WHO: Elrond and OPEN WHEN: Wednesday morning WHERE: Walking along the beach WHAT: Pondering and walking WARNINGS: None expected STATUS: Open/Ongoing
In truth, Elrond was dreading the upcoming ball. He would be going - he had no choice if he wished to maintain peace among his people - but he dearly wished that a way was open to avoid it. He had been staying at Vinyamar for some time now, first to treat King Fingolfin's illness, and more recently Lady Andreth's. He had kept mostly to himself, shut up in his chambers with a book, or walking - as he was now - along the nearby shore. Elrond had not the sea-longing that had so gripped his father and grandfather, but still he found peace in the power and song of Ulmo. It was a good place to brood, and a good place to put your life into proper perspective.
These people, these High Elf Lords, were his family. There was no avoiding that fact, no matter how much he would have liked to do so. His father, a mere boy of four years, was here. Although he had not yet come across the child, his very presence made Elrond uncomfortable. When he had been four years old, he had already been abandoned for the sea, and he knew that would be his first thought upon seeing him. Lady Idril wished to speak to him, and he had avoided her as well. He wished her no ill-will, but neither did he particularly wish for a relationship with her. She was his grandmother, aye, but what did he know of her? The only family he had ever known was Lords Maedhros and Maglor.
He walked along the sea in silence, his hands clasped behind his back, the wind whipping through his black hair. His grey eyes were troubled, his face brooding. What had brought him here, to face such strange challenges? And what was the purpose of such a thing? What would forcing him to face the family he had never known accomplish? He wished nothing more than to return to Rivendell, to the home that he had made himself, and to the peace that he had so desperately struggled to find.