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It had been a long time. Wind stirred. It had been far too long. Sun reflected off its twin. The time had come. The golden son was ready to do battle again. Ready to feel the sweat and strain. Ready to breathe the fire of rage and taste the bitter crimson of life. Lost power and skill from a two year’s avoidance of a battlefield had left the golden youth, in his own eyes, unfit. The mountains had cured that though. Rising high and solid their icy challenge was met by the gold. Climbing their heights the golden had stolen from their supply what he had lost. Now, feeling each muscle pull and give with the fluidity and controlled power of a hunting cat, the day, he felt had come. Pulse pounded down in his chest, lungs breathed in deep, anticipation rose. It was time to return. Time to raise the battle cry and let loose the power he felt tingling in his blood. The golden was returning to the brawl. Returning to the fires of war.
Such does his mind tell the preparing body. A general’s speech to his soldiers. Wait though, something is amiss. Those are fresh faces, cleaned just that morning by their mother’s handkerchief. They stand with fresh packs, clean clothes, and new guns. They have never seen war. When the general turns from them his assuring smile of pride and faith falls. He knows. The golden knows. It has been a long time. It was a faraway place from the sand dunes where he once earned his metals. Time breaks all things though. Not even stolen strength and vigor from the mountains can gain those dependable skills back. No, they must once again be earned. Blood and sweat paid in anew. Loans on life and body made. All these things the golden knew and feared. No one in this land of harsh ice, and unforgiving earth would give him the easier test. Nor, for that matter did the gold want that version, for he like the general, knew the truth. The soldiers must go on to full battle regardless of those truths. Mother’s sons must become solider men. So the forgotten golden must become the solid warrior. Both through the pain, sacrifice, victory, and loss of full battle.
Never fear the fear. The twin horn’s ego was enlarged greatly by the recent successes of his work. No, not the work of the herd in which he now labored. His work of chaos and manipulation. Advancement in this made only last night as his lady tasked him as Phantom. It gave silence to the worries his absence caused, and pushed his pride ever larger. Ego could quickly be broken in battle, but time will demand him know these things later. For now, the golden boy shook his body loose in a low extending two paced trot, those earth eyes a spark with gold, looking for a challenger. Fate wasted no time, perhaps she sought to see the truth in his eyes. A call rang across the lake shores, echoing upon the mountains, and in the twin horned’s core. Pausing in mid step, the cat tail lashes about his hocks. Decisions are being made. Cloven hooves step towards the call. Lips lift and twist in a wicked grin.
A red sleek creature he finds by the lake. Beat slows in viewing the challenge, coming to face it head on. Well built, sturdy, yet toned, crowned with clear red blade, and pierced by ice in the eyes, is the stallion the golden finds. One hark leans back, while earth eyes narrow and discovers hidden among his coat splashed with white, scars crisscrossing about him. Grin did not falter though, just as the previous worries were laid aside, so now the higher experience worn by this red was laid to rest with them. The golden’s pride was much too large to worry about such small matters. Feeling twenty feet tall the gold shook about that Spanish head and threw into the air a wild, fierce battle cry, letting it echo on the mountain tops. Returning the gold dusted gaze to the red, one gold forelimb was struck out in challenge.
His mind begins its work. Many think battles time for automation, gut reaction, and instinct. A time for slowing down the mind. The golden sees another world. What courses they choose, what pain they feel, is all a conversation, just not with words. So his skills to read, theorize, and understand are the lenses he views through. As he faces the red warrior his mind is not turned off, but the opposite. It is on overdrive. Whirling. Buzzing. Ready. It’s been too long, so don’t make him wait any longer.
"speech"
TAGS :: @[Déodat]
WORDS :: 790 (this is going to be hard XD )
ATTACK :: 0/3
NOTES :: First attack to you my friend, and good luck!
SUMMARY :: Thranduil feels swelling pride and ego from recent successes, and so decides to answer Déodat's challenge and fight once more. Facing him head on he calls out an answer and strikes out his right foreleg for a moment in challenge, then ready's for attack.
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![[Image: 5381546acbe33]](http://images.helovia.net/index.php/view/5381546acbe33)
Feel free to use any force/magic on Thranduil, short of killing him.
Please tag in every post.
Ask Thranduil any question in the world, he'll be forced to answer on his profile. PM with your question.
