*Has been sent home.*

*Fritters away his afternoon working on some oakum to use as a sealant but get very bored, very quickly.*

*Figures he should do his duty and go to pay his respects to his great-grandfather and his new mini-great-uncle. Thinks this is a good idea but then again, he could just be getting high on the tar fumes...*

*His arm has been de-slinged but it's still be-casted.*

*Tells the handmaidens he'd love to stay and chat but really has some important work to do so really has to be going.* :S

*Goes to Vingilot to assess exactly what needs to be done and make a plan.*

*Will not cry.*

*Finds himself at a loose end.*

I haven't been at a loose end for thousands of years. The house is tidy, I can't do the garden, I can't go to sea...

...

ARGH!

*Sits in the lounge, staring at the walls.*

*Leg oscillates* :S :S

*Heads home on Vala's orders.*

*Figures he should probably talk to Voronwë about the unpleasantness in Lórien before he does something stupid like moving out to live on a park bench or something.*

Voronwë, Doing something stupid. Ahahahaha.*Hopes he can regain the ability to form coherent sentences in order to do this however. That prow-breakage ( Read more... )

*Leaves Castle Antrhax Lorien with Estë's permission making for some very disappointed Handmaidens.*

*Heads straight for the Mindon to assess the damage.*

Oh girl! What did they do to you?

*Does his best to ignore the gaggle of gawpers who have gathered to watch the show operation.*

*Feels strange. Very strange.*

*Like a hallowed, white ship cried out in terror, and was suddenly silenced...*

*Fears something terrible has happened.*

*Awakes in the Gardens of Lorien, feeling decidedly less pain-wracked than he has in recent days.*

*Settles back down on his bed and sighs contentedly as he hears the soft strains of the Venus flytraps singing four-part harmony in the distance.*

*sits up suddenly and panics* The Silmaril! Where is it!?

*Lies on the mountain where Ancalagon left him, flanked by an identity-confused eagle and a concerned Ainu.*

*Clutches the silmaril-box to his chest, pretty much oblivious to his surroundings, with Ancalagon's last attempt at suggestion burrowing its way into his subconscious.*

Maybe I should just bury the damn thing. Yeah. Bury it, then no-one ( Read more... )

*Hears sounds of annoyance and consternation coming from his captors.*

*Knows full-well that as far as his survival prospects go, this is a Bad Thing.*

*Struggles desperately to get out of his bonds*

Ah, forget it. You're probably better off just conserving your energy.
Conserving it for what? Becoming Ancalagon's lunch?*Starts struggling again ( Read more... )

*Returns to the Tower having completely failed to locate Voronwë in Aqualondë or near any of the mortal moorings.*

*slumps down on the couch.*

I hope to Eru he didn't try to build his own boat... :\