PARADISA

[Someone is paying the price of room redecorating/expanding via wishing. And is stubbornly sitting at her desk, attempting to continue working despite her misery. It also happens to be the first time she has ever been sick- elf immunity, you know.]

[Filtered from first gens, their allies, or anyone who would pass information on to them]

I find it curious that there has been so little discussion regarding what was discovered in that alternate realm not long ago. Mayhaps many do not wish to dwell on it. Such an attitude is more than understandable and yet I think it important to—

[There’s some rustling as she cuts herself off and reaches for a handkerchief to wipe the sweat from her brow. How is she sweating when she has chills? She’s exhausted, sweating, freezing, and generally feeling miserable. And she certainly sounds it when she speaks again.]

Forgive me, I seem to be somewhat unwell. [A pause as she gathers herself enough to continue.]

I also wish to enquire about an upcoming expedition. I believe I have heard it mentioned, but there is precious little information about.

[There’s some more rustling as she shifts restlessly in her seat and then the journal catches her muttering to herself:] I do not know how mortals endure this.

[This evening, Galadriel sits in the lobby, dictating into her journal and idly watching people as they pass by. As casual as she sounds, this is something that has been preying on her mind for a long time.]

It is curious, is it not, that none have yet discussed the implications of those who have returned with memories of this place? Mayhaps we wish to ignore them to save ourselves distress, but such things are seldom productive. And I would take truth over a false comfort.
Does not this open up the possibility that none of us return to our homes upon our departure? Who is to say that any number of former residents are not trapped elsewhere in this world, living false lives and unaware of their true identities? It is a discomforting thought and I have no more answers than the rest of you. Yet I feel it is a question that need be posed.

[And with that out of the way, she resumes her normal routine- reading a classic book from Earth so that she might better understand the references- before she remembers why it’s a bad idea to do so. Fortunately, she was reading nothing more dangerous than Robin Hood. She finds herself with a bow and arrow in her hands, a target in front of her with an arrow already in the bullseye. She looks down at the weapon and back up at the target.]

I believe the castle has chosen the wrong elf for this task…

[Honestly, the return of castle residents with memories has been weighing on Galadriel’s mind for some time. The implications trouble her. What little reassurance they had of returning home had been put into question- what if all were only whisked away to strange worlds, fed false memories, made complacent. The thought was troubling enough on its own, but her heart and mind kept drifting back towards Arwen and the thought of her dear granddaughter kept forever from those she loves…well, it disturbs her to say the least.

She tries, for a time, to set her thoughts to paper under a private filter, or even in a separate notebook. But the growing sense of unease prevents her from articulating them clearly and, eventually, she sets aside her pen and dictates to the castle at large.]

I knew a time darker than this- after the destruction of the Two Trees and ere the creation of the sun and moon. Not since the dawn of the First Age have I seen such a day. [She doesn’t sound too disturbed, however.] Perhaps it is an ill omen, but we may hardly be said to have a shortage of such things, even on the most ordinary of days.

[There’s a thoughtful hum and some idle strumming. Not her usual harp, but rather a lute. She’s sitting out in front of the castle, playing whatever tunes come into her head. Perhaps she’ll even sing. Seems like someone thought music might be a good way to keep the eerie feelings away.]

[ooc:Open over journals or in person.]