(Untitled)

[broodingelf]

An(other) Elf, yes. This one comes walking out from the trees, looking as though he's come walking a long way: his clothes (modern, denim and cotton) are worn and dusty, his hair wind-tangled. What he doesn't look is surprised to be here. It might seem familiar -- after a point everything begins to seem familiar -- more likely, he's just been

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[sissy_queen]

And here’s a Medieval Queen, lost somewhat. She notices the Elf, doesn’t quite note that he’s not a human, and closes the distance, stopping close enough, though, shyly.

“Pardon me?”

[broodingelf]

He'd be very worried if she did notice! He's been passing for a long time now, though possibly a lot of it was people not having a point of comparison. He looks at her kindly, notes the shyness (sympathizes), the old-fashioned air. "Yes?"

[sissy_queen]

"I seem to have lost my way, good sir. Might you direct me to Sir Percival's home?"

[broodingelf]

He looks apologetic. "I'm afraid I'm just a traveler here; I do not know the way."

[sissy_queen]

She looks down, disappointed. "T'is been a long walk, and I am tired."

She sighs.

[broodingelf]

"Will you sit a moment, then?" He nods to his nice grassy bank. "I can offer only water, but it is fresh."

[sissy_queen]

She nods, sweetly. "T'is generous of you, to offer, good sir."

[broodingelf]

"It's no matter." He unscrews his canteen, pours some water into the cap and offers it. "Where does your Sir Percival normally live?"

[sissy_queen]

She accepts it graciously, holding the cap daintily, with elegance and regality, even for a young monarch such as her.

“He lives in a cottage, in the woods,” she indicates, smiling. “But I seem to have lost my way.”

Basically, she randomly hopped on a trail because the flowers were pretty. Way to go, Gwen.

[broodingelf]

She's sweet. And not flail-inducing! He likes her. "I might try to help you find it, unless it's too late."

Oh, Gwen. There have been worse ideas, though.

[sissy_queen]

Not flail-inducing? We are curious. And goodie. She likes him too.

"Oh, my thanks," she exclaims. "T'would please my Lord greatly if you did, as I have escaped without an escort."

Naive Gwen. She is so trusting. And Maglor just made an ally for life, because Gwen recompenses small favors very disproportionately.

[broodingelf]

Flail-inducing: undead relatives who make him think he's hallucinating again. Not flail-inducing: adorable medieval queens.

Now, luckily for her and her capacity for trust, his mass-murdering days are over. Have a smile. "I would be happy to, Lady."

[sissy_queen]

"My thanks," she smiles, picks a little daisy and puts it in her hair.

"And who should I be grateful to, good sir?" A dazzling, innocent smile.

Well. Sagramore et al. might argue that she is also a mass murderer, what with onsetting war with her adulterous ways. Thankfully, she doesn't remember that part. She'd be highly disturbed, otherwise.

[broodingelf]

"My name is Maglor, though you need not be grateful." He stands, offers a hand to help her up. "Who have I the honour of accompanying?"

[sissy_queen]

"Gwenevere," she says, not disclosing her title, for fear of having a reaction similar to that of... her nephew. Who incidentally is older than her. This is so weird.

She takes his hand, smiling graciously. She even blushes, just a little.

[broodingelf]

Possibly disconcertingly, this one's big on poetry, stories of all kinds, knows most tales just by virtue of having been around to listen to them all. "A regal name indeed," he tells her. "Now, I see a fair number of woods around here. Which shall we try?"