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gondolindrim2013-02-12 10:24 pm
second_time_around) wrote in gondolindrim2013-02-12 10:24 pm
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On one of his many walks around the city…
Finrod: *taking his break sitting by one of the fountains in the King's Square*
Fëanor: *walking through the square, frowning to himself, elves scattering in his wake*
Finrod: *fingers trailing in the water; notices people scurrying with greater than usual fervor, puzzled*
Fëanor: *pauses in the middle of the square, looks deep in thought*
Finrod: *spies him; ah, puzzle solved*
Fëanor: *glances around, doesn't really notice the elves moving away from him now, is used to it; glance lands on Finrod* Oh, Finderato... *walks over to him*
Finrod: Hello, Feanaro.
Fëanor: Hello, nephew. When did you arrive in the city?
Finrod: Several weeks ago. And you?
Fëanor: A few months now. *gestures* May I sit?
Finrod: Sure.
Fëanor: *sits and rubs his head* How are you finding the city?
Finrod: It's interesting so far. *eyeing him, Feanor's never taken a great interest in him* And you?
Fëanor: Also interesting. Turukáno has graciously given me a second chance here. *not looking at Finrod but out over the square, as if trying to find something* I must owe you an apology.
Finrod: *wonders what he is looking for; simply* Yes. You do.
Fëanor: *has been practicing this apology thing; thinks he's getting better at it* I'm sorry.
Finrod: *glances at him to ascertain his honesty; slowly* Thank you.
Fëanor: *nods; then changes the subject* Do you have a sword?
Finrod: Yes... *wearing it now, what with the goings on; the question confuses him a bit though*
Fëanor: *hadn't noticed; has been busy staring around the square* Oh yes, I see ... I can make you a better one.
Finrod: *frowns a bit, though is sure he could* Why?
Fëanor: *looks a little vague, as if thinking of something* You need protection in this city... something is not right here.
Finrod: No, you're right about that at least. Something isn't right. *though his sword is quite nice enough, thank you very much*
Fëanor: *glances at him sharply* Can you feel it too?
Finrod: Feel what? *only meant the strange murders*
Fëanor: I just... I get a feeling of something very wrong, some... I hesitate to say "evil" but.... there is something bad here.
Finrod: *frowns* Something other than the murders?
Fëanor: Maybe... *looks as if he's thinking hard* Maybe it's connected. I am not sure. I just know... I walk this city, and there are places... areas... that feel wrong. Bad.
Finrod: *cocks his head* What places?
Fëanor: It's not the place itself, but... *thinks on how to describe* the area? the vicinity? Just ... the feeling is stronger in those spots.
Finrod: Which spots?
Fëanor: Here. It is very strong here. *rubs a hand against the back of his neck; names a few other spots*
Finrod: *makes mental note* Strange...
Fëanor: Yes. *nods, as if making up his mind* You need a better sword. You need protection. I will make one for you. *unlike his offers of swords to Turgon and the guards, there is not an ulterior motive here - he feels Finrod NEEDS a better sword*
Finrod: *frowns a little, feeling like a child; but tries to be graceful, because it's Feanor* ...Thank you. *idly traces fingers over the hilt of his own sword*
Fëanor: You are welcome. *stands* I will work on it, and bring it to you. I can find you where?
Finrod: *tells him*
Fëanor: Very well. I will bring it soon.
Finrod: Thank you.
Fëanor: *starts walking away; stops, and glances back* You're welcome, nephew. And... be careful. *strides back off through the crowd, glancing this way and that*
Finrod: *is left extremely bewildered*
Something is wrong...I wish I could figure this out. I am not sure Finderato -- or anyone -- is safe.
Finrod: *taking his break sitting by one of the fountains in the King's Square*
Fëanor: *walking through the square, frowning to himself, elves scattering in his wake*
Finrod: *fingers trailing in the water; notices people scurrying with greater than usual fervor, puzzled*
Fëanor: *pauses in the middle of the square, looks deep in thought*
Finrod: *spies him; ah, puzzle solved*
Fëanor: *glances around, doesn't really notice the elves moving away from him now, is used to it; glance lands on Finrod* Oh, Finderato... *walks over to him*
Finrod: Hello, Feanaro.
Fëanor: Hello, nephew. When did you arrive in the city?
Finrod: Several weeks ago. And you?
Fëanor: A few months now. *gestures* May I sit?
Finrod: Sure.
Fëanor: *sits and rubs his head* How are you finding the city?
Finrod: It's interesting so far. *eyeing him, Feanor's never taken a great interest in him* And you?
Fëanor: Also interesting. Turukáno has graciously given me a second chance here. *not looking at Finrod but out over the square, as if trying to find something* I must owe you an apology.
Finrod: *wonders what he is looking for; simply* Yes. You do.
Fëanor: *has been practicing this apology thing; thinks he's getting better at it* I'm sorry.
Finrod: *glances at him to ascertain his honesty; slowly* Thank you.
Fëanor: *nods; then changes the subject* Do you have a sword?
Finrod: Yes... *wearing it now, what with the goings on; the question confuses him a bit though*
Fëanor: *hadn't noticed; has been busy staring around the square* Oh yes, I see ... I can make you a better one.
Finrod: *frowns a bit, though is sure he could* Why?
Fëanor: *looks a little vague, as if thinking of something* You need protection in this city... something is not right here.
Finrod: No, you're right about that at least. Something isn't right. *though his sword is quite nice enough, thank you very much*
Fëanor: *glances at him sharply* Can you feel it too?
Finrod: Feel what? *only meant the strange murders*
Fëanor: I just... I get a feeling of something very wrong, some... I hesitate to say "evil" but.... there is something bad here.
Finrod: *frowns* Something other than the murders?
Fëanor: Maybe... *looks as if he's thinking hard* Maybe it's connected. I am not sure. I just know... I walk this city, and there are places... areas... that feel wrong. Bad.
Finrod: *cocks his head* What places?
Fëanor: It's not the place itself, but... *thinks on how to describe* the area? the vicinity? Just ... the feeling is stronger in those spots.
Finrod: Which spots?
Fëanor: Here. It is very strong here. *rubs a hand against the back of his neck; names a few other spots*
Finrod: *makes mental note* Strange...
Fëanor: Yes. *nods, as if making up his mind* You need a better sword. You need protection. I will make one for you. *unlike his offers of swords to Turgon and the guards, there is not an ulterior motive here - he feels Finrod NEEDS a better sword*
Finrod: *frowns a little, feeling like a child; but tries to be graceful, because it's Feanor* ...Thank you. *idly traces fingers over the hilt of his own sword*
Fëanor: You are welcome. *stands* I will work on it, and bring it to you. I can find you where?
Finrod: *tells him*
Fëanor: Very well. I will bring it soon.
Finrod: Thank you.
Fëanor: *starts walking away; stops, and glances back* You're welcome, nephew. And... be careful. *strides back off through the crowd, glancing this way and that*
Finrod: *is left extremely bewildered*
Something is wrong...I wish I could figure this out. I am not sure Finderato -- or anyone -- is safe.