Legolas of Mirkwood (
findsthesun) wrote2009-07-09 09:56 am
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Practice! With Wellard
A young Elf*, dressed in sturdy green and brown cloth and soft leather shoes, walks into the bar.
It can, perhaps, be forgive if his first reaction is wariness and his hand flicks towards the white handled knife at his belt.
Then he laughs.
"A tavern of Men, in the middle of the forest? I have not heard tell of this."
*see (here) for description of Elves, and Legolas in particular.
It can, perhaps, be forgive if his first reaction is wariness and his hand flicks towards the white handled knife at his belt.
Then he laughs.
"A tavern of Men, in the middle of the forest? I have not heard tell of this."
*see (here) for description of Elves, and Legolas in particular.
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"I am Legolas, of the Great Forest—what Men call Mirkwood."
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"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."
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"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!
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"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.
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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.
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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.
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To Wellard: "You are welcome to share with me, if you wish."
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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."
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"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.
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"Does this place so often show up in your path, then?" He asks, curious.
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"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."
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"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."
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"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."
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"Then what is to happen in the home they have left, while they are held captive by this most unexpected of taverns?"
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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."
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"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.
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"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."
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"Where is it that you plan to sail?"
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Of course, this all serves nicely to postpone his reply for a few moments.
"The sky."
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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?"
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"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."
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He eats a slice of cheese and apple.
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Icon because Wellard has no Bar icon
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