Nelchaen-a-Nel; dictated/action

[inafadingcrown]

[Dictated]

[Waking up in a strange place was enough of a cause for panic, especially since Artanis has no memory of how she got there in the first place. But she has had to keep her head in difficult situations before; this was not so bad. A quick search of the room revealed a sword and swordbelt, made much to her liking, which she placed around her waist, and a journal.

The journal keeps her occupied for far longer than she had expected it to. There was a lot of information in it. A lot of answers- answers that made no sense, but answers nonetheless. After a thorough study of the text, she dictates into the book, trying not to feel foolish as she does so.]

I gather that my plight here is not unique and that the prisoners of this place are wont to use these books for communication. I will pose a question, then. Is it common to receive a journal with a name that is not one’s own? “Galadriel” is lovely name, to be certain, and I am sure the Lady who bears it is most pleased to be so named. But I am Artanis, daughter of Arafinwë and I will not be mistaken for another. [Except she probably will. That is totally Galadriel’s voice.]

Furthermore, I would speak with any who have ventured out into the wilds of this world.

You have my thanks.

[Action]

[And with that, she shuts the journal and goes out into the hallway, investigating the castle with the sword still at her hip.]


[OOC: Loss start.]

Comments

action

[footnote]

[Aziraphale, busy in his own morning routine of a brisk walk to clear the cobwebs, had completely missed her perturbing dictation. Which means his first encounter with the new Galadriel... or rather, previous version of her, is when they almost collide in the hallway.

He beams at her, tipping his head in a congenial manner.]

Good morning, my dear. Lovely weather for the time of year, isn't it?

[By which he means cold and snowy, but that's still better than torrential rain.]

[inafadingcrown]

[Now that is entirely too familiar. She frowns down at him, furrowing her brow.]

"My dear?" You are bold. [And from her tone, that's decidedly not a compliment.]

[footnote]

[He hadn't even realised that he'd said it, my dear was just such a staple part of his vocabulary. He blinked at her in surprise, before nodding his head in apology.]

You seem in... unique spirits this morning, Miss Galadriel.

[He means in a strop, but he's too polite to say.]

[inafadingcrown]

I have heard that name many times today. [And she sounds decidedly irritated about that.] But it is not my own. I am Artanis.

[footnote]

I-- see.

[Aziraphale's expression said otherwise, in fact it said that he was completely lost. Was this some sort of game? No, she had never seemed the sort to play such silly tricks.]

Well then, I do apologise, Miss Artanis, but you look strikingly similar to a friend of mine. I wonder, do you have a sister?

[inafadingcrown]

I do not; I have three brothers, but no sisters. [For what it's worth, she's rather confused as well.] And even had I a sister, she would not bear a Sindarin name.

[footnote]

I am afraid I am ignorant as to the problems with a Sindarin name, but I always thought Galadriel quite the pleasant name to have.

[The idea this might be a loss is forming slowly but surely.]

[inafadingcrown]

It is a beautiful name, to be certain, and were I Sindarin myself I would be pleased to have it.

[footnote]

Perhaps you will count yourself as Sindarin one day? Many things can change in the future, my dear.

[Whoops, he already forgot about being too familiar.]

[inafadingcrown]

[She doesn't say anything this time, just shoots him a very sharp look at "my dear."]

Many things can change; one's heritage is usually not among them.

[footnote]

Not usually, but sometimes even the improbable can happen.

[The sharp look rolls off his back like water from a duck, apparently unnoticed.]

[inafadingcrown]

Perhaps. [She sounds skeptical.] But you have me at a disadvantage; I do not yet know your name, let alone its origin.