ataraxion | video/action

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[The woman on the screen is probably a familiar face to many by now, even if she does rarely make announcements of her own over the network. Today, however, she looks a bit different; her hair is braided and bound up in a circle about her head and she wears a much plainer gown than usual. Those familiar with it may also recognize her location- the forge.]

It occurs to me that it has been sometime since we have had a proper smith here. I cannot claim to be as skilled as some who have plied their trades here in the past, but I have been trained in the art of metalwork. If there are those who would benefit from such skills you should not hesitate to contact me. I particularly encourage any who remain unarmed to seek a means of defense, whether it be from me or elsewhere. The Tranquility is an unpredictable and volatile place; it is best to prepare for difficult circumstances before they arise.

I am called Galadriel- or Artanis- and you may find me in the gardens more oft than not, should you prefer to speak in person.

Galo Anor erin radeg- May the Sun shine upon your path.

[Action for the forge]

[She doesn't return to the garden right away, though. If she's going to offer to metalwork, she should probably brush up on it. It's been a long time since she's worked a forge, after all, and while her elven memory means that she hasn't forgotten anything, it does not guarantee that it's fresh in her mind. There's something to be said for being in the habit of things- for muscle memory and instinctive movements. Those would take time to build back up.

So she practices, concentrating deeply. It might be a strange sight for any who walk in- an elven lady hammering away at a piece of metal, sweat dripping down her brow. But she is Noldor- and Noldorian royalty, at that; there was scarcely a member of her family who did not have some experience with this. It was natural, in a way, and oddly comforting once she fell into a steady rhythm and pace. So absorbed was she that it takes her a few moments to realize that she has company. Once she does, she pauses, glancing up at the doorway.]

Come in, if you wish. You will not disturb me.

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Considering the common weaponry here, I am surprised to see a forge present.

As was I- surprised, yet pleased. I am 'old-fashioned,' I suppose, but I do not think I will ever feel as comfortable with these new forms of weaponry as I am with a blade.

[Blades are "old fashioned", oof.]

I believe we agree on that.

[There's a thoughtful pause that follows, filled with a short and humored smile.]

I'm assuming you aren't doing this solely for charity? Although providing arms for those without is admirable regardless.

[And there's a thoughtful pause before she responds] My chief motivation was simply to fulfill what I saw as an unmet need- and to keep my hands from being idle. [Because working in the clinic isn't job enough, apparently.] But some recompense for my time and effort would be appreciated.

[She nods. That's fair.]

If demands are not too high, could you make a shield? I'd be willing to compensate you, of course, although without a currency I admit I'm unsure how.

I could and I would be glad to do so. And I am certain that we will be able to come to some agreement regarding compensation, later, if not now. I will have to consider it. [A little laugh] I was trained at the forge, but I never had any expectation of acting as a merchant. I am afraid that I am a bit beyond my expertise.

I didn't know this was here.

( --is said as she takes galadriel up on that invitation, stepping in and studying the forge with some interest. the things it reminds her of aren't as pragmatic; art student exes from her misspent youth who talked meaningfully about 'creating' and tended to have the same taste in cheap wine as the philosophy lot. a published poet, she should probably have a slightly less jaundiced view of other artists, but ilde has always had a slightly jaundiced view of just about everything and everybody.

but it's interesting, if uncomfortably warm. she's a creature designed for cold rivers; human body heat is enough to slightly put her off, nevermind the intensity you get from a forge. )

Few do, I think. There was a time when we had a great many smiths aboard and this place was filled with activity.

[It's strange to walk in here and not see Fili and Kili. Or Sauron, but, frankly, she's not mourning the fact that he's gone.]

Now it is easy to miss.

[ If there's one thing that's certain to get Booker's attention, it's an offer of weaponry. The woman in the white dress seems an unlikely candidate for a weapons forger, but he's hardly in a situation where he can afford to be picky.

He doesn't want to draw any more public attention to himself than he already has, though, so he keeps his silence on the network. It's not until he hears the sound of clanking metal during one of his explorations of the ship and goes to investigate that he sees her again.

He steps forward, looking around. ]

You're the gunsmith?

[ Forgive his skeptical tone. ]

I have been trained as a smith. [She corrects.] I know little of guns.

[Which, now that she thinks of it, is something she probably should have mentioned in her intentional announcement. Even after almost two years here, 'weaponry' still brings to mind swords, lances, and maces, not those...dreadful devices.]

...Oh.

[ He's visibly disappointed, deflating slightly as he peers around the small forge. Should've been obvious, really; the equipment's nowhere near enough to create the kind of arsenal he'd been imagining. It's too bad.

Still, something is better than nothing, and he glances down at what she'd been working on, making an educated guess. ]

Swords, then?

Swords, shields, armor, lances, I suppose, though it would be a foolish weapon choice in close quarters.

[There’s the hit of hot metal hitting water as she cools the small blade she’s been forming. There. That gives her a moment to catch her breath.]

It has been long since I have practiced the art, but my skills should be more than adequate for such things.

Hmm.

[ None of those sound like anything he wants - or would even be able to use with any great skill. Still, it's something to see, and he watches with interest as she plunges the blade into the water. ]

That's an interesting profession, for a woman.

[ YEAH HE'S GOING THERE - but he sounds curious, not judgmental. ]

How'd you get into it?

It is not my profession in the true sense of the word. I have never had to make my living from it. [It might seem a small distinction, but it's relevant.]

I am Noldorin; among my people, smithcraft is highly esteemed and there was scarcely a member of the royal family who did not study the art to some degree. After watching my brothers and my older cousins undertake their studies, it was only natural that I developed an interest myself.

Never heard of them.

[ Not surprising, since "Noldor" isn't actually a country, like he's thinking.

Wait a minute. ]

...Royal?

As in...queens and kings?

[She nods.] My father is Arafinwë, High King of the Noldor in Valinor, as his father was before him. I lived the majority of my early life as the granddaughter of a king.

[She says all of this casually, as though it should not be startling at all.]

Shit.

[ He stares at her for a moment, and then catches himself, wincing. ]

Uh - sorry.

[ But he's never been one to afford people extra respect just because of a title. She doesn't seem the type to demand people stand on unnecessary ceremony anyway. ]

Don't take this the wrong way, but you don't act much like a - princess? [ That sounds right...not that he's ever known any princesses, or any other type of royalty, to compare her to. ]

[She laughs] And how do you believe a princess should act? [There's mirth behind her eyes, but also a genuine curiosity. It's a little different for every culture, after all.]

In truth, I have not thought of myself as a 'princess' for millenia. I rule a realm of my own now; if I were to introduce myself by title, I would call myself simply 'Lady Galadriel.' But you are right in this much- I have ever been an exception, even among my own people.

Stuck up, I guess.

[ He shrugs vaguely. He's never actually met any kind of royalty before this, after all. Now that he thinks about it, he's not quite sure what he had in mind. Just...not this. Not slaving over a hot forge, talking to people like him.

He laughs a little, shaking his head. ]

It feels that long sometimes, doesn't it?

In that case, I am glad to have surprised you.

[It's not that she isn't capable of being aloof. She is- when it's necessary and when it would prove to her advantage. And she's certainly far from humble. But she's also a practical woman and smart enough to realize that, on the Tranquility, she'll get farther acting as 'one of the people.']

It does. But do not speak figuratively. [She turns her head to the side, drawing attention to her pointed ears.] I am one of the Eldar- 'elves,' in the common tongue. We do not age as mortals do.

[When she says 'millennia,' that's exactly what she means.]

[ He stares for a moment, then moves closer to peer more closely at her ear. It looks real enough, and he looks between it and her, actually speechless for a moment before he manages a response. ]

You're a little tall for an elf, aren't you?

[A year or so ago, she might have taken offense to all that staring, but now? It's more amusing than anything else.]

For an Elven woman, yes; I have met none taller. [Galadriel, stop being a smartass, you know what he means.] But that is not what you ask, is it? I gather you are from a world that has tales of little people? You are not the first to tell me of such stories.

I take it they're not true, then.

[ Not that he'd ever thought they were. But then, he'd also never expected to meet someone actually claiming to be an elf.

Or find himself living on a spaceship.

Or running through a floating city.

Really, he's had to get used to a lot lately. ]

They are not true in Arda. More than that, I cannot say.

Is that your kingdom?

[She shakes her head] 'Arda' is the name for my world in one of the elvish tongues. My kingdom is called 'Lothlórien.'

Pretty name.

[ And one whose pronunciation he isn't going to attempt to repeat. He gazes at her curiously, still trying to absorb everything she's telling him. ]

You said - you don't age like mortals. Does that mean you're...

Immortal? In a sense, yes. We may be slain or die from grief, but the passing of time alone will not touch us.

You'll live forever.

[ He considers the implications for a moment, shaking his head. ]

It sounds nice on paper...but I can't say I envy you.

[That earns him a little smile of approval.]

Then you are wiser than many. Too often mortals see only the blessings and are blind to the heartaches.

Not me.

[ He's seen too much heartache, and not nearly enough blessings, as depressing as that is. ]

But I'm taking you away from your work.

[She nods] But it has been a pleasant distraction.

Likewise.

[ He nods his farewell, casting another disappointed look at the forge. He'll just have to try to find better firearms somewhere else... ]

Ma'am...uhh...Your Grace.

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