread he first felt earlier threatened to consume him now. Was this Mandos' doing? Had he finally come to the end of his long life at last? If so, what sort of judgment will be had for him? The Elf had always prided himself in not fearing the unknown but now he finds the same fear he once scoffed to be his only comfort now.
Attempting to rise from the bed for a second time, Haldir breathed a sigh of relief once his limbs finally responded to his will. Long pale hair spilled over the Elf's shoulders, tousled and knotted with perspiration. A wave of brief nausea welcomed Haldir as he forced himself into a sitting position on the bed, but he didn't worry. Less concerned about whatever wounds he might still possess from that horrors that invaded Helm's Deep, Haldir found himself more curious than alarmed by his current surroundings. Of course, he was a tad baffled by the horrid white attire he was dressed within especially since the bodysuit clung to his form like second skin. Wondering as of how and when he was given such awkward clothing, his dark cobalt gaze spotted something worthy of his intrigue at the foot of the bed. It was a chest of some kind, a brown oak-wood chest that seemed to be tightly sealed. Eying it would much suspicion, Haldir turned his gaze away from the chest and looked up towards the ceiling again.
“...Where am I?” He questioned to no one as he carefully placed his feet down against the cold floor. Standing proved to be a tad difficult at first for Haldir but soon the muscles in his legs complied and he stood evenly off the bed. He gave the oak-wood chest a second glance as he approached it. Carefully touching and studying the chest with his nimble fingers, the Elf balked once he heard a distant click inside. “It's open?” Haldir muttered as he pushed the chest's lid up. “As old as the tales claim to be, never once have I heard of the Valar bestowing gifts upon the fallen.” Noticing that these said “gifts” were none other than an assortment of Elven armament and weaponry, Haldir closed the chest hastily after prying loose a long gray and silver robe out. This, like his other items, were also made by Elven hands, no undoubtedly tailored in his home of Lothlórien. Dressing hastily out of these offending white garbs, Haldir takes the conveniently placed blade out of the chest and makes his way towards the nearest door. However, before he could take his leave, a letter he didn't notice upon the bed beside him catch his notice. It's addressed to him and him only, but what's written there doesn't make a lick of sense to the marchwarden.
“Destroyed?” He questioned with an elegant arch of his brow. “Has Sauron and his minions won?” The silence in the room was nearly deafening at this point. “This cannot...be.” In need for answers and in need of them now, Haldir takes his leave from the room and marches into the halls with his blade ready to be drawn.
Setting: Room 2-20, then the open halls of the Tower
Format: Action or Prose, whichever is fine. Starting with prose
Summary: Baffled and startled by his sudden presence here, a lone Elf decides to explore the Tower's Halls.
Warnings: N/A
A sense of dread washed over the proud Elf as his fingers curled around the cold steel pressed around his neck. Haldir didn't know what to expect when he first awoke. His dreary gaze was welcomed by a white ceiling that lingered above his paralyzed form. He could see nothing else at first but Haldir could tell he was resting on a bed of some kind. Remembering well that the last bed he slept in was in Lorien, the dread he first felt earlier threatened to consume him now. Was this Mandos' doing? Had he finally come to the end of his long life at last? If so, what sort of judgment will be had for him? The Elf had always prided himself in not fearing the unknown but now he finds the same fear he once scoffed to be his only comfort now.
Attempting to rise from the bed for a second time, Haldir breathed a sigh of relief once his limbs finally responded to his will. Long pale hair spilled over the Elf's shoulders, tousled and knotted with perspiration. A wave of brief nausea welcomed Haldir as he forced himself into a sitting position on the bed, but he didn't worry. Less concerned about whatever wounds he might still possess from that horrors that invaded Helm's Deep, Haldir found himself more curious than alarmed by his current surroundings. Of course, he was a tad baffled by the horrid white attire he was dressed within especially since the bodysuit clung to his form like second skin. Wondering as of how and when he was given such awkward clothing, his dark cobalt gaze spotted something worthy of his intrigue at the foot of the bed. It was a chest of some kind, a brown oak-wood chest that seemed to be tightly sealed. Eying it would much suspicion, Haldir turned his gaze away from the chest and looked up towards the ceiling again.
“...Where am I?” He questioned to no one as he carefully placed his feet down against the cold floor. Standing proved to be a tad difficult at first for Haldir but soon the muscles in his legs complied and he stood evenly off the bed. He gave the oak-wood chest a second glance as he approached it. Carefully touching and studying the chest with his nimble fingers, the Elf balked once he heard a distant click inside. “It's open?” Haldir muttered as he pushed the chest's lid up. “As old as the tales claim to be, never once have I heard of the Valar bestowing gifts upon the fallen.” Noticing that these said “gifts” were none other than an assortment of Elven armament and weaponry, Haldir closed the chest hastily after prying loose a long gray and silver robe out. This, like his other items, were also made by Elven hands, no undoubtedly tailored in his home of Lothlórien. Dressing hastily out of these offending white garbs, Haldir takes the conveniently placed blade out of the chest and makes his way towards the nearest door. However, before he could take his leave, a letter he didn't notice upon the bed beside him catch his notice. It's addressed to him and him only, but what's written there doesn't make a lick of sense to the marchwarden.
“Destroyed?” He questioned with an elegant arch of his brow. “Has Sauron and his minions won?” The silence in the room was nearly deafening at this point. “This cannot...be.” In need for answers and in need of them now, Haldir takes his leave from the room and marches into the halls with his blade ready to be drawn.
no subject
Offering Legolas a heated glare once the Prince warned him not to strike at their captors, Haldir's indigo gaze soon softened as he offered the younger a kind smile. "Shall try to abide your wishes, mellonamin." He said with a faint sigh. "However, do not forget that I'm a warrior at heart. 'Tis my duty to challenge those who would dare imprison me for false crimes. I shall do my best to keep my blade sheathed." With that oath said, Haldir focuses his attention on Gandalf's doing. It seems the wizard's been busy, a welcomed truth that Haldir couldn't help feel but somewhat relieved about. With Gandalf here, surely there must be someway they can escape from this Tower. Surely.
"Who is this 'princess' you speak of?" He arched his brow at Legolas.
no subject
"I could never forget. But even warriors of your skill will find that the magic these people have at their disposal is far greater than any we have seen before. I watched a boy being stopped in midair last month for attempting to attack one of our keepers. And I saw them kill people for the sake of a contest among themselves." For a moment, sorrow flashes across his face but he's quickly serious once again. All of those people were alive again now and healthy, if not mentally wounded after that. And while he had managed to survive it, he wished he hadn't.
The question about Zelda did make Legolas smile again and this topic was one he could easily stand to think about.
"The Lady Zelda is the ruler of a kingdom called Hyrule. Her people appear similar to us but they lack the long lives of the Elves. She's incredibly intelligent for one so young. And she must be very capable if Gandalf chose her."
no subject
"She certainly must be quite capable for the wizard to trust her so."
no subject
"I'm certain that she is. Or that she has the potential for it. Gandalf often sees much more than the rest of us do and before we can."
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Just what makes the Hylians so different from their kind? Haldir couldn't help but wonder. "Aye, that he does." He replied with a faint smile. "The wizard is as wise as Lady Galadriel herself despite lacking the powers she possesses." He toyed with his food now, eying the oatmeal with great disdain. Instead of shoving another spoonful to his mouth, the Elf reached over for the fruit.
"Surely if Gandalf the Grey is amongst us, we can overcome the horrors we face."
no subject
"Gandalf the Grey. It has been long since I heard him called that. By my time, he is Gandalf the White and he had returned after falling with the Balrog. That is, however, a story better told by Gandalf I think."
Oh yes, it would be much better told by Gandalf. At the sight of Haldir reaching for fruit, and seeing a bowl that wasn't quite empty, Legolas laid a hand lightly on Haldir's arm.
"As much as I dislike saying it, I recommend finishing the oatmeal. I've heard several tales of those who didn't and ended up being sick."
no subject
Now looking a tad disturbed for that bit of a news, the Elf's eyes darted towards Legolas once the young Prince stopped his greedy hands. "Ah." He sighed as he moved away from the bowl of deliciously tempting fruits. "I wish not to become ill, therefore I suppose I can bear to finish this...meal." Determined but unwilling so, Haldir picks up his spoon again and eats.
no subject
"We tracked them down, Riders of Rohan had slain the creatures and the Hobbits fled into Fangorn Forest. Inside we found no Hobbits, though they turned out to be safe, but we did encounter a white wizard. Gandalf was not as dead as we had thought."
Really, Haldir, it's all for your own good. Legolas knows how other Elves pride themselves on their dignity and since there were so few of them here, he felt sure dignity would be a high priority.
"At least you shall never be forced to eat it again. You'll be able to indulge in whatever catches your eye after this."