bythewaves | IC Inbox [Eachdraidh]

[Fëanáro seems completely on top of the situation now, and even to those who know him intimately it clear that he feels that to be the case at least. His conversation with Tyelkormo was very enlightening, in a lot of ways.

Without a mention of what they spoke of only a short while ago, he levels a precise, demanding stare at the locket. No deflections now; he has specific questions and demands that he wants answers to, and he won't allow for anything else. There seems to lie no use in letting it meander, not with the state that Makalaurë is in.]

Where is it that you currently are?

[ Before the Feanor turned off the feed, he would have heard Maglor weeping, and he looks, if anything, even worse than he did before, eyes red-rimmed, voice hoarse from weeping. But whatever his state, that voice and tone have always commanded obedience, and it does so again now. ]

The station. [ Flat and dull, almost lifeless ] At the borders between Seelie and Unseelie lands. I left the castle some four weeks back.

Edited (GRAH HTML) 2014-06-01 10:59 (UTC)

Remain there.

[It's a flat out order, and he will allow no words to the contrary. Meeting halfway would bring them together faster, yet bear the danger of missing the other, and he cannot trust Maglor to make his way back to the castle safely in the state that he seems to be in, the road is too dangerous for one who seems not ready to put all their will into remaining alive.]

Are you alone, and if that is not so, who is with you?

[ Almost, a spark of rebellion flares in his eyes I am no child to be ordered! but it dies only too swiftly and Maglor only nods once in acquiescence. ]

I came with friends, and they are here even now. Most will not return to the castle.

[ And perhaps it says much about his mood and thoughts of the Drabwurld, that he chose as companions those who distrust the castle and its queen, and chose for a location one as far away from it as he could and yet remain within unseelie lands. ]

Why is that so, and what are their names?

[He must have someone to watch over his son and relay word of him that has no bias in Makalaurë himself; and while he would prefer that person to be of kin (he has found a rift in understanding between himself and the secondborn too great for proper understanding of what he fears his son's situation is, and they seem to be the majority among those from other worlds - and he can only assume that those that Maglor travels with are taken from other worlds as well) he will take anyone, as long as they seem reliable. But to contact them, he needs their names.]

[ A long pause, Maglor eyeing his father quietly - here, here, is the politician that he became, all emotion locked away behind utter indifference, because to feel is to break ]

Because. [ he says eventually ] We do not trust her, the Unseelie Queen. Because we are weary of fighting, especially another's war. [ We, he says, not They ] Because I saw how easily she led Celegorm, and felt the brush of her power against me.

[ He does not give their names - and that as well, speaks much of his regard for them as opposed to the Queen. He is protecting them ]

[He nods, briefly. It is not something that he feels it safe to comment on, not in a castle where he does not yet know where ears might hear, not through seeing stones such as these that might be overseen by another.

But though Celegorm's words might have swayed him more than he would admit, even to himself, he does not trust the queen that brought them here, does loathe that her son has sworn himself to her. He may be less decided in his answers, but Maglor's words still ring true to him.]

But I am not her, and I am not your brother; and I desire to speak with your companions, if only briefly. [His voice is softer now, beckoning.] I worry for you, Makalaurë, and my heart will rest easier if I would know those whose company you share. [It is not a lie at all; not the full truth, maybe, but close enough to be honest.]

[ He hesitates a long moment before he nods, slowly ]

Daud. Ask to speak to Daud. [ That should be safe enough, he thinks - everyone who pays any attention to gossip knows that Daud demanded to be released from the Queen's service in their audience. The old soldier has little fear of the Queen, though plenty of respect for her power, and he is already so out of favour Maglor feels it cannot do any harm. Besides, the grizzled veteran has proven time and again to be the most level headed of their group. ]

[Another nod, though entirely different in meaning - a silent thanks for giving up that name-, and Fëanor relaxes slightly.]

I will contact him. [And, on a last, and somewhat less personal note:]

How long did it take you to travel from here to this "station"?

[ There is a subtle line of tension that eases when Feanor approves, but Maglor only shrugs a little ]

Some four weeks. But we were in no hurry, and not all of us were accomplished riders.

[He mulls that over, visibly performing some mental math and similar tasks, his eyes going distant for a moment, before focusing back on his son.]

I should assume that it can be done in three weeks, then, if one hurries. [And has good horses, but he knows that he'll have them.]

Yes - we took the roads, also. It might be possible to cut across the forests, if not as safe.

[He almost shrugs his shoulders at that; safety is relative.]

Be at the station still [don't leave; don't fade] in three weeks time, then. Your brother will help me decide on the fastest way.

I will not leave of my own will.

[ It is the only promise he can make ]

[And not more than he can ask for.]

Message me, should anything come up.

I will, atto.

As will I.

[And with that he ends the connection. There is much to do still, and it must be done swiftly.]

Edited 2014-06-01 14:47 (UTC)

IC Inbox [Eachdraidh]

Andddd a while later :D

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