bythewaves | IC Inbox [Eachdraidh]

[Hi dad, calling you up to make sure you don't try and skip out on watching (since you can't be there easily) the wedding ~~take two~~]

As I am certain you are aware, Celebrian and I have been given the use of the great hall here, along with musicians and a feast.

[A pause, a brief glance down, then he returns his gaze to the locket with a hopeful smile.]

I was hoping you would give us a song as a gift.

[Maglor's locket chimes in the dead of the night; or in other words, after enough hours have passed for Fëanor to acquaint himself with the castle and fail to find any of those whome he was looking for ...and to realize that not only could people be pulled over form many places, but also that their arrival might not be voluntary, no matter their strength.

Which is the cause of him now systematically going through the names of those of whose presence in this world he would like to know, and whom he would not mind to know of his own presence at this point. Nerdanel, Finwë, Miriel, and then his sons in order of their age.

This is the first time that the locket picks up. So Makalaurë is here. Involuntarily, Fëanor will presume, for why would any of them leave Middle Earth where they are needed? There is no hesitation in choosing a visual connection, and Maglor will be treated to the sight of his father in the finest Unseelie colours, even his hairdo speaking of a lack of materials from back home to dress himself. The locket rests on his hand and allows a view of the background large enough to betray that he is in his rooms - he would have preferred the forges, but here there is more privacy to be had.

For a moment there is silence, but then he does speak. His words are almost tentative - forward, commanding, but still the faint hesitance of one trying something for the first time remaining behind it. ] Makalaurë. [A lot carries with the simple utterance of his name, the syllables filled to the brim, everything interwoven too intricately to extract clear notions.]

Edited 2014-05-29 14:27 (UTC)

[Not a restful night sleep for Alice with nightmares and terrible hallucinations upon waking. She looks exhausted.

Alice has never been a shy person, however, she's certainly feeling that way. She feels as if she has opened an old wound and the guilt won't go away, as usual. She's drowning in it along with her natural paranoia. She sucks in a breath, finally working up her courage.]

... Sir? I-

I'm very sorry to disturb you, but.

[She rushes along.]

I wanted to apologize for last night.

[The feed only records the sound of the wind at first. They have found a sheltered place under the branches of low, meagre trees a small way up the side of the valley, shielded from sight yet offering a view of their surroundings all the same, and while Tauriel is seeing after the horses and the humans are asleep, Fëanáro has taken some steps away from both to contact his son; hear of news and address a topic that his talk with House brought up.]

Maglor.

[And sure enough that name rang his son's device when he spoke it first, and he repeats it once the connection has been made. Maglor. The intonation and quality of the vowels is faintly off (he has not heard much Sindarin in his life, though some of it is very recent now), and his tone is almost a question, though not quite. Why.]

[Will is sitting in a room that looks nothing like the room he lives in in the Station. This new room is covered in gold and bright fabric, with pillows and lanterns decorating every surface. Far from comfortable, Will looks upset, nearly panicked if he could reach that far in his emotional handbag]

Mags? MAGS!? Got a bloody problem right now.

Your brother is bonkers, mate.

[His voice is quiet, almost as though he's hiding]

Brother! I... brother...

... I've met, at last, with the Seelie commander who holds the Silmaril. We've arranged... [ His voice seems so small, uncertain, thin as a thread. He hasn't stammered so much since he was a child. ]

...arranged... an exchange. She'll deliver the Silmaril to you. And our oath again, I hope, will quiet. Guard it well from all that comes! The courts, the war... from everything.

[ She hears it and she knows, bile rising in her throat, that her message to Celegorm was too late. She knows and she scrambles with her locket, in the safety of the Station (Aubri has been looked after, healed, and will not hear; she can't face his anger at Celegorm, not right now. She can't face the responses of others either, and so she tells the locket that this is for Maglor and Maglor only), so close but so very far to where she last spoke to Maglor.

She tries to say his name but at first there are no words, just a choked sound; syllables that won't pass her tongue, a sob that won't quite form. She has to take another breath, has to force her grip on the locket to loosen as her knuckles start to ache. ]

He-

[ Again, she falters. Again, she takes a deep breath, but this time it shakes, trembling with her heart. ]

Maglor.

[ It's all she can say, as deep and sorrowful and never-ending as the ocean on the shores of Limbo. ]

[Her face is pale as she sits on the ground, legs crossed and the chest (closed now) sitting in her lap. It's taken awhile for her to pull herself together enough to contact him. Celebrían can remember what she saw of Will's memory of his hearts removal and this-

She swallows hard.]

What is this?

[She knows that he'll know what she means. Not the chest or its contents but why it's there and not with him, not a part of him.]

[Celebrían gives herself a little more time to think on what she wants to say and to give him a chance to readjust to having his heart back. There are things she wants to say, things she should and shouldn't say. And she knows she has to keep herself in control, desperate to keep from ruining the relationship she has with Maglor.]

We need to talk, uncle.

[ Here is a face you may remember, and a voice you may recognize ]

Maglor.

I am sorry, for your loss, and whatever part, unwilling, I played in it.

[ There is a pause. ]

But, as one I would claim at least something of a friend, and for Celebrimbor's sake, I would tell you what I know of it.

You know, of course, of Clarisse's network post. Afterwards, Celegorm decided to ride out with an army, with the intention to set siege to the castle and retrieve the 'silmaril'. [ He hesitates over the word, uncertain of its pronunciation ]

Many of the Seelie spotted a large army on the march towards Caer Glaem, and fearing another incursion much like the one months previous, but with more manpower, we tried to gather and fight to defend the castle. There are children, teachers, all manner of non-combatants who call Caer Glaem their refuge, many of which were drawn here by the monarchs for a war they are ill-equipped to fight, if they even desire to.

In light of that, we gathered to fight, an head of the Unseelie forces, while others sought to evacuate the castle of those who could not defend themselves, should the worst occur. Many of us did not know the reasoning for the battle until almost two days into it, and some did not even know until your pronouncement that was broadcast over the network.

It should not have happened. I will forever regret not catching sight of Clarisse sooner, to know of the battle and its intentions. I regret not pushing harder once the trade was decided, for there are ways to die that lend themselves to resuscitation, for the body can remain dead for a matter of minutes before it is too late to save.

[ He is silent. For all of his regrets, there is little he can do of them, and even then it likely could not have changed the tide. ]

If I can assist you in any way, do not hesitate to ask. You can consider it a debt owed, if nothing else.

[ It is dark around him, surrounded by old stone. The light of the locket is the only light to see by, and it illuminates his face as he begins to sob. ]

Brother, brother, brother, please, please, please...

[La Llorona is a haven, if only because of Ariadne's presence. His time at the Station had been restful, for the most part, but Aubri found traveling away from it a relief that he couldn't quite articulate. There's no reminder of war here, where Ariadne has built her home.

But there's one person who has been on Aubri's mind. He had heard rumor of Maglor in the Station, but had stayed away. (He's an old fool and coward of a bird.) So, when he's safely away and feeling a little more like himself, he sends one short message.]

Who told you that you could stop talking to me?

[Will lets the locket fall for a moment while he pokes at a very tired and pale Maglor]

Mags, think your mum's here now. Come on, Mags, up you get.

I have settled at the Station, uncle. Is Arwen well?

[Right to business, yes. Her daughter. Worrying. Fretting. It's happening.]

There is one I wish for you to meet - at your convenience, of course. His name is Stefen and -

He is my shay'kreth'ashke. [He loves saying that and knowing it's true. Without his lover's support, he doubts he would be in such a stable place currently.] His Gift is a rarity. He can sing pain away.

[ There's a text from Kelsi with coordinates just outside the Unseelie territory. If Maglor ventures, there's a small box containing a few homemade bags of tea and a handwritten note: ]

❤Maglor❤
Thank you for putting up with me and all of my questions! You have so much patience. I really admire you, so I'm giving you my favourite blend of tea. I hope Elves can drink it! Maybe if you just smell it a lot, you'll get the same effect?
♬Kelsi Nielson

P.S. Sorry I had to make you walk, none of the fairies wanted to deliver to Unseelie.☻

Dear fellow shard bearer,

I was hoping I might be able to have a chat with you about a couple of things, at the behest of Higgin, the majordomo of Caer Scima. I'm looking to take note of your current whereabouts and any special abilities you may have or may have been granted by Morla.

I appreciate that this is actually very forward, but you'd be doing me an incredible favour by getting in touch.

Sincerely,
Kieren Walker

Uncle, I wonder if you might do a favor for me?

[ Alice's imps will leave a card, in addition to a cannister of loose-leaf tea that she's blended herself, in a strange tea cup. If you feel so inclined, there's a small box of cookies she's made. A Wonderland signature, but still very much an Alice thing to do. ]

[ Delivered by raven is recipe book for French cuisine and a small music box that plays "Frère Jacques". ]

I have a favor to ask of you. Legolas asked me to speak with the Neurwë clan - offer them refuge in I Othrann-in-Heneb. I leave with a guide and a few guards soon, should I need assistance... [You know, in case everything hits the fan] Might I call on you?

[Muscovy has been asleep for weeks when he suddenly shows up at Maglor's side and speaks up.] I found a place for us to stay, but you or Mr Maedhros must speak to him because I am too small, yes? [Because obviously nobody would make a contract with someone whose status is perceived as a dependent child and in truth is that of a dependent territory.]

Edited 2015-01-11 12:22 (UTC)

[The storm came on the scream of a raptor; terrible and cold, it was as if fear itself had been given sound. Carried on a bitter cold wind, it reached even the ends of the Drabworld -- and it brought with it death. Underneath roiling clouds, given life by magic, the world froze. Ice and snow caught creatures where they stood, and trapped them for the death that they could not escape.

And the great bird -- so great it blacked out the sky itself -- still cried its hunt, Caer Scima standing starkly below it.

(And then a weary keen echoes it, and it would be a tone known to friends, as Aubri pulls himself from sleep.)]

She is gone. {Ranging has its uses and Ehtyarion is kind enough to bear him. Clearly the bond he is forging with Maglor is growing if Aragorn can find him in his time of need.

He is cloaked in green, easily mistaken for a shadow in the forest, and his expression is hidden.} Arwen Undómiel returns to lands that are destined to be renewed. There she will experience pain and joy...

Lord Elrond will dry her tears and show her a brighter future.

[Video]

Some ungodly hour before the crack of dawn on the 2nd of June

morning of june 2nd

Voice; night 8th->9th

video

voice