It was Birdsong again. It sure didn’t feel like it. Golden coat shivers, and his crowned head reaches back to pull his wolf cloak more over his back. Spring was supposed to be when hibernating bears, and slow creature awake and renew themselves, but all he wanted to do slip back into his cave. Unfortunately there were two things that stopped him from that. First, his stomach groaned with the strain of winter. Second, the black shape beside him. Haldir may look complete different, but he was always the first to get cabin fever. Especially as the birds. Haldir had missed their happy songs in the cold dreary mornings. He stands now off to the side, with his head high, crowned now in the sharp full tines of his kind, watching a few flirt about the sky in the evening. The gold pauses a moment to look upon his frame. He was no longer a small fawn, or even a deer, but a stag. Full grown.

The golden snorts and turns away, damming the sentimental side of that observation. That dark stag had caused him a great many problems too. How many times this year had he been weighed down by the deer, or called somewhere he did not wish to go. Cloven hoof kicks about the snow with a bit more bitterness than before. Small dry sprigs lift their weary heads to the air, and hidden between then, a few tiny bits of green. Spring was indeed coming, and there was much to do about the land. That though was also a subject he did not wish to go over. The crown upon his head had now been given true meaning for a full season now. It hadn’t exactly been easy.

Unbeckoned, earth eyes glance to the direction of his cavern, thinking for a second about that day after the meeting with Hotaru. Harks now pin back too. He really did not wish to think of that. That moment was still mostly a blur. A strange, ill feeling blur. Overall it was easy to say, though he enjoyed some bits, most of the season was as dull and dark as the winter sky.

Haldir was first to move. He turns his crowned head back to the Arch, standing fully alert. The golden senses a change, a tension and curiosity. Not emotions that usually went together for the stag. “Man hain? [What is it?] ” His voice, gruff and annoyed. But just then a sounds reaches his ears and brings him his answer.

As the small group come closer the red eyes of the metal guardians glow brighter. The metal head, tall and large creak and grind turning toward the groups. Its echo reverberates on the mountainside, and draws the golden to look up. The unnatural sound drawing immediate tension and alertness. Those creatures did not move often, and certainly no without cause. “Haldir, tolo.” The command rises, and the two move out at a quick pace towards the Arch. The large metal creatures were not done with their warning though. One metal hoof rises high in the air with surprising fluidity and speed, and steps out, narrowing the path, and sending a firm warning. One hoof past, and the alarm would sound and hell descend. The Basin may seem dead and still, but it had its defenses, and was not hesitant to act.

They had been close to the Arch though, and the golden, pinned eared and narrowed eyes comes over the rise. The metal machines moves their legs back for him to pass, but they still gaze down upon the gathering. The golden is quick to take in the gathering, tense for the sight of so many.  But his nose is the first to find a clue. A bitter coopery smell he knew well surrounded the gathering. His eyes look about, and find one seeping out the smell. His eyes settle on a bird, dark small, and child of snow white glued to her side. He halts then, taken a bit back as he looks quickly to the others, not caring to hide his scrutinizing gaze. He was the lord here, the keeper, and the high hand. Whatever struggles he had handling that title other days, in moments like this, there was little doubt he could play it well.

There was a bare headed black equine who hung back and unicorn, white as the child, but marked in blue. Three against one, but he was not frightened, or threatened. It was hard to do that here. The wounded bird speaks and a sharp gaze shifts from inspecting to her. Only one hark comes up to hear her, while the other slides to trail onto the others. Shadow…he had never heard that name before. She admits her weakness, begging. A beggar, which such an entourage? It seemed strange suspicious. Perhaps just a mother and child, but this was a full family. Tasseled tail flicks at his sides, and he finally speaks, coldly as the wind. “I am Thranduil, Lord of the Basin” As he said it a dark figure rises into the scene from the valley and comes to stand beside him. Haldir looked over them himself, especially as he found the small white child his head lowers with a smile. It was the only warmth they were receiving.

Now don’t get the golden wrong. He was not like some of the old keepers here. Feathers and bare heads did not bother him in his flock. Not in the slightest. In fact, he sort of loved it like a guilty pleasure. He looked always for the wounded glances of those old bats as he continued to rock the boat. Yes rock, rock, rock the boat, till they all fall out. In fact here he had welcomed a black bird not long ago. But this was different. This wasn’t one bird, this was practically an invading force. It raised the hair on his back, and caused him to shift uneasily. He might let the unusual in, but it was not without a sharp inspection.

And unfortunately they were not passing the test well. Harks pin back and head rests high. “You ask too much. The mountains have not shelter for the weak, or multitude.” He passes another gaze over all of them. He lingers for a moment, but then turns and moves to stand beside the sentinels. He doesn’t even get his back turned before something cuts right through him.

”Al [No.]”

And the golden freezes midstep. That hadn’t been spoken aloud. That didn’t come from them. It spoke to him from the inside. From the same place where an invasion of resistance was rising. Slowly he moves his head to look back. Haldir had moved, he had gone to stand in front of the small group. “Haldir….” He speaks out, both in warning and confusion. ”Al [No]” He was talking. Talking to the golden, in his mind. Shaking his crowned head he tried his best to rid himself of it, but the power of the stag was stronger than ever now. His companion was one of the few who ever dared to stand up to him, and now he was telling him. Sharp eyes glance to the exhausted mother, then back to the deer. He did not want them to hear this struggle. It was bad enough they saw it. So he gathers strength and attacks the building resistance of his bond’s emotions, hoping it goes through. “Ogol. Al estel. [Evil. Not trust].” It was the deer’s turn to raise his head in surprise, and his ears to come forward. They had spoken.

Haldir was quicker than the gold. He moves, going to stand beside the child, his pale eyes narrowing with the cruelty of this move. Crowned head dips to the babe. He was not an idiot. He knew exactly what dark memories a babe could bring. ”Nesta. An din [Heal. For her.]” The golden’s teeth bare at the cruel play, wanting to lash out and drag his deer away for using that knowledge he had gained of his bonded against him. But the he could not evade the tactic, and a sore painful wound was re-found, which Haldir digging his antlers into it. “FARN [Enough]!” It came out in a yell. Cold and strong. The gold spun back to the valley and his voice lashed out across. “Lena! Enna!” He turns back quickly again, looking at the party. But he refuses to look at Haldir who moves to join him again, even as a meek, “Ma [Good]”, comes to him.

The golden looks at the whole group again. He snorts in agitation, but speaks low and calmer than expected.   “You may find aid here. We mend a beggar’s misstep north without much ill will, no matter who finds our door.” He glances to the wings about the wounded bird, then back to the group as a whole. “But you seem not just a beggar.” He seems to gather himself, collecting his body from the irritation of before. “To stay I must know more about you, all of you.” For once a smile comes over his lips, thinking once more of rocking the boat. “Feathers and bare heads may be welcomed now, but they still…unusual to see.” His smile drops though, and he turns back to the seeming leader of their group, the wounded bird with a cold eye. “Who are you, and what do you seek?” It was cold still. Though Haldir may have won one fight, smiling proudly looking at them, there was still much to be answered before.

They were lucky honestly. Had he known of the wounded bird’s first attempts to rest in this place not even Haldir’s argument may have been enough. They were in fact, walking on thinner ice than before. One wrong tale, or ill placed thought would see them out into the cold again, worse than when they came in.  At least now though they had a fighting chance. They be given the healing aid, and an opportunity to explain themselves. Such a break of luck was rare in the hard landscape among wolves. They best use it wisely.




OOC ::Haldir and Thranduil are speaking through their bond now! Hooray!
"Speech"