[Open: Galadriel] Nor shall anything of my realm endure that a son should inherit.

[lorien_gal]

Another one of hers has gone. Having returned, she found his room empty and devoid of activity. And she knew - it was only confirmation

Comments

[ringsmith]

Their paths do not often cross, and when they do it is not always easy or comfortable, but when Celebrimbor sees Galadriel, perhaps by the lake, he pauses. His line does not possess the foresight found in the line of Finarfin, but as he looks at her he gets the feeling that something is wrong. After a moment he takes a breath and approaches. "Cousin? Are you well?"

[lorien_gal]

Her eyes were set on the other shore, as if it was too far and too close all at once. As if perhaps she might find someone there, waiting.

Galadriel turns, so very slowly, to look at him, eyes quiet.

"Tyelpe," she says softly. There is no harshness in her tone, only sadness.

[ringsmith]

So, not alright, then. Something has obviously gone very, very wrong, but it doesn't seem to be something dangerous... "What has happened?

[lorien_gal]

Her voice is very very quiet. It takes her a moment before she speaks.

Galadriel was never one to hide from the truth.

"He's gone," she says softly.

[not1orthe_other]

Have an Atani, Galadriel.

He'll be somewhere along the mansion, humming to himself perhaps on the way to the library. Along the way he might find her.

Whoa.

She's quite striking to be honest, and yet she looks... familiar. Like something he'd read before. (Tolkien was popular during the seventies.)

[lorien_gal]

Galadriel is quietly looking out the window - she may or may not have noted the youth's wonder-filled stare.

As it is, though, she is quietly brooding and thinking of her brother.

I would request no fourth-walling, please. :-)

[not1orthe_other]

He then shakes his head. Maybe this is just a strange occurrence or just maybe another book, whatever.

"Miss?" He says quietly.

[lorien_gal]

She turns, eerily and slowly, and eyes Cal quietly.

"Aye, lad?"

She can sense there's something there, but she feels him as male, which seems to somehow settle the inner mystery.

[lifeinhallways]

One of her kin's abodes? That would mean a run in with her patient. For a woman with about six weeks left in her pregnancy, Michelle almost looks full-term, which makes leaving Galadriel's kin's abode all but impossible without serious assistance. She does need to make a run into the mansion at some point: practical baby preparations need to be done.

Still, for any and all waddling about, it's done with some energy, and purpose. Nesting's kicked in and it's doubtful Caranthir hasn't had to do so much as pick up a broom since his guests' arrival. Do Elves even deal with brooms?

Michelle's happier up here in the trees, without fear of Jack, until the baby is born. She will deal with him then, when the baby can be safely kept away.

"Was I expecting you?" Pregnancy brain has also settled in a little.

[lorien_gal]

Elves, we are happy to confirm, deal with brooms. There was likely some protesting and quiet attempts at stopping any exertions from both concerned men.

As it is, though, both are out, Mike gone off to the Mansion for some personal business, and their host has excused himself the moment Galadriel showed up.

"You should well be," she replies softly. "Am I not your caretaker?"

Her smile is sad and quiet.

[lifeinhallways]

Hopefully, the men may have decided it was best to allow the pregnant woman one such chore, before she started scrubbing floors, and more strenuous activities. She might also try these things while they're gone, which likely didn't end well -- as in her wearing herself out

[lorien_gal]

Galadriel's hands shift to touch her belly, very softly, and for a moment she's quiet, as though she were communicating with the child Michelle carries, perhaps.

"Our kind's burdens are not yours to bear," she says gently. "And you have your own, which are plenty."

It's not a refusal, though, rather, an excuse, offered. A way out.

"Your child is hale, and eager to see the world," she tells Michelle.

Oh, pray, what world is this child coming to?

[thistle_muncher]

She might spot the critter in the house, an oddly-shaped thing, like a donkey, only smaller and with a simpler shape, like the soft outline of a donkey. It's sitting on a couch, a book open propped against the arm, apparently reading, rather engrossed in the book.

[lorien_gal]

Galadriel will pause in her wandering, tilting her head curiously.

She's never seen this kind of craft before - but Eeyore looks like something Jaenelle could have created.

[thistle_muncher]

The critter looks up, blinking its embroidered eyes and tilting its head to get a better look at her. "Hullo. You're pretty, quite pretty, if you don't mind a donkey saying 'hullo' and saying that you're quite pretty," the critter replies, in a surprisingly deep, mopey voice.

[lorien_gal]

Well, that is unbearably sweet, if a touch strange. Galadriel feels no ill will, though, nor does she sense any darkness in the little creature, and so she kneels to examine him more closely.

"I don't mind," she tells the donkey. "And I will admit you're by far the most interesting creature I've seen in a long time, little one."

[cute_shinigami]

She might come upon Tsuzuki walking by the lake, hands in the pockets of his black topcoat, gazing across the water at the maples and oaks on the opposite shore, all a blaze of reds and golds and ochres. He might seem a bit pensive -- the time of year brings back memories of Kyoto -- but he's easily snapped out of his meditation.

[lorien_gal]

She is in a similar state, and he might notice some movement in the corner of his eye.

Galadriel is blowing on the cooling waters of the lake, Nenya glows, just a little in the afternoon twilight.

[cute_shinigami]

He'll turn toward her, his attention caught by that movement, and pause, with an "Oh..?" of awe. He might come closer, but will keep space between them, respecting her.

[lorien_gal]

Galadriel is quiet a moment. She murmurs a soft litany in Quenya. She is aware of Tsuzuki's presence, now, and it's testament to her trust that she would allow him to see this.

She blows on the surface, and looks into it with quiet, discreet eagerness.