driftfleet | Tl;dr: Screw accurate calendars, let's celebrate anyway

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Tl;dr: Screw accurate calendars, let's celebrate anyway

Who: Finrod Felagund
Broadcast: fleetwide
Action: Bishop
When: backdated a few days, let's say the 26th.

[Congratulations, Drift Fleet. You are being treated to a little tune of Finrod's own composition. Because some days, you just feel like announcing things in verse, apparently.]

When the night is at its longest, we gather ‘round the fire
Drink is shared and tales are told as the flames grow ev’r higher.

The custom comes to naught without a sun to mark the days,
But merry voices hold shadows of many kinds at bay.

Our journey is no garden path; we do not walk with ease.
Any reason for song and drink is one that must be seized.

[Okay, okay. He'll put down the harp and address the camera a bit more serious. Only a bit, though- there's nothing truly serious about any of this.]

In other words, my friends, Turuhalmë, an annual celebration of my people is, I think, here. It’s impossible to truly know, since I have no notion of how my calendar lines up with any other used here. Regardless, I think the occasion worth marking. According to tradition, we should gather around a fire, tell tales, and make merry long into the night.

However, as I am not precisely enthused about the idea of making a return to the planet and our ships are not equipped with hearths, I will settle for the making merry and telling of tales. You are all welcome to join me; I am on the Bishop for the moment, though if the group should grow large, we may have to relocate.

[ooc: With apologies to Tolkien and poets everywhere. It's been a long time since I've done anything that's not freeverse]

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Very well, then. A tale! [Finrod took his seat and clasped his hands together, leaning forward.]

I have had more than my fill of war; I will begin with a tale of love, I think.

Our story begins when the world was yet young, during the Great March.

The Valar- the Powers of my world- sought to protect the elves from the dangers that lurked in the darkness. For this reason, they wished to bring them under their protection, to their homeland, Valinor- also called the Undying Lands. But they would not command or force the Eldar. Instead, they attempted to persuade them, and it was decided that three great leaders would go forth and see Valinor with their own eyes, that they might bring back news of it to their kinsmen. These three were Finwë, Olwë, and Elwë.

As anticipated, the three were awed by Valinor and encouraged their people to make the journey. Thus began what we call the Great March- where the elves who desired to go to Valinor began their journey to the Western Sea.

Finwë was the leader of those elves who would come to be called the Noldor, and it was he and his people who first arrived at the shore and were brought to the Undying Lands.

Olwë and Elwë were brothers- Elwë being the elder- and their people lingered longer then the Noldor, for they had a great love of water and wished to stay some time along the streams and, eventually, the shore. Now, it came to pass that on one of these occasions, their people were lingering near a forest. By chance- or fate, mayhaps- Elwë entered the woods.

Whilst he was there, he happened upon something very strange- or someone, rather. In the midst of a glade stood the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her hair was long and black as night, her skin was fair, and nightingales followed her every step. Melian was her name and she was one of the most powerful of the Maiar- great beings, akin to the Valar, but lesser in power.

Their eyes met and, in one movement, they both stepped forward and took one another's hands. An enchantment fell over them and the time seemed to slow, the world falling still around them. And so they stood, enraptured, gazing into one another's eyes for far longer than they were aware.

Though they did not know it, long years had passed whilst they stood there and Elwë's people had searched for him far and wide. When their efforts proved fruitless, some turned to his younger brother, Olwë, to lead them across the Sea. These we now call the Falmari, or the Teleri. Others stayed behind out of love and loyalty to their king, and to continue the search- and it was these who became the Sindar, alone among the Eldar who have not seen the Light of Valinor.

But they have a light of their own, for, at length, Elwë and Melian emerged from the woods, hand in hand. Elwë now appeared as one of the lords of the Maiar himself, tall beyond the measure of even the Eldar, with flowing sliver hair, and a piercing depth to his eyes.

He wed Melian and together they established the kingdom of Doriath, said to be the greatest of the Elven kingdoms East of the Sea. And never did he regret forsaking his journey to Valinor, for he saw its light each day in his beloved's face and he was content.

[Cheese listens, hanging on Finrod's every word. A love story is always welcome, there aren't many of those in Equestria, unless you count the DON'T PREFORM LOVE SPELLS THEY'RE THE WORST sort. It's nice to listen to one with a happy ending.]

Wow, that's super nice. I mean, sure he gave up a lot but he had something even better, right?

He certainly believes so. And the world is better for it- Doriath is a wondrous place and without the love of Thingol- for that is what they call him now, 'Grey Mantle,'- and Melian, we would not have the princess Lúthien, their daughter. And she is, I think, fated for greatness.

With parents like that? I sure wouldn't be surprised! Destiny just works that way, sometimes.

So it does. [He leans back for a second, thinking about his ill-fated venture with Beren and wondering about what, exactly, came after his death- how the story continued.] It is a curious thing, destiny- how we can be blind to it, even as it unfolds before us.

Yeah. I mean, even we ponies sometimes have to work through our destiny a little, until we get it right.

[Or happen to stumble upon the one being who can show them who they're supposed to be. That too. ]

[Syeira is a well known sucker for a good tale. And she likes this one. Simple but elegant. A little sad, but still very nice.]

How romantic. And this really happened?

It did. King Thingol- for that is what they call him now, 'Grey Mantle,'- is a distant kinsman of mine. And my sister is now a pupil of Queen Melian.

A kinsman? So is he a cousin or a direct ancestor?

He is... [give him a second to retrace this in his head.] ...the brother of my maternal grandfather. Olwë is my mother's father and Finwë was my father's father.

[She bites lightly on her lower lip, sucking on it to keep her mouth shut. Because there's a tangle of stay thoughts in her head about Finrod's beauty, and it would make so much sense of he was descended from someone influenced by divinity in such a way.]

I don't think you've told me about Finwë. The way you say his name, he sounds important.

He was also one of first three to travel to Valinor and he was the High King of the Noldor throughout the majority of my life. He was a rather formative figure in my life, I suppose.

So you're descended from a king and a prince. Are you royalty? Should I have been calling you Highness...or something like that?

[She's 99% teasing. If he wanted formality, he'd have asked for it when they met, she's sure.]

[He laughs] I am, both by blood and deed- I have also founded my own kingdom. But titles may be such wearisome things. I rule over no one here, and so I prefer to be simply 'Finrod.'

That is very humble. Not many would take that approach.

[This is genuine, sincere praise. Which she immediately follows up with a cheeky:]

So it's 'Your Majesty' then?

[He gives a little shrug] It seems only sensible.

[That gets a startled little laugh, though.] Oh, no. If I wished to hold you to such formalities, it would be simply 'my Lord,' or 'Lord Finrod.'

[She is clearly pleased with herself that she got him to laugh. But it doesn't stop her curiosity from pursuing the topic.]

But a long is higher rank than a lord. How do you denote the difference?

Context, primarily, I suppose, and etiquette. I might give bow at the waist to another lord, but I would not kneel save to one to whom I owed allegiance.

[~~Pretend this makes complete sense. I'm still rather confuzzled by inconsistent titling tbh~~]

Well, that's a way to do it I suppose.

[Far be it from her to judge the system if it works.]

I could have guessed you were nobility though. You have that way about you.

They do tend to drill that into you when you're young.

It's nice though, seeing someone who doesn't let it go to his head.

[She tilts her head, giving him a thoughtful look.]

Where most would think of themselves as a king, you are Finrod, who happens to be a king. It's...refreshing.

It helps, I think, to keep perspective. Arrogance helps no one and has been the downfall of many a ruler.

Truer words.

[She leans forward, elbows on her knees, interest keen and a little playful, as she sightly changes topics.]

So, since you're in a story telling mood, should I ask to hear about your adventures, as I'm certain you've had some, or your family?

Oh, I have had a few here and there. [An understatement.] But few are the sort that make thrilling tales. [Or at least the kind of tales he feels like telling.] Better to ask me of my kinsmen. Or of the valar, for that matter. Or even of great heroes of the race of Men! Why limit yourself?

[She can take a hint.]

Alright then. Tell me about your sister. What's she like?

Telling tales go here

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Re: Telling tales go here

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Gotta love seeing typos way too late

I understood anyway

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