[The joy of seeing his son (through a locket, a tiny picture on gemstone or glass or yet another material, he cannot tell yet - but still so much more truly seeing him than just looking at thread interwoven with thread, unmoving and stiff, or in memory) washes over him, yet its waves are tempered quickly and powerfully, like the lady Uinen would restrain her husband, by what he sees. Makalaurë looks terribly ill, pale and wan and full of pain, and it is an old ghost of his childhood that touches Fêanáro's mind upon beholding those familiar features weighed down, diminished, with such an expression. The ghost of a person, a still body in Lórien, beautiful and unmoving, towards whom his own father would turn yet who would never turn back towards either of them. It has been healed, a bit, by meeting her now as a man grown, even if not truly in person, but the shadow is awoken anew on his son's face.]
What happened to you? [Other questions should be more pressing - where are you, let me come to see you; yet they all wane in the light of those tired and hurting eyes.]
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zvi
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Date: 2014-05-30 06:25 am (UTC)Makalaurë looks terribly ill, pale and wan and full of pain, and it is an old ghost of his childhood that touches Fêanáro's mind upon beholding those familiar features weighed down, diminished, with such an expression. The ghost of a person, a still body in Lórien, beautiful and unmoving, towards whom his own father would turn yet who would never turn back towards either of them. It has been healed, a bit, by meeting her now as a man grown, even if not truly in person, but the shadow is awoken anew on his son's face.]
What happened to you? [Other questions should be more pressing - where are you, let me come to see you; yet they all wane in the light of those tired and hurting eyes.]