I sit beside the fire and think of people long ago

[elvenking]

CHARACTERS: Frodo Baggins and Thranduil
LOCATION: Level 13, room 086
WARNINGS: None.
SUMMARY: Frodo wanted to hear about Bilbo's adventures from someone else who was there for part of it. The Elvenking is happy to oblige.
NOTES: Uhhhh spoilers for The Hobbit? Like you can spoil a 75-year-old book.


The tea is on the table. There is a loaf of french bread, cheese, and various fruits. Thranduil has not catered for himself in thousands of years, but he hasn't forgotten the private, working-class simplicity of life in Lindon. Setting things out with his own hands is somewhat soothing, a callback to a difficult but quiet part of life under the rule of a king he had never been able to really call his own. It's direct. There is a clear course of action, for once.

He is slicing the bread when Frodo arrives.

Comments

[ringbearer]

On his part Frodo makes certain to not be late. He has little to offer that the King had not said he would make in turn, and yet he comes with a few things. A treacle tart, as best as they can be made on a spaceship, and a curious eye. He wouldn't deny he was honored at the opportunity, of one thing, to exchange tales and another with one who was part of a tale that shaped his life as it had.

Timely, is the key. So soon enough there is a knock on the door, a polite shuffle of his feet. This was a nervousness of an entirely different kind than the ones Frodo had felt before now!

[elvenking]

Answering his own door isn't exactly novel, since he's pretty much the only person who can open the doors of his halls, but he doesn't usually have to walk to them. This is so extremely domestic that for a moment he feels like his age can be numbered in two digits instead of four. He blinks and shakes his head briefly before opening the door.

"Come inside, Frodo Baggins. My home is yours."

[ringbearer]

That he would so readily speak such words. Frodo's heart is warmed by the gesture, and he bows his head in respect. "Ni veren an gi ngovaned, Elvenking." He replied, for he had not forgotten his Elvish, no, he had not forgotten it at all.

He knew elves to be of light stomachs, but the hobbit still politely placed his contribution at the table, offering a small smile. "Normally I might have cooked much more, but these kitchens are a stranger to me. Such strange contraptions you'd find there!" Yet those sort of creations, well, they fascinated him.

[elvenking]

At the greeting in his own tongue, Thranduil is very clearly and deeply touched. Overjoyed, even. As long as he has lived, a month is as long as he has ever gone without hearing it at all. "N'uir thiad gîn 'ell.*"

He closes the door and follows Frodo to the table. "I would, and I have. I have yet to be convinced the word microwave is indeed a word. Havo. Sit and take tea."

*Ever is your presence a joy

[ringbearer]

"I would be honored, " The hobbit said in turn, moving to sit himself, legs not quite touching the floor, as was the case here, it seemed. He chuckled. "Oh, but it is -- I found the toaster far more dangerous. "

Still, as he reaches for the tea, feels the warmth spread to his palms, to his bones, he can't help but smile a little, glancing up with a fondness in his voice. "You asked me last we met for stories. I imagine you've heard many, but not so many of hobbits, if I am right in asking?"

[elvenking]

"Not of hobbits till your uncle, and that makes me terribly curious." He sips his own tea thoughtfully. "I propose an exchange of stories. I shall tell you what I know of your uncle, and you shall tell me of hobbits."