OOM - Jemma's trip to Rivendell

[starrydome]

 They walk through the door and into the armory.
This is not obvious at first, as everything is cold and dark.
Then Elrond speaks a word or two and the room is lit by a soft glow, reflecting in the rows upon rows upon rows of neatly stacked metal vambraces, helmets, and breastplates.

He turns to look down at her.

"There is a stairwell a little ahead. There will be more light there."
and he offers her his arm. Because that is what you do.

Comments

[protect_and_survey]

Oh goodness. It's real.

It's something of an inane thought, but it's the first one that sticks. She's been in and out of SHIELD armories more than a few times, mostly in tow with Fitz during development of some new weapon or other, but she's never seen anything like this.

She takes his offered arm, sticking close to avoid banging into anything.

[starrydome]

The scents are different. Woodsmoke from the kitchen, the smell of earth and stone from the walls. They are in the cellars.

He leads her to the aforementioned stairwell and they begin their ascent. There are torches lighting the way . Elrond's footfall is almost silent on the stone steps, silky smooth with age and wear.

The air slowly grows warmer as they make their way up the stairs.
And the sounds become more prominent. Someone is singing somewhere. An elf is singing. There are sounds from the kitchen. Fire crackling, the rattling of pots and pans.
People talking. In Sindarin.

[protect_and_survey]

Jemma has... almost no point of reference here. The closest she can get is boarding school, and that's a pale reflection - sure, there's the same sense of many people living in the same space, a vibrancy that comes from a community. That's where the comparison falls apart, somewhere between the ethereal beauty of the singer's voice echoing down the stairwell and realities of a world that hasn't even thought of the industrial revolution yet.

"Are... are you sure I'm not going to..." She trails off, not sure if the next bit is 'spoil it' or not. Doesn't he know she's the most unmagical person he could have possibly thought to bring here?

[starrydome]

He smiles at her. Reassuringly.
"I'm glad to bid you welcome here, Jemma," he says. "It means a lot to me that there will people such as you, who appreciates knowledge, that will remember my home."

And there's that sadness again, so often present in his eyes. Softening everything, like early morning mist.

They reach a doorway and enter what seems to be a gallery, high lofted and flanked by graceful pillars. The air is still cool. It's still winter here. And it has been a long and dark one.

A female elf is headed toward them, dressed in a flowing gown the colour of aspen leaves. Her hair moves gently as she walks, almost giving the illusion of a veil. She courtesy as they get closer. Deeply.

[protect_and_survey]

"Oh good lord." Jemma feels a bit proud of herself for not falling over. Honestly. Elves are... well. 'Gorgeous' is really too mild a term, and that one's curtsying... well, probably not to her, definitely to Elrond, but in her general direction so she dredges up every last bit of boarding-school knowledge and manages to curtsy back.

It isn't half as graceful, but that's nothing new.

"Um, hi."

[starrydome]

The beautiful creature looks at her with unmasked curiosity.
Elrond either doesn't notice or pretends not to. He says something to the female and she curtsies again before moving past them.
Slanting her eyes at Jemma.

"We to this way," Elrond says and turns a corner.
Then through an archway (calling it a door seems too casual somehow) and then they are in his study.

Whatever she has imagined, this is better. Because this is real.

[protect_and_survey]

Do you know the smell that seems to only be in good, old bookstores? The one that somehow manages to be something like adventure and something like the most peaceful place in the universe and something like home all rolled up into one?

It's like that.

Just better, because it's older than any bookstore or library Jemma has ever been in. There are languages here she hasn't ever seen, places she's never heard of, creatures she's never imagined.

"Oh wow..." She breathes, breaking away from Elrond to wander, almost dazed, with eyes the size of dinner plates.

[starrydome]

He trails after her, not to keep an eye on her, but to be able to answer questions should she have any.

The bookshelves are filled but not overflowing. And there are neat stacks on the tables, clearly sorted carefully.

One stack consists of loose pages with hand drawn maps. And the it is. A map of Middle-earth, every designation written in longhand Tengwar.

[protect_and_survey]

She's fluttering. Truly. There's just so much to see, and all of it so unbelievably gorgeous, and...

Oh, goodness.

That map.

That map.

She's just going to stand here and marvel, if that's alright with everyone.

[starrydome]

"Feel free to pick it up if you need to take a closer look," Elrond says from behind her back.

"It is not quite as accurate as it ought to be, but it has sentimental value, so I have never gotten around to parting with it."

[protect_and_survey]

"What is its story?" Other than being gorgeous, that much she can tell straight off - the details are absolutely amazing.

[starrydome]

"I drew it when I first came here. Our journey had been somewhat hasty, so there are places along this route," he indicates it on the map, "that are a little off, distance-wise."

He frowns lightly.

"And there isn't actually a mountain there. As I said, we moved quite quickly."

[protect_and_survey]

"That could make navigation awkward." She agrees - how frustrating would it be to orient on a mountain that simply wasn't there? "I take it the mountain didn't make it into future copies?"

[starrydome]

A smile.
"It did not.the main reason I have kept it, is here," he says,lightly touching an almost blank section with a few notes written.

"This is where we are now, and I am sometimes heartened by the fact, that despite all the gruesome horrors of war, we still debated whether the kitchen gardens should go there." He moves his finger a little. "Or there."

[protect_and_survey]

"Little bits of normalcy." Jemma agrees - she'd been brought back to New York after the dust settled to help deal with the disaster that is a bunch of dead space whales, but it hadn't felt right until the cabbies started shouting about right-of-way again.

[starrydome]

"Just that," he says.
" if you want to see a more accurate map, there is one over there."

He points to an empty table.
Only it isn't.
The table is the map.

It's Churchill's War Room essentially.
Only - there is Middle-earth. Spread out. The Shire. Gondor. Lothlorien.

Everything is written in Tengwar though.

[protect_and_survey]

It would be wrong, it would be oh so wrong to wish for little figurines to re-enact the books she first heard of this world from.

Terribly terribly wrong.

This is why she doesn't. That, and that would be impossible to explain that sort of thing.

"Oh wow." She's starting to repeat herself, but this is just too amazing.

[starrydome]

"We are here," he says, indicating the elegant, yet sprawling, tiny, detailed perfect drawing of Rivendell.

"There's the waterfalls. You can hear them if you go outside."

[protect_and_survey]

Wait. What?

She blinks at him, then at the finely drawn map, looking puzzled.

And then bolts for the window.

She eyes her surroundings - the outlying buildings, the fields, the river - and back to the map.

"But that's impossible, that sort of resolution on a hand drawn map..."

[starrydome]

He smiles at her.

"Men often speak if the magic of the Elves," he replies. "Often, it is a matter of skill and the practice amassed over several thousand years."

Often.

Not always.

[protect_and_survey]

"Oh, that... is a bit hard to grasp, actually." Sure, she's heard it before (hard not to when your research keeps banging into Norse mythology made real). But she's desperately short of personal experience with said Norse myths, and...

Well.

Several thousand years. Come on.

[starrydome]

He smiles.

"There are many such things here. At first, my mortal guests tend to find them a little unsettling, I think. But they grow used to them over time."

He has come to realize that magic is an uncomfortable subject, so he adds, "This is mostly skill, though."

[protect_and_survey]

Yes, she saw that dodge, but since she has no interest in trying to argue about magic in Elrond's home, she doesn't call him on it.
"Quite a lot of skill." She acknowledges. "I... don't suppose..."

[starrydome]

He lifts his eyebrows a little. Questioningly.

He has very communicative facial features.

[protect_and_survey]

"You must have loads of information about toxins." She muses, trying to not look too keen. She's found people get a bit... worried, about that.

[starrydome]

"Toxins? Yes."
He nods, seemingly untroubled.

You need to understand your enemy to be able to fight back. That is only sensible.

"If you come this way."

He walks ahead of her, through the study, turns left through an archway and stops in a room lined with bookshelves.
Unerringly picking out two slim volumes and a heavier one.

"Here," he says and turns to hand them to her.
"These are the most thorough. Some of the illustrations might be a little gruesome."

[protect_and_survey]

She squeaks happily, and... Elrond needed a hug, right? Jemma evidently thinks so.

(Seriously. This is better than Christmas.)

[starrydome]

The hug - is a surprise.
Not many embrace The Lord of Imladris. Not anymore.

He returns it though, after the briefest of hesitations. And perhaps he even understands how she feels. He is a loremaster after all.

[protect_and_survey]

She backs off quick enough, blushing but unrepentant, clutching the books to her chest like a lifeline.

She's trying not to scurry off into a quiet corner with her hoard like a squirrel. It's a hard task, however.

[starrydome]

"There is a nice windowsill right inside my study," he says.

"The light is good and I think there is a couple of sheepskins to make the seat a little more comfortable."

[protect_and_survey]

"Oh, I couldn't possibly..." She starts, default programming telling her she needs to be polite and sensible and not disappear on the poor elf who was kind enough to show her his home honestly Simmons.

Meanwhile, her entire posture is screaming 'yes, yes please, I like this offer of a quiet corner in the study I will happily be a permanent resident this is fine'.

[starrydome]

"Of course, you can," he overrules her. Kindly but with authority.

"I will ask for some warm tea and something to eat for the both of us. I have some letters I need to work on."

Because he knows the feeling. So well.

Glorfindel would likely laugh at the both of them.

[protect_and_survey]

Glorfindel would never laugh at a guest.

Much.

He would laugh at his lord, however, and that definitely would happen in this case. Jemma's practically bouncing on her toes, evidently having no problems whatsoever in being overruled.

"Well, if it's not a bother..."

[starrydome]

"It is not," he says, leading her back to aforementioned windowsill, complete with cold, bright winter sun.

"Truly."

And then he arranges for tea and buttered bread and dried fruit to be brought up a little later.
And gets started on his own tasks.

[protect_and_survey]

The world could end around her, truly, and there's a fair chance she wouldn't notice, not with her nose stuck in a book and a cup of tea at hand. It says something about her, the narration believes, that she starts with the book he warned might be gruesome.

After a while though, she does pause from time to time to stare out the window at those going about their daily lives.

[starrydome]

There is plenty of activity outside, but there is a still a quietness to Elrond's House. A melancholy air.
Too few people to fill its halls, even though there may appear to an endless supply of people going to and fro,

Elrond's study is quiet but sound filter through. Distant voices talking in Sindarin. Footsteps. Voices suddenly raised in song.

There's the sound of Elrond's pen moving across the paper.

[protect_and_survey]

Jemma is deep into the doings of various spiders (this place has the most interesting spiders, it seems, much like the snakes at home) when she realizes what this feels like. It's like the refuge she found in the library of her university, away from the minder they thought she needed (which was ridiculous, even if she wasn't old enough at the time to even get a learner's permit to drive), away from the sheer amount of noise the older students made. It was one of two places on campus that actually lived up to her expectations of it (the other, of course, being the laboratory).

It's perfect.

Actually, it's more perfect than the library, she decides, balancing the book on her knees as she reaches for her teacup. She wasn't allowed food in the library, and thus was forced to emerge from time to time and 'socialize'. Horrors.

[starrydome]

{ooc: do you want to fade here? I doubt we can end on a more perfect note :)}

[protect_and_survey]

(OOC: That works! Thank you so much for letting my girl explore! :) Do you want to post?)