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 Nauglamír, 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 Nauglamír, 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.
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You are a bard yourself?
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[Though she still kinda does the murder part of being a bard....]
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[Well, since he was kind enough to share his song, it couldn't hurt.]
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Once we were
In our peace
With our lives assured.
Once we were
Not afraid of the dark.
Once we sat in our kingdom
With hope and pride.
Once we ran through
The fields with great strides.
We held the Fade
And the demon’s flight
So far from our children
And from our lives.
We held together
The fragile sky
To keep our way of life.
Once we raised
Up our chalice
In victory.
Once we sat
In the light of our dreams.
Once we were
In our homeland
With strength and might.
Once we were
Not afraid of the night.
We held the Fade
And the demon’s flight
So far from our children
And from our lives.
We held together
The fragile sky
To keep our way of life.
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Thank you, milady - you have a lovely voice! Is that song one of your own?
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