eachdraidh | Voice, Open

The risk is worthwhile for me. {Which speaks for itself.} Meet me in the Greenwood. I shall not keep you waiting long.

Elrond would be so angry with me if I let you get hurt [ he says softly ]

Alright, alright. I will come to the Greenwood. Do you remember the old camp?

[ Maglor crosses borders by moonlight, and the Elvenking's guards know better than to shoot him ]

Lord Elrond has long since accepted my nature. He would think ill of me to leave you to grieve alone.

{Elrond never turned away from grief or tears. He accepted them and did what he could to soothe them.}

I remember it. {Ehtyarion looks like moonlight given physical form as he races to the camp.}

He would be angrier if I let his fosterling get injured on my behalf!

After moonrise then. I will come.

{After ensuring Arwen is safe and cementing that she can rely on him in all matters, Aragorn rides for the Greenwood. He urges Ehtyarion forth with soft Elvish, his pale eyes scanning the trees for sign of movement. Finally, the Unicorn slows to a trot and positions himself beside one tree.}

Man cerig? {"What are you doing?" But as soon as he says the words, he spies Maglor. The Elf all but blends in with their surroundings with his dark hair, however there is something...else. Something Aragorn has seen before.}

Amarth faeg! {"Evil fate!" Maglor is beginning to Fade. He dismounts and approaches the Elf, expression pained.} The tethers connecting you to this world have worn thin, but they will hold.

[ Maglor opens his eyes from where he was sitting beneath the trees, drawing what strength he can from wood and bough (he would do better by the sea, but he does not dare stir his Sea Longing as well) and manages a quiet smile ]

They are, yes. It is alright, Aragorn. It is no worse than it was before, and I will fight it still. But I fear all of Maedhros' hard work is undone.

{Aragorn leans down and pulls out his water skin. Inside is a herbal infusion meant to give the drinker strength.}

Then we must fill the gap he left behind to the best of our abilities. {Ehtyarion stares at Maglor, eyes bright. He nudges Aragorn to the side and lays down, quite decided, by the Elf.}

Forgive me for being in your way! {His words are laced with amusement. The Unicorn looks entirely unabashed.}

Do not worry for me. I will manage. I cannot leave amil alone.

[ Maglor smiles a little and starts when Ehtyarion settles beside him ]

Hello fair one. [ He blinks at the unicorn in surprise ]

I would rather you not leave anyone alone. {He scratches behind the Unicorn's ears, affectionate.} He is fierce in battle, but empathetic when he senses grief.

{Sitting down across from Maglor, he drops his gaze to his hands.}

Your mother would mourn you undoubtedly, but so would I.

Edited 2015-02-04 02:44 (UTC)

Muscovy will be alright. [ he says softly, and shyly reaches to stroke the Unicorn as well ] He is stronger than he knows. But will you and Arwen care for him, if things go ill? And you have Arwen, eh?

I worry for amil, more. She puts so much of herself into Morla's commission. I fear she will lose herself to it entire.

[ If Nerdanel goes, Maglor knows, he will follow, and if he goes, he strongly suspects his mother will do the same ]

{Ehtyarion turns his head and gently nuzzles Maglor's shoulder, cautious with his horn.}

He will not be left alone, I promise you. {He presses his lips together, shaking his head.} My heart has room for many friends. As does Arwen's. She has encouraged me to support you because she loves you.

{His brow furrows.} Does she think highly of Morla?

Good. He does well, but he needs... people to teach him to care, I think. You and Arwen... are both very much Elrond's children.

[ He smiles at the Unicorn's concern and runs fingers down to scratch at his withers ]

Amil? No. She neither likes, nor trusts her. But... Morla asked her as an artist, and Feanor was not the only one of my parents who was proud of their work.

His heart is young and it has room to grow. A child should have been given better circumstances. {He will go and pick him up if need be and carry him to safety.} Ah, be cautious, you are spoiling him.

{Ehtyarion that is. The Unicorn closes his eyes contentedly.}

Pride runs strong in your family. Perhaps that is the curse.

Not so young as he seems. [ Maglor warns, and smiles to see the Unicorn's pleasure ] He is not human, Aragorn. Not Eldar, not Dwarf, but something else entire.

He is the land, and the people within in, in his world... a country - he says, a Nation.

Perhaps. But the Noldor have always been proud of our work. It is our nature to put much of ourselves into the great works - it was what I did for the Noldolante, what father did with the Silmarils... and what she does for Morla... I think it will be everything the Silmarils were for father.

{One boy...a country? He lets the words sink in, weighing them against what he knows of the Drabwurld - and other worlds - so far.}

The land given form? Do not give the Monarchy ideas.

{He doesn't want to meet the Drabwurld given human form. They would likely be gentle and vicious all in one.}

Then she must be stopped. {Should anything befall her creations...} You know what their destruction or theft would do to her, surely?

Mmhmm. So he says, and I have no reason to doubt him. He does not... quite relate to things in the normal way. I suspect that life as a young... perhaps new? country is not an easy one.

I know. [ a soft despairing whisper ] But it is far too late for that. And I did ask, and she would not. She means to make of them something to make even Morla balk.

How could he? {Relate normally, that is.} A country is the perspective of many - the land included.

I would like to speak with him. {And to protect him.} He has more than one haven in this world and I should make him aware of such.

{A mother should be supporting her son in a time of loss - assuring him that he is not alone. Not losing herself in a dangerous project that might earn Morla's ire. Aragorn does his best not to scowl, but his distaste is apparent.}

Her priorities concern me.

Edited 2015-02-05 14:08 (UTC)

[ An amused quirk ] He was very worried about me. He has been approaching everyone who spoke to me when... I broke the news. You may hear from him soon. If not, you may spot him watching you from behind a tree - he can be quite shy around those he does not know. Mistrusting, I suspect.

Do not. [ A flash of his old fire ] Amil does as she thinks is best, and I support her. Do not think that because she pours herself into this that she neglects me.

I am not the easiest for a child to approach. {His Ranger habits make him look gruff even when he's cleaned up.} Should he avoid me, I will send him a message.

{He sighs and wonders where the dysfunction of the Fëanorians ends. Maglor, at least, seems the most reasonable at times, but then he speaks as a desperate child. Aragorn is caught between wanting to comfort him and wanting to say something harsh.

But harsh words only deepen the wounds, he knows. This is not an Elf who has been spoiled or granted an easy life.}

Maglor, I have lost my mother. I do not expect to see her again until I pass from this life. {As if that isn't hard enough...} I watched her grieve for many years after the death of my father. I could not bear to see her so consumed. There were many years, I did not even lay eyes on her.

{A thing he regrets now.}

Turn her attention from craft to the life she bore. Spend time with her.

Edited 2015-02-06 08:17 (UTC)

It is not that - but I think... I think Muscovy was very ill treated. He trusts very few.

[ The madness runs very deep, it is true ]

It is not so easy as that. In many ways, we Noldor look for this - the one work that others will remember us for. This is hers - I cannot, nay I will not take it from her. I will stay by her, never fear that - she will need me, now that Maedhros is gone, as much as I need her.

{He grimaces and gives his head a sharp shake.}

By who? Have you asked him?

{Aragorn knows how to approach those who have been ill-treated. They are usually animals, but he could be kind and comfort Muscovy.}

I was taught from an early age to stand alone. My Elven foster-kin will sail far from Gondor and I will not see them for many a year. Arwen will suffer the loss too, but we will endure and rebuild the kingdoms of Men.

I fear what will become of you if she loses herself to this task. Can you stand alone?

He named two names when the Dogs were about. I do not know if they were people or Nations. And he talks of Mongolia and China, as well, and based on how he talks, those two are most certainly Nations. I suspect, most of his hurts are from his status as a Nation - and, I think, caused by other Nations. If you think on it, War, when fought on a personal level such as must be done for such as he, must be a terrible thing indeed.

[ The smile is sweet and sad and accepting ]

You already know the answer to that, Aragorn. [ No. If his mother goes, he will follow. ]

He experiences all of his citizen's woes at once. {War must be the stuff of nightmares - enough to drive a country mad - and Aragorn hates thinking of a child - country or not - enduring that pain alone.} I will do what I can to soften his pain.

{He wants to curse - he wants to rage - but instead he grits his teeth and drags Maglor into a tight hug.}

Yes. He fears famine, and he dislikes the cold.

[ Maglor nods, and then Aragorn is hugging him and he goes very very still in surprise before very slowly his arms come up and then he is clinging and weeping into Aragorn's shoulder ]

Then we shall keep him well-fed and warm.

{Words of comfort have abandoned him. He knows it's selfish to ask Maglor to suffer and stay if his mother leaves, but that's precisely what he wants to do. Maglor is one he never imagined he would meet - nor like so well. Aragorn has always had a problem saying farewell - even when he knows it's for the best.

He breathes in deeply and lets the Elf spend himself of tears. A few slip down his cheeks too, but he pays them no mind. It's far more important to comfort now than be comforted - and Maglor has sore need of a shoulder to cry on.}

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