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[Vanyel's absence was brief and likely unnoticed, but he has returned...changed. His once black hair is now mostly white and his eyes are a much paler grey. He is sitting on the floor in his room with his back to the wall. Every inch of him says "don't touch me", yet something prompts him to open his Locket and use it.]

Why did you bring me back? What use am I...here? Without Yfandes? Without Stefen?

[His pillars have been ripped away and they expect him to stand; to fight?!]

I could kill whomever you wish. [There is something distant in his eyes. His heart can't handle the guilt of his actions.] I could drop them into the bowels of the Drabworld and leave them to suffocate.

Is that what you want of me? [He's beyond tears and out of answers.]

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[The voice is kind and familiar. So much time has passed for him and he is still in a state of shock, anger and grief. Yet his thoughts are racing behind his silver eyes and he suddenly murmurs:]

Maglor. [He flexes his fingers stiffly, the bruising from his attack still visible on his skin. His body hurts, which just makes him more defensive. Except...

He likes Maglor. He's kinder than he knows.] I was attacked by bandits.

[And raped. Repeatedly.]

Aye, aye tis I. Where are you, Vanyel? Do you need a healer?

[ Even over the lockets he can see the bruises, and he wants to weep, that any would treat so kind a soul so, and he wants to rage, and show those who would what it means to touch one who offered himself to the Feanorionnath (they are many things, but they take care of their own) but he keeps his voice gentle and soothing, the way he used to for injured brothers and angry frightened twins, long ago ]

Can I come to you?

[As much as he wants to stay alone, he knows it isn't good for him. He had just started reaching out to Yfandes and Stefen and he knows he can't stop the healing process. He has to get better for them and for himself.]

My healing has been seen to. [The shape the bandits left him in doesn't deserve words. They paid for their transgressions with their lives. Vanyel isn't the most forgiving person when he is in survival mode.]

If you wish. I'm not the best company.

Where are you, Vanyel? I will come once the moon rises.

I can meet you...somewhere in between.

[ Maglor tsks at Vanyel gently and never notices his slip into the familiar ]

Thou art wounded sore, in spirit as well as flesh, I deem. [ like Maedhros, after Thangorodrim agrees Celegorm ]

Rest, and I will come to you.

They took more of me than I cared to give. [He would have rathered they tortured him in any other way.] They're dead now.

Good. [ Maglor says with fierce satisfaction ]

I hope it was not quick. But it changes not that you still hurt. Let me help you, this time.

...it...was not. [He burned them alive after ensuring they couldn't escape. He isn't sorry for that, but unfortunately two innocents were caught in the blast. His anger didn't spare them.]

I killed innocents too.

[ So gently ]

I am sorry, Vanyel. But I will not tell you you were wrong, for anger is a terrible lash, and I do not think you meant to.

I did...and I didn't. They reminded me of them. [Heralds should be better. This is an awakening experience for him.

Heralds are human.]

They took advantage of me. They took...turns. [His voice breaks.] I can't feel clean.

[ Took turns ... A long, hissing breath, and Maglor's eyes flare silver in his anger before he tamps the flame back down. Not now! They are dead, and you need not concern yourself with them any longer. He reminds himself Worry over Vanyel, first

Just like Thangorodrim whispers the Ambarussa in horror ]

Oh Vanyel. Órecalimo, hush hush. It was not your fault - you were hurting, and angry, and you wanted to hurt. You did not mean to involve them, and that you did is a tragedy but one that is but a drop in the sea of your grief. They did not taint your light, Vanyel.

[ A glance out the window shows him the sunset, and that means the moon will rise soon ]

Where are you. [ No excuses, Vanyel. He's coming to you ]

[The edges of his lips are torn and bruised from the bit they had put in his mouth. His ribs are mended - they were broken - and his back is covered in marks - scratches etc.. But none of that amounts to what they did to him much lower. It's remarkable he can stand at all.]

My...light? [He wants to laugh and cry at the same time.] I would be stripped of my Whites...

[Actually the Heralds in the Collegium would understand. They wouldn't hold him to that standard. Yet he holds himself to that standard.]

I'll take myself to the forest near Caer Glaem. The trees will give us cover and I'll... I'll hide your presence.

Edited 2015-01-10 08:53 (UTC)

[ Maglor shakes his head ]

I can get in to Caer Glaem as easily as I can any where, this war notwitstanding. [ The joys of having family there ]

Sit. Rest. And I will come to you. It was not your fault, Vanyel.

My room is... [He gives precise directions to it.] The door is open to you.

[The ward he put on it will allow friends to enter.]

Use the Locket if you encounter problems. I have the strength to ensure your safety, at least.

[ Maglor nods and the minute the moon rises he steps through shadows to Celebrian's room, and from there, he slips out, Sketto scouting the way before him until he reaches Vanyel's. He pulls shadow and illusion round him as a cloak - do-not-notice and not-important-ignore-me - and no one will remember him passing, just the echo of a song half-heard. ]

Vanyel? [ he taps lightly at the door and tries the handle ]

[The handle will turn easily under his hand and Vanyel will be on the other side. He is wearing a long robe, obviously trying to hide under the fabric. Yet, even so, he is thinner than he was before and he somehow seems frailer. There is also a deep sense of fatigue and finality about him as well.

He has taken his first steps down the road that will end in his death.]

Come in and make yourself comfortable.

Edited 2015-01-10 09:31 (UTC)

[ Maglor's breath leaves him in another long hiss, and he cannot help the spark of fury in his eyes at Vanyel's obvious state.

I did not think observes Curufin That humans could Fade, but this one is certainly trying

He takes the two steps into the room, closes the door, and then pulls Vanyel into his arms, the same way he used to comfort his brothers and cousins and fosterlings, hand coming up to card through snow-white locks, voice crooning comfort ]

Oh Vanyel. I am sorry, Órecalimo.

[He was given his Gifts for a purpose. Ever since his teenage years, he has been plagued with dreams of his death. He will be all that stands between Valdemar and an army of Mages that work Blood Magic. One of them - Master Dark - will even entice Vanyel to join him.

He knows that particular Mage is the dark to his light and he knows that he can't allow Master Dark into Valdemar. The damage he could do might very well spell the end of the Valdemar he knows and loves. That's why Vanyel calls down the Final Strike. By doing so, he extinguishes his life along with Master Dark's and the majority of his army.

They won't even find a piece of him left behind.

Not that Vanyel knows all of that, but he is being prepared for it by destiny or whatever you want to call it. The Havens will give him a choice even in his death. To make up for the pain of his life, he will be given the opportunity to spend eternity with the one he loves as they guard Valdemar's borders - as spirits - together. Any Mage who steps beneath those trees with ill intentions are driven mad.

Thus he is, even in form, becoming something...beyond human. Deep magic is working within him, changing him so that he resembles an Adept Tayledras Mage.

But even an Adept needs comfort. He is stiff at the embrace, his heart hammering wildly, but then he breaks. Kind touches are a rarity for him - there is simply no time for them - so he trembles under the gentle touch like a frightened bird.]

It wasn't your doing. I wasn't alone, though I felt like it at the time. Yfandes came for me - even in the fire - and Stefen...he calmed my rage. I was so tired...

They took me into hiding. The Kyree accepted us...accepted me. Their Healer saw to me... [His brow furrows.] Kyrees are like...wolves. But much bigger. They are the size of horses and...intelligent. Some of them possess magic and are considered Mages and Healers.

Yet their numbers are not what they used to be. For them to hide me and protect me...

[He shakes his head.] They are like you. I do not know how to repay any of you.

[ Screw Destiny, Maglor would say if he knew, for all he sees is a bright light that is hurting, that does not deserve to hurt, and he croons wordless comfort, the same way he soothed Maedhros' nightmares after Thangorodrim, simply holding Vanyel and carding gently through his hair ]

No. But I am sorry that you had to suffer so, all the same. I am sorry that you were forced to face the darkest parts of yourself in that way. I am sorry that you had to face the depths of the Shadow and felt alone.

There is no debt, Vanyel, nothing to repay. They hid you, like as not, for the same reason that I do. Because they see a light that hurts, that dims, and one that should ever be clear.

[He isn't the only one in his world to be used by the same powers that brought forth the Companions. Yfandes knows what awaits her Chosen - maybe not clearly, but she knows his path will end. He isn't alone when he calls down the Final Strike. She returns to him after making sure Stefen is safe.

His heart never leaves him.]

I thought they killed her. [They shot her hindquarters with an arrow bolt, causing their connection to resound with pain. Then they had drugged him and he had been unable to contact her as they dragged him away.] I couldn't move. They hurt her and drugged me. I was so relieved to see her...

I wish you could meet her. She's my heart. [His mother, his sister, his best friend...] My light is nothing compared to hers.

[Yfandes loves him unconditionally. She has never asked anything of him, though he has given her his love in return.]

I do not deserve her or Stefen or you. But I'm a jealous creature, so I can't let any of you go.

[ Maglor is Feanorionnath, and hypocrite that he is, sees no problems with lambasting Destiny on behalf of another while he throws himself headlong into mad Oaths and tangles himself in its strings in his own world. He will be here as long as Vanyel needs, screw the rulers (Nolofinwe faced Morgoth without flinching, after all, and Maedhros endured everything they threw at him. Can Maglor do any less?). ]

I am glad they did not. [ He says softly, still humming softly ] And perhaps it is, but light, I have seen, is often drawn to light (as, sadly, is shadow) - I think you underestimate yourself. Tis not about deserving, Vanyel. You offered me your friendship, who is exile and forsaken. If it is any, tis I who do not deserve you.

[He releases a shaky breath and tightens his arms around Maglor's waist. Even knowing the Elf's past doesn't stop Vanyel from seeing good in him - and it hurts when Maglor condemns himself so. Oh he understands it - that guilt - but he's not about to see a good friend fade.]

I would offer it again and again. Sometimes we need others to see our light to know we haven't lost it.

[Gently, he pulls back and offers him a seat.]

Are you hungry? Thirsty?

[ A soft, sad puff of air ]

And even now you prove how great your are, Órecalimo. [ Maglor says fondly ]

The Light rejected me, Vanyel, seared my hand and soul. Stained and cursed as I am - there is none left for me.

[ He shakes his head, eyes carefully going over what he can see ] I am well. But what of you? You are painfully thin, Vanyel - even I can see that, and I am no healer. When was the last time you ate?

[He places his hands over Maglor's pointed ears and gives him a small smile.]

I can't speak for the Light. I can only speak for myself. Rejecting you has never crossed my mind. [Even after hearing about Maglor's past, he has never felt unsafe in his company.] Friendship doesn't come easily for me.

[Stefen has been trying to get him to eat for days. Food doesn't have much of a taste anymore, but he knows he needs it.]

Food has been forced upon me, but... I could stand to eat more, hm?

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