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gondolindrim2013-01-26 05:00 pm
daeron_doriath) wrote in gondolindrim2013-01-26 05:00 pm
Entry tags:
I was running for my life...
And somehow I ended up in Gondolin...
Turgon: *walking with Gelgannel going over his schedule after doing an inspection*
Daeron: *has barely escaped from being shot, runs down an alley, stumbles and falls over two people*
Gelgannel: Gah!
Turgon: *grabs Daeron's shoulder to yank him off them* Careful!
Daeron: *moves away, reaches for his gun and freezes* Turgon?
Turgon: Who are you? *looks down at what Daeron's reaching for in confusion, it's not a sword*
Daeron: *still holding the gun Daeron, of Doriath... When there was such a place.
Turgon: Turgon, Gondolin. Year 300 of the First Age. You're not from around now.
Gelgannel: What is *that*? *peers at the gun*
Daeron: *puts the gun away* It's a gun. Have you not ever seen one? *stops* Gondolin 300, you say? What am I doing here? *remembers seeing Turgon in the Mered Aderthad*
Turgon: *oh, one of those* I've seen one, but it was nearly as long as my arm. Don't wave that around. And it's a long story that's very short. Things are going wrong with time and people are showing up here. And since guns don't appear for... *glances at Gel*
Gelgannel: A long time into the fourth age, sir.
Turgon: you're from a long time from now.
Daeron: *hears gunshooting close, shakes his head and it's gone* I see... If this is Gondolin, then you are King here.
Turgon: mhm. You knocked over and pulled a gun on the king. *note of amusement*
Daeron: I apologize, sire. I was running for my life someplace in what you would call the eastern part of Ennorath
Turgon: what was going on there? *frowns*
Daeron: Countries bombing each other. The year was 2012. I was traveling when war started and ended up caught between two fires. *closes eyes, shakes his head, stills hears gunfire*
Turgon: *not sure how to place those dates or what exacting bombing means, but little nod* Well... it's much more peaceful here. Come on, I'll get you something to calm your nerves.
Daeron: *nods* Thank you. *goes with him* Are there more people coming here then?
Turgon: Most days. Gelgannel, what's the last count?
Gelgannel: A population bump of nearly three hundred from people arriving. Human, elf, dwarf, and other species.
Daeron: *stiffens* Humans too? *has gotten used to them, but the last ones he saw were shooting at him*
Gelgannel: a sizeable amount of the newcomers.
Turgon: More of them in history, I suppose.
Daeron: Well.... I guess they can't harm anyone here.
Turgon: They usually don't. *has steered them to a bar, The Troll's Head, and gets them inside to get a drink to calm Daeron after the circumstances of his arrival*
Daeron: *looks around warily* Good. So they don't have guns here?
Turgon: None that I've allowed anyone to keep.
Gelgannel: He means a hunter showed up with one once. There was no fight to get him to hand it over.
Turgon: Yes, thank you, I was trying to sound imposing.
Gelgannel: Apologies, sire
Daeron: I need to keep mine.
Turgon: I'm sorry, that's not an option. It's too dangerous.
Daeron: *starts to panic* I can't... How can you ask me to give it up?
Turgon: Easily. There's no one who will harm you here, but you hold something that could greatly harm anyone by accident. Or on purpose.
Daeron: *hears the shooting again* I would never shoot anyone... I'm no soldier... *looks at Turgon, remembers the kinslaying* You accuse me of hurting others on purpose? *closes eyes*
Turgon: Please hand it over, before I have to call the guards. *making his voice soft and kind* I know you must be under great strain, but I do not allow things like that in my city
Daeron: *tries to stay in the present* All right... *hands it over, hands shaking*
Turgon: *takes it carefully, not sure if it'll go off and hands it to Gelgannel, who's from a time that's had them*
Gelgannel: *mostly used to things like muskets, but manages to get the bullets out and packs it away*
Turgon: Thank you, Daeron
Daeron: *feels as if a weight had been taken from him* I need to sleep... *also needs food, but is too tired to eat*
Turgon: Gel?
Gelgannel: I'll handle it, sire. You need to get to your meeting with the House of Artificers.
Turgon: A good place to have this disposed of, too. *takes the pieces of the gun* You're safe here, Daeron, and Gel will take care of you.
Daeron: *nods tiredly, hoping he is not drugged and seeing things*
Gelgannel: Let's get you somewhere you can rest.
Daeron: Thank you. *still wary* I have been running for weeks, shooting others to stay alive... Are you even real?
Gelgannel: As real as they come.
Daeron: I hope so... It's been long enough for me.
I am so tired... How in the world I ended up in a city full of Noldor and Humans?
Turgon: *walking with Gelgannel going over his schedule after doing an inspection*
Daeron: *has barely escaped from being shot, runs down an alley, stumbles and falls over two people*
Gelgannel: Gah!
Turgon: *grabs Daeron's shoulder to yank him off them* Careful!
Daeron: *moves away, reaches for his gun and freezes* Turgon?
Turgon: Who are you? *looks down at what Daeron's reaching for in confusion, it's not a sword*
Daeron: *still holding the gun Daeron, of Doriath... When there was such a place.
Turgon: Turgon, Gondolin. Year 300 of the First Age. You're not from around now.
Gelgannel: What is *that*? *peers at the gun*
Daeron: *puts the gun away* It's a gun. Have you not ever seen one? *stops* Gondolin 300, you say? What am I doing here? *remembers seeing Turgon in the Mered Aderthad*
Turgon: *oh, one of those* I've seen one, but it was nearly as long as my arm. Don't wave that around. And it's a long story that's very short. Things are going wrong with time and people are showing up here. And since guns don't appear for... *glances at Gel*
Gelgannel: A long time into the fourth age, sir.
Turgon: you're from a long time from now.
Daeron: *hears gunshooting close, shakes his head and it's gone* I see... If this is Gondolin, then you are King here.
Turgon: mhm. You knocked over and pulled a gun on the king. *note of amusement*
Daeron: I apologize, sire. I was running for my life someplace in what you would call the eastern part of Ennorath
Turgon: what was going on there? *frowns*
Daeron: Countries bombing each other. The year was 2012. I was traveling when war started and ended up caught between two fires. *closes eyes, shakes his head, stills hears gunfire*
Turgon: *not sure how to place those dates or what exacting bombing means, but little nod* Well... it's much more peaceful here. Come on, I'll get you something to calm your nerves.
Daeron: *nods* Thank you. *goes with him* Are there more people coming here then?
Turgon: Most days. Gelgannel, what's the last count?
Gelgannel: A population bump of nearly three hundred from people arriving. Human, elf, dwarf, and other species.
Daeron: *stiffens* Humans too? *has gotten used to them, but the last ones he saw were shooting at him*
Gelgannel: a sizeable amount of the newcomers.
Turgon: More of them in history, I suppose.
Daeron: Well.... I guess they can't harm anyone here.
Turgon: They usually don't. *has steered them to a bar, The Troll's Head, and gets them inside to get a drink to calm Daeron after the circumstances of his arrival*
Daeron: *looks around warily* Good. So they don't have guns here?
Turgon: None that I've allowed anyone to keep.
Gelgannel: He means a hunter showed up with one once. There was no fight to get him to hand it over.
Turgon: Yes, thank you, I was trying to sound imposing.
Gelgannel: Apologies, sire
Daeron: I need to keep mine.
Turgon: I'm sorry, that's not an option. It's too dangerous.
Daeron: *starts to panic* I can't... How can you ask me to give it up?
Turgon: Easily. There's no one who will harm you here, but you hold something that could greatly harm anyone by accident. Or on purpose.
Daeron: *hears the shooting again* I would never shoot anyone... I'm no soldier... *looks at Turgon, remembers the kinslaying* You accuse me of hurting others on purpose? *closes eyes*
Turgon: Please hand it over, before I have to call the guards. *making his voice soft and kind* I know you must be under great strain, but I do not allow things like that in my city
Daeron: *tries to stay in the present* All right... *hands it over, hands shaking*
Turgon: *takes it carefully, not sure if it'll go off and hands it to Gelgannel, who's from a time that's had them*
Gelgannel: *mostly used to things like muskets, but manages to get the bullets out and packs it away*
Turgon: Thank you, Daeron
Daeron: *feels as if a weight had been taken from him* I need to sleep... *also needs food, but is too tired to eat*
Turgon: Gel?
Gelgannel: I'll handle it, sire. You need to get to your meeting with the House of Artificers.
Turgon: A good place to have this disposed of, too. *takes the pieces of the gun* You're safe here, Daeron, and Gel will take care of you.
Daeron: *nods tiredly, hoping he is not drugged and seeing things*
Gelgannel: Let's get you somewhere you can rest.
Daeron: Thank you. *still wary* I have been running for weeks, shooting others to stay alive... Are you even real?
Gelgannel: As real as they come.
Daeron: I hope so... It's been long enough for me.
I am so tired... How in the world I ended up in a city full of Noldor and Humans?