countlestarsofheavensfield:

Orodreth’s eyes measured the elf before them before giving a small tilt of head as a bow - and as a greeting for such came not in verbal form. He wondered what kind of Telerin customs his poor son would be taught here, worrying actually. He would not allow such, for too long had their family looked upon the Teleri as equals.

“Our road was quiet. Rarely do the servants of the enemy come this South. We rarely see any movement near Nargothrond these days, for it remains well hidden from the eyes of those who carry ill will with them”, spoke Orodreth a faint smile visiting on his lips. “Here is the boy.” Gil-galad was pushed toward Círdan, a silent whimper escaping through his lips. He said nothing, merely stared cautiously at the other. The elfling had heard all kinds of things from his father, concerning the elves of Telerin race, which made him a bit wary and reluctant to stay there among them. Even though he, in secret, was a little excited of the thought being away from father.

Orodreth took a small notebook from his pocket, pushing it to Gil-galad’s hands and leaned down to speak to him. “Take this, son, and read it often so you will remain faithful to your race and family”, the elder muttered with a low tone and straightened his back again to glance at the shipwright, “I suggest you refrain from teaching him too much about your customs. This is my own personal wish for personal reasons.” Gil-galad said nothing, his hands fidgeting nervously with the notebook.

“When they do come so South, it is usually with great force and drive,” he warned.  It was a subtle reminder of the warning he had given Odoreth but at least he was looking out for his son.  Some heed had been made and Círdan knew he could not coax more out of the other, it had to be his own decision.

As Gil-galad was shoved forward, a frown fell upon the shipwright’s features for a moment and he too took a few steps forward.  The touch was gentle and brief as he let his hand rest upon the young ellon’s shoulder with a kind smile.  It was a struggle to keep the expression in place as he heard Odoreth’s harsh whisper to his son.

“I will teach him of our ways as he is to live among us but it will be out of respect for different cultures and not forced as a manner to live,” it was a sour way to make the transition in his opinion.  Círdan knew he was biased and did not think that their culture, customs and language were such an affront to that of the Noldor.  He had had Noldor live with him without issue in the past, even with a more … colorful history involved. He had not seen why young Gil-galad would be any different.

“I will not have him forget his heritage, meldir, there is no need to fear,” he added after a moment.  "Would you not stay and dine with your son one final night and take some rest before your return journey?“




nowe.
cirdan the shipwright.
lord of the grey havens.



independent & selective

shipwright

played by simon