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04-19-2015, 10:10 PM
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Thranduil
He was cold. Freezing. That was why he was shivering right? From a stream’s edge he comes forth back to the field of battle. In the dull light of dawn it looked like the sun had melted upon the field. Red, bold even in this light, sharpens in his gaze like a knife. Bodies still lay where they fell in the chaos, mangled, and uncounted. War still to fresh on the horizon to think there might be a future grave where they could be buried. His horned head turns to the forests behind him. In there with a main force he had charged. And there he had strung on his own path, caught finally in the mindlessness of battle. It had been ever so welcomed. He in fact, missed it. For now it was gone, and, turning to look upon the field again, he was left to face such sites. A heavy sigh shutters through him and with care to step on no broken soul he crosses the field. The gold had not journeyed to the jungle in vain though. Plenty he had wounded by his blade and wrath. But it was not them who weighed heavily on his mind. In the shadows of the jungle, the gold could run no further with the armor upon his back. Recalling it he stumbled to the side of a stream, wet with sweat and worn with the charge. Reaching to its cool waters he goes to steal a drink. Only it is watched. Watched by two dark eyes. Jumping back the gold readied, to slay the creature, but his weapons were stilled. It was not but a small pink fish. Sighing the gold turns away. His mind rolls to the open field, where the main battle could be heard dying down. A splash startles him back to the fish. The pink creature had turned, its long fins trailing behind it. Horned head tilts, and it looks back to him. Shaking his head free of this madness he turns to go but his hooves clink on an object. Sharp ears lift, and he looks to find upon a black cloak, two necklaces, gold. One a songbird, the other a hawk. Eyes narrow and look to the fish, but it was gone. He stowed the three objects in his satchel, and waded into the stream as red began to dye its waters. He never did find the fish, only the blood of others. He had taken the objects out and observed them closer, but found nothing unique of them. And now, wandering across the field he had nearly forgotten the affair. He was ready to go back. Back to the mountains and hide from the wars of others. He was not a loyal soldier, not a watch guard, not even a horse of honor. He had no place here, and never did. Even his reason for coming was lost to him. Earth eyes did sweep the bodies before him in a halfhearted measure for black and white pelts. It was in hatred though that he did so. It was her fault he was here of course. Her fault he was tied to the mess. Shaking those stained horns he turns, ready to journey north. Her scream stops him. Golden head flings up and around, locking onto her. There. In the dull of dawn she stood. By her cart, like she hadn’t moved at all. Turning his sweat stained body he faces the scene, and with a bitterness, her melting courage. Harks tip backwards, but always forward again. He couldn’t ignore her, but he could not leave it. He had done as he intended that day, which seemed ages ago. He had scared her off, and now she stood unharmed by the charge. All he wanted was done. The gold could go freely. Every rational reason crashed upon the rock of his body, but the rock would not move. The clank of metal causes him to flinch and his eyes can not watch her tear the wolf cloak from her body to stamp upon it. He had done all his shell of a soul required and it was clear she was not ready to see him again. But yet he could not leave. Of course she crumbled. This world, the true world of uncalled for hatred, bloodshed and death was never meant to be seen by her eyes. A step he takes towards her. She was never meant to see the evil of the world and feel its bitter sting upon her innocence. Never to touch the cold steel of a blade, nor feel the strain upon her back. She was meant to wander as she had that day, carefree, humming, and trusting the world about her. Now look, she crumbles to the earth, crushed under the weight of it all. Head looks north, but it is a distant whim now. He can not simply go, but neither does he wish to meet her again. The gold had scared her from his evil clutches, as he should. It would be better, if he never had come to her. That was certain. He had let his strange moods gain too much of a hold on him, and now look what it had caused. It needed to end. Walking in his silent wake he comes to her. Earth eyes watch only her, blind to the blood, metal and mangled bodies. Gold neck twitches to see her face buried in the folds of the cloak. It was a mistake to give it to her. The thought echoed in his empty inside. Why had he come over again? Yes, to take it. She had thrown it and gone to trample it had she not? And had the gesture not caused him to throw himself foolishly in the head of battle? He could not do that again. He would not do it. His actions were not another’s to control. He would take it, and all this madness would leave her, and he. She would go home, forget as best she could the visions of the night. Perhaps in a few weeks she’d smile, and maybe even hum. She’d get on. And he? He would go on as he always had. Lying, laughing, and forgetting. Why did this feel so familiar? He steps forward, his cloven hoof stepping over the corner of the cloak and moving past her. Not even the soft pad of hooves for a goodbye. In the end, he could not take it. Not while it softened her head against the cold hard ground. "talk talk talk" OOC:: Look I didn't tag you! lol |
![[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.
