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Who; Ecthelion, and OPEN
What: Music - also with a bit of Pied Piperness for the event
When: June 23rd
Where: History section towards Reception
Warnings: Fluff in the thread with Glorfindel
Notes: Ecthelion's decided to play a little music

The dark-haired elf in blue robes felt it was a little too quiet for a living library. And a library was a place of learning, was it not? Ecthelion raised his flute to his lips and set to playing a lilting tune as he walked between the shelves of the history section, slowly making his way back towards the Reception area. He was well aware of his surroundings, stepping out of the way of what he felt was harmless.

Pale eyes watched, only music giving warning to his approach rather than footsteps, and just a hint of cloth ruffling. His hair, while long, was somewhat tamed by a tie at the very end of his waist-length hair. There was a faint glow to his skin, just barely noticeable. He carried no light with him - he'd never needed excess light.

It was only a matter of time before others came looking to see who was playing, since he'd heard no music so far. Come to him, little ones. No harm will come to you!

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Wandering the seemingly endless shelves seemed near dizzying. And it seemed the more that he walked through the darker places, the more he wanted to clean. In fact, he dove in with no holds barred as he started to clean the place. He found a broom in one of the closets and before he could figure out what he was doing, he started to dance as he swept, humming to a tune he was not truly familiar with.

That tune rested on the tip of his tongue and tickled at his ears until he finally stopped. Surfacing from the trance like cleaning, he looked around realizing the tune was not one of his own machinations. The sound drew him, and soon, he walked toward that sound, broom still clutched in his hands.

Leaning around to look at the source, he studied the surreal form playing the flute. It tickled at his memories, stories rippling to the surface as he tried to figure out who the elven lord was. Either way, he stepped into view, hugging his broom to his chest as he let the tune carry his mind away....

A trance that seemed to spread, affecting others differently. One to play. One to clean. What else would it make them all do? It had yet to bother Ecthelion. Music was one aspect to his life.

The tune continued, unending, yet shifted gradually. Bit by bit. He'd heard a voice join in for a time, and then it fell off. Quiet. Far off. Carried to his ears to mingle with his own music.

He'd just not quite expected to see an elf with a broom. Ecthelion kept playing, though, studying the unfamiliar elf. But there was something about him that tickled memory of others.

Leaning on the broom, he let his chin rest on it as he smiled for the tune. Letting his eyes fall closed, he did not know where the words came from, but the left his lips singing words softly. They flowed out of him as though he always knew the words. Swaying with the sound, he idly thought he never really cared for singing himself before... but this felt like he could not stop.

It took a conscious effort to surface from the haze of the music. Lifting his head, he finally let his voice drift off as he once more took in his appearance. "You do not wear any clothing I recognize for the Elven kingdoms. And yet... I remember it from somewhere..."

But where? Elrohir could not quite organize his memories right at that moment.

The voice was back. Elven fine, despite the words belonging to no song either knew. It just came out unbidden. Ecthelion eventually let the tune fade, naturally. Gently so. The flute lowered from his lips when the other elf spoke.

"Then allow me to introduce myself." He pressed a palm to his chest in the typical elvish sign of greeting and respect. "I am Ecthelion, of Gondolin before it fell."

The spell only seemed to to shudder about him as the elder introduced himself. A look of amazement filled his eyes and soon he was smiling widely in excitement. "The Ecthelion that Glorfindel told me about so often? One and the same that protected my family and helped them escape before the fall?"

Such a topic should not sound so excited, but his heart oddly raced with excitement. It took him a moment to even remember to place his hand to his chest and bow in return. "Mae govannen, hir nin. I am Elrohir, the son of Elrond. Ah... you likely do not know my father, yes? He was a son of Eärendil and Elwing..." He felt so strange having to go back further in his lineage.

That wasn't the reaction he'd been expecting, and he blinked in slight surprise. How did this elf know Glorfindel? The fact he'd been spoken of by him was no real surprise. Though it was rather amusing, all at once.

Names that he'd only just learned upon arrival (and one golden menace pouncing and telling him so very much of what happened during Glorfindel's second life) and surprised turned to wonder, which moved on to a bright smile. "Glorfindel spoke of you and your parents. And your brother. I had not thought to meet you here," though that last was spoken with some amusement in his voice.

"Did he?" That meant that Glorfindel was here. The idea set a lot of his worry at ease and he smiled brilliantly at the thought. At least part of his family was here with him. It only made him feel that much more at ease knowing that the elder elf even spoke of him... "Only good things, I hope?"

He felt so terribly young now, standing there before a living legend in his own mind. An elf that faced more than one Balrog... and though he fell, he did so victoriously. Such stories were the things of tales and legends to Elrohir... Yet, here he was. "I am very honored to meet you, hir nin. Your flute playing is as beautiful as Glorfindel described it."