Open, Fleetwise, 001

[burnstoohot]

Who: Fëanor and YOU!
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: HS Marsiva
When: Morning

[A hand reaches out to grasp a mechanical limb before grey eyes even blink open to stare suspiciously. Fëanor feels rested, energized even, despite the most recent long hours spent over the forge's fires working on his masterpiece.]

Who dares...?

[Awareness flickers through him and the elf pauses. He sits up from the bed, though doesn't immediately move to get off, nor release the robot's 'arm'. An impatient hand reaches up and shoves a lock of black hair that had gotten free of the loose braid back behind a pointed ear and he studies the robot a bit more closely.]

Do you have a name? Are you a thinking creature? [A pause and he absently hums, head tilting a little in thought.] I think not in the ways of Arda.

['Bot, be glad he has no tools on him.]

Comments

[bythewaves]

"Morgoth." Maglor spits the name, his gentle son's fire curling in remembered and carefully nurtured fury.

"He hurt us all. But Nelyo... Nelyo he took delight in trying to break. T...that was... m-my fault."

[burnstoohot]

That was not a fire easily roused. Fëanor's eyes flashed.

"I do not believe you would have abandoned him easily. Does your brother now hate you?" He thought not. "Do not continue to blame yourself." Seeing pain in his sons' eyes cut deep.

[bythewaves]

Maglor's hate is not easily roused, but once it is Maglor tends to nurse his hatred, clinging to it stubbornly. And he has had more reason than many to hate Morgoth.

But some days he hates himself more.

"He... told me he didn't." But then he left me.

"I...I will try not to. But we... things get...very bad, atarinya."

[burnstoohot]

"Then he does not." Firm and without doubt. "No matter what happened, he loves you."

Oh Maglor. Fëanor knew he would find his sons as soon as he could and not let go. They so clearly needed him. Now, more than ever before.

"Do you blame me for what has befallen you?" Fear wouldn't keep him from asking. He had to know.

[bythewaves]

"But he still...." No, that is Maedhros' tale to tell, or not. Maglor shuts his eyes and shakes his head, voice quiet and ashamed.

"Yes."

[burnstoohot]

"There are no buts," somehow gentle, but firm too. "He loves you."

And there it was. Fëanor touched the image of his son, lightly. "Yet still you speak to me. I will tell you what I told your brother.

"If I remember what I learn here when I return, the Silmarils will never be finished. Their fixings will be dismantled and flung far away. I will live for my sons and grandchildren."

[bythewaves]

"It wasn't your fault!" He says, pleadingly. "I know...you...it was hardest for you! But... but..."

But he cannot but blame his father, without whom none of it would have happened.

And then Feanor promises that and he bites back the cry.

"Thank you."

[burnstoohot]

Oh Maglor. How Fëanor loved him.

He accepted the blame. Accepted it. Hated that it was even there. And was resolved to do what he could to change it.

Love shone clear and deep and fierce. "No, little one. This is what a father should do. I am fortunate to have such good sons."

[bythewaves]

Maglor's cannot hold back the tears - this is the father of his childhood, the man he would have (did) damn himself for.

Lyë melinyë atarinya

[burnstoohot]

After what he'd learned he'd done to his sons, they still loved him. He'd done right in raising them. In loving them. In being so fiercely proud of them. It was a balm on the pain, and he was resolved to make them proud of him in return.

"I will find you, little one. You and your brother. We will not be parted for long here, nor far even if not on one ship."

[bythewaves]

Maglor nods, clinging to those words.

"Alright. I...I will wait for you."

Pretend bitty is Mags >>

[burnstoohot]

Fond affection touched his voice, even if it quieted.

"Thank you."

Fëanor slowly settled back on the bed, shifting back until his back rest against the wall. "When was the last time you rested?" He was loath to end this fragile connection when Maglor seemed to need him so desperately.

[bythewaves]

Maglor blinks but accepts the apparently random subject change without protest.

"A...while? I suppose...maybe a day or two?"

Which is a lot shorter than his father thinks, not that he remembers that yet.

[burnstoohot]

The knowledge that days are shorter than he's fathomed before is there, just not accessed. Yet. He didn't even know that he needed to.

So Fëanor frowned at his son a bit. "Are you where you can rest?" Because clearly Maglor needed to be parented a bit now. He didn't mind, not one bit.

[bythewaves]

"I'm not that tired" he immediately protests, but he obediently stands.

"I have a room, but this is still under construction - I do have an assigned bed?"

[burnstoohot]

"I can help with that, as I did when you were very young." Maglor might be the bard of the family, but each of them had some skill in song.

"Go there, Kano, and I will sing you a song."

[bythewaves]

"I'm fine!" He does not quite whine, but he does obey, clinging tightly to his communicator the whole way. Settling on the edge of his bed eventually.

[burnstoohot]

He couldn't quite help the fond chuckle. Not that he really tried.

"You always said that, little one." So very fond. And to reassure Maglor he hadn't ended their contact. "I am now just a...call away." Finally he tugged the strange phrase out of the new knowledge and put it to some use.

When he saw Maglor sit, he started to sing. A song of old. A song of love and childhood and joy that wouldn't end or fade.

[bythewaves]

Maglor growls at him, irritatedly, but he curls around the communicator to listen, eyes glazing slowly in peace as he listens.

[burnstoohot]

... No. Fëanor didn't particularly try not to laugh. His son growled at him! So cute!

There was pure love in his voice as he sang. Even if Maglor didn't sleep, as long as he rested and knew his father was near and loved him without question, Fëanor would be content.

[bythewaves]

The laugh gets another cross hiss, but Maglor is visibly relaxing, responding to one of the first Songs he knew.

[burnstoohot]

He just loved his son, okay? So very much.

Affection lit his voice, Fëanor settled comfortably back against the wall, holding the communicator close. He wouldn't stop singing until his dear son was as relaxed as he could get him.

And perhaps even after that. Just to sing for Maglor, for no reason other than to show he loved him. And that was plenty reason for him.

[bythewaves]

Maglor curls around the communicator and lets himself sleep, following his father's voice as he did when he was too young to know any voices other than his parents and his brother.

For a time, at least, he will sleep without dreams.