01 ✰ video;
[ It takes Galadriel several moments to orient herself, for at first there is only pain and discordance. She feels it keenly; heart and soul, body and mind. She is no longer in Arda marred. Her connection to those lands, strengthened over several millennia, has dwindled. Moreover, the presence of her husband is torn from her, leaving only emptiness where his mind used to dwell for years unaccounted, at times fainter or stronger, but always accompanying hers.
Abax gets a visual of the morgue’s ceiling, the dimness illuminated by a gentle, ethereal glow of one whom has seen the light of the Two Trees. The feed jostles and spins as the phone tumbles to the ground soon after, catching a very brief glimpse of a luminous face framed by silver-gold hair in the process. The device lands with a clank and resumes displaying the ceiling, obviously ignored by the person in the room.
The deep but melodious voice that breaks the silence long at last is slightly breathless from the remaining disorientation. ]
No tree-tangled dale of Endor is this, no gleaming shore of Aman. Had I any memory of passing from fair Lórien, I would still daresay the halls of Lord Námo would not bear a semblance so dank. [ There’s a quiet, wry hum. She’s not best pleased by this turn of events, but neither is she intimidated by it. Her tone sharpens a little. ] A fine riddle, then. Such potent snare to trap the unsuspecting, but by whose design and for which intent?
[ Unseen, a slight strain of discomfort lingers on her pale features, golden brows furrowing lightly as she reaches out with her mind. Hidden from everyone’s eyes but her fellow ringbearers, Nenya hums upon her finger, cool and soothing like spring rain. The ache within lessens and she begins to feel steadier, stronger. A part of her is diminished by this occurrence, but she is not without her senses; there is life further away, but also some nameless shadow she can’t identify.
But first things first. She needs to figure out where she is… and to find some proper clothing. ]
Abax gets a visual of the morgue’s ceiling, the dimness illuminated by a gentle, ethereal glow of one whom has seen the light of the Two Trees. The feed jostles and spins as the phone tumbles to the ground soon after, catching a very brief glimpse of a luminous face framed by silver-gold hair in the process. The device lands with a clank and resumes displaying the ceiling, obviously ignored by the person in the room.
The deep but melodious voice that breaks the silence long at last is slightly breathless from the remaining disorientation. ]
No tree-tangled dale of Endor is this, no gleaming shore of Aman. Had I any memory of passing from fair Lórien, I would still daresay the halls of Lord Námo would not bear a semblance so dank. [ There’s a quiet, wry hum. She’s not best pleased by this turn of events, but neither is she intimidated by it. Her tone sharpens a little. ] A fine riddle, then. Such potent snare to trap the unsuspecting, but by whose design and for which intent?
[ Unseen, a slight strain of discomfort lingers on her pale features, golden brows furrowing lightly as she reaches out with her mind. Hidden from everyone’s eyes but her fellow ringbearers, Nenya hums upon her finger, cool and soothing like spring rain. The ache within lessens and she begins to feel steadier, stronger. A part of her is diminished by this occurrence, but she is not without her senses; there is life further away, but also some nameless shadow she can’t identify.
But first things first. She needs to figure out where she is… and to find some proper clothing. ]