Maglor Makalaure Canafinwe Feanorion (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bythewaves) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
driftfleet2017-02-06 06:11 pm
bythewaves) wrote in driftfleet2017-02-06 06:11 pm
Entry tags:
Video/Action
Who: Maglor and you!
Broadcast: Public broadcast from the Huntress
Action: in his room in the HUntress, which he is still slooooowly trying to soundproof and failing
When: forward dated to the next shuffle
Action aboard the Huntress
[ Finrod is gone. Maglor brushes a hand across the NauglamÃr, seeing without seeing where one day the Silmaril will sit (he is so glad that it is not there - the necklace looks better without that cursed gem anyway). It is a dwarvish design, and the artist in him appreciates the differences from his own work in the past, the solid, geometric shapes beautiful in their difference.
It is better this way. His brave cousin will doubtless walk again with his father in Valinor, released from the Halls. Better that he is far away from here, and safe.
Rising, he goes to his harp and tunes it to the old mode, and he begins with the very first song that Finrod ever wrote, and works his way through from there, the simple tunes of childhood right through to the great songs of later years, the silly and the sublime. He'll play until someone stops him, and eventually, inevitably, he'll raise his voice in Song ]
Public Broadcast
[ Maglor Sings, and any who listen can See, the golden prince who was loved by all, wise and kind and brilliant as the summer. The King on his throne, in a castle hewn from stone beneath a mountain, a testament to the beauty that the collaboration between species could create. The loyal friend, forswearing his crown for an Oath made to his truest mortal friend. The hero, who killed a werewolf with his bare hands and saved his friends life.
Maglor sings Finrod, as he knew him in life, the young cousin and the dear friend, as well as the hero whose name is exalted still in Dwarven Halls as well as Elven ones, who Men called the Wise, and all folk named Friend ]
Thus Felagund in Nargothrond
still reigned, a hidden king whose bond
was sworn to Barahir the bold.
And now his son through forests cold (130)
wandered alone as in a dream.
Esgalduin's dark and shrouded stream
he followed, 'till its waters frore
were joined to Sirion, Sirion hoar,
pale silver water wide and free
rolling in splendour to the sea.
Broadcast: Public broadcast from the Huntress
Action: in his room in the HUntress, which he is still slooooowly trying to soundproof and failing
When: forward dated to the next shuffle
Action aboard the Huntress
[ Finrod is gone. Maglor brushes a hand across the NauglamÃr, seeing without seeing where one day the Silmaril will sit (he is so glad that it is not there - the necklace looks better without that cursed gem anyway). It is a dwarvish design, and the artist in him appreciates the differences from his own work in the past, the solid, geometric shapes beautiful in their difference.
It is better this way. His brave cousin will doubtless walk again with his father in Valinor, released from the Halls. Better that he is far away from here, and safe.
Rising, he goes to his harp and tunes it to the old mode, and he begins with the very first song that Finrod ever wrote, and works his way through from there, the simple tunes of childhood right through to the great songs of later years, the silly and the sublime. He'll play until someone stops him, and eventually, inevitably, he'll raise his voice in Song ]
Public Broadcast
[ Maglor Sings, and any who listen can See, the golden prince who was loved by all, wise and kind and brilliant as the summer. The King on his throne, in a castle hewn from stone beneath a mountain, a testament to the beauty that the collaboration between species could create. The loyal friend, forswearing his crown for an Oath made to his truest mortal friend. The hero, who killed a werewolf with his bare hands and saved his friends life.
Maglor sings Finrod, as he knew him in life, the young cousin and the dear friend, as well as the hero whose name is exalted still in Dwarven Halls as well as Elven ones, who Men called the Wise, and all folk named Friend ]
Thus Felagund in Nargothrond
still reigned, a hidden king whose bond
was sworn to Barahir the bold.
And now his son through forests cold (130)
wandered alone as in a dream.
Esgalduin's dark and shrouded stream
he followed, 'till its waters frore
were joined to Sirion, Sirion hoar,
pale silver water wide and free
rolling in splendour to the sea.
Action
I always knew I would have to say goodbye again. [ Maglor murmurs softly, eventually ]
But somehow, it still hurts.
Action
I hope to be here a good long while, so you have me as long as we may.
{He still desperately wishes he could have been stronger, somehow, and had managed to live.}
Action
I do not blame you. [ He says quietly ] Do not blame yourself.
Action
He chuckles softly, eyes closing as he makes himself comfortable.}
People keep telling me that.
Action
Because it is true. I will always miss you, Finno. But you are here now.
Action
I am trying, Cousin. Being here with you, Maitimo, and Grandfather goes a long way.
Action
I am glad that you find some peace here.