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[nearamir]

WELCOME TO YOUR PRIVATE CHANNEL, DECENT_JEWEL. FOR SECURE COMMUNICATION, USE 3019.03.15.03 *** DECENT_JEWEL has joined 3019.03.15.03 <DECENT_JEWEL> This is the address of Faramir son of Denethor, late Captain of Gondor. <DECENT_JEWEL> If you would speak with me, then seek me out; I am readily available for the most part. Yet if that does not suit your needs, then leave a message here, and I shall reply when I am able.

Comments

[alchepistol]

[ An honorable man. Saint-Germain inclines her head. ]

Please do.

[nearamir]

[He smiles, inclining his own head in turn, but reaches over to take the wine off the fire before actually opening the gift.]

[He is, of course, careful in his unwrapping; unhurried, meticulous, careful not to damage the bag or whatever is inside.]

[alchepistol]

[ It's - woolen garments! Knitted, with a design that manages to incorporate this symbol with some frequency. A scarf, a head covering, gloves....all fitted and tailored to accommodate his troll anatomy.

If he scrutinizes the pattern, she offers: ]

It's the alchemic symbol for "earth."

[ In other words....she made him these. ]

[nearamir]

[He looks down at the clothing for a moment, running his stony hands over the knitted scarf. His expression has softened noticeably, and he is visibly moved - less by the thing itself, and more by all it implies.]

They are beautiful. You knitted all of this yourself?

[alchepistol]

I think more clearly when I'm weaving a web. Knitting has the same effect.

[ She did. ]

[nearamir]

I see.

[He smiles - first to himself, and then at her - and, reaching up, wraps the scarf around his broad, stone-plated shoulders, careful not to catch it on the horns that protrude from the points of his jaw.]

I shall wear them with great pride. Thank you, truly.

Can I pour you a little wine?

[alchepistol]

[ She smiles back. So, between the two of them, that's at least two pigs flying somewhere on the peninsula today. (My money's on Haftesal.) ]

I'd appreciate that.