findsthesun | Practice! With Wellard

"It will come," says Legolas, and turns away to smile at the young man. "But we always knew it would. Thank you."

"I am Legolas, of the Great Forest—what Men call Mirkwood."

He isn't sure exactly what he's being thanked for, but Wellard inclines his head in acknowledgement of it.

"You're welcome. And I am Wellard, Henry Wellard, from England, which-

"Ah, well. Also called Britian, but if there are other peoples aside from humans in my world, we don't know of them, to know what they'd call it."

Legolas laughs, merrily.

"England it is, then, unless 'Eng-' has a meaning, that I might translate it properly for you."

His tone is clearly teasing, though he would be willing to do so!

Wellard chuckles, shaking his head.

"Eng- or Ang, is the names of one of the many groups of invaders who settled the island and made it their home." He smiles a bit wryly. "Of which there is a long history of, one group invading, then settling, and a few generations later trying to defend against the next group who would do the same. But that's mostly early history, and we've not been invaded for several hundred years, now."

The most recent attempt the mun can remember was the Spanish Armada in Elizabeth the First's time, who ran against Sir Francis Drake-

The latter being one of Wellard's childhood heros.

"'Tis a pity," Legolas says, looking put out. "Angdor is not a pleasing name, and I doubt you would wish me to name your country after war. England it shall have to be."

"As we've been very pleased with the name so far, I think it will have to continue to do." He grins-

Legolas' amusement is a bit catching, to say the least.

"Now then, given that most people either have a similar reaction to the Windows, or they have their own reasons for being distraught and out-of-sorts when they arrive here, there is a long tradition of the first drink being on the house. If you'd care for anything?"

There is a wait rat waiting with long-suffering patience near by- and the waiting is only because Ivan likes Wellard better than other patrons he can name.

"Ah, that depends," Legolas says, and spotting the waitrat...stops for a long moment, before continuing, "are their cellars well-stocked, and," he looks up at Wellard with some amusement, "their waitstaff capable of carrying drinks?"

The look Ivan gives Legolas is incredulous, to say the least.

Wellard, who may be eying Ivan with a bit of amusement, nods at Legolas. "They have any sort of drink or food here you'd want or can even imagine- and quite a few you wouldn't."

Either wouldn't want, or wouldn't imagine of.

"My most sincere apologies, Master Rat," Legolas says, apparently sincere. "I did not wish to overburden you." He then glances to Wellard, and smirks. Any sort, do they? "Master Rat," he tells Ivan, "would it be taxing your hospitality to ask for a small wineskin of Dorwinion and a glass? I have not seen the king’s cellars in weeks, and I am not likely to for a few more."

To Wellard: "You are welcome to share with me, if you wish."

And here Ivan thought Legolas was going to ask for something hard. He turns on his heels and scurries off.

Wellard continues to look on with amusement-

Before looking back at Legolas, and quickly shaking his head.

"I- I mean no offense by it, and I do thank you for your offer. But I rather prefer not to drink."

Legolas smiles at him, "Do not worry over it," he glances around the room. "Did you have a place you were sitting, or should we find a table?"

He motions over to a table, complete with a couple books, paper, pen, and (we can never forget) a cup of tea.

"I had been working on a few things before you arrived- though usually, the idea of doing any sort of work down here leaves one open to interruptions and distractions."

Meaning, he would have stayed up in his room had he not been open to the idea if interruptions and distractions.

"That is a fair point," Legolas agrees, takes off his quiver (an unstrung bow in dark wood is in it, with the arrows) and manages to make it look graceful, and sits at what looks to be the chair across from where Wellard had been sitting, setting his quiver carefully on the floor.

"Does this place so often show up in your path, then?" He asks, curious.

"I am one of the people who've made a home here. There are quite few, who stay here for one reason or another. There are rooms upstairs for rent, and the food here is better than a lot I've come across." Wellard takes his own seat, and starts stacking up the papers to make more room on the table.

"Usually its due to... some sort of complications in their own world, or if they can return to it or not. Others prefer this place, with both its benefits and dangers."

"If their cellar," Legolas says with a smile, "has the wines of Dorwinion, I should expect their larder to be equally well stocked.

"How do you mean that some cannot return?" he asks, carefully. "While I might rest, I do have duties to my king I must carry through."

Wellard bites his lip, thinking for a moment, before looking back up to Legolas.

"Some people find their way here, and the door locks behind them. Not for always, but for a time. Others, here- Well."

He taps his fingers on the table top.

"For them, the door to this place is found between life and... whatever afterlife they were headed to, be it heaven, hell, or any others that I've heard of from people here. They are just as alive as any can tell, but if and whenever they leave, the way out through the door continues on to where every they were headed, after they died."

The latter gets a look of sudden interest, but what he replies to is the first.

"Then what is to happen in the home they have left, while they are held captive by this most unexpected of taverns?"

"Time moves differently between here and there." 'There' being Legolas' home, Wellard's home, and any other world to speak of.

He gestures at the front door. "Either time freezes out there while you're in here, so you return exactly when you left, or it moves so slowly as to make nearly no difference." A quiet chuckle, and Wellard flashes a grin.

"There are some people who come here to take advantage of it, even. To finish work or research when they wouldn't have time at home otherwise."

Legolas laughs, quietly. "'Tis a pity I find myself lacking in paper work, then, and that is something I never thought I would say.

"What is it that you do here--Wellard?"

He is guessing, here. He thinks Wellard's name basically boils down to 'Wellard son of Henry son of Wellard,' as is a rare but existent naming convention among traders.

"Thankfully I've always loved reading and learning, or else I do believe I would have found myself bored to tears many times, here." He chuckles quietly, then motions to the papers.

"I am planning out provisioning for a ship, though this is new. Before, I was learning on how to design and build a ship, which I then did, when it was summer outside and the weather cooperated."

The look now is curious, Legolas knows only about river rafts and small boats.

"Where is it that you plan to sail?"

As if Ivan had a hand in timing, this is now when the wait rat shows up, with the Dorwinion for Legolas and a refill of Wellard's tea. And because the rat at least does know the appetites of young human men, there is a plate of bread, cheese and fruit as well- And Wellard is more than happy to share it with Legolas.

Of course, this all serves nicely to postpone his reply for a few moments.

"The sky."

"You are the most gracious of rats," Legolas tells Ivan when he brings the wineskin and full glass, as well as the cheese and crackers. "It is a welcome change from old water and cram."

Ew, cram, says his face eloquently.

Then, after Wellard speaks and he's swallowed the sip of wine that he'd taken, he laughs delightedly.

"Is the sea not big enough?"

"The sea is only part of the world- and a flying ship isn't limited to just the ocean. Or limited to... anywhere." He waves a hand in the air, grinning.

"Even if we do have to be careful as to what people see her- but there are plenty of places in the world for us to go to."

"Just try not to make enemies with the Eagles," he tells Wellard, gravely. (Well, gravely if it weren't for the spark of mischief in his eyes alongside the starlight.) "They might be jealous."

He eats a slice of cheese and apple.

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