Halam'shivanas [CLOSED]

[malavhenan]

WHO: Finel and Aragorn
WHAT: Post-audience drama and elf cultural exchange
WHERE: Courtyard/garden near throne room
WHEN: Shortly after the audience with the emperor
WARNINGS: You might get cavities idk



Finel had chosen not to approach the Emperor, deciding instead to observe. While he had questions of his own, his experience with various human courts and nobles in Thedas had taught him that each one behaved differently with a different set of rules, and it is far easier to navigate when you knew the rules. He could guess, if need be, but after so many years of being expected to take the most active role in the room, the former Inquisitor has no qualms in waiting in the wings, this time.

It was heartening to see Aragorn standing a little stronger than the day they had met. Hopefully the wound was healing properly now, hopefully he had gone to the medical ward to have it properly cared for, better than what a magic-less, one-armed mage could manage on short notice, at least.

Yet as bold and dramatic as his proclamation to fight for the Emperor was, Finel had felt a cold, uneasy feeling twist its way from his chest to his stomach. Although their meeting had been relatively short, already he felt so drawn to him - Aragorn hadn't struck him as someone to go blindly, so rashly, into a fight, yet the readiness to pledge himself to a cause any of them barely understood...

The strength of his worries nearly causes him to miss the Emperor's reply--

You are a King of Men, are you not?

Clearly, there is more to most people here than meets the eye. Yet with his own gaze focused entirely on Aragorn, it's impossible to miss his surprise at the use of the title - which meant that it had been something few should have known.

What else did the Emperor know, about all of them, only to reveal at opportune moments?

With an anxious fluttering in his chest, Finel follows the crowd out of the throne room, so many more questions circling in his mind that he nearly feels dizzy.

Needing some air, he finds himself in a small, nearby sitting garden. A few people pass through at a leisurely pace, a couple of benches are arranged beneath trees to admire the variety of flowers and other flora. Aragorn is already there, standing near a pillar on the edge of the greenery. Finel approaches him, forcing his pace to a casual walk. His cautious smile perhaps belies some of the concern he feels.

"You're feeling better I see." His tone is warm and fond, even so.

Comments

[elessar]

Aragorn can't help but nod in agreement. "Then it's the truth we seek." He quietly comments as he regards Finel's forlorn expression. "The truth that many seem intent in hiding." His thoughts linger upon the Emperor again. Try as he might to unravel that enigma, Aragorn cannot. There are too many unknowns at work here. Aragorn strives to unearth these truths, but Aragorn realistically can't do so alone. This is why he's seeking the aid of others.

"I'm sorry," He suddenly says after a moment of thought. "For your people." Aragorn offers Finel a halfhearted smile. Despite all their differences, they both seem to hold a similar commonality. The Dúnedain are the living remnants of their Númenórean ancestors, all that's left of Elros Tar-Minyatur and his many descendants. While the Dúnedain strove to preserve the culture of their ancestors, little tidbits eventually fell to the wayside over the long centuries. That is simply the way of things. The erosion of time affects all, even the minds of people and scholars alike.

"It's a difficult task, but I believe the Dalish will be able to create new customs that will be cherished by your descendants to come."

[malavhenan]

There's something strained and sad in his expression as he shakes his head. "I appreciate the thought, but I fear there is far too much pride in the Dalish that many would still cling to the old ways, even if they knew the truth."

Finel thinks of the stories Solas had told him, of the way the Dalish clans had spurned his knowledge, even if they (and Finel) had no idea that it had all been firsthand. Yet what would they have done, knowing that they had turned away the true embodiment of Fen'Harel?

Besides which, Solas had plans to render anyone's beliefs in anything completely irrelevant.

He shifts, searching for a new subject when his eyes fall upon the finely crafted necklace nestled carefully just below the hollow of Aragorn's throat.

"It's beautiful," he murmurs softly, eyes looking back to those lovely blue. "A gift?"

[elessar]

The inquiry regarding the necklace causes Aragorn to pause. He glances down briefly at the pendant, his gaze unreadable with worry. "Yes," Aragorn answers with a remorseful sigh. "A gift." This necklace symbolizes all of Arwen's love. It hints at the promise of their future together but also serves as a reminder of his quest. While the dream he had of Arwen felt so real, Aragorn hasn't seen her since he took his leave of Imladris with the Fellowship. It's been well past a few months now since he began this journey, and now it seems he'll go without her warmth for an additional month.

A hint gloom lingers within his eyes as he regards Finel, his features aged by the melancholy he feels. "It's been long since I've seen her," Aragorn says with a bit of a frown. "Too long."

[malavhenan]

It isn't difficult to understand to understand the ache in Aragorn's eyes. It reaches directly into his chest, twisting at his own. There's a flicker of something also that he tries to ignore - a strange hint of disappointment that Finel has to remind himself he had no right to in the first place.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs softly, both in apology and in sympathy. There's a sorrow he can't quite keep out of his eyes, despite the gentle smile he offers. "You must miss her very much."

[elessar]

"More than words can express," Aragorn admits looking quite sullen. "We're not yet wed but I intend to marry her." Though what good are intentions if all of Arda is plunged into darkness? He still can't believe that Arwen would sacrifice her immortality for him. She could live a thousand or so lifetimes among her kin within the Grey Havens, each time coddled by the love of her doting family. However, she would rather sacrifice all that just to be with him. Aragorn almost feels as if he has nothing to offer Arwen, nothing that could measure up to the eternity she's forsaking.

"It's said that the elves are immortal," Aragorn suddenly begins as he glances over at Finel again. "They were blessed by the Valar, the gods, to be the fairest and the most beautiful of all of Arda. They could live forever if they cast aside their worries but in a cruel twist of fate, many of them became embroiled with men and perished for it."

He pauses for a moment as he regards Finel, his gaze uncertain. "I fear the same fate for her."

[malavhenan]

Finel can do nothing but give into the impulse to reach for Aragorn's hand, giving it a gentle, sympathetic squeeze. If there is something he understands all too well, it's the pain of separation.

"Then I pray that we may bring a swift end to this war, so that you may be reunited with her soon."

The gesture brings him half a step closer, craving nearness and touch. His heart hurts more for Aragorn now, knowing that there is no real reassurance he can offer; there's no way of knowing how long they will be here, in Fellden.

He feels his brows knit together. "You mean that if you are wed, she would lose her immortality? Simply for loving a man?"