Return of the Key, Chapter 5.
28 Aug 2008 07:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
curiouswombatChapter five of this story. A but fluffy this chapter - but there will eventually be problems and angst in a few chapters more! I am managing to keep to a Monday & Thursday posting schedule at the moment, and am writing a half chapter or more ahead of posting so I should be able to keep it up for a while.
Previous chapters are here.
Chapter Five
PG
4,550 words
Beta read, as usual, by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
speakr2customrs
In which our heroine considers Gondorian underwear, the amount of knowledge male elves seem to have about dresses, and gets some sort of answer from Gandalf to the "Why elf?" question...
Beautiful banner by Kazzy-Cee.
Chapter Five.
Elrohir had been right, Dawn thought, the dress was very beautiful; elves obviously did have good taste. A pretty good eye for size too; she wondered whether that was just an innate ability, or if they’d all had years of practice. She really wanted to find out how old they all were but she still hadn’t quite worked out how to broach the immortality question without, somehow, seeming rude.
The dress was the sort of thing that made every prom dress Dawn had ever seen look trashy, even Buffy’s; which Dawn remembered being so jealous of, and which she had sneakily tried on behind Buffy’s back.
The five elves, four hobbits, a dwarf, a wizard, and even a king, had arrived in Dawn’s room a couple of days before the coronation with a package of pink fabric tied with ribbon. It wasn’t a very big bundle, and Dawn wasn’t sure about the pink – until she realised that it was only the wrapping.
She opened it and out tumbled yards of incredibly fine silk and tulle in silvery grey and shimmering greens. There seemed to be two separate, rather sexy, garments and she looked at them with some bafflement.
“Elven style. Very suitable,” Gandalf said.
‘I so must ask him why!’ Dawn thought.
“Did you not say the lass was wearing strange clothes when you found her?” asked Gimli, spotting Dawn’s confused expression. “She’s probably not used to elven dresses.”
Legolas quickly came to Dawn’s aid – he took the grey silk garment she was holding out of her hands and held it up. It was like a shift or a full slip, with a very low neck, thin straps and lacings up the back of the bodice made of silver ribbon. “This is the outer dress. An elven seamstress would have embroidered this, but there was not a lot of time – the workmanship is perfectly good.”
‘Hmm – I can see what Elrohir meant about elves and taste – no male I’ve ever met at home would be into details like embroidery!’ Dawn thought, as Legolas continued.
“It is quite nice silk, although not as good as we produce in Mirkwood, of course. I had hoped that they might have some of the silk that we trade with the men of Lake-town, but it is reasonably fine…”
He faltered to a halt as the other elves and the hobbits looked him with strange expressions. “What? Of course we export some of the silk – we trade it for metal or wine.”
Dawn looked around at them all, “Why the odd looks, guys?”
“Mirkwood is infested with giant spiders.” Frodo said, looking a little shaky and pale at the idea.
“Spider silk? You can make fabric from spider silk? But it must take you for ever to collect enough for even a handkerchief,” Dawn said. Then, looking again at the faces around her, ‘Uh – how big are the spiders?”
“The body would fit on your bed, just about,” Legolas said, “but the legs would all hang over the sides onto the floor.”
“Fuck!” said Dawn, and then put her hand over her mouth apologetically.
“It is very good silk!” Legolas said, and suddenly stripped his tunic off so that he was standing bare-armed in a grey undershirt, which was, indeed, silk. “It reduces the damage we take from arrows”, he went on. “It is pushed into the wound on many occasions, rather than the arrow piercing it, and then if you pull and twist on the silk the arrow will often come out cleanly without contact with the flesh. The barbs slide free without tearing.”
“Well, we knew that!” said Elladan, “but we had never questioned where our weavers got the silk from…”
Dawn was trying to appear as if she wasn’t ogling Legolas muscles, which were pretty impressive considering how slender he looked at first sight, and wondering if she could get all the elves to strip down to their underwear.
Gandalf looked at her and there was the hint of a wink; she didn’t think she’d fooled him into thinking her whole attention was on the dress and the bedspread.
Orophin took over from Legolas in showing Dawn the dress. He held up the shimmering green tulle layer. It had four or five shades of green in it, with a wide scooped neckline, and really wide long sleeves. There were long ribbons of the same thin silver, attached to the shoulders, which she couldn’t quite work out.
“This is the under-dress. It will fit well now your arms are free, but you could have worn it if they had not healed. Rumil drew the woman a picture and then Rumil, Legolas, and me, we choose green. They,” he nodded at the twins, “would choose blue, but we are three!”
“We will bring you a blue dress for midsummer,” said Elladan, looking sideways at first Elrohir and then Gandalf. “You will let her out for midsummer, Mithrandir?”
“Certainly,” he replied amicably, “especially if she looks like an elf.”
“It is probably the most beautiful garment I have ever seen,” Dawn said, “and thank you, uh – hannon le,” with a nod to all the elves, “all of you, but before we go any further, Gandalf, just why are you happiest if people think that I am an elf?”
All eleven other sets of eyes in the room swivelled to see if he would answer.
Dawn gave him a very hard stare.
“It is a fair question,” said Aragorn, in a tone that suggested that he would be pretty interested in the answer himself.
“Well,” the wizard began, drawing deeply on his pipe, (‘I wish he’d go out on the balcony to smoke that thing!’ Dawn thought) “to begin with it is clear that there is an affinity between our young friend here and Rumil.”
No-one seemed to find that a surprising start, Dawn realised, just as she was beginning to panic that her crushing on Rumil was public knowledge. Legolas was quickly translating into Sindarin for Rumil, and to a lesser extent Orophin, and all three of them seemed to regard it as a statement of fact like ‘Frodo is a hobbit’ ( ‘and how weird would I have thought that statement was a few weeks ago?’ Dawn thought).
“But also there is the fact of your odd arrival into Middle Earth, my dear, which I would prefer to keep away from anyone who might want to misuse that knowledge. And even though I would trust you, Aragorn, with my life, indeed have done so in the past, it has to be said that there are many more evil men in the world than evil elves.”
Aragorn dipped his head slightly in acknowledgement.
“Of course, there are almost no evil dwarves or hobbits,” Gandalf continued before anyone else could point this out, “But you would literally stand out clearly amongst dwarves or hobbits, young lady!”
Gimli nodded in agreement. Pippin looked as if he was about to pass a comment but thought better of it.
“The person who recalls a strange young woman found amongst the bodies of the enemy, or one who survived injuries that she probably should not have, will not be the person who wants to misuse the power that brought you here. But perhaps someone to whom that person tells his tale will pass the tale on to a Haradrim Warlord, or Corsair captain, or similar.
“Better that people do not remember what happened to the young woman; perhaps she died. Better still if they remember that there was an elleth carried back from the battlefield by the elven warriors. It is known that ellyth will fight alongside ellyn should the need arise; the men of Gondor or Rohan may find this shocking, but elves are strange beings to them, they will eventually convince each other that they even saw the female elf fighting – heroically or badly, depending on their own preconceptions.
“There are other reasons, which I will discuss with Elrond and Galadriel when they come to Minas Tirith, but I think it safer for Dawn that she stays among the elves.”
‘Hmm,’ thought Dawn, ‘and I wonder if anyone else noticed that the words ‘The Key’ were not mentioned there at all? I will point that out to him when there are less people about, maybe.’
Rapidly changing the subject, Gandalf continued “As for the dress being made in an Elven style, well, although this is a wonderful country, King Elessar, even you must admit that, beautiful though Gondorian women are, and doubtless there will be wonderful garments on show at your coronation, Elven women are even fairer, and usually better dressed.”
Aragorn definitely blushed.
‘Now I wonder what that was all about?’ Dawn thought.
…………………………………………..
“We need more computers, Giles,” Willow said, rather apologetically, “and hey, really another phone line or two? I’m trying to research what can have happened to Dawnie, but Andrew is trying to find your retired Watchers, and lots of the potential, uh, lots of the new Slayers want to call or e-mail home and, uh, things.”
“Well, obviously, you get priority,” Buffy said sharply, before Giles could answer. “The girls can just wait until we have Dawn back, and we don’t need any interfering old Watchers anyway, we have Giles!”
“Buffy,” Giles began in his own ‘Watcher-y voice’, “I most certainly do need some help to reorganise a Watchers’ Council of some sort to give support to all these young Slayers.”
He continued, just as Buffy rolled her eyes and drew a breath ready to interrupt, “And they all have families who love them, as much as you love Dawn, and worry about what may have happened to them here in the past few days just as you are worrying about Dawn. The news reports in the outside world may not be accurate, but they will certainly be of riots, or an earthquake, or both, in Sunnydale; they will certainly mention deaths, and casualties in hospital.”
Before anyone could say anything in reply to this, Andrew came into the room; “Mr. Giles, I managed to get on the phone to the Mr Bow-champ on your list, but the man who answered said his name is Beecham, so I didn’t tell him anything. I was going to try the next person, but Vi grabbed the phone off me…”
Two voices entered the conversation together.
“You see?” Willow was saying.
“Stupid little twerp,” came the louder voice of Spike, “B.E.A.U.C.H.A.M.P. is pronounced ‘Beecham’, for crying out loud! Watcher – you want me to do the ringing round as I actually speak English, or you want me to sort out the phone problem?
“Not that I can go rig an extra couple of lines right now, it being mid-afternoon, but I reckon, before the forces of law ‘n order get their act together, I can acquire a few cell phones with plenty of credit, a couple of laptop computers, and the stuff I need to put the extra lines in later tonight.”
Giles really didn’t want to be beholden to the vampire, and to be honest he would much rather it had been Spike that went down fighting, rather than Anya or Dawn, but both Spike’s suggestions seemed to offer the chance of reducing the pressure. Even if ‘acquiring’ was not a habit he could really condone.
“Yes, well, thank you, Spike,” he answered. “Extra lines of communication would be extremely useful, but I really think I should give you the money to pay for, em, anything.”
“Don’t be bloody stupid, you pillock,” the vampire retorted, “there’s no-one in the shops to pay. Just leave it to me, I’ll do a couple of your phone calls, then grab my blanket and your car keys and hit the town.”
He looked at Buffy, his eyes softening. “That’ll make it easier for Willow to get the Little Bit back, pet.”
…………………………………………..
Later Dawn tackled Gandalf about the lack of the word ‘Key’ in his explanation of why he was happier for her to be thought an elf. He replied, with a wry smile, that although he valued the heart and valour of the hobbits above that of all other races, he did not, similarly, value their discretion.
None of the hobbits had been present when the discussion about The Key had taken place. He had given them only an edited version of those discussions because, although there was no current threat, he did not want someone to remember hearing of ‘The Key’ at some point in the future, in the wrong company, and thus put Dawn into danger.
“Yeah – I get that, actually,” she said. “They do sometimes open their mouths before their brains are in gear, but they are still great little guys. As long as there’s no other, scary, reason for you not mentioning it.”
“Well, not at the moment,” said Gandalf, “certainly not at the moment.”
…………………………………………..
The day of the coronation dawned bright and sunny. Nessy arrived early and chased Orophin and Rumil out while ‘my lady does personal things’. The brothers had both bathed even earlier, re-braided their hair and put on new tunics – not quite their usual style, Dawn thought, and she wondered if they were the local style, or just a local seamstress trying to make something that looked elvish.
Nessy was fascinated by all the thin fabric in Dawn’s beautiful gown and offered to help her to dress – except that neither of them could really work out just how to get it all together. Nessy admitted that she was not usually called upon to be a lady’s maid and, not only were her own dresses much, much plainer, but all the ‘ladies’ dresses’ that she had seen were in heavier fabrics, and only one layer deep. She thought that the shift should go under the other bit, for decency, but Dawn was sure the elves had said it went on top.
In the end Dawn sat on her bed in the baggy panties that Gondorian women apparently wore (which Elladan had once said was a blessing – elven females’ panties would, apparently, not have gone over the splint, Dawn hoped she could get elven ones when the splint came off) and the grey silky shift, and waited for Rumil and Orophin to return and help her get the rest right.
Nessy was somewhat shocked at this idea, which made Dawn laugh. Her two personal elven ‘nurses’ had washed her, changed her, re-strapped her ribs and probably coped with her peeing herself if her vague memories were anything to go by, from the battlefield at The Black Gate to Minas Tirith, and had continued to do so in the House of Healing, shocking some of the healers.
They had continued to do so since she moved into the King’s House too. Nessy had taken over the ‘bodily function’ stuff in the mornings, but any help she needed during the rest of the day she got from the two Galadhrim warriors. She had been totally embarrassed to start with, once she was fully conscious, but all five elves reassured her that their race just did not get embarrassed by those things. Bodies were simply the outer shell of their fëa and to keep them clean, and working properly, was a sign of respect for Iluvatar who created them.
Mind you, if the comments about ‘preferring females,’ and how to order wine were anything to go by, they had nothing against getting enjoyment from their bodies, Dawn reckoned. Well, actually, she more hoped!
The ‘two elf escort’ returned and were rather surprised to find her only half dressed – and after only a few minutes she found herself with the tulle dress on first, then the shift over it, the silver ribbons at the back of the shift pulled in so that it fitted snugly under her bust line, the silver ribbons on the shoulders of the under-dress criss-crossed down her arms and tied in bows just above her recently rediscovered elbows to give the effect of a tight sleeve that flared out over her lower arm, and the soft scoop of the neck of the inner dress showing under the low neck of the outer dress. They did it so skilfully that Dawn wondered how many similar dresses they had helped ellyth into or out of…
“Mirror! Bring me a mirror!” she demanded, but the brothers refused, and instead brushed her hair and twisted a number of braids into it, working in tiny green glass beads and fastening them with silver threads. Only then did they bring her a big mirror.
“Oh My God! Oh I cannot believe that is me! Thank you, thank you!” She tried to hug both of them at once, but finally settled for one at a time and Orophin didn’t seem to mind that she hugged Rumil for just a minute longer.
The elves brought a chaise in from the corridor outside her room. It seemed to be heavy wood, with velvet, but they carried it as if it weighed very little – confirming again the amount of muscle on those slim frames.
They took it out onto the balcony, piled cushions onto it, and then Rumil gathered Dawn up, complete with her splint, and carried her through. It was wonderful to be in the fresh air, she thought, and the chaise was high enough for her to see over the balustrade into a large courtyard below, where people were already hurrying to and fro.
She had just finished arranging her dress to cover the splint when there was a knock on her door and the four hobbits tumbled in. They wore smart trousers, clean white shirts, and wonderfully embroidered waistcoats. Dawn was a bit sad that Pippin wasn’t dressed as a member of the Citadel Guard, nor Merry as a Knight of the Mark, but then, she thought, Frodo was probably the most important, and he didn’t have any such ceremonial garb, and so it was just as well that they all matched.
They paused as they reached the open balcony doors and it seemed like ages before any of them said anything. Then Pippin said “Dawn, you look beautiful, like a proper lady!” and she admired their waistcoats and said that she would look out for them in the courtyard.
Sam told her that he would personally make sure that she got a good share of the feast sent up to her, because he didn’t trust the elves to think about making sure she got a taste of everything – “Eat like birds, they do, I don’t know how they have the strength to stand up, so I don’t.”
Just as the hobbits left, the twins, Legolas, and Gimli arrived. Gimli wore a dark blue tunic trimmed with gold with a thick velvet cloak over his shoulders, and had engraved metal clasps in his hair and beard. He looked extremely smart, in a short and hairy sort of way, Dawn thought; but the three elves were stunning.
Elrohir had certainly been right when he said men might be even more inclined to hit on Legolas when he wore his formal robes. His blond hair was braided to allow more of it to fall around his face than usual, and he wore a sort of tiara around his forehead – Dawn had never seen anything like it, it was made out of three or four strands of silvery metal twisted into a delicate pattern. He was wearing a long tunic, almost floor length, in silver and green embroidered silk.
‘‘Pretty’ really is the word,’ Dawn thought, ‘but totally impressive.’
“Today,” he said to Dawn solemnly, “I am Legolas Thranduilion, the King’s son. And you are most certainly a lady. You look beautiful.”
“So do you!” said Dawn, honestly, and then thought it might not be quite the right description, but he broke into a grin and shrugged his shoulders. Dawn thought he was well aware of just how he looked.
The twins were equally impressive, although they weren’t wearing ‘circlets’, but there were silver beads braided into their hair, and they wore robes of shimmering blue and silver. Both of them bowed low to Dawn.
“Hîril nín, my lady, surely we can call you such today?” Elladan asked.
“I guess, hîr nín,” she answered.
“There again,” said Elrohir, “tithen maethor might suit better!”
“Little warrior?” Dawn wondered if she had the translation right.
“And a Galadhrim warrior at that!” Elladan added.
Orophin smiled. “She bears a sword,” he said.
“We see,” said Elrohir.
Dawn was seriously puzzled.
“Your hair,” Legolas explained. “You have warrior braids.” He touched the small braids running from the front of her hair, with the tiny green beads worked in. “Four strand braids – a swordsman like Elladan and Elrohir.” He touched the similar small ones worked into his own hair, “Three strand braids – I am an archer, as are Rumil and Orophin.”
His hand touched the slightly thicker braid worked part way down her back, holding the hair away from her face. The tiny braids were caught up with it where it was fastened, she had seen in the mirror. “And this is worked in the style of the Galadhrim, so – Orophin and Rumil tell anyone who can read it, that you are a skilled swordswoman from Lothlorien. And, as your ears are hidden, no-one could doubt it.”
“Oh, my gosh! Is it some sort of faux pas? Social slip-up or something?” Dawn asked, worried that she might be insulting the three impressive elves standing over her.
“Her sword,” said Rumil’s voice, and sure enough, he was carrying the short-sword she had used to cut her own arm all those weeks ago! It seemed like another life.
“Beautiful one,” said Elrohir to Dawn, “no-one can doubt that you are a warrior, we are simply amused that these two have decided to declare it today, when you look so unlike one! Mithrandir will be most pleased to see that you make a stunning elleth. And I must get a close look at that sword after the ceremony.”
“As must I,” said his twin.
Then all three robed elves leant down, one at a time, and kissed Dawn on the forehead.
‘Wonder how he stops that tiara thing from coming off when he bends forward?’ Dawn found herself thinking, as Legolas stood straight again.
As they turned to go she realised that the braids down their backs were indeed different styles, according to which elven community they belonged to, rather than simply a random personal choice. ‘Useful to remember,’ she thought.
Then there was a “harrumph!” sound, and Gimli, whom Dawn had almost forgotten, stepped forward and left a bristly kiss on her cheek, then followed the three elves from the room.
…………………………………………..
People were already moving around down in the courtyard, men in armour, flowing robes or cloaks, many bearded; their hair, where it showed, cut to their shoulders in the same fashion as was Aragorn’s. The women were in medieval style dresses, all, as Nessy had said, in heavier fabrics than Dawn’s and they all wore their hair up, many with headdresses.
‘Giles would love to see this,’ Dawn thought with a sudden wave of homesickness, ‘and Andrew – it is like one of his D&D games come to life.’
“Sad?” asked Rumil.
“My friends, uh, mellyn, would like this,” she answered.
“Buffy?” he asked.
Dawn thought about it for a minute. “No, she’d be bored,” she answered.
“Bored?” Rumil asked, puzzled.
Dawn didn’t know the Sindarin for bored, so she pulled a face, and mimed a yawn.
Rumil lifted both head and eyebrows in acknowledgement of what she meant; looking rather surprised.
“Haldir, he like,” he said. “Wine! Women!” he added, with one of those elven smirks.
Dawn found herself smiling and realised that they were actually communicating. Also she now knew more about Haldir than that he was brave and his brothers loved him.
The room that Dawn, unofficially, shared with Rumil and Orophin was on the third floor, she realised, as she looked down. So, when both elves sat themselves casually on the balustrade, she panicked that they would fall off. Two sets of blue eyes looked at her out of suddenly rather haughty faces.
“We are Galadhrim,” Orophin stated, as if that was the only explanation needed, and pulled both feet up to hug his knees on the six inch wide strip of stone like a gymnast on the beam.
‘OK – perfect balance along with perfect bodies and perfect hair. You gotta love these guys, or die of jealousy,’ Dawn thought.
…………………………………………..
The actual coronation took place beyond the gates of the courtyard but, even so, Dawn saw many of the important people passing through to attend. There was one man who looked a bit like a fairer, younger, version of Aragorn, in blue with a silver breast plate. He was accompanying the only woman Dawn saw with loose hair – a woman in a cream and gold dress, with a gold circlet around her head of long blonde hair.
“Lady Éowyn and Lord Faramir,” Orophin explained. Dawn had heard about them both from the hobbits – she wished Gandalf would let her meet Éowyn who, although six or seven years older than herself, looked nice.
“Éomer King,” Rumil said, pointing.
A tall man with longer fair hair than most of the others, but still bearded, and wearing a dark green cloak over beautifully tooled leather armour, strode across the courtyard, accompanied by two even hairier guys in armour, carrying helmets with horse tail plumes (‘No wonder the elves stand out and get hit on by the Rohirrim!’ Dawn thought).
The two elves were exclaiming in Sindarin and Orophin explained “It is his battle armour, made clean and... shiny.”
“Cool!” said Dawn.
“Cool!” said Rumil.
The hobbits had waved up towards the balcony, and made their way out to the outer yard, when the three formally dressed elves appeared. Orophin, to Dawn’s surprise, suddenly tossed an apple towards them. Seemingly without looking, one of the twins snatched it out of the air and tucked it into a hidden pocket, and all three continued across the courtyard, with the expressionless faces Dawn had realised were the ‘elven public image’, as if nothing had happened.
“Elrohir,” said Orophin.
Rumil silently handed him a gold coin, his expression as dead-pan as the three now passing out of the gates.
Dawn looked from one to the other, rolled her eyes, and then got the giggles so badly that she almost missed the star attraction.
Five members of the Citadel guard walked slowly across the courtyard, the centre one carrying a large blue cushion, with something on it covered by blue satin. Behind them, side by side, came Gandalf, almost shining in his whiteness, and Aragorn; no, King Elessar. The King, like his fellow monarch Éomer, wore, not fancy armour but battle armour; covered by a cloak of blue so dark it was almost black. He walked slowly with a very serious expression – but Dawn thought under the circumstances she’d be pretty solemn too.
But Gandalf looked upwards, raised a hand, and smiled before proceeding out through the great gates, which were shut behind him.
…………………………………………..
Odd bits of Sindarin .
Hannon le thank you.
Hîril nín my lady.
Hîr nín my lord.
Tithen maethor little warrior.
Mellyn friends.
…………………………………………..
The ’BtVS’ characters in this story do not belong to me, but are being used for amusement only and all rights remain with Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, the writers of the original episodes, and the TV and production companies responsible for the original television shows. The 'LotR' characters also, for whom all rights remain with the estate of JRR Tolkein, and the production company responsible for the LotR movies.
…………………………………………..
If you are a fan of Bruce Forsyth you might not appreciate this snippet of conversation, following an item on the BBC news with Brucie talking about the new series of Strictly Come Dancing. Daughter-dear and I, in unison "That is not news, it's a trailer."
Followed by an impassioned plea from D-d "Why doesn't he just get on with it?"
Me - "With what?"
D-d - "With dying! Then we'd only have two or three days of Bruce Forsyth on every programme and we would never have to see him again!"
I'm full because we just had some nice fish for tea - just so that we could eat lots of really nice tartare sauce!
Previous chapters are here.
Chapter Five
PG
4,550 words
Beta read, as usual, by
speakr2customrsIn which our heroine considers Gondorian underwear, the amount of knowledge male elves seem to have about dresses, and gets some sort of answer from Gandalf to the "Why elf?" question...
Beautiful banner by Kazzy-Cee.
Elrohir had been right, Dawn thought, the dress was very beautiful; elves obviously did have good taste. A pretty good eye for size too; she wondered whether that was just an innate ability, or if they’d all had years of practice. She really wanted to find out how old they all were but she still hadn’t quite worked out how to broach the immortality question without, somehow, seeming rude.
The dress was the sort of thing that made every prom dress Dawn had ever seen look trashy, even Buffy’s; which Dawn remembered being so jealous of, and which she had sneakily tried on behind Buffy’s back.
The five elves, four hobbits, a dwarf, a wizard, and even a king, had arrived in Dawn’s room a couple of days before the coronation with a package of pink fabric tied with ribbon. It wasn’t a very big bundle, and Dawn wasn’t sure about the pink – until she realised that it was only the wrapping.
She opened it and out tumbled yards of incredibly fine silk and tulle in silvery grey and shimmering greens. There seemed to be two separate, rather sexy, garments and she looked at them with some bafflement.
“Elven style. Very suitable,” Gandalf said.
‘I so must ask him why!’ Dawn thought.
“Did you not say the lass was wearing strange clothes when you found her?” asked Gimli, spotting Dawn’s confused expression. “She’s probably not used to elven dresses.”
Legolas quickly came to Dawn’s aid – he took the grey silk garment she was holding out of her hands and held it up. It was like a shift or a full slip, with a very low neck, thin straps and lacings up the back of the bodice made of silver ribbon. “This is the outer dress. An elven seamstress would have embroidered this, but there was not a lot of time – the workmanship is perfectly good.”
‘Hmm – I can see what Elrohir meant about elves and taste – no male I’ve ever met at home would be into details like embroidery!’ Dawn thought, as Legolas continued.
“It is quite nice silk, although not as good as we produce in Mirkwood, of course. I had hoped that they might have some of the silk that we trade with the men of Lake-town, but it is reasonably fine…”
He faltered to a halt as the other elves and the hobbits looked him with strange expressions. “What? Of course we export some of the silk – we trade it for metal or wine.”
Dawn looked around at them all, “Why the odd looks, guys?”
“Mirkwood is infested with giant spiders.” Frodo said, looking a little shaky and pale at the idea.
“Spider silk? You can make fabric from spider silk? But it must take you for ever to collect enough for even a handkerchief,” Dawn said. Then, looking again at the faces around her, ‘Uh – how big are the spiders?”
“The body would fit on your bed, just about,” Legolas said, “but the legs would all hang over the sides onto the floor.”
“Fuck!” said Dawn, and then put her hand over her mouth apologetically.
“It is very good silk!” Legolas said, and suddenly stripped his tunic off so that he was standing bare-armed in a grey undershirt, which was, indeed, silk. “It reduces the damage we take from arrows”, he went on. “It is pushed into the wound on many occasions, rather than the arrow piercing it, and then if you pull and twist on the silk the arrow will often come out cleanly without contact with the flesh. The barbs slide free without tearing.”
“Well, we knew that!” said Elladan, “but we had never questioned where our weavers got the silk from…”
Dawn was trying to appear as if she wasn’t ogling Legolas muscles, which were pretty impressive considering how slender he looked at first sight, and wondering if she could get all the elves to strip down to their underwear.
Gandalf looked at her and there was the hint of a wink; she didn’t think she’d fooled him into thinking her whole attention was on the dress and the bedspread.
Orophin took over from Legolas in showing Dawn the dress. He held up the shimmering green tulle layer. It had four or five shades of green in it, with a wide scooped neckline, and really wide long sleeves. There were long ribbons of the same thin silver, attached to the shoulders, which she couldn’t quite work out.
“This is the under-dress. It will fit well now your arms are free, but you could have worn it if they had not healed. Rumil drew the woman a picture and then Rumil, Legolas, and me, we choose green. They,” he nodded at the twins, “would choose blue, but we are three!”
“We will bring you a blue dress for midsummer,” said Elladan, looking sideways at first Elrohir and then Gandalf. “You will let her out for midsummer, Mithrandir?”
“Certainly,” he replied amicably, “especially if she looks like an elf.”
“It is probably the most beautiful garment I have ever seen,” Dawn said, “and thank you, uh – hannon le,” with a nod to all the elves, “all of you, but before we go any further, Gandalf, just why are you happiest if people think that I am an elf?”
All eleven other sets of eyes in the room swivelled to see if he would answer.
Dawn gave him a very hard stare.
“It is a fair question,” said Aragorn, in a tone that suggested that he would be pretty interested in the answer himself.
“Well,” the wizard began, drawing deeply on his pipe, (‘I wish he’d go out on the balcony to smoke that thing!’ Dawn thought) “to begin with it is clear that there is an affinity between our young friend here and Rumil.”
No-one seemed to find that a surprising start, Dawn realised, just as she was beginning to panic that her crushing on Rumil was public knowledge. Legolas was quickly translating into Sindarin for Rumil, and to a lesser extent Orophin, and all three of them seemed to regard it as a statement of fact like ‘Frodo is a hobbit’ ( ‘and how weird would I have thought that statement was a few weeks ago?’ Dawn thought).
“But also there is the fact of your odd arrival into Middle Earth, my dear, which I would prefer to keep away from anyone who might want to misuse that knowledge. And even though I would trust you, Aragorn, with my life, indeed have done so in the past, it has to be said that there are many more evil men in the world than evil elves.”
Aragorn dipped his head slightly in acknowledgement.
“Of course, there are almost no evil dwarves or hobbits,” Gandalf continued before anyone else could point this out, “But you would literally stand out clearly amongst dwarves or hobbits, young lady!”
Gimli nodded in agreement. Pippin looked as if he was about to pass a comment but thought better of it.
“The person who recalls a strange young woman found amongst the bodies of the enemy, or one who survived injuries that she probably should not have, will not be the person who wants to misuse the power that brought you here. But perhaps someone to whom that person tells his tale will pass the tale on to a Haradrim Warlord, or Corsair captain, or similar.
“Better that people do not remember what happened to the young woman; perhaps she died. Better still if they remember that there was an elleth carried back from the battlefield by the elven warriors. It is known that ellyth will fight alongside ellyn should the need arise; the men of Gondor or Rohan may find this shocking, but elves are strange beings to them, they will eventually convince each other that they even saw the female elf fighting – heroically or badly, depending on their own preconceptions.
“There are other reasons, which I will discuss with Elrond and Galadriel when they come to Minas Tirith, but I think it safer for Dawn that she stays among the elves.”
‘Hmm,’ thought Dawn, ‘and I wonder if anyone else noticed that the words ‘The Key’ were not mentioned there at all? I will point that out to him when there are less people about, maybe.’
Rapidly changing the subject, Gandalf continued “As for the dress being made in an Elven style, well, although this is a wonderful country, King Elessar, even you must admit that, beautiful though Gondorian women are, and doubtless there will be wonderful garments on show at your coronation, Elven women are even fairer, and usually better dressed.”
Aragorn definitely blushed.
‘Now I wonder what that was all about?’ Dawn thought.
…………………………………………..
“We need more computers, Giles,” Willow said, rather apologetically, “and hey, really another phone line or two? I’m trying to research what can have happened to Dawnie, but Andrew is trying to find your retired Watchers, and lots of the potential, uh, lots of the new Slayers want to call or e-mail home and, uh, things.”
“Well, obviously, you get priority,” Buffy said sharply, before Giles could answer. “The girls can just wait until we have Dawn back, and we don’t need any interfering old Watchers anyway, we have Giles!”
“Buffy,” Giles began in his own ‘Watcher-y voice’, “I most certainly do need some help to reorganise a Watchers’ Council of some sort to give support to all these young Slayers.”
He continued, just as Buffy rolled her eyes and drew a breath ready to interrupt, “And they all have families who love them, as much as you love Dawn, and worry about what may have happened to them here in the past few days just as you are worrying about Dawn. The news reports in the outside world may not be accurate, but they will certainly be of riots, or an earthquake, or both, in Sunnydale; they will certainly mention deaths, and casualties in hospital.”
Before anyone could say anything in reply to this, Andrew came into the room; “Mr. Giles, I managed to get on the phone to the Mr Bow-champ on your list, but the man who answered said his name is Beecham, so I didn’t tell him anything. I was going to try the next person, but Vi grabbed the phone off me…”
Two voices entered the conversation together.
“You see?” Willow was saying.
“Stupid little twerp,” came the louder voice of Spike, “B.E.A.U.C.H.A.M.P. is pronounced ‘Beecham’, for crying out loud! Watcher – you want me to do the ringing round as I actually speak English, or you want me to sort out the phone problem?
“Not that I can go rig an extra couple of lines right now, it being mid-afternoon, but I reckon, before the forces of law ‘n order get their act together, I can acquire a few cell phones with plenty of credit, a couple of laptop computers, and the stuff I need to put the extra lines in later tonight.”
Giles really didn’t want to be beholden to the vampire, and to be honest he would much rather it had been Spike that went down fighting, rather than Anya or Dawn, but both Spike’s suggestions seemed to offer the chance of reducing the pressure. Even if ‘acquiring’ was not a habit he could really condone.
“Yes, well, thank you, Spike,” he answered. “Extra lines of communication would be extremely useful, but I really think I should give you the money to pay for, em, anything.”
“Don’t be bloody stupid, you pillock,” the vampire retorted, “there’s no-one in the shops to pay. Just leave it to me, I’ll do a couple of your phone calls, then grab my blanket and your car keys and hit the town.”
He looked at Buffy, his eyes softening. “That’ll make it easier for Willow to get the Little Bit back, pet.”
…………………………………………..
Later Dawn tackled Gandalf about the lack of the word ‘Key’ in his explanation of why he was happier for her to be thought an elf. He replied, with a wry smile, that although he valued the heart and valour of the hobbits above that of all other races, he did not, similarly, value their discretion.
None of the hobbits had been present when the discussion about The Key had taken place. He had given them only an edited version of those discussions because, although there was no current threat, he did not want someone to remember hearing of ‘The Key’ at some point in the future, in the wrong company, and thus put Dawn into danger.
“Yeah – I get that, actually,” she said. “They do sometimes open their mouths before their brains are in gear, but they are still great little guys. As long as there’s no other, scary, reason for you not mentioning it.”
“Well, not at the moment,” said Gandalf, “certainly not at the moment.”
…………………………………………..
The day of the coronation dawned bright and sunny. Nessy arrived early and chased Orophin and Rumil out while ‘my lady does personal things’. The brothers had both bathed even earlier, re-braided their hair and put on new tunics – not quite their usual style, Dawn thought, and she wondered if they were the local style, or just a local seamstress trying to make something that looked elvish.
Nessy was fascinated by all the thin fabric in Dawn’s beautiful gown and offered to help her to dress – except that neither of them could really work out just how to get it all together. Nessy admitted that she was not usually called upon to be a lady’s maid and, not only were her own dresses much, much plainer, but all the ‘ladies’ dresses’ that she had seen were in heavier fabrics, and only one layer deep. She thought that the shift should go under the other bit, for decency, but Dawn was sure the elves had said it went on top.
In the end Dawn sat on her bed in the baggy panties that Gondorian women apparently wore (which Elladan had once said was a blessing – elven females’ panties would, apparently, not have gone over the splint, Dawn hoped she could get elven ones when the splint came off) and the grey silky shift, and waited for Rumil and Orophin to return and help her get the rest right.
Nessy was somewhat shocked at this idea, which made Dawn laugh. Her two personal elven ‘nurses’ had washed her, changed her, re-strapped her ribs and probably coped with her peeing herself if her vague memories were anything to go by, from the battlefield at The Black Gate to Minas Tirith, and had continued to do so in the House of Healing, shocking some of the healers.
They had continued to do so since she moved into the King’s House too. Nessy had taken over the ‘bodily function’ stuff in the mornings, but any help she needed during the rest of the day she got from the two Galadhrim warriors. She had been totally embarrassed to start with, once she was fully conscious, but all five elves reassured her that their race just did not get embarrassed by those things. Bodies were simply the outer shell of their fëa and to keep them clean, and working properly, was a sign of respect for Iluvatar who created them.
Mind you, if the comments about ‘preferring females,’ and how to order wine were anything to go by, they had nothing against getting enjoyment from their bodies, Dawn reckoned. Well, actually, she more hoped!
The ‘two elf escort’ returned and were rather surprised to find her only half dressed – and after only a few minutes she found herself with the tulle dress on first, then the shift over it, the silver ribbons at the back of the shift pulled in so that it fitted snugly under her bust line, the silver ribbons on the shoulders of the under-dress criss-crossed down her arms and tied in bows just above her recently rediscovered elbows to give the effect of a tight sleeve that flared out over her lower arm, and the soft scoop of the neck of the inner dress showing under the low neck of the outer dress. They did it so skilfully that Dawn wondered how many similar dresses they had helped ellyth into or out of…
“Mirror! Bring me a mirror!” she demanded, but the brothers refused, and instead brushed her hair and twisted a number of braids into it, working in tiny green glass beads and fastening them with silver threads. Only then did they bring her a big mirror.
“Oh My God! Oh I cannot believe that is me! Thank you, thank you!” She tried to hug both of them at once, but finally settled for one at a time and Orophin didn’t seem to mind that she hugged Rumil for just a minute longer.
The elves brought a chaise in from the corridor outside her room. It seemed to be heavy wood, with velvet, but they carried it as if it weighed very little – confirming again the amount of muscle on those slim frames.
They took it out onto the balcony, piled cushions onto it, and then Rumil gathered Dawn up, complete with her splint, and carried her through. It was wonderful to be in the fresh air, she thought, and the chaise was high enough for her to see over the balustrade into a large courtyard below, where people were already hurrying to and fro.
She had just finished arranging her dress to cover the splint when there was a knock on her door and the four hobbits tumbled in. They wore smart trousers, clean white shirts, and wonderfully embroidered waistcoats. Dawn was a bit sad that Pippin wasn’t dressed as a member of the Citadel Guard, nor Merry as a Knight of the Mark, but then, she thought, Frodo was probably the most important, and he didn’t have any such ceremonial garb, and so it was just as well that they all matched.
They paused as they reached the open balcony doors and it seemed like ages before any of them said anything. Then Pippin said “Dawn, you look beautiful, like a proper lady!” and she admired their waistcoats and said that she would look out for them in the courtyard.
Sam told her that he would personally make sure that she got a good share of the feast sent up to her, because he didn’t trust the elves to think about making sure she got a taste of everything – “Eat like birds, they do, I don’t know how they have the strength to stand up, so I don’t.”
Just as the hobbits left, the twins, Legolas, and Gimli arrived. Gimli wore a dark blue tunic trimmed with gold with a thick velvet cloak over his shoulders, and had engraved metal clasps in his hair and beard. He looked extremely smart, in a short and hairy sort of way, Dawn thought; but the three elves were stunning.
Elrohir had certainly been right when he said men might be even more inclined to hit on Legolas when he wore his formal robes. His blond hair was braided to allow more of it to fall around his face than usual, and he wore a sort of tiara around his forehead – Dawn had never seen anything like it, it was made out of three or four strands of silvery metal twisted into a delicate pattern. He was wearing a long tunic, almost floor length, in silver and green embroidered silk.
‘‘Pretty’ really is the word,’ Dawn thought, ‘but totally impressive.’
“Today,” he said to Dawn solemnly, “I am Legolas Thranduilion, the King’s son. And you are most certainly a lady. You look beautiful.”
“So do you!” said Dawn, honestly, and then thought it might not be quite the right description, but he broke into a grin and shrugged his shoulders. Dawn thought he was well aware of just how he looked.
The twins were equally impressive, although they weren’t wearing ‘circlets’, but there were silver beads braided into their hair, and they wore robes of shimmering blue and silver. Both of them bowed low to Dawn.
“Hîril nín, my lady, surely we can call you such today?” Elladan asked.
“I guess, hîr nín,” she answered.
“There again,” said Elrohir, “tithen maethor might suit better!”
“Little warrior?” Dawn wondered if she had the translation right.
“And a Galadhrim warrior at that!” Elladan added.
Orophin smiled. “She bears a sword,” he said.
“We see,” said Elrohir.
Dawn was seriously puzzled.
“Your hair,” Legolas explained. “You have warrior braids.” He touched the small braids running from the front of her hair, with the tiny green beads worked in. “Four strand braids – a swordsman like Elladan and Elrohir.” He touched the similar small ones worked into his own hair, “Three strand braids – I am an archer, as are Rumil and Orophin.”
His hand touched the slightly thicker braid worked part way down her back, holding the hair away from her face. The tiny braids were caught up with it where it was fastened, she had seen in the mirror. “And this is worked in the style of the Galadhrim, so – Orophin and Rumil tell anyone who can read it, that you are a skilled swordswoman from Lothlorien. And, as your ears are hidden, no-one could doubt it.”
“Oh, my gosh! Is it some sort of faux pas? Social slip-up or something?” Dawn asked, worried that she might be insulting the three impressive elves standing over her.
“Her sword,” said Rumil’s voice, and sure enough, he was carrying the short-sword she had used to cut her own arm all those weeks ago! It seemed like another life.
“Beautiful one,” said Elrohir to Dawn, “no-one can doubt that you are a warrior, we are simply amused that these two have decided to declare it today, when you look so unlike one! Mithrandir will be most pleased to see that you make a stunning elleth. And I must get a close look at that sword after the ceremony.”
“As must I,” said his twin.
Then all three robed elves leant down, one at a time, and kissed Dawn on the forehead.
‘Wonder how he stops that tiara thing from coming off when he bends forward?’ Dawn found herself thinking, as Legolas stood straight again.
As they turned to go she realised that the braids down their backs were indeed different styles, according to which elven community they belonged to, rather than simply a random personal choice. ‘Useful to remember,’ she thought.
Then there was a “harrumph!” sound, and Gimli, whom Dawn had almost forgotten, stepped forward and left a bristly kiss on her cheek, then followed the three elves from the room.
…………………………………………..
People were already moving around down in the courtyard, men in armour, flowing robes or cloaks, many bearded; their hair, where it showed, cut to their shoulders in the same fashion as was Aragorn’s. The women were in medieval style dresses, all, as Nessy had said, in heavier fabrics than Dawn’s and they all wore their hair up, many with headdresses.
‘Giles would love to see this,’ Dawn thought with a sudden wave of homesickness, ‘and Andrew – it is like one of his D&D games come to life.’
“Sad?” asked Rumil.
“My friends, uh, mellyn, would like this,” she answered.
“Buffy?” he asked.
Dawn thought about it for a minute. “No, she’d be bored,” she answered.
“Bored?” Rumil asked, puzzled.
Dawn didn’t know the Sindarin for bored, so she pulled a face, and mimed a yawn.
Rumil lifted both head and eyebrows in acknowledgement of what she meant; looking rather surprised.
“Haldir, he like,” he said. “Wine! Women!” he added, with one of those elven smirks.
Dawn found herself smiling and realised that they were actually communicating. Also she now knew more about Haldir than that he was brave and his brothers loved him.
The room that Dawn, unofficially, shared with Rumil and Orophin was on the third floor, she realised, as she looked down. So, when both elves sat themselves casually on the balustrade, she panicked that they would fall off. Two sets of blue eyes looked at her out of suddenly rather haughty faces.
“We are Galadhrim,” Orophin stated, as if that was the only explanation needed, and pulled both feet up to hug his knees on the six inch wide strip of stone like a gymnast on the beam.
‘OK – perfect balance along with perfect bodies and perfect hair. You gotta love these guys, or die of jealousy,’ Dawn thought.
…………………………………………..
The actual coronation took place beyond the gates of the courtyard but, even so, Dawn saw many of the important people passing through to attend. There was one man who looked a bit like a fairer, younger, version of Aragorn, in blue with a silver breast plate. He was accompanying the only woman Dawn saw with loose hair – a woman in a cream and gold dress, with a gold circlet around her head of long blonde hair.
“Lady Éowyn and Lord Faramir,” Orophin explained. Dawn had heard about them both from the hobbits – she wished Gandalf would let her meet Éowyn who, although six or seven years older than herself, looked nice.
“Éomer King,” Rumil said, pointing.
A tall man with longer fair hair than most of the others, but still bearded, and wearing a dark green cloak over beautifully tooled leather armour, strode across the courtyard, accompanied by two even hairier guys in armour, carrying helmets with horse tail plumes (‘No wonder the elves stand out and get hit on by the Rohirrim!’ Dawn thought).
The two elves were exclaiming in Sindarin and Orophin explained “It is his battle armour, made clean and... shiny.”
“Cool!” said Dawn.
“Cool!” said Rumil.
The hobbits had waved up towards the balcony, and made their way out to the outer yard, when the three formally dressed elves appeared. Orophin, to Dawn’s surprise, suddenly tossed an apple towards them. Seemingly without looking, one of the twins snatched it out of the air and tucked it into a hidden pocket, and all three continued across the courtyard, with the expressionless faces Dawn had realised were the ‘elven public image’, as if nothing had happened.
“Elrohir,” said Orophin.
Rumil silently handed him a gold coin, his expression as dead-pan as the three now passing out of the gates.
Dawn looked from one to the other, rolled her eyes, and then got the giggles so badly that she almost missed the star attraction.
Five members of the Citadel guard walked slowly across the courtyard, the centre one carrying a large blue cushion, with something on it covered by blue satin. Behind them, side by side, came Gandalf, almost shining in his whiteness, and Aragorn; no, King Elessar. The King, like his fellow monarch Éomer, wore, not fancy armour but battle armour; covered by a cloak of blue so dark it was almost black. He walked slowly with a very serious expression – but Dawn thought under the circumstances she’d be pretty solemn too.
But Gandalf looked upwards, raised a hand, and smiled before proceeding out through the great gates, which were shut behind him.
…………………………………………..
Odd bits of Sindarin .
Hannon le thank you.
Hîril nín my lady.
Hîr nín my lord.
Tithen maethor little warrior.
Mellyn friends.
…………………………………………..
The ’BtVS’ characters in this story do not belong to me, but are being used for amusement only and all rights remain with Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, the writers of the original episodes, and the TV and production companies responsible for the original television shows. The 'LotR' characters also, for whom all rights remain with the estate of JRR Tolkein, and the production company responsible for the LotR movies.
…………………………………………..
If you are a fan of Bruce Forsyth you might not appreciate this snippet of conversation, following an item on the BBC news with Brucie talking about the new series of Strictly Come Dancing. Daughter-dear and I, in unison "That is not news, it's a trailer."
Followed by an impassioned plea from D-d "Why doesn't he just get on with it?"
Me - "With what?"
D-d - "With dying! Then we'd only have two or three days of Bruce Forsyth on every programme and we would never have to see him again!"
I'm full because we just had some nice fish for tea - just so that we could eat lots of really nice tartare sauce!
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 28/08/2008 08:08 pm (UTC)I really am loving this story!
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Date: 28/08/2008 08:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 28/08/2008 08:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 28/08/2008 08:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 28/08/2008 08:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 28/08/2008 09:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 28/08/2008 09:13 pm (UTC)Hee!
And I wonder why Tolkien never discussed the important details of women's underwear? :-)
I've actually got a foreboding feeling that this is going to end tragically, given the collision between Dawn & Rumil in one world and Buffy and Willow's activities in the other...
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Date: 28/08/2008 09:25 pm (UTC)Sadly, I feel that he never really thought of the underpinnings of his societies, so to speak...
the collision between Dawn & Rumil in one world and Buffy and Willow's activities in the other...
is going to come - oh yes, eventually it is going to come...
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Date: 28/08/2008 10:11 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 28/08/2008 11:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 28/08/2008 11:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 29/08/2008 07:46 am (UTC)no subject
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Date: 29/08/2008 07:51 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 29/08/2008 09:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 29/08/2008 12:10 pm (UTC)OOOh - thank you!
Glad you liked the apple bit etc. - I love writing those bits.
You are right about the imagery being mainly movie-verse, although as the twins don't really appear you can use your imagination for them and, honestly, for Orophin and Rumil - even though the fanon have two of the border guards in the film picked out as Haldir's brothers.
Also, in the film Legolas formal robes are silver and pale blue/grey - but I think his 'official' robes would be in greens or browns - blues are the colours of Imladris, to me.
And I do indeed have plot - I have possibly more plot than I need, but, to be honest, I am so much enjoying looking at Middle Earth through Dawn's eyes that the plot is moving fairly slowly to let me look at the scenery.
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Date: 29/08/2008 12:26 pm (UTC)I am very cross that Jackson killed off Haldir! I have a scene in my personal fanon where he is in the procession of the ringbearers to the Grey Havens and is bringing a mallorn seedling with him. It does NOT involve him getting chopped to bits in Helms' Deep.
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Date: 29/08/2008 06:02 pm (UTC)It is odd things like that that often fascinate me - how would they deal with a badly broken leg, how did he have his formal robes in Minas Tirith, or did he have to get new ones made? In the movie-verse was he carrying his circlet around all the time? And so on!
Someone has written a short fic where he is 'kidnapped' on the morning of the wedding by Glorfindel and the twins, stripped of his 'not formal enough' Mirkwood robes, and redressed in Rivendell ones instead! That was an attempt to explain his blue/silver outfit in the film!
There are lots of stories in which Haldir certainly survives Helm's Deep - I would prefer this usually, but it gave me a reason for there being one or two 'second division' elves around rather than it always being Legolas, a twin or, indeed, Haldir that features.
But I have a scene in my mind, in the future, in the undying lands...
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Date: 29/08/2008 09:56 pm (UTC)In the movieverse I reckon Legolas had to borrow stuff to wear from the Imladris lot. Why he is standing in for Elrond is a whole other matter. But if he is giving Arwen away then he has to stand either as a representative of her father or her mother. Mirkwood don't have shit to do with it.
I find I cannot easily substitute the movie canon of events in my mind for the book. The visuals yes! but the events, nope! So even when, like here, I know I am in the movieverse there is a bitter little fan voice moaning about how 'that's not right Stupid inner fan-voice. Build a damn fence and get on with it.
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Date: 29/08/2008 10:39 pm (UTC)Actually I see the twins as looking like Michael Praed in Robin of Sherwood...with braids.
News of the battles at Dol Guldur will have reached Minas Tirith by now, it was about 5 weeks between the battle and the coronation, but Thranduil would be busy with the aftermath, as would Celeborn and Galadriel, which is why in the bookverse they aren't at the coronation, nor is Elrond or Arwen etc. The Rivendell and lorien contingents arrive in time for midsummer - another couple of months away.
I am keeping to this, even though the joint coronation/wedding affair in the film might have short-cut things, but I felt I had to stick to the book timetable - like you, I knew it too well before!
So the purists would object to me using the book but keeping the Jackson battle of Helms Deep - but I thought 'I'm dropping a Californian teenager into here - it's not exactly canon, so WTF!!'
Mind you, Legolas didn't give Arwen away in the film - Elrond did.
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Date: 30/08/2008 03:01 pm (UTC)i>Mind you, Legolas didn't give Arwen away in the film - Elrond did huh? Shows that I have not watched those DVDs of the movie as often as I thought I would (actually after the first one I was pretty disappointed). All I recall is Legolas standing aside to reveal Arwen behind him but that may be entirely made up as a result of one of the parodies where Aragorn plants a big kiss on Legolas as his bride instead.
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Date: 30/08/2008 04:46 pm (UTC)This is what Aragorn sees as Legolas steps aside.
I don't like their Elrond, to be honest, and in this particular scene he appears to have tied knots in his hair rather than the pretty braids the others have!
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Date: 30/08/2008 05:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 29/08/2008 02:02 pm (UTC)Bruce Forsyth should just dodder off and retire (or die) gracefully.
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Date: 29/08/2008 06:04 pm (UTC)As for the fic, don't worry about it - although the whole fun of it has been describing Middle Earth as if by or for someone who has no idea what is going on, so you might cope...
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Date: 02/09/2008 12:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 02/09/2008 07:13 am (UTC)Well, except for the feet, of course...
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Date: 02/09/2008 11:05 pm (UTC)I love all the detail you're putting into this, and its leisurely pace -- yet, by the end of the chapter, lots of things have got done!
I'll save chapter 6 for tomorrow.
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Date: 03/09/2008 07:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 15/09/2008 10:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 16/09/2008 07:46 am (UTC)Hmm - trying not to think of Andrew as Rumil's soul-mate...
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Date: 03/07/2013 11:32 pm (UTC)Thank you for your detailed explanation how you imagine the beading done - now I see much easier what you mean. It would need quite a bit of dexterity indeed! :o) Also sorry for having mixed up beads and clips. By the way, creating working clips that stay put in straight hair on such tiny plaits is a true sign of the craftsmens abilities of elves and dwarves! (And I say that in full honesty) Even modern 21st industry with its modling techniques and such is not really able to manage that. *rolls eyes*
I love both your ideas of the spider silk usage and the advantages of it, and your braiding style differences very much. Might I perhaps borrow them if it fits in sometime? With full credit, of course.
How funny how you came about the gambling of the elves! :o)
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Date: 04/07/2013 06:08 pm (UTC)I can see the elves using a small tool like a tiny crochet hook to pull hair through small beads as they put the twists and turns into the braids - if they weren't carrying one they would fashion one from a small piece of wire or something whilst in Minas Tirith.
For complex styles I think they would sew the hair - like the lady who recreates ancient hairstyles (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M_HPjg-f8iQ) does.
Feel free to use both Legolas silk undies and the way in which different styles of hair braids have distinct meanings.
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Date: 05/07/2013 10:47 pm (UTC)