between the shadows and the soul - erebor, diplomats

[Erebor]

We are at war. There will be scars.

Erebor listens to his mother, to Brennen. He is the picture of listening, because if you don't listen, how can you ever learn? And as he listens, he picks up on interesting things – he notes (approvingly) that the Tundra seems to have dealt with a problem internally, honorably. His respect for the band of brothers increases. "We'll be sure to let you know if he's seen." he says, referencing Mountain. "It is honorable to handle things like this in the way that you have." he says, and it is a compliment to them.

And then he is silent again as Brennen finishes speaking and Crito takes over. If Erebor knew how the stallion was watching him, how he was considering the boy as a model for the youth of Beqanna, he'd have found it odd. You see, Erebor simply skipped over childhood. He wouldn't be able to answer Crito's questions even if those questions were given voice, because this is simply how Erebor was born. Are they not always there, lurking in the woodwork, those precocious children who aren't children at all? Erebor is one of them, an old soul born into a young body, a colt who is no colt. And a lucky thing too, because he was born to a mother and father who are not given to humoring children, and born for the explicit purpose of strengthening the Chamber. There is no passion, no love, no familial tenderness and cuddles in his past, and that's exactly how he'd want it. There is plenty of regard, plenty of caring, plenty of teaching and training that is shaping him into the man – the prince - that he needs to be, but there isn’t love, at least not in the classical sense.

Crito mentions the fire, and he can't help twitching his muscles underneath his black coat. He is more free of ash than most of them, but they all still wear the traces of it wherever they go. "Volcanic eruptions." he says, answering Crito's question. "Our people recover, but the land is slow. The destruction was extensive. The ash you smell comes from pine forests, which burned in the lava flows." there is no tactical disadvantage to explaining this; if anything, the lack of trees made the Chamber harder to invade because it was that much harder to sneak up on them. "That was all before my time, although just barely." he offers a half smile to the two men.

He is silent then, opening the floor for his mother to speak again. She will be the one to decide if there are other questions to be asked, questions about alliances and intentions and everything that he's still too young to be fully trusted with. Pleasantries he can do as well as anyone, perhaps better than most – it’s the substance that escapes him, at least until he's able to learn more of the world.

Erebor

Native Prince of the Chamber

warship x straia