Ah, she was far older than that. She would have been... mm. Perhaps in her second or third millenium, I think. Perhaps older. Fairly young, for one of our folk, but well into her majority. And Beren was a man full grown. But they loved each other - some say their love was fated - with a fire that none could quench, although many tried. The tale is a great one, long! But beautiful. To this day, their tale remains one of the greatest loved.
A night there was when winter died; then all alone she sang and cried and danced until the dawn of spring, and chanted some wild magic thing that stirred him, 'till at last it broke the bonds that held him, and he woke from dreaming deep and cold despair.
... It is a long tale, but it is said also that Luthien was as enchanted by he, and great was their doom indeed.
You consider it their doom? [Call him a romantic, but Vanyel imagines they're happy. Of course what awaits him is years and years of being a ghost until his lover joins him. Then they will guard Valdemar together as ghosts.]
Some say so. [ The shrug is almost audible ] Beren came to her through the Girdle of Melian, that none could pierce, and through the twisted sorcery of the Forest of Dungortheb... he came to her and she loved him, they say, the moment he called after her. High and great was their doom indeed, for they challenged both Morgoth and later Death itself, and the Doomsman opened the doors of Halls for her, as has never before been done.
I do not see doom; I see contentment and peace. Death can be a comfort for the weary - as I am sure you know. [Immortality isn't a gift if it means being alone.]
[ Was there a conflict, he says Curufin rolls his eyes sarcastically ]
How did it not? [ Maglor answers softly ] They dared what no other had done, the princess and her vagabond lover, and walked through the very doors of the fortress of the Enemy, stole a Silmaril from his crown and escaped. They fought Carcharoth, the greatest wolf to ever live, and walked alive from the Halls of death. A son they had, Dior the Beautiful, and he refused to yield the jewel that his parents won to us, who were Oath-bound to retrieve it.
[ Softly, mournfully ] We killed him. Razed his kingdom to the ground. It cost me three of my brothers, and to no avail, for his daughter escaped with the gem. She married the only other peredhel - half-elven - Earendil the Mariner, and when we came for the jewel she fled, leaving her twin sons behind. The Silmaril opened the Straight Road west, and Earendil sails the skies now, a beacon of hope. His twin sons... we raised, Maedhros and I. Elrond became the grestest healer of Middle-earth, the Elf-Lord who might have been king. But his twin Elros chose as his great-grandmother did - to be mortal. Aragorn is his descendent, father to son.
[How could he know? He pales and scowls at the feed, silent for so long that it may seem like he isn't going to answer. In truth, the tale reminds him of the many things he has done - some far from black and white - as a Herald-Mage. He has taken lives too - sometimes viciously - in order to keep Valdemar safe.
Is it any different? His chest tightens and he suddenly feels all the scars that line his body. Wearing his Whites, many considered him a beauty - effeminate, perhaps - but powerful, strong and to those burdened with being attracted to him, enchanting. However, outside of his Whites, his body is lined with scars...burns...some so deep that it's a wonder he survived them.
And all of them are reminders that, in war, doing the right thing is sometimes a matter of opinion rather than fact.]
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bythewaves) wrote2015-01-20 02:00 am
[Voice]
Ah, she was far older than that. She would have been... mm. Perhaps in her second or third millenium, I think. Perhaps older. Fairly young, for one of our folk, but well into her majority. And Beren was a man full grown. But they loved each other - some say their love was fated - with a fire that none could quench, although many tried. The tale is a great one, long! But beautiful. To this day, their tale remains one of the greatest loved.
[Voice]
Love knows no race. [Even age seems questionable - in his case. Though Stefen was a lot more experienced than him.]
After seeing the beauty of Elves, I cannot blame this...Beren. He must have been entranced.
[Voice]
A night there was when winter died;
then all alone she sang and cried
and danced until the dawn of spring,
and chanted some wild magic thing
that stirred him, 'till at last it broke
the bonds that held him, and he woke
from dreaming deep and cold despair.
... It is a long tale, but it is said also that Luthien was as enchanted by he, and great was their doom indeed.
[Voice]
[Voice]
[Voice]
[Voice]
[Voice]
[Voice]
How did it not? [ Maglor answers softly ] They dared what no other had done, the princess and her vagabond lover, and walked through the very doors of the fortress of the Enemy, stole a Silmaril from his crown and escaped. They fought Carcharoth, the greatest wolf to ever live, and walked alive from the Halls of death. A son they had, Dior the Beautiful, and he refused to yield the jewel that his parents won to us, who were Oath-bound to retrieve it.
[ Softly, mournfully ] We killed him. Razed his kingdom to the ground. It cost me three of my brothers, and to no avail, for his daughter escaped with the gem. She married the only other peredhel - half-elven - Earendil the Mariner, and when we came for the jewel she fled, leaving her twin sons behind. The Silmaril opened the Straight Road west, and Earendil sails the skies now, a beacon of hope. His twin sons... we raised, Maedhros and I. Elrond became the grestest healer of Middle-earth, the Elf-Lord who might have been king. But his twin Elros chose as his great-grandmother did - to be mortal. Aragorn is his descendent, father to son.
[Voice]
Is it any different? His chest tightens and he suddenly feels all the scars that line his body. Wearing his Whites, many considered him a beauty - effeminate, perhaps - but powerful, strong and to those burdened with being attracted to him, enchanting. However, outside of his Whites, his body is lined with scars...burns...some so deep that it's a wonder he survived them.
And all of them are reminders that, in war, doing the right thing is sometimes a matter of opinion rather than fact.]
This is the source of your regrets, isn't it.
[Voice]
[ So many lives murmurs Amras Beginning with mine ]