Finrod Felagund (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
faithfulwisdom) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
driftfleet2015-12-28 12:55 am
faithfulwisdom) wrote in driftfleet2015-12-28 12:55 am
Entry tags:
Tl;dr: Screw accurate calendars, let's celebrate anyway
Who: Finrod Felagund
Broadcast: fleetwide
Action: Bishop
When: backdated a few days, let's say the 26th.
[Congratulations, Drift Fleet. You are being treated to a little tune of Finrod's own composition. Because some days, you just feel like announcing things in verse, apparently.]
When the night is at its longest, we gather ‘round the fire
Drink is shared and tales are told as the flames grow ev’r higher.
The custom comes to naught without a sun to mark the days,
But merry voices hold shadows of many kinds at bay.
Our journey is no garden path; we do not walk with ease.
Any reason for song and drink is one that must be seized.
[Okay, okay. He'll put down the harp and address the camera a bit more serious. Only a bit, though- there's nothing truly serious about any of this.]
In other words, my friends, Turuhalmë, an annual celebration of my people is, I think, here. It’s impossible to truly know, since I have no notion of how my calendar lines up with any other used here. Regardless, I think the occasion worth marking. According to tradition, we should gather around a fire, tell tales, and make merry long into the night.
However, as I am not precisely enthused about the idea of making a return to the planet and our ships are not equipped with hearths, I will settle for the making merry and telling of tales. You are all welcome to join me; I am on the Bishop for the moment, though if the group should grow large, we may have to relocate.
[ooc: With apologies to Tolkien and poets everywhere. It's been a long time since I've done anything that's not freeverse]
Broadcast: fleetwide
Action: Bishop
When: backdated a few days, let's say the 26th.
[Congratulations, Drift Fleet. You are being treated to a little tune of Finrod's own composition. Because some days, you just feel like announcing things in verse, apparently.]
When the night is at its longest, we gather ‘round the fire
Drink is shared and tales are told as the flames grow ev’r higher.
The custom comes to naught without a sun to mark the days,
But merry voices hold shadows of many kinds at bay.
Our journey is no garden path; we do not walk with ease.
Any reason for song and drink is one that must be seized.
[Okay, okay. He'll put down the harp and address the camera a bit more serious. Only a bit, though- there's nothing truly serious about any of this.]
In other words, my friends, Turuhalmë, an annual celebration of my people is, I think, here. It’s impossible to truly know, since I have no notion of how my calendar lines up with any other used here. Regardless, I think the occasion worth marking. According to tradition, we should gather around a fire, tell tales, and make merry long into the night.
However, as I am not precisely enthused about the idea of making a return to the planet and our ships are not equipped with hearths, I will settle for the making merry and telling of tales. You are all welcome to join me; I am on the Bishop for the moment, though if the group should grow large, we may have to relocate.
[ooc: With apologies to Tolkien and poets everywhere. It's been a long time since I've done anything that's not freeverse]