ain't no party like a ranger party [open]

[elfstone]

Who| Thorongil and anyone!
What| That great big open party log I promised! Thorongil is taking a different approach to this Arena, and that approach involves giving people free food.
Where| Around the arena -- generally in the forest area.
When| Late week 1, post-Bilbo and Sam )':
Warnings/Notes| Feel free to respond using the log prompt itself, but if you have another idea, feel free to throw it at me in a toplevel! Thorongil will be wandering around the Arena hunting for food, so he could stumble on conceivably anything. Ragnar, Anna, I'm looking at you two especially.

For many of you, this Arena will be one of the most traumatic things you've ever experienced.

For Thorongil, it's Tuesday.

Most nights, he camps with a fire. Reckless? Perhaps, if he were trying to win the Arena.

But that's not Thorongil's goal.

He hunts during the day and cooks what he catches at night: if the firelight doesn't draw in other Tributes, the smell will. It's been a few days. They're probably starting to get hungry.

Approach in the open, and he will greet you with a nod of his head. Try to sneak up on him, and he will hear you. "You'd better come out into the light," he will say, putting a hand on the long, sharp spear he's made for himself. "I know you're there."

Comments

the tl;dr is gr8 no shame

[elfstone]

Incomprehensible, hm? If the reason Davy Jones went after Jack Sparrow is incomprehensible, Thorongil is a horse. But he maintains an attentive silence as the story is told, increasingly fascinated by the events Jack describes. He picks up on Jack being unwilling to talk about his time in the Locker -- he recognizes that unwillingness, having felt similarly about trials in his own life. He also gauges Jack's retelling mostly honest: details have been omitted, but largely, as wild as it seems, Jack is telling the story as he remembers it.

"I have never known a Man to come back from the dead," Thorongil murmurs thoughtfully. "At least, not before I came here. There are beings in my world that have done it; I have spoken with two who have left the Halls of the West and come back to Middle-earth over the flowing sea, but neither was born mortal."

He opens his hand, gesturing at the roast goose.

"Who am I to deny a meal to a man come back from death?"

<3

[drinkupmehearties]

The words will barely be out of Thorongil's mouth before Jack has roughly climbed to his feet and snatched the goose from its place over the fire. He slumps back down across from the man and immediately digs in -- without regard to any sort of manners or the fact that the bird was still sizzling and hot from the flames. He's clearly been starved for food these past few days.

Eventually, after a couple minutes, the pirate slows his eating down to engage back in what Thorongil has said to him. His head dips in a short nod, idly picking meat off bone with his fingers. "Not a particularly common feat, I'd imagine. Myself, I've only known there to be one other man to cheat death, as such -- " Jack waves a hand. "-- but it involved a great deal more in voodooism and other such troublesome and archaic nonsense."

His gaze lifts back to the man, intrigued. "Middle-earth? 'Halls of the West'?"

[elfstone]

Surprise registers on Thorongil's face -- he starts to warn Master Sparrow that if he keeps on like that, he'll burn his mouth, but shuts up when he realizes it'll do absolutely no good.

Once Jack starts talking again, he listens. Voodoo is unknown to him, but it has an unwholesome sound to it. But he will answer the questions put to him before he asks his own.

"Where I come from, Middle-earth is what you might call the land of the living; mortals and immortals alike dwell there. When a mortal Man dies, his spirit passes on; none know where, save perhaps the great Powers. But when an immortal dies, be he Elf or Wizard or otherwise, he passes over the Western Sea into the Undying Lands. From there, he can return, if he chooses, or stay in peace and bliss."

[drinkupmehearties]

Jack is still eating as Thorongil speaks, but listening all the same. He doesn't look at all dismissive at the mention of wizards and elves and lands-beyond-the-living, but more fascinated with it. "Huh, fancy that. I've been many a place in me travels, as it is, but that particular mythos I'm not too familiar with."

He wipes a hand across his mouth. "An elf. That'd be those preternatural creatures akin to fairies and hobs and the like?"

[elfstone]

"Some call them fairies," says Thorongil, with a smile pulling at his mouth, "but there is nothing preternatural about them. In fact, one might say they are more natural than we are, for their connection to the lands in which they dwell is stronger." He sounds very fond of them indeed.

[drinkupmehearties]

A contemplative look and a pause, until Jack breaks away from it to quickly finish off the rest of his meal. He can definitely hear the affection in the way that the man talks about them.

After he's brushed both hands against his suit to clean them, Jack cants his head to the side a little. "Have you met one?"

[elfstone]

"Met one?" Thorongil laughs. "I have dwelt with them, in their hidden valleys and deep woods. I have no home but with them, and it is for their lands that my heart yearns, when the night is wet and the wind is cold and the road seems never-ending."

[drinkupmehearties]

His brow furrows at that. The man looked entirely human, but spoke like he belonged with elves.

"You must be quite keen on them, with talk like that."

[elfstone]

Bro, you don't even know how keen Aragorn is on elves.

"You would be, too, if you ever met them," he says, coming back to the present. "But I do not desire that any be brought to Panem. There are warriors among their people, and some, maybe, would be able to bear the Games, yet I would not wish this place on them."