Bandwagon jumping? No way. (Introduction)
This morning there seems to be another new arrival, coming striding out of the woods holding a sword and looking fairly ticked off. He opens his mouth to say something, but the cry dies as he stares at the Mansion. Back at the woods, then at the Mansion again, an expression of "where the hell am I?" beginning to dawn on his face. The new arrival is certainly tall by human standards, and, well, pretty, even if he is a little dirty, blood on his blade.
The expression of confusion deepens to one of consternation. "Curufin?" He calls, warily. This ain't Doriath. And his brothers are nowhere to be seen. This can't be good.
T: Um. So! Introducing Celegorm, from that one book - yeah, you know, the one with all the elves. Third son of Fëanor and by definition a little crazy. This particular one is dead, though he hasn't figured it out yet.
I totally, totally blame Claire and Meg for this. It's all their fault. :|
The expression of confusion deepens to one of consternation. "Curufin?" He calls, warily. This ain't Doriath. And his brothers are nowhere to be seen. This can't be good.
T: Um. So! Introducing Celegorm, from that one book - yeah, you know, the one with all the elves. Third son of Fëanor and by definition a little crazy. This particular one is dead, though he hasn't figured it out yet.
I totally, totally blame Claire and Meg for this. It's all their fault. :|