Please pick only one post type!
Softly in the gloom the heard the birds / Singing afar in Nargothrond / The sighing of the sea beyond / Beyond the western world, on sand / On sand of pearls in Elvenland. Indie RP for Finrod Felagund. Mun uses they/them pronouns.
Oops

slitheringinarda:

“It was.” The serpent answered, awake now and amused with how startled the tall elf had been when he’d spoken a moment before. He did not know this elf and, thus, felt no need to hide his voice for fear of recognition. “You would have said likewise if you woke to someone poking at you with a twig.“ He added in a mutter, slowly shifting his long body to begin slithering out of the bag.

Sluggish he was still, cool of body, and though he disliked the brightness of the sun at times the warmth was needed. After removing himself from the bag the snake slithered up to find a nice place to bask while the conversation continued. 

Finrod still felt silly as he stood there, looking at the snake as though it had sprouted wings. "I must say, one does not often meet a talking snake!”

He wondered vaguely if someone was playing a trick on him - after all, if animals were known to speak surely he’d have found out about it by now! But then, this could be an isolated incident. He resisted the urge to grab some parchment and make detailed notes on the creature, reserving judgement until he’d investigated more. He still wasn’t sure this was not an elaborate jest.

Lordofnargothrond entered the Forest

wendawen:

“I do not know. I assume there are but I cannot prove it.” Wendawen was being honest, not wanting to lie to an elf because it just felt wrong. She started to walk again, careful to stay on the path and avoid stepping through the puddles of water left from the rain.

“But sometimes.. The paths seem to change. The trees, they seem to move, and I do not blame it on the wind. Sometimes, the tracks disappear entirely. It is quite scary, really. I suppose that those are Ents, but how can I say if they are not speaking or blinking?”

Finrod fell into step with the woman, keeping pace with her as she strode through the wood. He thought about her question carefully.

“There are things older than the ground we stand on that neither speak nor blink, and yet we know they are there.” He murmured, frowning slightly, “Though I would have thought that the shepherds of the trees would attempt to converse with us.”

He looked at her thoughtfully. “You say the trees move? How so? Perhaps the name of tree shepherd is more than just a child’s tale, and the Ents really do herd the trees across the land.”

ask-nazgul7:

It hurt to stare at the thing which Nazgul #7 discovered.

The wraith’s brow furrowed; he squinted, then blinked, then closed his eyes altogether and yet the object burned within his vision. Ere the temptation to claw at his eyes with his gauntlet-covered fingers became too great, the Nazgul twisted his head away and, with a shudder, hissed, “For Eru’s sake, spare it no more than a glance!”

In all honesty, for all the time he spent studying it ere Finrod arrived, the wraith never discerned its very shape, much less its function or origin; his eyes saw it and yet did not seem to see it. ‘Tis a sort of defense mechanism, perhaps? Did the monstrosity leave it here, and how long shall it remain in this state? As of then, the wraith had no cause to fear the object, for aside from burning his eyes, it did nothing to harm him; thus, his curiosity overcoming all else, he decided to glance at the thing once more.

When the feeling of revulsion passed, Nazgul #7 straightened his head and opened his eyes, and beheld the object. 

Within that glance, which lasted but a few seconds yet seemed to stretch for years, the wraith saw little more than the previous time, yet what he did see became vital. The object had neither rectangular shape nor circular shape nor triangular shape; non-Euclidean may be the term applied, for the lines of the object bent and twisted, coming to no end or ending short at times, and no discernible shape may be found in its parts, save that the Nazgul could only describe it as several layers of triangles and circles as if drawn by an infant and redrawn every moment. The object’s color was gray, it shimmered where the darkness of the shade covered it and withered where a few rays of sun touched its surface, and in the wraith’s vision the object seemed to expand and condense at will. 

“‘Tis nothing I have ever seen, either within Arda or conceived in dreams,” muttered Nazgul #7, twisting his head away once more.

The thing was nothing Finrod had seen before, and he instinctively looked up from it to the Nazgul. In the seconds after he had looked away, Finrod found himself unable to remember anything about the object - no shape, no colour, no form. He decided that he must steal another glance, just to assure himself.

He put a hand over his face and looked through his fingers, but the oscillation throbbed behind his eyes and he quickly looked away once more. Instinctively, Finrod removed his cloak and threw it over the object, ensuring that they could both talk freely without it’s strange form pulsating in their peripheral vision.

“Logic would state that it is connected to the creature that has been terrorising the villages,” he mused, holding the bridge of his nose to rid himself of the last vestiges of the strange feeling that had come upon him when faced with the strange object.

“If it is, I fear to touch it. Though perhaps it could be of value sometime in the future, especially if we are to face this creature alone.”

Finrod’s ears had begun to ring, and he wondered whether the thing the Nazgul had found was something to do with it. He pushed it to the back of his mind - they had a creature to slay. Despite himself, he felt drawn to the object, as if it had an irresistible pull outside the laws of nature themselves. He shuddered involuntarily.

“What say you? If we are to continue on our quest, perhaps it could prove useful.”

Elladan & Finrod

elladanofrivendell:

lordofnargothrond:

“Can’t your great uncle take an interest?”, said Finrod, placing his hand on his chest and pretending to be offended. Then he grinned again and reclined back, putting his arms behind his head. “Take your time, anyhow. It’s not as if you don’t have eternity to find the right elleth… or ellon, if that’s what you prefer.”

“Oh, but he can,” the younger of the two gave with a wry chuckle, followed by a boyish grin, “but he may not get an honest answer.” It was but a joke, for Elladan was not one to simply lie. Be cryptic? Yes, he would do that — but not lie. “I feel as though I lack a set preference — but you will be the first to be informed once I do find the right one, Finrod.”

“You are just like your father,” Finrod smiled softly, “always with the riddles. What is it with your family that you can never say what you think? You’re like a born diplomat.” He laughed, and took another swig of the - rather strong, he thought - mead and grinned. “Some people never do,” Finrod nodded, “find a single preference, I mean. Perhaps you never will.”

New people in the harbour

narwafinda:

Firie straightened again, still a bit unsure. Like a friend… thinking about it for a moment she then decided against it, it would be unwise to pull pranks and make fun of the elven lord. “Well, I suppose I should introduce me first, then…? I’m Firie and you will stay in the house I share with my parents, Istion and Minna.” She smiled warmly. “I think you might see my father tonight, while we may meet my mother earlier. So… if you would follow me, I can help you with… whatever you might need before we set for a tour of the city.” She paused for a moment, ready to turn but then looked at him. “Do you eat… fish? Because I’ve heard Elves are only for… vegetables, fruits…”

Twenty years, he had said. All her life. He had been travelling around for nearly as long as she had been in the world; briefly she wondered how many places he had seen and the wonders that could be there.

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Firie,” said Finrod, smiling down at the young woman, “And I look forward to meeting your parents. They must be wonderful to have raised one so polite as yourself.” He was glad the girl had smiled - he was beginning to feel as if he’d made her feel uncomfortable. He adored meeting and learning about others, and the customs of Men specifically intrigued him, but he knew he could sometimes be too forward with strangers.

With a small laugh, Finrod thought over the girl’s question. Yes, his kind were more of the vegetable sort, but that had not always been possible for him in the last few hundred years, and Finrod had begun to forget the fact. “There aren’t many fruits and vegetables on a sailing ship, miss,” he explained with a thoughtful hum, “and I have had to adapt to mu surroundings. I should not trouble yourself with finding more, uh, suitable elvish fare - I shall eat what is offered.” With a small glance at the pack which had once been stocked with food but was now empty, Finrod gave a small, wistful sigh at the thought of good food. “And be thankful for it, I should think,” he added.

baggins-ofbag-end:

lordofnargothrond:

Finrod gave a quiet cough and shuffled his feet at the Hobbit’s words. “Well, you see,” he began, before deciding against it. Best just to show the Hobbit. Pulling back a strand of his golden hair, Finrod revealed his pointed ear.
“I am an elf, and I think I know of the company of which you speak. I had thought the Dwarf king was only opposed to Thranduil and his kin.”

“O-oh….” Bilbo stammered, feeling a bit stupid at the fact he hadn’t noticed that before. “Well I’m sure Thorin and the rest—especially Thorin—dislike them the most out of elves but he’s actually shown distaste to all elves as far as I’ve seen.” Bilbo frowned, “I’ll talk to them, I will. We stayed in Rivendell and they elves were kind to us there. Maybe they’ve softened up more on the topic because of that.”

“It matters not,” Finrod smiled, pulling a small package from his pack, “I have some spare lembas, if you’d like some. I was saving it for later, but I might as well share it!”

At the mention of Rivendell, Finrod looked at the Hobbit blankly. It took a while for him to come up with a name. Imladris he thought it might have been called, by his own kin at least. “Rivendell…” he looked around a tad hopelessly, “Is that near here, then?”