i! hate! everything about you!

[mostcraftiest]

Curufin is not happy. In fact, one might go so far as to say that Curufin is very, very angry. He doesn't show it, of course, other than perhaps a certain preoccupation with his one remaining blade - the unfavored bow is stored in his room, safely (he hopes, ohh if she dares, if she dares set foot in his territory or near him again she will pay for

Comments

[wouldnottakeit]

Faramir barely notices the other's presence at first, a sign that he is becoming far too accustomed to the presence of elves in general. He continues along with his walking and reading, a bad and potentially dangerous habit, though one that is hard to break. The sound of a knife being sharpened manages to break through the spell woven by his First Age poems however, and he glances at both the weapon and the elf a bit curiously for a moment.

[mostcraftiest]

Probably a bad habit! We recommend that Faramir pay a bit more attention, because at least a few of them are still dangerous. Not all of them, but a good few. Especially where it concerns their pride. On the other hand, this is Curufin and it's not certain what is a good idea around him.

Said elf is watching Faramir, and has been since he came into his field of vision, from under lowered brows, eyes steel grey as always and something of suspicion in his bearing. Of course, difficult to say if it is just the usual wariness of any man or elf accustomed to war toward an apparent stranger.

There is something, though, something half, vaguely reminiscent of Beren and his damned quest. Just for a moment, hatred flickers in his eyes, before he masks it and sheaths the knife, standing. "Good day."

[wouldnottakeit]

"Good day, my lord," Faramir replies in passable (if Gondorian accented) Quenya, bowing politely and closing his book after memorizing what page he was on. The wariness of the elf is duly noted, but he is willing to blame it on constantly being at war, after all, it is an expression he too often shares. "Are you newly come to this place?"

[mostcraftiest]

It is passable, though, and understandable, which is good enough. His smile is as cool and slightly distant as ever, as though he can't quite care enough to focus completely on whoever he's talking to. Though it might be better that way. "Not so much anymore," he says, "But as things go, still very much ...unused...to the change." It does not help that everyone he knows, especially his siblings, seem to have lost their minds.

[wouldnottakeit]

"I fear the change does take some getting used to, my lord, but few find it to be altogether ill," he says, with a smile as he thinks of returned brothers and a noticeable lack of fathers and wars.

[mostcraftiest]

Yes, but there is an Oath to fulfill and he can't do it from here. D:< This is a clear problem. However, he manages to keep his expression mostly neutral, which is really better than the alternatives. "Truly? I would think most - unsettled to find themselves abducted from their place of birth or living."

[wouldnottakeit]

Faramir's hint of a smile turns slightly self-mocking before disappearing entirely behind a more courtly expression. "Perhaps I am guilty of projecting my own feelings on the subject onto the rest of the population, my lord, for I cannot know all their minds. But this place has returned my brother for me and so I cannot dislike it."

[mostcraftiest]

For a moment, he feels a flicker of guilt that he doesn't feel the same relief over having his own brother Telvo returned. Because he doesn't. All he feels is uncertain. He made his choice, he reminds himself, firmly, and Curufin puts it out of his mind.

"Then you are fortunate," still trying to place how this man could be related to despised Beren, if he is. "If not in losing a brother in the first place." A slight pause. "Your name?"

[wouldnottakeit]

"Faramir son of Denethor, the lord steward of Gondor. My brother is Boromir," he adds in the off chance that they may have met.

[mostcraftiest]

Hating his ignorance, "Gondor?" And a slight pause, frown deepening. "Of what line, then?" Determined to place this man, somehow. It frustrates him that he can't at once.

[wouldnottakeit]

"The Hurinionath, my lord." He pauses, wondering when the elf came from and how much history he knows. "Dunedain. Men of the west who escaped the ruin of Numenor."

[mostcraftiest]

He does know that name, vaguely, though not well. He makes a note to examine it more closely. "I see," he says, simply, and gives Faramir another looking over, half considering and weighing. Eventually, "Curufinwë, son of Fëanor." And that's pride.