bythewaves | IC Inbox [Eachdraidh]

[ Despite the centuries between them, his father's abrupt change of direction is familiar, and on his end Maglor only blinks and shrugs mentally before obediently switching gears. Since his father uses the Sindarin however... ]

Celegorm's...victim arrived at the station. [ careful, precise, deliberate, but with anger quietly banked and simmering beneath (at the queen, at Celegorm, at himself) ] The young woodland prince had been cruelly treated. That he made it here at all is a marvel, but he was wounds were dire. His escorts sought aid. They found me.

[ He leaves unsaid 'I gave of my own strength to save another more deserving' but perhaps his father hears it anyway ]

Edited (i just realised) 2014-06-06 16:07 (UTC)

[There is no recognition to be found in Fëanáro's eyes at the mention of the younger of his sons, hidden though it is from his son; too unlike each other are the names, and he has not heard of any of the circumstances surrounding Legolas's capture yet - Tauriel's prince, perhaps, is what catches his thoughts for a moment, but it cannot last, not stay on a mind that is focused now on the little that was said about Makalaurë himself, and more than that it which was left unsaid.]

You are no healer, Makalaurë.

[Neither defeat nor exasperation nor reprimand are in his voice, a simple statement tinged with worry and a faint hint of irritation - at the prince's escorts for tempting his son such.

Tuning into his son's thinking process, at the distance not only of many miles but also of even more years, proves a difficult undertaking. Anyone else may not become the focus of Fëanáro even trying to do so, but this is his son, and he will not fail him. Will not fail him like he failed his father (his mother), not how he failed Ambarto. In a world without hatred of Morgoth or his own oath and their objects to drive him, without his father to put before all others in his heart - without his wife, even, and oh, he wishes that she was here, always the better of them when reasoning with matters of the heart - in such a world, his sons are what matters most to him. There are other moments of importance: To "not be in servitude", as Alice put it, and lesser desires that will come when he has time (to explore, to learn, to understand, to transform and create). But he has always been one to act in order of priorities, to leave lesser matters for later.

To argue by his son's reasoning is what he will attempt, and can only hope that his words will come through.]

There is little that giving of your strength could do for anyone injured, much less injured as you say this prince was; of more help will you be to him and others in other ways, and for those you need strength that without use for any would be wasted if you try to heal.

I am not. [ Agreement, but not entirely. ]

Yet it was my brother's hand that struck against him, and on my brother's hands his blood, and possibly, his life. What other choice had I? If one of Feanor's sons dealt the injury, should not one of Feanor's sons mend it? I kept him alive, atarinya, until House could tend his wounds [ Yes dad, his friends told him that dad was on their backs ]. I will not apologise for that.

[ His life is worth more than mine goes unsaid, but perhaps it is heard in any case ]

It is done, in any case. His father rides for the station, and the prince is as stable as House can keep him, but it takes Elven skill to keep a fea from fleeing, and if that is all I can do, then I do not begrudge it.

[ Gentler, because as tired and weary as he is, he can tell Feanor worries ] I will be here when you arrive atarinya. I told you as much, and I will keep that promise.

Edited (spelling...) 2014-06-07 11:24 (UTC)

I will be there soon. Two weeks more, by the reckoning of the sun, as Tauriel tells me.

[And now that that is tended to, he turns to the other side of the argument - which does start with a linguistic question, though only to clarify the matter.]

So like you, Tyelkormo uses a name which I can only assume to be Sindarin in these lands, despite the tongue being a third. Celegorm, you say?

Edited 2014-06-07 22:51 (UTC)

[ A nod, he can hold that long ]

Forgive me atarinya, I had forgotten that you would not know. Aye, we all took names in the language of the Sindar - it was thought to be more politic at the time. We... Quenya is spoken seldom, now - it is the language of lore, and close family, but little more than that. [ Most of them hate me using the Quenya, so I stopped, he doesn't say ]

But yes, he is Celegorm now, [ Celegorm the Cruel, and I still miss my baby brother ] even as I became Maglor. The translations were... done in haste, and perhaps not entirely as well as they might have been, however. [ since he knows how interested Feanor is in language ]

I was told of a ban.

[It's said as a question as much as a statement, and he does not elaborate further on who it was that told him, or what his thoughts on the matter might be, not on what little he knows of it. Maglor has done little to diminish the questions that he has regarding it.]

Yes. [ a small nod ] When King Thingol of Doriath - he who was once Elwë, King Olwë's brother, - when he learnt of... the our Doom and our... manner of arrival, he banned all Quenya from being spoken or used in his kingdom. [ He refused to countenance any dealings with us also Maglor doesn't say ] And since he was lord of the largest and greatest of the moriquendi kingdoms... it became widely accepted so, even by those who were technically not under his lordship.

It was easier for all of us to... follow suit. [ He does not speak of the arguments, the tears, and secret ways many of the Exiles kept their language alive in their families. He does not speak of the way his brothers refused all dealings with their old names ]

[But he hears that which his son does not speak of in his words, faintly only and without the picture being clear yet enough to let him know that the following of the developments was not done in happiness.]

Yet there is no force here which calls for either of you to continue such practice, nor does the language spoken call for your names to be Sindarin. What is it that makes you use them still?

[ there is a long pause before Maglor answers ]

I have not been Makalaure for a long time, atarinya. I do not know who he is, any longer. And... my brothers dislike such reminders.

[He will have to remind Maglor of Makalaurë, then, for his son cannot have lost himself too thoroughly to be refound; yet this, he cannot do from a distance, and so it is not the time for that, now.

For a short while, only the wind can be heard, rustling in low trees. Then, Fëanáro picks up another part of his son's words, the third which needs to be taken up.]

You spoke of a young woodland prince's injuries at your brother's hands; for what reason did this come to pass, and are those woodlands those of Mirkwood?

[It would indeed be a cruel twist of fate, to have one in his company sworn to a lord whose son his own sun hurt in such a manner. Dangerous as well, and certainly necessary to know.]

Mirkwood... aye, that was the name Gala... Artanis used. Yes, I think so. I do not know the specifics, atarinya. When I said the prince was wounded sore, he was very close to death, and in no fit state to be answering questions.

But... I recognise Celegorm's hand. [ I recognise my brother's madness ] Artanis told me... that he had beaten and tormented him for being caught trespassing.

Without knowing the details I cannot give you specifics but this is what I guess - not long before your arrival, both castles staged incursions on each other - the Queens taking from those in their service, and placing them on the field of battle. Likely, the prince was one of them. Celegorm was one from our side. He... he took one of our kin from the castle. When I spoke to him, he was wroth with rage at their refusal to leave. And when he returned... the Queen heaped him with praise and reward, and he found the castle also invaded. It.... I think it made him angry, that a place where he was honoured be touched so. [ And there is a world of bitterness in the way he speaks of it ] The prince was unlucky enough to cross his path, and... he used him as an example.

There is one with me who is sworn to him; Tauriel is her name.

What others to you know of who hail from the same realm, or otherwise would owe allegiance to him past the bonds of the courts? [It's not a judgement of what happened, not approval nor disapproval; it's a simple assessment that brings forth this more tactical question. If the prince's state is as bad as Makalaurë tells him, it is likely that there will be demands. And no matter what his opinion might be in the end, if war should come between Tyelkormo and the prince's side, he will stand with his son and unspoken the expectation stands that Maglor will do likewise.]

I have not been keeping abreast of the affairs of the court [ because I do not want to ], but so far as I know, Mirkwood has only its king and his son. There may be others in his service, but I know them not. Further, based on how Artanis speaks of him, I suspect that she is friendly, if not allied to him.

[ The response is dutifully precise, pulling on centuries worth of politicking to tease out nuances of what little he knows ]

There is at least one other who is closely allied to him - I believe I heard tell that a mortal soldier rides with Thranduil. There may be more, I do not know.

[He nods, and briefly raises his head to see if Tauriel is still standing where he last saw her.]

Artanis is from a time far into my future. What can you tell me about the person that she is now? [He has seen her on the network, but hell will freeze over before he contacts her first.]

She is from mine as well, atarinya. But... When I knew her she lived in Doriath and was courted by, and eventually married a Sindarin Prince - Celeborn by name. She is Galadriel, now, and she tells me she has a daughter already full grown and married, in her time. She did not, when I knew her, but... we had fallen out of contact. [ Through our own deeds ]

So far as I know after Doriath she and Celeborn relocated down towards the shore, and settled for a while in Sirion by the harbors, before heading East towards the mountains. I heard some tell they were living near the foothills of the Misty Mountains among the Sindar, but I can tell you little more than that.

What I have seen of her here - she is grown wise and great, with compassion in her heart to balance the fire of her youth. She has suffered, but it has not broken her, but instead forged her anew, bright and brilliant. [ It hurts to look at her, but I am happy that she has found her happiness ]

[A formidable foe then, should it ever come to such; he hopes that it will not.]

Is her daughter present in this place?

[ for the first time, a genuine smile crosses Maglor's face - it is a poor tired thing, but it is there ]

Aye. Celebrian is her name - a fine young ellith with her mother's spirit. Her betrothed is my Elrond.

[His eyes widen in surprise at his son's words.

That explains the feeling of familiarity that Celebrían gave him.]

We have spoken.

[He doesn't comment further, yet his surprise does not give way to the distance that it holds when he speaks of Artanis - at least not yet.]

Truly? She seems a fine one - Elrond clearly loves her dearly. [ And so Maglor must automatically do so as well ]

[ wistful ] I suppose I should be grateful for a chance to know her here.

What is your and Elrond's relationship?

[He has caught bits and pieces, but not as told by his son, and is curious to hear the whole picture.]

[ a pause, then ]

It is... complicated, atarinya, and bound, as so many things are, with your silmarils. [ Maglor sighs and fiddles with the harp, looking for a way to explain ]

We learnt, eventually, that one of them was in the keeping of the peredhel princess of Sirion. When she did not yield it, we... stormed their camp. [ the words are like ashes in his mouth - Sirion was little more than a glorified refugee camp, far too few guards, and mostly frightened survivors of too many wars and kinslayings - things might have been different if Earendil was home, but he was not, and so... ]

We did not retrieve it, and ... Elwing jumped - to her death, we all thought, leaving behind her two children. Twin boys - Elrond and Elros. Maedhros, sorry, Nyelafinwe and I... we took them with us. [ and perhaps it is notable that Maedhros is the only one he mentions, of all his brothers ] We... I could not tell you with any clarity what we were thinking, that day. I suppose we wanted hostages, if their father came back? I do not know. But... over time... things changed.

[ a long pause, then he admits ] Elrond is as a son to me.

[And here he thought he could steer the conversation to more shores more joyful for his son by way of this question.

But it still tells him much, and more by way of what is not said or mentioned.] How many years have passed for you since then? [How many years has it only been the two of you? (It does not even occur to him to wonder if one of their brothers might have left them instead of passed on, they would not leave their brothers, none of them, not if a choice was possible.]

Edited 2014-06-16 08:14 (UTC)

[ the pause this time is brief - these dates are close to him now, and will always be so ]

Sirion was some 50 years ago now. [ 50 years. So long, and so short. 50 years and now I am alone ]

[Fifty years, at most, and then Maitimo was gone as well... For he knows that he isn't with Makalaurë anymore in the time that he came from.

He's really trying to end the conversation on a positive note, though, mostly because he hopes for that to aid his son's help, if only in the slightest.]

How long was it that Elrond stayed with you?

[ Sorry dad, but all Maglor's tales end in tears these days ]

25 years. Not long, as we count it. When ... when they were old enough, Maedhros and I, we decided to let them go - better that they went free of us. [ For we loved them, and would not drag them with us, and even then, we began to see how it must end ]

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/arbritarily picks a date

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