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LEA。 ([personal profile] redshifted) wrote in [community profile] herobox2013-12-03 11:53 pm

we still remember, we who dwell


[ This is... well, this is quite the world, Lea thinks to himself, taking another tentative sip of the strong ale in front of him. He, Riku, and Kairi had touched down a few days ago tracking a massive darkness reading from this guy... They've tracked the guy down, but here's where it gets dicey: guy in question is sitting on a massive Heartless army, but his PR is impeccable. Round these parts - these parts being a small country called Eregion - the guy calls himself Annatar, which apparently means Lord of Gifts. And he's in pretty good with the populace.

Riku and Kairi are on the other side of this side of the mountains trying to fight some Heartless and get a reading on what kind of strength they're looking at here. Lea is on a vaguely diplomatic slash reconnaissance mission to get a reading on exactly how good this "Annatar"'s cred is with the locals. Which, you know, he was doing... but it's late in the night, and Lea is really skinny, and this booze is pretty strong for what he's used to (read: none). So now, he's just kind of staring off into space and trying not to think about all the stuff he's done wrong in his life. He's sitting at a table in some tavern that seems to host a lot of these elf dudes, dressed in casual elf-dude clothing to blend in, which he might have been able to do if it weren't for his massive mane of red hair. ]
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[personal profile] lastoftheline 2013-12-04 05:31 am (UTC)(link)
[The sun's just dipped below the horizon, and Celebrimbor is out of the forge, which makes this an early day. Now he could have gone to the huge hall where the Gwarth-i-Mirdain often whiled away their evening, swimming though those rarefied circles. And Annatar would be at his elbow.

Except that Annatar isn't here. Gone off for his mysterious travels as he so often did. And Celebrimbor isn't in his hall, but instead in a tavern, well on his way towards getting drunk.

But his grey eyes are still clear, and light upon an inhabitant who does not belong.

The red hair is bright, vibrant in its intensity, and it is a true red, not an auburn, but a straight red, garish as a handful of rubies. But more than that, it is clear that the young man is out of place, or more aptly put, simply didn't belong. He appears to be a mortal man as well, another difference to set him apart, but it runs deeper than that and Celebrimbor can not put his finger on it.

Well there is nothing for it then.

Standing up (and making sure to take his goblet with him), Celebrimbor strides over to this strange man, sitting across from him without asking. Idly, he runs a hand through his short-cropped hair, and states simply.]

Where are you from? [His Westron is heavily accented, but clear.]
Edited 2013-12-04 05:37 (UTC)
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[personal profile] lastoftheline 2013-12-04 06:00 am (UTC)(link)
[Not an answer to his question, Celebrimbor notices.] That much I can tell. [His head cocks. There's an odd pause in the man's words, despite the arrested gaze that he's pinned Celebrimbor with. And the accent...is strange, nothing that he had ever heard before. But, well, if this man wasn't going to tell a random stranger where he was from, Celebrimbor can't really blame him. Though the days are better now, the cold breath of the black days still curled down the nape of many. Wariness, either passed down through the generations or learned is still marked on most faces, or at least most with a healthy amount of sense.]

Are you going to Eriador then? Or perhaps Rhovianon? [The tip of his finger, scarred from an old accident at the forge traces the rim of his cup.]
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[personal profile] lastoftheline 2013-12-04 06:30 am (UTC)(link)
[Celebrimbor's brow arches.] East Rovan you say. [A smile winks out, teeth glinting white and straight, ruthless as a shark.] A land I have never heard of, and I have been in this land for well over eight hundred years. [He pauses as he surveys the man before him. He is clearly hiding something, but what, Celebrimbor cannot guess. He doesn't seem evil, but evil could wear many guises, some more innocuous than others.]

What would you know of monsters? [Celebrimbor's words are soft, deadly-dark as he stares down at the hand extended out to him. The moment stretches, uncomfortable, but Celebrimbor unbends enough to clasp the hand in his. He feels callouses, but not the pattern either sword or axe would create. He frowns.]

Lea, mmm? [He tries out the name, the single short syllable, the sound odd and foreign on his tongue.] I'm Celebrimbor.
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[personal profile] lastoftheline 2013-12-04 02:07 pm (UTC)(link)
[There's a change in the other man's demeanor, subtle, but Celebrimbor can feel a tension tightening around Lea's frame. Celebrimbor knows that tension, knows the way it would make your neck and jaw ache, your stomach churn. And that smile? It's like looking into mirror.]

Quite a while? [Laughter puffs out from between the elf's lips, soft and faintly bitter.] Yes, I suppose it is. [A while long enough to see the fall of all of the great elven kingdoms. To see the world split in two from the fury of the Valar, as they tried to saves the ashes that were left.]

He leans forward, brooding now, the frown deepening, and then shook himself, trying to force himself from the black mood. He looks over at the other man, the smile hiding pain, and feels an sudden, odd, tug of kinsmanship. The frown smooths out.]

There are others far older than I. [He cocks his head, looking Lea, and asks.] And how old are you?

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[personal profile] lastoftheline 2013-12-04 05:09 pm (UTC)(link)
[Twenty-five. By the standards of elves, little more than a baby, but by the reckoning of men already full-grown. Odder still to realize that the life span of men did not reach the time that it took an elf to reach their maturity. Fleeting lives, but from what Celebrimbor saw, bright and fierce, like a flame, like a bonfire. They burned through their existence, greedily gobbled it up, always demanding more.

Be careful of what you wish for, mortals.

But Celebrimbor shook himself, once again pulling himself out of his thoughts, focusing once again on the man before him. His mouth twisted at the comment, the corner turning up in a smile, perhaps wry, but no longer his cruel shark grin.]

Flattery I see. [His words, which before were cool and clipped come out as a warmer drawl. The smile widens slightly.] Did you expect something different from an elf?
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[personal profile] lastoftheline 2013-12-04 06:22 pm (UTC)(link)
[One dark brow cocks as Lea continues to stumble over the words in that odd accent of his. Celebrimbor lets him stew in silence for a moment as he takes a long drink from his cup, the wine rich on his tongue. His smile does not diminish.]

Now that depends on the legend doesn't it? I heard some of the Easterlings are convinced that drink the blood of newborns to stay young, and that some of us can kill with a single glance. [Suddenly, he focuses his sharp gaze on Lea, and the air seems to crackle about him, charged like the air before a lightning strike.

But it's over as soon as it starts, before it really ever begun, and Celebrimbor's laughing, leaning back in his chair.]

Utter foolishness of course.
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[personal profile] lastoftheline 2013-12-04 07:21 pm (UTC)(link)
[Celebrimbor's brows rose higher and higher as Lea continued speaking, until they were in danger of hiding in his hairline. When the young man finally trailed off, the elf was silent for a good long moment.

Slowly though, his smile widened into a grin, shoulder barely beginning to quake. Laughter burst out of him, peals of it, his head tipped back, body shaking with it, pale skin flushed. The storm went on, before slowly dying back, leaving Celebrimbor gasping and wiping the tears from his eyes.

He couldn't remember the last time he laughed that hard, but he felt light now, loosened, that ever-present tension hiding within him easing. He leaned back, softly chuckling before finally falling silent.]

Seems I have a lot to live up to then. I'm glad you even deign to look at me at all, since I cannot do even half of those things.
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[personal profile] lastoftheline 2013-12-04 08:09 pm (UTC)(link)
I'm a smith, of the Gwarth-i-Mirdain. The jewel smiths of Eregion. [He added after a moment, for clarification.] My brotherhood is known for their fine works, but I also dabble in more practical applications. [His mouth twists then, bitter tinged amusement as he adds.] Smithing runs in my family you could say.
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[personal profile] lastoftheline 2013-12-04 11:59 pm (UTC)(link)
[It is clear at this point that Lea has no idea who Celebrimbor is, which is something that Celebrimbor finds rather refreshing.

But then Lea's words ring in his head, and suddenly the laughter and amusement are gone, as the Noldo's lips thin, grey eyes bleak.]

Ahh...home. [Home is a murky association, and Celebrimbor isn't quite sure what it triggers. His father always insisted their home was in Aman, in the glittering city of Tirion, the home they were banished from.

Celebrimbor had never seen Tirion, never set foot on the Blessed Realm; it was nothing more than ink on a map, concept only and not reality.

He had dwelt with his father first in Himlad, then in Nagothrond. Nargothrond he supposed felt like his first true home.

He had chosen it over his father after all.

But then Nargothrond had fallen to Glaurang, and he was left aimless once more, until Eregion, and Ost-in-Edhel. And it was as good a home as any, full of the work he loved to do, but there were times, when he thought back to the glittering caverns of Nargothrond.

He sighed once again taint of bitterness tinging his voice.]

War destroyed one home. Stupidity and dragon fire destroyed the second. I hope that perhaps this third one will last longer.

Not a place for you? [He breathes out the words, eyes briefly closing in pain.] Then you have to carve a new place for yourself. There's no other way.
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[personal profile] lastoftheline 2013-12-05 12:37 am (UTC)(link)
Don't let it consume you. [Celebrimbor replies quietly, deadly serious. He rubs his face, scrubbing at the age lines that don't exist, fingers running through his short-cropped hair.] I know...too well, how foul these things can run. [Not a debt perhaps, but an Oath, but really, they all turned into the same thing, didn't they?

He shrugs at the apology and sighs.]

My story is an all too common among the Noldor.
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[personal profile] lastoftheline 2013-12-05 01:20 am (UTC)(link)
Aye, I'll drink to that. [There's quite a bit left in Celebrimbor's cup, but he tips his head back, throat working as he drinks the rest of it down. He doesn't quite slam the mug down, but the ceramic rings with a decisive clink on worn wooden table. He vents a soft, laugh, the sound barely slurred at the edges, the only sign of his increasing drunkeness.]

The Dispossessed [He stabs a finger into his chest.] And the homeless, [He points the finger at Lea.] I think we make quite a pair.
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[personal profile] lastoftheline 2013-12-05 01:36 am (UTC)(link)
....Hobos? [Celebrimbor's head cocks, even as he waves to the barkeep to refill both his cup, and Lea's when he sees that it's empty.]
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[personal profile] lastoftheline 2013-12-05 02:57 am (UTC)(link)
[Not from around here, that much was apparent, but then again, Celebrimbor had already figured that. But Lea certainly didn't seem...harmful in any way, and the elf took his refilled cup, toasting the other man, then taking a deep draught.]

Done so soon? [The words are light, but there's a light teasing underlying them as well.]

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