First song

[bythewaves]

Who: Maglor
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: Marsiva
When: Now until shuffle

Broadcast

He comes awake in a gasp, hands flying immediately to weapons that are not there as he rolls into a wary crouch. The man is slender, almost beautiful, long dark hair and clear grey eyes that seem to glow from within. He is dressed in what are best described as robes - once fine but now faded and worn, if clean due to the efforts of whoever put him there. Almost innocuously compared to the shabby state of him, there is a silver eight pointed star pinned to his clothes that looks impossibly untarnished and is obviously of very high quality.

"Who is there?"

Action

Maglor moves silently through the halls, no sound of his footfalls. He is wary, anxious - this is something totally outside his experience. But then he passes a window looking out and he stops, a cry of wonder breaking from his lips as he falls to his knees. A hand comes up to his mouth, the other gripping the harp that seems to have been the only thing that came with him, as silent tears run down his face.

"A! Elbereth!"

Comments

[faithfulwisdom]

Maglor's surprise is obvious. What is less so is its cause. Is it simply finding a kinsman in this strange place? Or is he from after? It's too early for Finrod to tell, so, for the moment, his tone remains welcoming and light.

"No other. There should be a small device near your person; if you follow my voice, you should find it."

And when he does, he'll see Finrod- an image on a screen, true, but very much vibrant and full of life.

[bythewaves]

"Ingo..." The old, old nickname is almost a sob. Maglor finds the communicator, and the hand that reaches to brush the screen is shaky and even on so small a screen, badly scarred.

"You live...how...?"

[faithfulwisdom]

That answers that, then. Finrod sombers almost immediately, shaking his head slightly.

"I can answer that no more than you, save to say that it is the work of those who have brought us here. 'Atroma,' they call themselves."

He pauses there, his eyes falling to Maglor's hand. "What happened, cousin?"

[bythewaves]

"Atroma" He repeats, memorising the name and tucking it away. "I... I had thought you safe and home, beyond all harm." Since, you know, dead. "But I cannot deny that to see you alive brings me much joy."

He blinks, looking down, and flushes in shame, looking away. "I... this is the mark of my failure."

[faithfulwisdom]

"And your presence brings me joy as well. It has been over a year since I have seen any from Arda. I had not thought to see another of the Eldar again; I had not dared to hope to see a kinsman."

The expression on Maglor's face is telling and, given the circumstances, Finrod decides not to push the topic further. Frankly, Maglor looks worn already; he didn't want to add too many stresses at once.

"There is no need to tell me now. We will have time enough."

[bythewaves]

"Only a year?" Maglor murmurs in surprise.

"It has been much, much longer than that for me - is time also so suspect then?"

He looks tired, but he also looks old.

"And if it is, are you so sure that we will have time? Or are you but a dream that I will soon wake from?"

[faithfulwisdom]

"I am no dream, I promise you. Time here simply takes a curious form. I am from your past, it seems. Such things not unheard of here."

[bythewaves]

"Truly? That is passing strange. But then, I suppose, when the dead walk, anything is possible. I missed you."

[faithfulwisdom]

"And I have missed you, though the time has been brief." He pauses for a moment, clearly debating something.

"We should meet in person, once you are off the Marsiva. There is much we need discuss." For both of their benefits.

[bythewaves]

"I would like that - if you wish it. If you are more comfortable at a remove I will not object."

[faithfulwisdom]

"Nonsense. I would not have proposed it, if it was not my wish."

[bythewaves]

"Despite all we did to you?" Maglor smiles wistfully. "You were always too kind, Ingo. But alright."

[faithfulwisdom]

"I do not see a 'we' before me," he points out. "And as much grief has passed between us, I would be remiss to forget that we could not have held the North without you."

[bythewaves]

"I was still their elder, and might have done something to moderate them - for that, Finrod, I am truly sorry. But I thank you, all the same."

[faithfulwisdom]

He nods, understanding Maglor's need to apologize, even if he didn't personally think it was necessary.

But then a wry little smile crosses his face. "I am hardly one to start holding older siblings responsible for the younger, after all. Orodreth might be fine, particularly now that I have weighed him down with kingship, but I have no desire to answer for whatever ridiculous circumstance Galadriel finds herself in next."

[bythewaves]

Maybe don't mention what happened to Orodeth suggests Celegorm, his memory voice the most meek Maglor ever remembers hearing.

"I assure you, your sister does the best out of all of us. Then again, this is Galadriel we are talking about."

[faithfulwisdom]

"If you expect me to believe that she no longer causes trouble of any sort, you are utterly mad," he says, grinning all the while, "but I am not surprised to hear that she does well for herself either."

For a moment, just a moment, he looks horribly homesick. "Will you tell me of her? How is she? And the rest of our family?"

[bythewaves]

"Define 'trouble'." Maglor retorts wryly. "For I doubt she would consider herself to be doing so, these days!"

He gentles in answer. "I can - but are you sure it is alright to tell you? This is your future, Finrod. Are you sure you want to know? And how much, if so?"

[faithfulwisdom]

"Ah, but what she considers does not always line up with what everyone else does, does it?" His tone is unmistakably fond, though.

"Is it my future? The Halls of Mandos and a rebirth is what awaits me. It will be long indeed until I hear what has occurred on the Eastern side of the sea after my death. But your point is well taken." He considers for a moment. "You have said my sister does the best of all of us. You cannot simply make such a statement without explanation; I will drive myself mad, wondering. Tell me of her, at least, and whatever else you may deem safe for the moment."

[bythewaves]

"You know I will not refuse you, if you ask. But your sister now - you would be pleased. With her husband she now rules in Lothlorien, east of the Misty Mountains. Amroth's former realm, if you remember. She has a daughter, and Finrod - she Sails. At the end of the Third Age, Galadriel returns home."

[faithfulwisdom]

He looks stunned more than anything else, but, slowly, a grin spreads back over his face. "Truly? You did not jest when you said she did the best of us. But if any could accomplish wonders, it would be her, if only through pure stubbornness."

And then something else filters through to him. "The Third Age, did you say?"

[bythewaves]

"Her stubborness is tempered now with wisdom, her fire with maturity. You would be so pleased - she has grown truly great." Maglor agrees, and a small wry smile crooks his lips.

"I did say it had been a long time."

[faithfulwisdom]

"Perhaps one day, in another lifetime, I will find out for myself."

He answers that wry smile with a startled little laugh. "So you did, but I did not imagine you meant quite that long."

[bythewaves]

"I am sure you will - if only because she will come and hunt you down herself, if you are not there to greet her I do not doubt!"

Maglor smiles back. "Well now you do. By the count of Men, for me it was the 29th of September, in the 3021st year of the Third Age."

[faithfulwisdom]

"And ...Morgoth?"

Surely their world could not have lasted so long at war. But the chance of victory seems so remote, so small, that he hardly dares hope.