MANY MEETINGS

[wildestmods]

MANY MEETINGS
The fortunate thing about the path to Rivendell is how easy it is to find the way there after a point. The great river Bruinen, too difficult to cross at most points, intersects the road, forcing them to scout up and down the river to find the road, which leads to the shallow ford across.

The only problem with taking the road is that it's being watched. They hear the screeching of the Nazgul, enraged that they've made it so far with with none of the Morgul blade victims succumbing to their injuries.

They come pouring down the road behind them as they make their way over, dividing into threes so that a wall of black-robed nightmares start to cross the ford.

"Come back! Come back!" they call, beckoning towards the injured. Those that are close to turning will feel the compulsion to come to them, their will challenged by the strong will if many nightmares. "To Mordor we will take you!"

But the second the last of them crosses and gets far enough up the bank, there is a great rushing sound of water and the river churns with foam. With a mighty road, the river widens to almost twice its usual width in an instant. A wave of rising water surges down the river, then another, and another, piling on top of each other. The third wave drags branches and detritus and even entire small trees.

The Nazgul scramble back to the other bank behind them, but the rising waters and widening river are too quick for them. Their feet get swept out from under them and the entire group of Nazgul get swept off down the river, black robes disappearing under the foamy waters.

Then there is one path forward - finally - to a place of rest. They take a winding path, turn around a stone wall, and see...

THE LAST HOMELY HOUSE

The Last Homely House rises up in a valley filled with many waterfalls, gleaming in the early afternoon light. An intricate set of buildings, with spiraling wood on the railings and awnings sits on the edge of a cliff, the water flowing through many channels and bridges.

The path eventually turns into a stone bridge, that leads to several large circular stone areas, large enough to allow them all to stand together. Many stairs lead up to the halls proper.

Those that are far gone, close to succumbing to the shard will now have icy blue eyes and pale skin, and the Elves and the great halls ahead of them will glow with a painful, blinding light. They'll also find those of their comrades with holy powers or holy weapons glow with a similar light, though somewhat dimmer. Only the holiest among them glow as bright or brighter than the Elves.

The Elves are beautiful in a way that seems otherworldly, moving with grace and purpose, a light almost seeming to come off them even in the eyes of those not afflicted with blade shards.

They come running down the stairs towards them. Some are armed guards, some are not. The ones that aren't armed are already in coarser silks with little white aprons tied over top. They are healers - though none have the same abilities as their Lord - and they expect bloody work to lie ahead of them.

"They have arrived, like the human said they would." Gary had run ahead, an entire marathon, to get Little Cato to the Rivendell faster. "Notify Lord Elrond and inform the healers! Gather stretchers and carry the wounded to the healing halls. Make haste! The ones injured with Morgul-blades have little time to spare!"

"Tell the kitchens to start preparing food, and tell the quartermaster some of them may need new clothes shortly. Also notify Erestor, he said he'd talk to the others to arrange for baths."

Stretchers are brought down and Elves immediately start trying to get the injured into them. They seem to have no issue carrying even the heaviest among them, and bring larger stretchers for the larger members of the squad.

But there's a bit of tension as they're being loaded into them.

The guards wind up on edge as they stare down the group.

"There's something wrong. The human said nothing about this. Some of you have a fell air about you." They place their hands on their sword hilts but don't draw their weapons yet. "We'll tend to the injured regardless of what we can see of their true nature, especially since they have little time and can render no harm in their current state, but the rest of you need to explain. What are you?"

OOC DETAILS
❧ Threadjumping free-for-all post. Characters can threadjump to their heart's content, comforting the injured before they're carried off and trying to work through this spot of tension with the Elves. The mods will occasionally tag in with the Elves. Treat this like a network post where people can threadjump to their heart's content.

Comments

MOD QUESTIONS/COMMENTS/REQUESTS ETC

[wildestmods]

Ask the mods anything here.

[hasapoint]

Obligatory mindreading question! If the Elves can be read at all, are their thoughts and emotions honest to what they're saying? Do they notice? If they can sense fell stuff can they also sense holy associations, even when the actual effects of those have been nerfed out of the powerset?

need would be confusing to them if so, as an indestructible spirit-holding object with influence on living people who pick her up and is also pretty conclusively sanctioned by her gods.

[credit_not_blame]

Stacia reminds herself to breathe. That it's perfectly reasonable that the elves would be suspicious. That they're going to help anyway, but that they also have some questions. Frankly, they're still better and more reasonable than most Garou, or Fera.

Once she has her Rage firmly reigned in, she answers.

"We're a bunch of people from different realities hauled here by some unknown power to help save 'the Green'. It's about the only thing we all have in common. Is that an acceptable starting point?"

[wildestmods]

They keep their hands on their hilts but still don't draw. They're willing to give the group the benefit of at least explaining things.

"Yes, we're aware of the Green. Our people have spoken with their emissaries. They are...enigmatic. Some trust them, some question their motives."

[slowmotionbuscrash]

[ Tommy isn’t quite at the forefront of the group. He’s largely unharmed, mostly just tired, and aware enough to know that these people have no obligation to help them at all.

But it’s a challenge to sit back and let more diplomatic ones handle this. Someone owes him a medal. ]

Anybody else from someplace where nothing good follows what are you?

[wildestmods]

Your concern is understandable and under most circumstances, we would not speak in such a manner in regards to another people. But our senses are keener than most and we can cast our eyes beneath the many layers of reality in a way some others peoples do not.

[He casts his eyes around at them.]

There is a darkness about some of you. Even if it is not your own essence, and is an external evil that clings to you like a parasite, it is not natural.

[ahelpingpaw]

Well, here they are. They got to this Rivendell location! What Filbo didn't really expect was the somewhat tense welcoming. Seeing these guards get, well, their guard up, he's glad at least the elves have the goodwill to treat those who are gravely injured by Nazgul.

"...well, uh...I don't think...they're out for stabbing anyone but as I see it a wrong step will get a few of us driven away at swordpoint. Killing anyone among us wouldn't make anybody want to save this world, would it?"

So he's pretty sure the situation isn't extremely dire! Just dire enough to be cause for concern.

...

Welp. His job involves a lot of diplomacy, so as much as Filbo feels like he shouldn't, another part of him pushes him forward, to the forefront along with anyone else who feels like giving the guards some lip. Taking a deep breath, Filbo approaches.

"Thanks for helping everyone who is injured" Begin with that because it's something to be grateful about! Filbo tries to be conciliatory, but very direct at the same time:

"We're not gonna get anywhere unless we stop beating around the bush and just put all the cards on the table, so could you just say which ones you're concerned about? There's no point in trying to spare feelings and after the trip we had we don't want to stand around for an hour talking. Let's go straight to the problem here"

It's kind of a change. Filbo says all that without any stammering, sounding somewhat more certain of what he's saying than he usually does. He even has the gall to look at the guards while saying all that. Truthfully, he's half-expecting himself to be one of the few who is causing distrust, for whatever reason.

[wildestmods]

"Before you enter the halls of Rivendell, we must know why some of you have such an air of corruption about you."

[unsealthecatbox]

Since a while ago Ange has been largely silent. She's exhausted, both from the trip and also from fearing every waking moment will be the last and he'll suddenly turn into a wraith and, who knows, try to twist Miles' neck or something. That the Nazgul were left behind brought relief, but she's still a danger, she knows that.

Once the stretchers come, she doesn't hesitate to get on it, a little surprised there are stretchers in the first place. She kind of expected someone to slump her over their shoulder or something. Good, she welcomes this. The break is nice.

"...nobody come see me until I approach you later"

Mostly because she has a lot of misery to stew in and that's better done in private. Once she's feeling better she'll come out and mingle, but for the time being she doesn't want to be bothered.

[hasapoint]

Need has been with her trying to slow the progress of the shard. Despite her best efforts, Ange's condition has deteriorated. Even though she doesn't have access to a lot of her usual skills and abilities, Need is still a blessed weapon, still an ancestor spirit sanctioned by the Star-Eyed Goddess, and something in her has started to glow to the girl's sight.

She sees the Elves' caution as fair. They're giving a kinder and warmer reception than most Tayledras clans would and probably have just as much reason for wariness, Need doesn't expect the group to be welcomed in and just taking the wounded seems a kind gesture. But someone should go with them.

:Do you want me to stay with you?: she asks Ange, not yet aware that she might be in the "suspicious" category or that anyone might be able to see that she's not just a magic sword.

[millenyal_pink]

[Well. It could definitely be going worse, so far. She wonders if they can sense her Rage; if so, do they see it as a stain upon her being?

Elle squares her shoulders and steps forward. Her tone matches that of the elves; aloof and confident.]

The Green saw fit to give some of our group magical abilities. They had no control over what they were given, but they have been in control of themselves.

Look around, you'll see the ones glowing with purity interacting with those marked by darkness without fear. Our actions are far more telling of the nature of our souls than whatever aura you sense.

[wildestmods]

The Elves look at the brightly lit among them and then share looks with one another. It's a good argument, that the ones with holy abilities are aware of the darker powers of some of the others and find them trustworthy. Such trust is often earned.

"The Green has done this?" The Elf is now more concerned than angry. "Ill tidings, that they would inflict such a thing on the unwilling."

The Elf shares a few quiet words with some of the remaining Elves.

He holds out a hand to her, one politely urging patience.

"Once we gather more information, a messenger will be sent to our Lord. He cannot meet with you himself if the injured are to be tended to, at least not yet. He is the greatest healer among us and if any of these other wounded are in the condition the child you sent ahead was in, he will be sorely needed." The stretcher-bearing Elves have already jogged most of them up the sairs. "But they'll ask him how we're to proceed."

He shakes his head.

"Even at worst, it is doubtful he'll turn the rest of you away, or withhold his hospitality in ensuring your needs are met. Nor will he deign to withhold supplies upon your leaving our valley. But if he urges caution, your movements inside Rivendell will be limited until your wounded are fully recovered and you're sent on your way."

Outright attacking them at least seems to not be an option. The hands on the hilts of their swords seems to just be them being ready in case of an attack.

[greyerrant]

The gravely wounded Astartes glares from his helm at the elves, and says "I am Astartes." Mind, he's also got a bloody bandaged wound from a Morgul blade and is barely capable of speech, and his stance is that of a man about to collapse, but his voice still suggests a certain degree of pugnaciousness and distrust. The last time he met eldar he'd crossed blades with them.

[wildestmods]

"I know not what that word means but if it speaks of some order of warrior or a noble people, there is no stain on your honor or virtue to accept aid from us, noble warrior. It is freely given, as those who receive such wounds as yours hold our esteem; for it means you stand opposed to the Dark Lord, or that your virtue instills fear in Him that you will."

The Elf inclines his head in respect, wanting to see to it that these people are helped, regardless of how complicated the situation is.

"You are human, yes? We can sense such things." Even with his helm up. "Even if you do not call us 'friend' at least know we have no intention of being your enemy. There are great evils in this world we've found ourselves in, and long have the Elves stood with the race of Men against such ills in our own world."

[oldbookshop]

[ Step one: don't be distracted by literally everything going on.

As is often the case when step one is "don't be distracted," Aziraphale has already failed. He is half-busy looking at things and being a literature nerd in general about this.

Just as well that there is a spot of tension, really. Attracts the brain cell. ]

Fair question. Comes with quite the, the multitude of answers. I don't think I could put it so succinctly as the others, to be honest. Tend to ramble. A bit. Still, you won't find anyone who means you harm. Fell air or otherwise.

[ Gosh, they really have got all that grace and starlight air about them, haven't they. That's nice. Tolkien was a darling man, would have been very pleased. ]

Lovely to meet you, by the way. I do appreciate all the blades staying, um. Sheathed.

[slowmotionbuscrash]

[ Tommy was hoping the adults in the room would be able to negotiate terms or something with the stuffy, formal, prissy elves and Mr. Dickens Cravat here was his top pick for who could do that.

Was. ]

we are so dead.

[ferengineer]

I'm a Ferengi.

[If Nog sounds a touch irritated, it's only because he is a touch irritated. He's noticed a couple of the elves looking at him in particular with suspicion.]

Look, with all due respect, no one here is interested in harming any of you. Truth be told, we're not in any shape to do it even if we wanted to.

[rambles_on]

[Dean looks back and forth between the dirty looks they're giving the alien guy, and the alien guy himself, before it hits him.]

Oh my god, they think you're an orc.

[He turns to the Elves.]

Dude. He's an alien, not an orc.

[zerg_rush]

Kerrigan is tired in a way that has nothing to do with weeks of running and fighting and everything to do with the group's inability to get a straight answer (and with the fact that Garviel looks like he's about to start a fight over pointy ears despite the fact one of his hearts is out of commission and he might be turning into an evil ghost if Winchester is right.)

"Look, are any of you telepaths? I can fill you in a lot more quickly that way than by talking." She reinforces the spoken words with her mind, not verbally, but with a sense of reaching out, an offer of communion. With the touch of the Nazgul cured by athelas, Kerrigan carries no taint of evil, just the shadows cast by a soul troubled by a lifetime of hardship.

[hasapoint]

:Sensible, Need murmurs. She's surprised these people are considering taking healthy strangers into their settlement at all, and not sure about trusting them enough to be taken in, not when their minds are so smoothly and firmly closed against reading. It's hard for her to trust people when she can't at least monitor their honest emotions.

[wheyoftheadept]

Saturday nearly groans when she sees the cavalcade of elven LARPers traipse down the stairs. The beauty and aura of Rivendell don't impress her as much as it should; she's tired and bloody, and it's not like she doesn't know what a glamour is. See one fancy elfy-elf palace and you've seen 'em all.

When the guards put their hands on their weapons, she crosses her arms; her equivalent, since her metal arm is her sword and vice versa.

"First off, define 'fell air.'" she says, swallowing a much tarter response. "If you mean we look a bunch of suspicious bastards, say so, an' say what makes you wonder."

Her hair is still mostly in her improvised desert hat, exposing her ears and making her elvishness unmissable. Not that she expects it to count for much. These are pretty clearly not her kind of elf; too shiny by half. If she has to listen to a poem about moonlight through the trees or whatever, she's gonna throw herself off one of the waterfalls.

[zerg_rush]

"Some people's powers...feel bad," Kerrigan says, for lack of a better way to describe a telepathic sensation she doesn't understand. "They're probably picking up on that, whatever it is."

[okayimin]

This beating around the bush is silly, they literally all know they have at least one demon in the crew. So Sawbones will pipe up from where she's helping the others get settled on the stretchers.

"As an ordained member of the holy Chantry, I will personally vouch for them. Any of this lot that has any darkness about them is either too incompetent or too principled to do anything that would harm the well being of the group."

She's helping.

[ahelpingpaw]

Oh, for the love of grump--

"What she means is that any principles and competence aren't directed at being evil! Hahaha...ah..."

There was no real need for him to say this, but portraying them as incompetent in any way probably should be avoided, he thinks, in case trying to use their skillfulness as a bargaining chip is necessary. You never know if that will be needed in some way!

[hourglasshalfempty]

Raistlin has stayed with the wounded throughout the trip from Agrabah to Rivendell, and not only because he can't keep up with the rest. While what he could glimpse of the elven city is beautiful, it's marred by how swiftly even these great works decay in his sight. To him, the halls are empty, roofs cracked open and walls overcome with vines. Only the immortal elves hold any life or youth. Raistlin notes it, equally curious and bitter, before following the stretchers to the healing halls to lend what aid he can. The 'fell air' doesn't apply to him, he's sure; the shadows on his souls are all from his own deeds.

As far as he knows, anyway.

[steelandtemper]

Cortana doesn't like having a body. Any time she thinks about it too much, Dr. Halsey's muscle memory disappears and it feels like she's piloting the universe's most badly-designed starship. On the "bright" side, she's been slowed down so much she can barely think about two things at once, so she usually gets distracted in time for her donor's reflexes to kick back in before she goes sprawling.

Same thing for her medical skill. Deep neural patterns copied from a brilliant doctor mean her hands know what to do without her help...as long as she's half distracted and unable to be self-conscious about it. It's not an ideal situation for surgery, to say the least. Cortana tags along with the injured anyway, because like hell is she letting people who don't have germ theory poke at wounds with dirty hands and leeches, or whatever it is that constitutes this miraculous elf medicine people keep talking about.

"You okay?" she asks. He clearly has a severe lung condition, but there's next to nothing she can do about it.

Unbeknownst to her, this place has stopped her supposedly inevitable slide into rampancy, so even to Raistlin's tainted vision, Cortana appears untouched by time, more like some sort of elemental being than a human, all of her colored in shades of blue-white like ice and lightning.

[tr1xx]

[ Cammie's probably not known around the group for a particularly foul attitude, but she's barely slept since the attack, she's still kinda fucked up about the hallucinating thing, and the wound on her side still stings like a bitch, so her patience is running remarkably thin. ]

Oh, nice, so we come here to get away from a bunch of arseholes trying to kill us for shite outside our control, and you're gonna be arses about it too. Seriously? Some of us had people comin' at us tryna kill us before we even realised anythin' was different about us!

We didnae ask for whatever it is about the shite we've been lumped with after gettin' here that makes folks have a [ air quotes ] "fell air" about 'em. We didnae ask for any of this.

[ Annnd that's about all the fire she has in her. She just looks sort of pathetically tired after she gets that out. ]

[hallelujahjunction]

[It's not that Dan doesn't understand that everyone here is exhausted, scared, in pain and frustrated by the general lack of answers about their mission here. It's just that Dan's keenly aware - aware from years of having to beg favors, of having to convince people to take a chance on him or give him freebies - that there's nothing to be gained here from venting their ill tempers at the only people who can do anything to alleviate their struggle.

So when he overhears Cammie saying what he knows most of the camp is thinking, he feels compelled to step in, but wants to do so without doing anything to discourage her, draw attention to her tirade or embarrass her.

Very convincingly sounding like he didn't overhear Cammie's outburst, Dan limps over to Cammie, walking with his hand along the wall, and asks her:]

Cammie, can you help me get Concrete Blonde tied up? [Dan looks like he could use the assistance; his hair is plastered to his forehead from sweat, he's short of breath and his free hand is shaking. He isn't dying, but it's obvious that he should get some actual medical care soon.

His infected leg is sealed with the same makeshift field medicine as he used to treat her injury in the field. He suspects if she doesn't have an infection yet, she will soon.]

[kingofneworleans]

To be perfec'ly hones' wit' you, cher, mos'ly what we are is exhausted.

[Remy generally has energy to burn, so even though he's barely slept the last few days, he's still better on his feet than most.]

[But even he has his limits and the hike with only as much food as they've been able to gather while on a followed march? It's only a matter of time before he hits the ground as well.]

[But the exhaustion means he's not hiding his eyes. If the elves want to give him shit, may as well get that out of the way to start.]

We been chased by de Nazgul, attacked by folk dat ain't so good 'bout askin' for help instead of tryin' to capture de people dey want help from. We've been spendin' every wakin' moment tryin' to find as much athelas as we could, since we got so many dat needed it. We were all tired an' hungry well 'fore we got here. So if you'd be kin' 'nough to 'scuse de frayed tempers, dat'd be great. Been a long few days, mes amis.

[He's putting off every 'trust me' vibe he's ever been able to scratch up. But even that's limited by tiredness and worry.]

[wildestmods]

Our time in this place has not been easy, either. I have sent for food and drink, then you may refresh yourselves while my Lord sees to your wounded. He would not keep you so long were their need not so great.

Take heart. My Lord can and will heal the taint upon your friends, and even if he deems it too great a risk to offer the freedom of Rivendell, we will not turn you away unhelped. You will be given food, rest, and shelter at the very least, and we will see you adequately supplied for the road ahead.

[Closed to Kon or Dick, if interest]

[the_hit_list]

[ Tim’s eyes wide and icy pale, like he’s gone blind and the color’s been sapped away. He might’ve been managing with support until the river, but he fights with what little hell he can muster when they reach the Bruinen and the Nazgul beckon him to Mordor. There’s not much thought involved, just weariness and ache and the stubbornness that he has to stay here and protect them that keeps his gasping ass from prying his helper’s fingers off and dragging himself to the wraiths a although he does grab at their hands.

The stairs are too much for him - even the stonework is bright and self-made. The halls are blinding and the elves supernovas. Tim’s eyes shut when the Last Homely House came into view, and he’ll stumble on the road and stairs as many times as he has to rather than admit he can’t manage anymore. He hasn’t said anything in hours, if nods and grunts and huhs don’t count.]

[ OOC: If you’d also like your character to deal with Tim prehealing, shoot me me a message here or on Plurk. ]

[konman]

[He stumbles one time too many.]

Nope. You're flagged on the self-sufficiency, dude. We get it, you're a badass.

[Kon scoops him up in his arms in a bridal carry, no problem. No protest either, he is very strong and his arms are very big.]

[He notices the wincing.]

C'mon, buddy, you don't want to check out the view? I know you've probably been dreaming of this since you had a level 1 Elf wizard. Strong in you the nerd is.

[He can't really do a good Yoda right now when his voice sounds like it's about to quake apart.]

[bringinghopewithme]

The elves' reluctance to let strangers into their house isn't an indefensible position. It's unfortunate that they decided to express it by targeting, say, Caroline, Crowley, the shifters, and other members of the party who've already demonstrated to him that their "fell airs" weren't asked for or gained through their own evil choices.

Meanwhile, if they can sense fell airs, then it follows they can sense whatever the opposite of fell is - and Bunny is suppressed to a ridiculous extent, but he's still stewarding a power beyond what he cares to go bragging about to people who can't pick that out from sight alone. The irony that's not lost on him is that with all the shifters who were born with killing machines latent in their blood, all the children who've had darkness forced upon them without being asked, even the demon who's been entrapped in the most nightmarish power structure against his own wishes, being scrutinized for their fellness - here he is, walking around with all the power of a benevolent deity, and he's the only one who came to power because thousands of people and a goddess were pointlessly slaughtered.

The irony goes silently unspoken as he watches the others make their own arguments, all these mortals, children and near-children saying with one degree of skill or other all the things that can only be said when someone announces they don't care for their vibes. He makes eye contact with an elf and waits to see if he's right that they can see fair airs as well as fell. The horse was exhausted long ago, so Bunny is carrying Dan, his temper short with the exhaustion of carrying a full grown man and the frustration at how strongly he can smell the infection festering in Dan's burned leg.

"Look," he says, in his best diplomatic voice, when one holds his gaze. He's used to the kind of diplomacy that, back home, is made easier for him by the reputation and social power he doesn't have here, so his best diplomatic voice is still clipped. "We heard this was a place of healing. Some of the people who could really use some right about now are children."

Dan obviously isn't a child, but others in the group are - his gaze lands on Ange as he indicates the members of the party, as he sniffs the air to check if there's anything new festering in her wraith-wound past the smell of Dan's infected leg.

[hallelujahjunction]

Dan wishes he'd been walking the whole way, or that he hadn't run Concrete Blonde down so much in Agrabah, because he feels guilty at having to be carried. His leg's in no position to get him further than a hundred yards, so it isn't exactly negotiable, but still - he's going to have to find a way to ease Bunny's burdens by a little extra somehow in the upcoming weeks. It's not so much that it's humbling to be incapacitated. It's just that Dan hates to see others struggle, especially on his behalf.

"You can put me down," he says. He's sure Bunny's back hurts and legs are tired, especially since Bunny moves so much more smoothly on all fours. The elves are eyeballing Concrete Blonde, and Dan suspects it's because of that cursed longbow strapped to her saddle. He stands unsteadily, leaning on a rail as he sees someone with a stretcher coming down a flight of stairs.

He gives a nod to one of the elves, a little lightheaded. "He's right, plenty of the folks injured here are youths. We appreciate the hospitality, even in the face of uncertainty. Deeply. We ain't got no cause or intent to betray it."

[scansorial]

[Miles is currently still in the suit, having been wearing it just in case with the trip here and the Nazgul following. Just in case. His expression, raising one eyebrow and tilting his head as if a little confused, if slightly indignant almost.]

Wrong? Well, some of us got hurt in the fighting to get here. But. Fell air? What's that supposed to mean?

[Look. He only more recently got here but at least as far as Miles is concerned, he is always one to wait on judging someone. Based on his own experience, not just what others might say. Not that that did him any good where his Uncle was concerned, but still. Uncle Aaron had not known it was Miles he had been chasing, had been about to kill. Miles is aware they might be wary. Nervous. He has been, in his introduction to Kingpin and all. But at the same time, even strangers, if someone is hurt, that can't be ignored.]

[skinlotion]

"Fell" normally means "fierce" or "savage," but they probably mean the evil ghost things.

[Mona's trying to look unbothered by all this, but she's nervous, too; she picks at her (terribly-dyed) blonde hair and crosses her arms over the ragged remains of her once-pink prom dress lest the beautiful elves see her in this condition. After a second, she glances up and down at Miles before raising an eyebrow.]

What's with the... [she waves one hand as if to encompass the costume.]

[partydude]

I'm a teenager.

[Which probably wasn't the answer they were looking for. Not that Mikey was really thinking about that. This was Rivendell. Those were elves. Which meant he had a once in a lifetime opportunity right in front of him.]

Can I use one of your bows? I won't shoot anybody with it, I just wanna try it out for a bit. I'll give it right back! Ninja's honor.

[ahelpingpaw]

[For the love of grump, another one--diplomacy really is easier when there aren't as many metaphorical cooks in the kitchen, Filbo is finding out. In a somewhat rare moment of being a party pooper, he tries to intervene, whispering to Mikey]

I-I know it probably would be great to test one of the bows and stuff? But...could that wait until after we're...not on the verge of getting pointed at with swords?

[Filbo is somewhat of an enabler, all things considered, but right now the situation has him on edge enough to try to put out anything he interprets as a potential fire, hah! First Sawbones' comment up there, now this]

[millenyal_pink]

[If Elle felt like she could get away with telling the whole group to shut up and let the people who still have patience left deal with the Elves, she would. (And by people with patience left to deal with the Elves, she means her and like, the three other people who haven't put their foot in their mouths already.)

Alas, she is left to watch and listen as the whole interaction devolves because some people don't know when to shut their mouths. It's taking all of her self-control not to jump in and do damage-control whenever anyone says something that the Elves could take offense to.

Elle is so tired.]

[ahelpingpaw]

[Diplomacy really is easier when there aren't like fifty people, Filbo is finding out. Even in his big city government there aren't that many people on his side at once.

Unlike Elle, his anxious personality means he can't hold back when he hears something he interprets as potentially damaging for their case. The only reason why he hasn't intervened in a few threads is because he didn't hear them. Still, what he does hear he hurries to try to smooth things over and rein them in.

At some miraculous point of peace that doesn't include things like Sawbones insulting the so-called shadier members of the party or Mikey asking to try the elves' bows, Filbo retreats]

This is such a nightmare.

[Diplomacy by committee is the worst, isn't it, Elle?]

[talk_radio]

I'm a robot. I'm not interested in hurting anybody here.

[Which Bee knows isn't really going to reassure anybody. Most organics tend to be wary at best of Cybertronians.]

[wildestmods]

[Astorian looks up. And up. And then up a bit more.]

[What in the fresh keebler hell is this]

I - thank you for your courteous reassurance, good sir. May I ask your name and... your nature? I am afraid the word robot is not found in any tongue I know.

[hasapoint]

Need probably could have been some use in talking to the Elves, if she swallowed her irritation with them for suddenly remembering it's not always good to be trusting, her deep kneejerk suspicion of people whose minds she can't touch, and her annoyance with several party members. Which she's fully capable of doing. Instead she keeps quiet, only speaking into a few peoples' heads and watching through their eyes.

She tends to find peoples' reactions to finding out about her funny, but it can also be a real impediment if a lot of strange people know even that she's a talking sword, even if they don't react badly. Sometimes they do. Need's personal shielding is gone and she hasn't been able to get it back, so she knows that to magical senses she's lit as brilliantly as a beacon. But she's not the only magic item here, and there's no demon-touch to her. Maybe she can go unnoticed.

Besides. If she can't touch the minds of these Elves at all she has no way to tell if they'd be able to hear her speak.

[wildestmods]

The elf who seems to be acting as leader of the guards keeping glancing at her with a furrowed brow as he moves through the crowd, reassuring and standing his ground by turns. Eventually his careful movements bring her over to where she's been set aside for the moment, propped delicately by some stonework.

He stands over her for a long moment, looking rather like a man steeling himself to do something silly.

Then he levels a hard stare directly at her.

"You carry great power, and mind to wield it. I have never heard of such an artifact, and nearest thing to it has meant danger, darkness, and death to my people - yet you carry no taint that I can see. What are you?"

[hellbentley]

[Crowley is leaning against a tree because it's the next best thing to sitting down. He's gotten a few healing spells from some of the healers but the shoulder wound had been fatal originally. It's bandaged up and mostly cared for now but he's still pretty exhausted. Because of all that blood loss and hoofing it towards Rivendell, most of his energy's spent.]

[Stupid mortal body.]

[There's arguing going on and calmer debating and he peeks his head out from behind several people to see what the hold up is. That is a mistake. Several Elves, who already were on guard due to sensing a deep arcane corruption, turn to face him, finally identifying the source as being more than just the general vibes of the group. Yes, part of it is all the necromantic magic and cursed weaponry and whatnot but it's not just that].

[Kill Bill sirens go off.]

[He backs away from the rest of the group. If anyone asked him, it'd be just to put some distance between himself and the Elves, but really it's because he wants to be clear of the others if swords start swinging so no one else gets hurt over his mere existence.]

[The Elves' swords, so far unsheathed, are all drawn from their sheathes.]

Well, fuck.

[wildestmods]

[Names get called out by several voices. "Úmaiar!" "Balrog!"]

[The leader of the guards, who'd been speaking to the others so far, holds his sword to the demon's throat.]

You may have fooled these fair people but we can see what you really are, demon. Fire and shadow, fang and scale, wrapped in a fairer visage.

["Not that much fairer," remarks another Elf. "You'd think he'd pick a fairer one." That gets an "Oi!" of indignation from Crowley. ]

A being of the pit, even if it's a different pit than the one that birthed the demons of our world.

We have seen a being of your like before. The dark one we stand against in Mordor was the same. Fallen, but fair of guise.

The Verdict

[wildestmods]

[Astorian finally leaves with all the information he's gathered to speak to Elrond in the halls of healing. He signals for the guards to re-sheathe any weapons, though they still keep their hands on the hilts of their blades, eyeballing some of the group more than others.]

[It takes some time. During the wait, the whole group is offered some food and drink, and encouraged to sit where they will if they need to rest. Anyone that looks cold from splashing through the Ford of Bruinen is offered a soft warm blanket. Those bloody from the wounds of others are offered bowls of warm water and clothes to clean themselves at least a little.]

[While Elrond is conferred with, the squad is promised that any word of changes in the condition of the injured will be passed along as soon as its known, independent of the discussion with their Lord.]

[Eventually, someone else emerges from the Last Homely House. A small coterie of more guards is with him. Their weapons are not yet drawn and he signals for the guards currently there to keep their weapons sheathed - and to remove their hands.]

[His hair is of shining gold that captures the sunlight and matches his armor. His face is young and ancient, and his eyes are bright - and kind - when he looks at most of them.]

[The only one who garners a truly cold expression is the demon in their midst. He locks eyes with a gaze that pierces like a dagger and thinks of how it felt when his hair was grasped by burning claws and he was dragged into an abyss. The gaze is pitiless.]

I am Glorfindel. Lord Elrond has sent me as his emissary. He would meet with you himself but your companions still have dire need of his skills as a healer in the halls of healing. I offer our apologies for the wait; he could spare but moments between the treatment of each patient. We've tried to offer at least some hospitality.

Lord Elrond has rendered his judgment on opening our doors to you and has decided not to bar you from any of our halls or hospitality. You will be provided rooms and access to our many halls and gardens, as well as new clothing and any comforts you desire, as long as we can provide. He would like to hold Council with you when your injured are healed, and when you take your leave of our valley, you'll be supplied with weapons and supplies so you can weather the wilds beyond.

[He looks over at Crowley again.]

The only exception is the Umaiar. No elf will suffer his presence in Imladris when he so resembles the threat that lurks in the Land of Shadow. He is to be imprisoned under guard in a secure room during your stay here. Since you seem...fond, his needs will be provided for and he'll remain unharmed so long as he doesn't attack or try to escape. We'll release him to your custody when you all take your leave.

[His words grow firmer.]

...under great protest, I must warn you. It is only due to your objections - [He looks at Aziraphale] - and your word, that we stay our hands.