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.
Action
Action
Action
Still, I know he was happy to have you here.
Action
I think he liked it here - it was good for him, I think.
Action
Action
Action
[She falls silent for a moment, gathering her strength to keep talking.]
I saw them, you know. His memories from that day. He never wanted anyone to know what pain he had gone through but...
Re: Action
You saw? Oh Beverly... I cannot even imagine...
Re: Action
It was horrible and made all the worse by how unecessary it was! All because of prejudice and a damn piece of jewelry!
/wraps around tag in apology
If only I had known what they werr planning... [ but he cannot finish that sentence, because what might he have done himself, when confronted with their Oath thrown into their face that way? He might just as easily sent Finrod to his death, maybe. ]
no worries <3
[She cups his cheek, lifting his head up.]
Do not blame yourself. It's... done now and you can't dwell on the what-ifs and should-haves. I just... I did my best to act as if I never knew, as if it never happened, for his sake as well as mine but now I can't stop thinking about it... about him.
<3 <3 <3 <3
You were so good for him. [ He says softly ] He ... he needed that, I am sure. Someone who knew.
no subject
no subject
You did. I am sure, you did.
no subject
Would you sing again?
no subject
Is there anything you want me to sing of?
no subject
no subject
Eärendil was a mariner
that tarried in Arvernien;
he built a boat of timber felled
in Nimbrethil to journey in;
her sails he wove of silver fair,
of silver were her lanterns made,
her prow was fashioned like a swan,
and light upon her banners laid.
wrap?
yus