[ thranduil is a father, and the thought is a curious one. how old is he, he wonders? it takes a long time for maia's people to show their age, but the same isn't necessarily true of the elves of thedas, and thranduil is from a third world altogether. he'd seemed surprised by maia's own youth, so.. older than most, he thinks. ]
May we ask his name?
[ there's clear affection in thranduil's voice, and the sound of it makes something clench painfully in his chest. of course he knows that most fathers love their children. presumably, his own father had even loved maia's older brothers, at least in some degree. it simply aches to wonder at something he'd never had.
the suggestion brings him out of his thoughts, and he glances back, hesitating a few moments before simply nodding. he rises, collecting his notes and tucking them gently into one of the books, then turns, gathering the little jeweled pins in one long-fingered hand. ] We should like to request the archivist not move our work until we return, but we would be glad to accompany you.
no subject
May we ask his name?
[ there's clear affection in thranduil's voice, and the sound of it makes something clench painfully in his chest. of course he knows that most fathers love their children. presumably, his own father had even loved maia's older brothers, at least in some degree. it simply aches to wonder at something he'd never had.
the suggestion brings him out of his thoughts, and he glances back, hesitating a few moments before simply nodding. he rises, collecting his notes and tucking them gently into one of the books, then turns, gathering the little jeweled pins in one long-fingered hand. ] We should like to request the archivist not move our work until we return, but we would be glad to accompany you.