Hours…second? The gold’s sense of time was slipping away faster than his patience. The gold was used to bidding his time in the shadows, watching and waiting for the right moment to slip forth and seep whatever ill-fated future he desired upon some poor unfortunate soul. What he was not used to was standing in the sun, in the open, waiting for judgement of some kind, with all the taxing pressure and anxiety of a father to be (or re-be, but he wasn’t even going near that bombshell). He wasn’t used to not knowing what to do, or even trying to help, really help, in a meaningful way. He wasn’t used to everything now asked of him by tradition, by his feelings. All in all, he was feeling rather useless…and he wasn’t used to that.

And it was getting worse the more Hotaru began to show signs of the times. Thankfully, an unknown figure came towards them. Hotaru’s formality causes the gold’s hide to twitch to attention as it stood in such sharp contrast to this morning. Perhaps when there was time to reflect he’d find its reason, but for the moment there were a few too many other things pressing. “Thranduil, the Laurelin.” He adds, simply, his masked smile lifting slightly in efforts to seem…normal. Perhaps when the one by him had her full healthy and strength again he’d let himself flaunt his more natural flare. But his throat was pressed by the force of his aching chest, and caught dry by his concern, leaving him nothing but a hollow shell.

The foreign mare, though at times difficult to follow the accent of, revealed she was not only able to bestow her blessing, but willing. It perhaps would have been more amusing another day to think of her ignorance at who she let just waltz into her home. Not that there were any immediate plans to burn it to the ground, but considering who they were, and that they were together…it was rather a handsome gift for the Edge, be it a blessing or curse.

The gold let the one at his side set the pace. Though he would have loved to high step with her into their new home, or playfully pull her to the cliffs at water’s edge, his favorite spot. Yet it seemed though he knew of her condition, he was in shock for just how…pressing the matter (or matters) were. It took another’s insight to finally see through it. Through the foreign tongue he finds the term doctor, and a shiver runs down the gold’s dark spine.

Now? Haldir , having hung quietly by the gathering since they’d left Duir, even looks up in slight surprise. Not now. Surely not. The gold head twists slightly to let his earth eyes find hers, the gold in them sparking, but shivering. It was too much, the strain of the journey, the weight of her mind- It was all too much assuredly. Harks twist back, not that he had ever seen such things, never knew the strain of birth on a mare, but surely it could not be of help to go into the strain of birth already utterly exhausted. Not to mention, if the gold was helpless before, he was surely now, and far outside of his area of expertise. Haldir, sensing the growing unknown, wavers closer to the gold, letting his dark hide bump a gold leg. It did little to reassure.  

The thrill which should be pulsing through him at seeing the future of the Valkyrie and Laurelin was crushed under the dragging weight the reality they found themselves in. At a lost, was not usually prescribed to the golden’s character, and it fit him poorly as his smile slightly faded, the mask slipping. They were a pair, a tandem, but this next path she’d have to make for herself. He would be there, as he had been since the day they’d committed to this, but the gold could do little, worth little now. All he could offer, was a gentle nibble at crest of her mane, a cool breath on her neck, and a drop of the head to her level, an admittance to any command, wish, or desire she gave. None, but one, had ever called on such admittance of love as a bowed golden head.

Perhaps one day he’d curse himself for being so weak, rage against the chain and collar this day made obvious, or even lash out at that which partly caused all these feelings. One day he might question the link now shared between the rosen Valkyrie and the pale white ghost lingering even now in corner of his consciousness. One day he might remember all the emotions, feelings, and debilitating agonies this moment should have crashing and raging in like a storm. But for now he was caught in her web, blinded his worry for her life (let alone that of their unborn children), and worn from the journey, wanting the simple pleasure to lie securely in a bed. Yet it seemed they would both be denied that. So it all washed away, into whispers in the background of his mind, so nothing was left in his sight but she, his Valkyrie, and the feeling, as she leaned against him, of three heartbeats.



OOC :: Thran just stands there...feeling useless XD
"Speech"