fandomhigh | Fandom High Welcome Picnic, Front Lawn of the School, All Day: Part II

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!event: welcome picnic

Fandom High Welcome Picnic, Front Lawn of the School, All Day: Part II

So, the heat meant that many of the tables and chairs had been set up in the shade, and someone had found outdoor table umbrellas in blue and gold, god help us all. But hey, a little heat never hurt anyone who wasn't a vampire, right?

Ahem. The picnic was open for warm, sunny business.

[OCD is up! This is the picnic post for general mingling. Roommates, fake siblings and teachers are all here. Since it's outside, the picnic is open to all students, teachers, and townies!]

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"Are you not enjoying your time here?" Margaery asked, surprised. She'd been awed and a little frightened, so far, but she'd at least been somewhat enjoying herself. "It seems such a pleasant - if odd - place, at least at first blush."

Odd was one way to put it. She almost was wondering if she'd drunk something stronger than she'd thought, with how today had been going.

He'd tell her about the wonders of Gatorade should she drink enough to deal with this place.

He sighed and looked around. "It has been... enlightening into the ways of Men. But I did not wish to be parted from my family or people."

"Oh, I know what you mean," Margaery said, softening a bit. "I had to say goodbye to my grandmother and father and brothers when I left Highgarden. I already miss them horribly."

She sighed a little wistfully, before straightening her back. "Forgive me," she said, holding out her hand (to be kissed or bowed over rather than shaken, of course.) "Lady Margaery, of House Tyrell. I'm not usually so ill-mannered."

Thorin's eyebrows went up and he smiled at the formal title. He did not hear them often here, after all.

"Thorin, son of Thrain," he said, taking the hand with a small, polite bow. "At your service. Forgive me, I do not know the houses of Men so well as I should."

"We have women in them too, you know," Margaery joked. "Not that we're allowed to rule them alone, but it's not just Houses of Men."

Much though she might enjoy visiting a House of Men.

"Your styling isn't Westerosi," she noted, a little disappointed again. "Where is your home, Thorin, son of Thrain?"

Well, that much was obvious if you asked him. Though Men got weird when there were beards involved.

"Erebor, near to the city of Dale," he replied, frowning a little at her words. "You are from the west?"

WHERE THE DAMN, DIRTY ELVES SAIL OFF TO?

"The Reach," she said, nodding. "My father rules from Highgarden."

She suspected that those places would be as unfamiliar to him as his locations had been to her, but she still offered them. "I think I am much further from home than I had known I would be, honestly. No one's home has sounded familiar to me, even from maps." Margaery looked apologetic. "I'm afraid I know of neither Erebor or Dale."

Thorin nodded graciously at that. "It is much the same for me. You will find very few come from the same places here. Erebor is one of the great kingdoms of Dwarves in the north where I am from. Dale is the city of Men at our gates."

Margaery eyed him curiously. "Please don't think me impertinent," she ventured, "but I've only met one dwarf back in Westeros, and he very much still considered himself a man." She had only been three-and-ten at the time and had been firmly kept out of his interest, but she remembered the gossip amongst her ladies. "Is the custom different in Erebor and Dale?"

She needed to learn now, lest she offend him - or anyone else - unintentionally later.

Edited 2016-08-27 17:07 (UTC)

"Ah, we are a people separate from your own," Thorin replied, trying to hide his amusement at how delicately she chose her words. It was almost admirable. "We lived long before Men drew breath."

"I don't understand," Margaery said, feeling stupid. "You don't look much older than me - forgive me again."

Curiosity was getting the better of her manners.

"You mean to say you are an entirely different sort of...person? Not a...man?" She knew the stories, of course, of the Children of the Forest and of things that had lived in Westeros long before the Andals - but that was absolutely all they were, of course. Stories.

(Besides, the Children of the Forest were clearly more like elves, anyway. Not that she knew that.)

In a way, they were! If the elves were far less prim about things.

"I do not believe I am too much older than you." He'd gotten better at guessing ages of Men since he'd been here! "But I have not yet reached the majority. I have several more decades before that will happen. Though my line is particularly long lived even among my people. My grandfather is well into his second century."

"So you're expecting to live...several centuries," Margaery repeated, wide-eyed. "My grandmother just entered her seventh decade, and that is impressive for my people." Olenna was probably going to outlast them all, anyway, so maybe she wasn't a particularly good example. "I am six-and-ten, and already things seem to take too long. I can't imagine living to be several hundred."

Olenna would dance on the graves of so many kings by the end of that series.

"Elves have endless lives," he replied, nodding along with that. Men were short lived without some sort of... other in their line. "Which sounds far more unimaginable than a few centuries."

"I would grow so jaded with life," Margaery said thoughtfully. "Time would lose meaning. Knowing there is an end is what makes moments precious. Otherwise I'd imagine it'd all blend together."

A pause, and then, "What are elves?"

"They are like Men in some ways. Tall and stretched out in appearance, but fair even to my people." It was disgusting how pretty Elves tended to be. "They like to believe they know best for all."

"That sounds annoying," Margaery said with a wince, before catching herself with a giggle. "Sorry. Forgive me for speaking ill of them."

They really did sound annoying, though.

"No, no. I quite enjoy that." WAY TO BE HIS NEW BESTIE, MARGAERY.

That just earned him more giggles. "And just how often are they actually right, these elves? Often enough to earn the right to being annoying?"

"Not nearly as much as they presume," he replied with a smile. Because he was always down with mocking Elves. Well, not that one nervous one here. She was alright after a fashion. "I believe your home better without them, even if it means my people are not there either."

"More's the pity, but I suspect we humans make enough trouble of our own in my world," Margaery said, smiling. "There's enough feuds between Houses as it is. I can't imagine it would be any easier if half the people my father argues with knew they would outlive him by centuries, perhaps indefinitely."

"We have good relations with Dale," Thorin replied. "My people are craftworkers. Weapons, armor, jewelry... all manner of goods. The market of Dale grants us the opportunity to share these things."

And he had an Etsy page that Blue took care of for him because he got pissed someone said a scepter looked fake.

"Really?" Margaery asked with a grin. "Are you an artisan of that sort yourself? I'd be very interested in seeing the kinds of things your people make."

She liked her jewelry. She also liked acquiring more of it, and the change of location shouldn't impact her shopping habits.

"I have continued my craft while I have been here." He looked through the crowd to point out Blue. "My roommate has been selling my goods when they are too numerous. Her future school is at a cost, it would seem."

SILLY MENFOLK.

Margaery looked at Blue across the crowd, then cocked her head back at Thorin. "You don't keep the profits yourself?" she asked, mildly surprised. "That's very generous of you."

Fandom High Welcome Picnic, Front Lawn of the School, All Day: Part II

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