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*Shuts himself away in Ulmonan for days and days after the Ilmarin dinner.*

*Comes to the conclusion that once is an accident but twice is just downright careless.*

*Was also slightly disturbed to discover that, at dinner, Erinti demonstrated her inhertiance of the footsie gene from her parents.*

*Knows he can't hide in here forever and should probably speak to someone about this because this is just weird. It is weird, right? Weird.*

ETA: *Escapes bagel and shopping therapy in favour of something a little more traditional.*

*Manifests into Lorien.*

Dear diary,

I managed to find a consulate for local mortals in this town, despite the best efforts of these evasive denizens to tell me nothing useful about this so-called Blessed Realm. I have been provided with temporary accomodation. It is nothing special but it is clean and comfortable so I shall thank Eru for small mercies.

As I write this, I am sitting in the park, eating a baguette from a place the local despot recommended. He said it was a nice change from "poncy elvish food." It is rather more "poncy" than I would have expected anyway. He assured me it would be a "rustic reminder of home." I don't remember having dijon mustard in Emerië.

Despite his help in securing me accomodation and his culinary tips, I cannot help feeling that I was once again subject to evasion and dissembling. He seemed quite aimiable until I mentioned my name and lineage. After that, he made excuses and left. Said he needed to "go and make sure the wife wasn't drowing. Or something."

I shall get to the bottom of this. I shall.

*has been feeling more than a little distracted as of late, so it's probably a good thing that he's had a co-pilot for the last few days* *no, it's not Uolë*

*Thinks it's high time that Ilmarin had a proper, full blown family dinner (now that the fall-out from Suraya's disappearance has settled a little.*

*Soon has the sylphs running around like mad things getting the dining room ready.*

*Sends out a cheerful telepathic summons to his nearest and dearest, telling them that dinner will be served imminently.*

*Invites Ulmo for good measure (Just isn't fully convinced that he gets fed properly down there in Ulmonan).*

*wakes up early in the morning and stares at the darkened ceiling* *scratches his stomach as he thinks of the day ahead*

*spends the morning with his daughter and has really only begun to explain to her that he did not mean not to recognise her or know her for who she was*

*finally, finally, though it is an ache that has been present since he woke up and remembered, goes down to the park* *situates himself on a park bench far away from the pond and silently calls a name*

*slowly and quietly makes his way through Lórien's treetops, keeping a sharp eye on the ground below* *asked the handmaidens where Finrod's bower was, of course, but didn't find her there* *has always felt more comfortable searching and tracking from above*

*pauses on one particularly sturdy branch and drops into a crouch, peering down through the leaves* *is beginning to think he might have better luck if he asks another handmaiden where Finrod might've gone?* *this place is just so confusing*

*suddenly feels eyes on him* *tenses a bit (out of old habit), surreptitiously darting a glance left and right*

*floats up out of a bright dream (something about silver and wind?), automatically blinking her eyes open wide (still so dark)*

*sighs and stretches, feeling the grass and tangled fabric beneath her, the air moving softly over her bare skin, and a sleepy trickle of (Air) melody from nearby*

*folds her arms over her chest and curls right up to the long, cool body lying beside her* *hides her face against his shoulder* *sigh*

*Mulls over his conversation with Finrod.*

*Can feel the familiar sensations of guilt, anger and frustration starting to bubble under again.*

*Comes to the conclusion that he's in dire need of a distraction.*

*High-tails it out of Aman.*

Mockingbird?

Dear diary,

locals here are very strange. When one introduces oneself, one would think it common courtesy to reciprocate. Apparently, this basic tenet of normal social behaviour is not observed here in Tirion. I'm not sure whether to be intruiged, offended or both.

I live in hope that I'll run into someone who has a rudimentary grasp of social mores in the near future. I'm not sure where I'm going to find that. All I am sure of is that my desire to give people the benefit of the doubt is diminishing rapidly.

*Settles on a park bench and scowls at the world.*

*leaves the casino, walking at a brisk (refreshed) pace, making a mental note to commend the establishment on its customer service*

*heads into the shopping district with a mind to purchase a new pair or six of shoes (it must be genetic) when she spots a familiar face sitting at a table in the courtyard of the café*

:|

*looks away and keeps walking*

*Goes for a stroll through Lorien.*

*Enjoys the relaxed atmosphere until he feels a tapping on his foot.*

*Looks down to see a peacock looking up at him expectantly. If a peacock can look expectant.*

*Notices it has a slip of paper in its beak.*

*Gingerly takes it from the bird and nods to it.* Thanks?

*( Breaks the seal and reads. )

*Heads across to Lorien to check up on Nienor's progress.*

*Drops by the fountains after the meeting to take the waters.*

*docks his vessel and journeys to Lórien (which has become nearly a daily habit)* *who needs sleep?*

*as much as it pains him to see Arien suffering and anything less than her usual vibrant self, doesn't really mind all these opportunities to be physically close to her for hours at a time* *will miss it, once the nature of their work conspires to keep them separated again*

*on a whim, brings along a small present*

*upon arriving at Lórien, discovers that Tilion has already gone for the evening, but Uolë is still hanging about* *seriously, the guy is too nice sometimes* *and too quiet* *and needs to get out more!*

*sends his fellow Quendë off for some much-needed rest before plopping down on the fountain ledge beside Arien*

*softly, simply* Hey, Sparkles.

*Gets a letter delivered by a sylph.*

*Frowns in confusion when she notices that it has her father's seal on it.*

*Mutters as she opens it.* You're just down the hall, dad...

Dear Erinti, greetings from the High King of blah blah blah, Ring of Doom meeting on blah blah, you are cordially invited to attend..."cordially." That means I'm not in trouble.

*Gasps*

*Jumps up and paces back and forth.*

*Manifests to Ulmonan.*

*has pretty thoroughly recovered from his kidnapping and imprisonment*

*hasn't seen much of Ereinion recently, though, which is probably a good thing on the whole?* *poor kid was drowning in guilt over The Incident, after all* *probably not as badly as he himself was, but it was close*

*is out and about in the shopping district, wrapped up in a scarf and jacket against the slightly chilly autumn air, when he thinks he sees a familiar face through the window of a shoe store*

*!!!*

Nana? Nana!

Dear diary,

seems mortals do get rehoused after all, question is, where to go from here? Those elves in Taniquietil said that most mortals head for Tirion. I wonder if they were just trying to get rid of me? They did seem quite haughty, wrinkled their noses alot. Anyway, Tirion seems like as good a place as any; big city, lots of people, should be someone who can tell me if my family has come back too, away from any harbours.

I can't help wondering if Aldarion and Ancalimë are back, I can't help wondering if it would be a good idea to try to start over. I mean, if rehousing has made me look at things differently maybe he has too? He might not give me the brush off like last time. Or maybe I'm succumbing to wishful thinking.

*Reaches Tirion and makes a beeline for the nearest gathering of people.*

*Figures the pub would be a good place to start.*

*dreams a happy nostalgic dream (in which she's running [bouncing] through a meadow of flowers on the green isle of Tol Galen)* *running in slow-motion [bounce, bounce, bounce], smiling and laughing aloud as she sleeps*

*wakes herself up with the noise and sits up abruptly, a little startled [feeling like she's still bouncing]*

. . .

*looks down at her chest* Fuck me.



*does not mean that literally just yet*

*and that was enough for now*

*feels reasonably sure that he actually believes it*

*leans back in his chair, letting Isil go on her wayward (but carefully supervised) way*

*sits at one of the card tables in the Casino, steadily losing at poker (a highly unusual occurrence)* *raises an eyebrow as the same player wins yet another hand ("Read 'em and weep--three kings!") and the player sitting next to him reaches over to fan out the cards ("Spread 'em out so we can see what you've got!") (yet again)*

*quickly catches the second player's sleeve and shakes it while jaws slacken around the table as the king of spades flutters out*

*quietly, evenly (menacingly)* We're just going to count the cards in his hand *jerks his head slightly toward the first player* this time, alrightly? *with mock concern* Eru...just look at how late it's getting. I think it's time you fellas called it a dishonest day, don't you?


Oh, and leave the money, of course.


*cuts the cards and shuffles them expertly, glancing around at the suddenly emptier (of cheaters) table*




((Disclaimer: Mun hasn't been watching old TV westerns, nope. *eyedart*))