half-elven.

––– this is a selective, queue-based rp blog for elladan peredhel from tolkien’s legendarium. a lot of his story is based on headcanons, given the lack of tangible material for elladan.

i go by luca ( he/him ), i’m a trans guy, born in april ‘95. my first language is dutch, but i’ve been rping on tumblr in english since 2011. i tend to lightly format my replies with small text, and use icons unless my partner doesn’t. nsfw isn’t likely to occur here, but it’ll be tagged appropriately if so.

i also write on @mindsmade and @forceblinded.

more elaborate guidelines and all muses can be found in this carrd.

––– tumblr won’t make my text small jfsdkjf but this is just a quick note to say i’m archiving this page, and moving elladan to a sideblog to my multi ( @mindsmade )  under the same url. i’ll start following people i may not have followed over there yet once i’ve sorted out his theme and what not!

prvtocol​ / vezely landry.

      Dan catches that grins and mirrors it, albeit slightly less lop-sidedly. He’s glad he’s correctly pegged her as the type to take no joy in lukewarm acquiescence in conversation. No bite, no fun — and as capable as she must be at carrying out orders notwithstanding any reluctance on her end, he reckons it best to pique her interest positively. Boring her to death will have to be a close plan B — yet only if he can guarantee it won’t lead her straight to his doorstep ( so to speak ).

        The datapad catches his eye; he drags it a little closer to him with a single finger to take a closer look at the list.  ❛  It wasn’t — not exactly. I was involved with business development.  ❜  Not a lie, that, so looking the operative in the eye doesn’t take much effort at all.  ❛  So I had a more general idea of MetaCorp’s developments and ambitions. Details I can’t give you, but what you’re looking at ...  ❜  he drawls, looking at the datapad through his lashes. Another truth’s sure to follow, but kept a little vaguer than need be.  ❛  The adaptive panels? Marketing hasn’t come up with a name for those yet — but they’re based on BAE System’s old “Adaptiv” technologies. Meant to obscure convoys, or even entire buildings once fully developed.  ❜

prvtocol​ / vezely.

Her eyes may still be keener than his, in fact. His and his brother’s senses have at times failed where their full-blooded kin’s succeeded. He cannot guess the effect of Vezely’s corruption on her physical capabilities, however — so he refrains from guessing altogether. The situation at hand demands his attention far more urgently than his interest in her. That might just mark a first since her arrival many moons ago.

Elladan takes himself back to that fateful day. He imagines her to have been young; a handful of years into adulthood. Perhaps the remnants of adolescent folly drove her to join the Pultai in their charge. He remembers well the sweet sense of triumph that washed over him and his brother when the enemies’ astonishment showed; he remembers well how they broke ranks utterly as their final demise revealed itself to be inevitable. He snaps back to the present when he envisions Vezely pushing through to her people’s rear guard upon their assault.  ❛  So you were —  ❜  Eyes, sight — he stops to think, squinting as he leans heavily against the table. Could she have seen them there?  ❛  What are you trying to say?  ❜

dunadaneth​ / créa.

How he wishes now he could say they were close friends, indeed. Companions they were, perhaps, even if only at chosen times. He and Barandir ( and many others ) bonded in the presence of Arathorn, as has nigh always been true with most chieftains. They united their people, and Elladan and Elrohir were all too eager to be included and soak up the sense of belonging amongst them so. Créa’s eagerness coaxes forth memories he had long ago shelved. They feel like stray recollections from a recent past; events he would not soon deem relevant these days without prompting. Yet she prompts him — or her questions do, at least, so he digs deeper.

At length, a vague smile touches upon his face.  ❛  Of course he did.  ❜  What kind of father would he have been if he had not fawned over his beloved child? One unworthy of the title, in Elladan’s mind.  ❛  Admittedly, I only saw him twice when you were young. Once when you were but a babe, some weeks old, and once …  ❜  some months prior to his passing. His smile melts away, revealing the incongruity between what was meant to be a heartening answer, yet turned out a dour account hinting towards Barandir’s death. He shakes the thought and the feeling that engulfs him with it. Créa’s second query grants him the needed opportunity to steer the conversation elsewhere.

His smirk returns. A sheepish laugh even leaves him as something particularly amusing comes to mind. It is not suited for the halls of his father, but they are amongst the two of them, and as much as he respects the tomes this place houses, he is sure they shall not take offence to his reiteration of events.  ❛  Well, something comes to mind. It is neither inspiring nor heartwarming, but it is … witty, in that juvenile sense of the word reserved exclusively for fathers and their unfiltered thoughts. We were sitting around the fire one night, after having set up camp. I will ask you now what he asked me then: did you know that men have three knees?  ❜

prvtocol​ / vezely landry.

     Her change isn’t limited to her demeanour, he hears. Even her vocabulary’s different — looser, if he had to label the casual usage of ‘huh‘ in any way. It detracts from the attention he pays to the actual content of her message. She might think he’s ignored it entirely, given the total silence he winds up lingering in. As the memory of her warning fades, Dan takes in the sight of her again. All he can think to himself is whether he has a right to feel played. Fooled, perhaps, would be the better word, and even then he can’t rightfully blame her.

        One’s true colours show when cornered as she was for over a year — or so they say. In this instance, he doubts whether it’s as universal a truth as everyone always claims it to be: Vezely’s shown herself more likely to take on another’s colours ( so to speak ) than stay true to her own. He wonders who her smooth-talking persona was based on all this time.

        His curiosity vanishes like a balloon that’s been popped when confronted with her rhetorical question. He stays seated, safeguarding the distance she’s placed between them.  ❛  Fat chance of that, I’m afraid.  ❜  He pauses, taking a long drink of his tea ( that’s still too hot to be drunk comfortably, in fact ). A sharp exhale through his mouth reveals he’s burnt his tongue. To top the soreness of the whole situation off, he has to bite down on it to refrain from circling back to the previous topic. He gets up instead, paper cup in hand.  ❛  I’ll leave you to your thoughts. See you in,  ❜ he quickly glances at his watch,  ❛  twenty minutes or so.  ❜

prvtocol / vezely.

         The stark contrast Vez poses to her surroundings renders looking away difficult. Saturated colours surround them, but she lacks them entirely. The one element he would not deem dreary, is the particular part of her personality she exposes him to: humour. It is wry, and perhaps even offensive in the eyes of many. Elladan does not consider it so, which compels him to return the smirk that darts across her face.

He clasps his left hand with his right behind his back upon reaching her side.  ❛ So it would seem. Priorities have rather shifted.  ❜  Perhaps that much is as she had anticipated, depending on the precise nature of the message she had carried all the way here for Mithrandir. All he knows is that she at last succeeded during his absence; his father would not readily share the precise reason for her errand when last they spoke, some hours before the Council.  ❛  I see you were given some degree of freedom in the meantime.  ❜  Not enough to please her by far, he expects, but it should be better than naught.  ❛  You completed your assignment at last, then, did you?  ❜

prvtocol​ / vezely landry.

     He’d make his agreement with her statement known, if not for their implied decision not to engage in small talk. So he chooses to wait for her to get to the actual matter at hand instead, adjusting himself in his chair in the meantime. His body straightens to fit more seamlessly against the back rest of the chair, hands loosely clasping in his lap. He tries to look as relaxed as possible and, in a way, he almost starts to believe he is. Though he’s far from safe here, the fact that Arasaka’s bloodhounds are sniffing around him means they haven’t found anything concretely incrimindating ( yet ).

        And there it is: an accusation, just as reliant on suggestion as their choice not to loiter. He’s spotting the beginnings of a pattern between them. His eyes narrow into a slight squint, the bare bones of a practised grin at the corners of his mouth.  ❛  True. But not mine; not on this. But I get it,  ❜  he repeats after her, briefly averting his gaze to emphasise his feigned coyness.  ❛  Not all of Arasaka’s pre-existing intel can be accurate.  ❜  Another pause ensues.  ❛  So, what specific subject needs clarification?   ❜

dunadaneth​ / créa.

       Créa’s unease is palpable. It sticks to him like grime — unwanted, and yet too dense to wipe off without smearing it all over himself. Equally so, his regret quickly proves stubborn. He had thought it a joyous occasion to look forward to; something to aid her as they face their doom and seek to overcome it. To learn it is likely to prove quite the opposite notwithstanding the love that tethers her to the challenge that awaits, startles Elladan into silence. His eyebrows knit together in thought, gaze fixated upon her contemplative features.

         There is always more to these matters than meets the eye. Pity saturates his expression, and shame for having brought the subject to an already troubled mind averts his gaze from her. Not until a few seconds later, after heaving a sigh, does he find the courage to look at her again. His face remains awash with sympathy, yet as always, he is intent on finding the positive in something painted out as something unforgivingly negative.  ❛  No one ever said you could never go back to the North. Depending on what happens in the coming days, the long-lost City of Kings in the north will require recuperation.  ❜  A smile finds his features somewhere halfway into that phrase, yet he fears it will not suffice. If she is to become homesick or simply wary of sitting still, she will suffer in Gondor long before anyone can afford looking to the north once more.

          Duty takes precedence when the lives of the many are on the line. He would have to agree with that, and admit to his willingness to do the same thing had their roles been reversed. In fact, he wishes they were; he would not wish for her to spend the remainder of her years subduing the urge to chase her happiness. He can only hope her beloved’s presence may sooth whatever pain she must endure. With a squeeze of her hand, Elladan leans in ever so slightly.  ❛  Besides, many of the greatest rulers had their quirks. Yours might be that you will be a travelling one. Créa the Restless, you might be named,  ❜  he muses, wiggling his eyebrows once for effect before standing upright once more.

prvtocol​ / vezely.

     Elladan’s eyes strain against the urge to lower once she looks at him again. The shame of not having been as forthcoming as he should have is out to crush him. It may yet do so, as he thoroughly considers his recognition of the reason behind his lack of total transparency: to keep her near. The incongruence plaguing Vezely has always been present, but with the pull drawing them ever nearer one another, it seems to burgeon. Every part of her that wishes to stay, seems upset by reluctance to upset the balance he has created for his people — and himself, perhaps most importantly.

       His eyes stay on hers, however. Eru willing, he will not waver despite his crippling uncertainty. A frown knits his eyebrows together as he considers her words.  ❛  How so?  ❜  Something tells him she is not referring to the memory of a drawing immortalising the events. His and Elrohir’s presence may well have been too brief for that, in reality. They came and went in a burst of fury. As his tension mounts, he grasps the edge of the desk he is leaning on. His nails dig into the wood along the underside of the ledge to disperse his anxiety.  ❛  Where does that image on your mind come from?  ❜

prvtocol​ / vezely landry.

         He doesn’t outwardly react to the brush of their knees – not beyond letting his eye momentarily fall upon what was the point of contact a second prior. Inwardly, he curses how his heart flutters. It is what it is; he can neither prevent nor change it now. His attention shifts back to her face, where he’s met with similar neutrality. Perhaps Vezely’s expression even veers into the disgruntled. Understandable, that, though his empathy makes it no easier to accept her displeasure. Another member of the team might have had no such difficulty, but he’s long past indifference ( if ever he’s felt such a thing to begin with ).

            Not until her acknowledgement of his efforts does he outwardly pull a face attesting to his bemused anticipation, for appreciative though he is, it seems like a but is inbound. And it is — and not just any, at that. His frown visibly deepens, digging a deep burrow between his eyebrows. For a second or two, he stares at her like so, in complete and utter silence with nothing but the subtle thrum of the AC to break the silence ( or emphasise it, perhaps ).

            Then he looks away, straightening up and reclining into his chair. He’s not sure if it’s her need for distance he’s acquiescing, or the sudden onset of his own. After inhaling sharply, he states:  ❛  You can do that.  ❜  A pause ensues, in which he crosses one leg over the other, his posture closing.  He briefly wonders whether he should ask her why.  ❛  But the head of the operation will want to know why, for administrative purposes and for considerations on whether a suitable replacement is available. Your generosity towards me won’t suffice.  ❜

            Dan considers playing the guilt trip card by emphasising the potential disgrace he’ll be facing almost out of a pettiness he’s only rarely felt like entertaining. He considers it, yet resists in the end. His demeanour seems cooler than his inner self feels. In fact, his hands are sweating.  ❛  And I don’t mean it as a way of bullying you into refraining, but someone else will inform you of it, if not I: until all of that is concluded, you’ll be stuck with me. Nothing will change, and I’ll continue doing the work I signed up for to begin with, so ... be prepared, if you must make your point all the same.   ❜

       He and Elrohir have scarcely returned, and already they must prepare for their next journey. The fate of many of their impromptu visitors will, yet the one that arrived before all others remains uncertain. Vez, the crow that wandered too far from her murder in the east, is held captive, still — yet the circumstances seem different now compared to when he departed Rivendell weeks ago. Though free she is not, it seems she is allowed now to step outside, albeit under unwavering scrutiny from the Imladrim. That, at least, has not changed. The air of unease surrounding her remains unchanged, even at a distance.

           Elladan steps onto the courtyard, off to the side of where she stands. His eye falls to the pipe in her hand. She must have been given some of her belongings in his absence. Without preamble to announce his presence, he chimes:  ❛  Somehow, outside was the last place I had expected to find you.  ❜

prvtocol / vezely landry.

      She was these people? That gives him pause more so than her dismissal — or her general coolness around him. Perhaps time had more profound an effect on her feelings about him than it did on his towards her. It is a disappointing conclusion, if he can come to that, even if the sensible part of him deems it relieving. The ties that once bound are no longer. Well, those ties in specific; the ones that rendered saying goodbye those months ago quite as mutually uneasy as it was. The ties that brought them together in the first place seem to exist, still. She wouldn’t be here otherwise ( and neither would he ).

        Dan regards her in silence for a moment, though not entirely consciously. He’s still trying to catch up with what she just said — whilst keeping himself from folding back in on himself and his intrusive thoughts. There’s a pit in his stomach that renders it difficult, however.   ❛  I do,  ❜  he answers at length, shaking his head to break his discomfort’s hold on him.

      ❛  But I can’t tell you just yet. I’m sorry.  ❜  It’s a line he might’ve crossed outside of office space — maybe. The core issue, however, isn’t the likelihood of him getting admonished ( or worse ) for divulging details prematurely, but it’s her safety. To the rest of the team, at that, the risk of her spilling the information somehow and jeopardising the whole mission is another added factor worth noting. Either way, the frown on his face spells out the apologetic nature of his answer, fractured only briefly by the long drink of tea he takes. Somewhere in the seconds that follow, he finally notices their knees are almost joined. The choice of trousers and boots is jarring on her, but he thinks no more of it.  ❛  It won’t be easy for you. I realise that. I just hope to make it all a little less unbearable for you.  ❜

prvtocol​ / vezely.

      Perhaps he should have phrased it differently, then. He foregoes voicing his thoughts on the literal interpretation of his question, as he cannot rightly blame the intruder for it. ‘Good ‘ is not as clearly defined a term as he wish it were, anyway. What seems righteous to her, will undoubtedly appear the opposite to him. The same might apply vice-versa, if only her apathy would yield. More straightforward his language will be if it must as such.

        For now, though, words may well be futile. Indeed, when faced with a wall of indifference, no fruitful conversation can be had. Perhaps to provoke something in her, then, he foregoes engaging yet again — even if the proclaimed sanctity of this enclave is one of two things that will keep her alive so long as she is here. More importantly, their knowledge of her ancestry will prevent her blood from being shed by them even well outside the borders of Imladris.

        Elladan at length moves across the open space towards the door, breezing past the emissary.  ❛  I see. I would not assume your estimation of the value of your own life will mean much, if anything, to my father, however,  ❜  he lilts. His hand gravitates towards the door to knock upon it, prompting one of the guards to open it.  ❛  Perhaps we will meet again.  ❜  He knows as little as she does, in that respect. With all to be set in motion, chances are he will depart soon — whether that be in the morrow, or days from now, still. Either way, he takes his own cue to depart with a final nod lobbed her way, whereafter he vanishes into the hallway and from view.

prvtocol​ / vezely landry.

    The reference to her ( and Brianne’s ) father sounds clinical. Do they share nothing but their innate blood-bond then? It’s a thought he’d further mull over if the circumstances hadn’t put him so on edge. The matter’s dropped within a second as such, making the other’s effort to grab his attention all the more effective in all its effortlessness. It takes but a mention of MetaCorp to have him on high alert, even if the inquiry is to be expected.

     He responds accordingly ( by not making a big deal out of it ).   ❛  As is to be expected,  ❜ starts he, eyes pinned on hers. He forces a subtle smirk.  ❛  So ask what you must ask. I assume you didn’t join me here just to chat about the weather.  ❜