King Elk Forest through bog and brier

nénar. he's still not used to it - the title feels clumsy in his mouth - but he would never doubt mato's judgement. well - yes, he would, and he is, but at the same time it's validation he didn't ever expect from the silvery prince.

part of him thinks it's just a consolation prize for being the one who stuck around.

but whatever his conflicted feelings, he is tindómë's nénar now and he will wear it proudly and do his best to make morwinyon proud. the singing-sunlight is jolted out of his thoughts by a howl from the border - feeling more than a little surprised as he gets up and makes his way towards the source. the cry sounded a little odd, like the caller had a cold. as glad as delight is that winter seems to be pushing every straggler toward their borders, a typhoid mary would be so not on. 

the androgyne finds her quickly, sharp moon eyes sweeping over her form in obvious appraisal. she doesn't look sick, just a bit damp like him, and a bit on the thin side. better shape than matteo though (he hopes the scrawny albino is settling in a bit and makes a mental note to check on him). he draws himself up to his full, petite height, clears his throat, and says, "hey." maybe not the most powerful opening statement but he's still him, after all. "what is your business here?" he adds, studying her face curiously.