(no subject)
Enter an Elf, singing. He is tall, black-haired, gray-eyed, pointy-eared and ridiculously pretty - nothing too remarkable, in other words. His voice, though, is lovely even by the high standards of the Elves.
The song lasts for about thirty seconds before he registers his surroundings and lets the words slowly trail off. His bemused expression says it all: whatever he was expecting, this ain't it.
Greetings, fair people. I am Ecthelion, Lord of the House of the Fountain, once of the fair city of Gondolin and lately of the Halls of Mandos. *This courtesy out of the way, he gives his surroundings another look, this time distinctly annoyed. He sat around in the cold dark Halls for Eru-knows-how-long for this?*
. . . Either the Valar have done a considerable amount of redecorating in Valinor since my youth, or this . . . is not it.
Typist: Mm, obscure Tolkien characters. Ecthelion of the Fountain is from The Silmarillion and assorted writings, particularly "The Fall of Gondolin". This one is taken post-headbutting Gothmog to death and drowning for his troubles.
The song lasts for about thirty seconds before he registers his surroundings and lets the words slowly trail off. His bemused expression says it all: whatever he was expecting, this ain't it.
Greetings, fair people. I am Ecthelion, Lord of the House of the Fountain, once of the fair city of Gondolin and lately of the Halls of Mandos. *This courtesy out of the way, he gives his surroundings another look, this time distinctly annoyed. He sat around in the cold dark Halls for Eru-knows-how-long for this?*
. . . Either the Valar have done a considerable amount of redecorating in Valinor since my youth, or this . . . is not it.
Typist: Mm, obscure Tolkien characters. Ecthelion of the Fountain is from The Silmarillion and assorted writings, particularly "The Fall of Gondolin". This one is taken post-headbutting Gothmog to death and drowning for his troubles.