Welcome to the Library

[werepuppyblack]

Who: Open Post
What: Opening Post
Where: All over the library and its grounds
Warnings: [to be edited if necessary]



Today the Great Library opens its doors to all Patrons, who have come from many of the stories and books all available on the shelves.

For this first visit, Patrons will be restricted to the Library and its grounds.

Fortunate, then, that these are impressive indeed - large gardens set up for all sorts of activities, woods surrounding the area and in the Library itself? Cafes, internet access, and the best weapons in the universe: books.

Do enjoy your first visit to the Library, Patron, and always remember the rules.

The Rules of the Library
1. Patrons cannot read further ahead in their own stories than the time they have arrived from. Any attempt to do so will result in being met with blank pages.This lack of information will also occur if trying to find out spoilers online.

2. Patrons cannot tell other Patrons how their story ends. Any attempt to do so will find the Patron unable to find the words to explain it.

3. All books must be shelved correctly.

4. Do Not Harm the Books

5. Do not interfere with the nature of Narrative Causality

Comments

!!! <3 Also, mindread away. He's already smitten with Eowyn but the war isn't won yet.

[whattheydefend]

Faramir's eyes widen, and he whirls upon hearing the name of his beloved city, wondering who it is in this place who recognizes the crest of the White Tree. When he sees that the speaker is an Elf, his gaze only grows more wondering. "Strange indeed," he agrees. "And stranger still to see one of the Eldar here! But most well met are you, my lord, and most glad I am to hear the name of my homeland once more."

lol Mags is far too polite! He's not Finrod XD

[bythewaves]

Maglor slips from his seat to bow politely.

"I find," He says wryly, "That I am often an unexpected presence. But like you, it is good to see someone from the world I know. Might I know your name? You wear the Black, but you bear it proudly, and unless I miss my guess, I think you far more than a simple soldier!"

[bythewaves]

And where might that have been, young mistress?

[ The man (or well, man-like creature) sitting in the window seat with a harp in his hands crooks a curious look at her unusal acroutements ]

More in case he just picks something up. ;)

[whattheydefend]

Faramir bows his head respectfully in return. "I am Faramir of Gondor, Captain of the White Tower and the Rangers of Ithilien, son of Denethor the Steward."

A shadow crosses his face at the end of the recitation. His father's death is so recent that for a moment he had forgotten it. Technically his own rank will have changed also...but not yet. He has not yet taken up his duties in the city, and the title of Captain sits far more easily on his shoulders than that of Steward.

Smoothly he continues, as though that shadowed thought had not troubled him. "Will you gift me with your name in return? I would consider it a great honor. I have met very few of the Eldar in my time."

what canon point is she from?

[whattheydefend]

[Faramir looks up, a polite smile on his face for the lady who speaks to him. It takes no particular wit to see that she is fair, and clearly noble. There is intelligence and curiousity in her expression, and he smiles at her, holding out his drink so she may examing it more closely.]

I am told it is called chai, my lady--and will readily admit I've become most fond of it during my stay here!

[He stands, bowing slightly, and gestures for her to take a seat at his table.]

Would you care to join me, and try some for yourself? Good food and drink always taste better with good company.

XD Also Maglor just named himself "Exile"

[bythewaves]

If Maglor notices the shadow he's too polite to comment, but his eyes light at Faramir's name.

"Faramir! I have heard of you, Captain - although if the tales a simple bard hears are true, I think I should be naming you Steward of Gondor, now."

Something flicks through his eyes, there and gone, and he smile wryly.

"I have had very many names, over the years. You can call me Edlenn"

right after Polonius told her to stop hanging out with that one guy

[importuned]

[Closer, the scent is even more fascinating. There's something almost like fennel under the sweetness, and even the flash of a sharp tang which puts her in the mind of something terribly exotic.

Certainly not Danish. Then again, little here was.

A lord standing, at least, was infinitely familiar. Dipping into a curtsy is clearly instinctive, entire being lowering by clear default into the humility of standing before the highest bodies of a court.]

Do I not interrupt?

[Men needed their solitude, after all.]

[whattheydefend]

Faramir catches the meaning of the name, and his eyebrow raises with sad amusement more than curiosity. "That is appropriate, for this place; we could all be named thus."

But he is too courteous to press for the story behind the choice of a pseudonym, however interesting the story must be, and turns the conversation back towards the other topic, difficult as it is. "Alas, you are right. My father is but lately deceased, and I am not yet in the habit of claiming his title. Nor have I taken up his duties, for until being drawn here I was in the care of the healers." His mouth quirks. "For that, at least, I must be thankful to our unknown kidnappers; I arrived in better shape than I left. Though that only makes me all the more impatient to return."

What one guy? He can't have been that important. ;)

[whattheydefend]

Not in the least; or if you are, I can well bear interruption, if you will do me the honor. We all have time enough and more in this strange place, and the hours drag on without such pleasant interruptions.

[Courteous words, but his friendly smile and demeanour seem genuine enough. He pulls out a chair for her to take if she will, but there stops. The choice to go or remain is hers.]

[whattheydefend]

You look discontented. Is it the drink which disturbs you, or the surroundings?

[Faramir himself seems relaxed to a point, and has a cup of his own before him, now half-emptied.]

[bythewaves]

"The tales of your knowledge of Sindarin do not lie either, I see." He smiles and dips his head.

"Aye, tis true. We are all far flung from out homes. I am sorry for your loss - tis always hard to lose a parent! And I am glad you are well, for I fear I am no great healer! For your sake, I hope the way home is swiftly found."

so unimportant you probably wouldn't write a play about him

[importuned]

[This is absolutely more like speaking to Horatio than to Hamlet. That in and of itself is something to keep her shoulders relaxed as she ducks again just briefly before allowing herself to move to the offered side of the table.]

I suppose I should not be adverse to helping the poor hours hurry on apace.

[Or to some of that sweet-smelling drink, although it had been unladylike enough to inquire in the first place.]

[whattheydefend]

Faramir shrugs, as though to wave this off. "Many in Gondor learn Sindarin--though it is true I put more effort into the learning, and Mithrandir was most patient with a young scholar's curiosity about the language, and willing to correct my errors.

"But come, sit or walk awhiles with me, if you will." Faramir smiles in invitation. "And tell me how it is that my name came to sound in the ears of a simple bard--though I think you do yourself to little credit with that description."

Some paltry sequel to The Tale of Ophelia and Horatio, maybe.

[whattheydefend]

I thank you for it. I am beginning to lose count of them.

[Accordingly he turns to the young woman behind the counter--barrista, she has named herself, a word that sounds strange in his ears despite all the languages he knows. A questioning smile and a gesture are all that is needed for her to understand his request, and she nods at them both. He turns his attention back to his new companion as he regains his own seat.]

I am remiss; forgive me. My name is Faramir, of Gondor. And you are?

he's like the Phantom Menace to Fortinbras's New Hope, really

[importuned]

[There's something deftly reassuring about the movement. The man looks just on the edge of familiar by his attire and bearing, but he seems to have settled into this place dreadfully well.

It lets her fingers rest relaxed on the table before her, spine unerringly straight but hands laced idly together without much nerve in them at all.]

Well met, my lord. Ophelia of Elsinore. [Which has gotten a few quizzical looks so far, prompting the almost unconscious addition:] In Denmark. [That had smoothed out expressions before, anyway.] Have you been here very long?

[bythewaves]

"With good will, my lord."

Maglor laughs, getting up to come over.

"And I suppose I may be underestimating my skill to call myself simple, but any bard worth his salt needs must pay attention to the news of the great, for how else are they to tell the tales the good folk wish to hear?"

[whattheydefend]

Faramir flushes slightly. "I am hardly great; merely a soldier who has tried to serve his country well. Any fame belongs more rightly to others--most particularly to the Lord Aragorn, the king finally returned, or to the Lady Eowyn who so shone on the fields of the Pelennor." He looks briefly distracted and wistful for a moment as he says the name, though it passes in an instant. "Though I will confess to being curious as to what tales a simple bard, if you must style yourself so, would have heard, particularly of recent events. I am most anxious for news, being pulled away so near to the breaking point of the war, and if you know aught that I do not I would be grateful to hear of it."

No lie detected. Poor Fortinbras, what a weird mess he inherits.

[whattheydefend]

[He makes a small face.]

Some two weeks. Long enough to grow accustomed to our entrapment, if not to love it. Fain would I return home if I could, for there was much that needed my attention there. But since I cannot, I do my best to be contented here. There are few other options, after all.

[The barrista arrives with the drink, and Faramir smiles his thanks to her. Here is a man who treats all with courtesy, it seems, whether they are his equal his rank or no.]

I am afraid I have not heard of Elsinore, nor of Denmark. We have been drawn from a most diverse variety of places, it seems. Would you tell me of your homeland?

[bythewaves]

Maglor looks amused by his wistfulness, but kindly says nothing.

"As I hear tell, you did all a soldier could be asked and more! You ought not underrate yourself!"

He hums. "What news have you heard my lord, and what news would you have? Ask, and if I know, I would gladly tell you!"

[whattheydefend]

Faramir but shakes his head a little, his smile a little tinged with sorrow. It does no good to know that no man could have succeeded in retaking Osgiliath, that his father's final orders to him were madness, just as it is little comfort to know that the Steward bitterly regretted those orders and his last words to his second son. Faramir has been told so--but hearing it and forgetting the memory of their last parting are not the same thing, and the knowledge brings but scant comfort.

But those are no thoughts for this place, or this company. "When I was drawn here, the Captains had just ridden for the Black Gate, with some few days only left before their arrival. One way or another, that battle will bring a conclusion to the long war that has plagued our lands. If you know aught of what has transpired, I would be grateful to learn."

He hesitates, then adds, "Or if you know aught of how those left behind in Minas Tirith fare, I would as glad to hear tidings of them. For the city and all its inhabitants are now in my care, and it is bitter to have been pulled away from them just as that has become the case."

[bythewaves]

He smiles.

"Ah! Then I can help you indeed! For behold, beyond all hope, the Ringbearer succeeded and Sauron is overthrown. Minas Tirith still stands, my lord, and her king returns to her"

Don't tell him he marries Eowyn. ;) He shouldn't be able to say this much, but I like it!

[whattheydefend]

Faramir actually staggers, leaning against a nearby wall and closing his eyes, holding back sudden tears of joy and relief. He is silent for a long moment before murmuring, "Then all will be well, whatever my fate may be. Praise the Valar that it is so..."

Another long moment passes before he turns to look at his companion, and now his smile is broad, if shaken. "Forgive me. It seems the removal of a great weight is almost as overwhelming as its placement."

just https://tinyurl.com/y7a6oxlf into the night

[importuned]

[The fresh brew smells even better. If she were alone, Ophelia is certain she would have been effusive. On uncertain grounds, even ones which seem so inclined to stability, it seems better to murmur softly and beam instead. Men could be so changeable, after all.]

Of Denmark?

[The shift is unconscious. Ophelia might not have the bearing of one of the great ladies of court, but Polonius's children had been raised to be diplomats, if only by the guidance of an invisible hand.]

She is-- a small kingdom, my lord, with more islands than I've ever been able to hold count of. Elsinore sits in her east, that the king and his guard may better guard the straits from Sweden's advance on our people.

Will do! Gotta keep some suspense!

[bythewaves]

"The battle is won." Maglor nods, and brushes an understanding hand across Faramir's.

"Do not thank me for that! I but carry the news that the eagles call. Utulien aure! Day has come again indeed."

He's got to ask, though. So you'll just have to resist answering.

[whattheydefend]

Faramir seizes the hand for a moment in a brief, strong hold, for such unexpected and joyous news demands connection. "Utulien aure!" he echoes in a murmur. "And the sun burst forth and shone bright in the sky, and all was made golden in its light...almost it is too much to believe possible." He takes a long breath, still standing amazed with wonderment. "And my uncle, Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth--know you if he lives? And my young cousins. And the king of Rohan...gladly would I hear he is well, for his sister's sake--"

He has said a little too much there, but it hardly seems to matter--cannot matter, here and now. But he catches himself, releasing Edlenn's hand. "Again I ask your forgiveness. My great relief makes me overwrought, to ask so many questions of one who may not even know those of whom I speak. It is enough to know that all will be well. Though in truth I am now even more anxious to return than I was, from wishing to see it."