driftfleet | (Open)

Entry tags:

(Open)

Who: Maedhros
Broadcast: Fleetwide
Action: On the planet - more particularly, in the water.
When: Early morning.

(He is the first son of Fëanor and Nerdanel and he abides by no one's commands but his own. The water calls to him in the same way that the fire repels him. He remembers the agonizing burn as the Silmaril seared through his hand; he remembers how the flames and lava licked at his body, consuming him as if he were a rare treat that should not be allowed to escape. The water helps cool those memories and he makes a pretty sight, floating near one of the Water Temples, his copper locks turning dark red as they flow about him.)

I feel as if I am in the realm of Lord Ulmo; this planet would suit him nicely!

(The image shifts as he climbs out of the water and rests on the steps of a temple. He is not wearing his customary robes, but only a tunic and pants - both of which cling to him, leaving little to the imagination.)

If you have not taken the plunge, so to speak, fleet, I suggest you do so. The water is refreshing.

(For one who is plagued by images of fire and death, it must be.)

And the race that resides here is beautiful to behold. They are fond of their ornamentations and I think they wear them well.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

You have my thanks for seeing to him. (Monster infested, hm? He doesn't look happy about that fact.) One of his names is Kanafinwë. Kano is a shortened form.

[Great, so not only 9000 years old, but he also has a bunch of names.]

...I'm just gonna stick to Maglor.

Besides, he's my only forgemaster right now so I need him in case I get injured. I think I saw you at the forges, right? Didn't get a chance to say hello. Dunno, if he said anything about me but I'm Doudanuki Masakuni, the war sword.

(Maglor is technically much older than Maedhros now, which is strange too.)

He will not mind.

(Forgemaster, hm?)

I can work in the Forge too if you need more work done. Our father taught us both. (Though his craft is slower thanks to his hand. He is relearning, however.)

Well met, Doudanuki. I am Maedhros, the older brother.

I just need to make sure I got someone here who can repair me if I get chipped or scratched. My injuries will mostly heal on their own, but damage to my blade leaves the wound around until the blade's repaired.

[And, you know, he likes you guys. So don't go dying/disappearing/wandering into some hellhole temple, please.]

Mae...dhros. [He is trying really hard with that name.] Right, uh, well met. He talks about you sometimes, but it's good to actually say hi.

Understandable. (Though he wants to ask how a weapon - a blade - can be a person. Yet that seems rude and he knows better. Magic can do many a thing he thought impossible.) I would not mind repairing you if you give me your trust. I know my brother would aid me in such a task - or I would aid him. We work well together, he and I.

(They had no other choice and that partnership originally bloomed from brotherly love. It's sad that it became a burden - a consequence of their damned oath.)

You may call me Nelyo if that is easier. (Short for Nelyafinwë.) What does he say?

If I can trust Maglor, then I can trust you. [He hopes] I saw the blade you made earlier - the skill was what I'd need. Hopefully you guys can repair as well as you can craft.

[And he'll...try that. Nelyo is easier to say that Maedhros, but which is...more proper he wonders? Why do they have so many names akjd;fa]

Uh, I'll call you whichever one you prefer. He just talks about home sometimes and that you an' him were the oldest of all your family.

We do, more oft than not, travel as a pair. (Maedhros's temper is far worse than Maglor's, but he needn't get into that. It has been quiet for some time now and he prays it remains so.) We can; you have my word.

(They have seen to their own weapons for many years.)

We are the first and second son of Fëanor. Praise and vitriol have been relayed towards us for that fact, though none of it need concern you.

Thanks.

[He shrugs and his armor clinks softly.]

Eh, whatever you guys did, it doesn't really bother me. I served a lot of people over the years, some of 'em were borin' and some of 'em let me kill things. So I don't got room or really care to judge.

What we did should not be put into words. You were in the command of others; we were in the command of ourselves. (The carnage was not lessened for that sake.)

I don't see the big deal about it, except that people get kinda twitchy when you talk about killing.

[Which is entirely what the deal is, but sword morality is vague at best.]

Swords are made for killing. If you don't use 'em, why make 'em?

There is a difference between killing and murdering.

(The end is the same, but the weight - the guilt - is not.)

I would rather use them in defense; not hunting, not pillaging.

I guess so.

[That's the part only humans and those who wielded him had to worry about. He just wanted to kill things in the service of some cause, whatever it was.]

I mean it's all the same to a sword what you use us for - as long as we get used, the rest isn't such a huge problem to us.

I'm not sure that is correct. Swords can lose their Light depending on how they are used on Arda. (The Light can Darken and reflect the wielder's withering fëa (or soul).) The one who uses you should use you properly and with justice in mind.

Dunno about "losing their light," but a lot of us get used for assassinations or straight up murder and we don't usually go corrupt.

[There's the tiny revenge obsessed tantou, but he's cool.]

The worst thing for a sword is just to go unused without realizing its purpose - to me at least.

I still think you deserve to be treated better. (He lifts a shoulder in a shrug.) A tool is a tool, yes, but it either gains worth or loses it in the hands of its wielder.

Well, that's...nice I guess? Not a lot of people really cared to treat me like anything.

[Mass production tends to lower one's worth after all.]

I could see it for the other swords though. A lot of 'em are one of a kind pieces, so they're pretty valuable.

[He shrugs in return and shakes his head.]

As long as I'm worth it to the one wielding me though, I don't care if anyone else sees my worth.

I'm sorry. (Elves don't really believe in mass production. Each piece has the potential to be attached to a legendary tale.) Why should you be any different? It should not matter if you are one of many or alone.

(A small smile enters his voice; a certain warmth.)

I understand the feeling.

I was mass produced for war, so I don't have what a lot of people look for in swords anymore. Most of my blades were either destroyed or melted down and repurposed.

[He shakes off the apology though. It bothers him more than he lets on, but he doesn't like other people to know that about him.]

My biggest feat was way after all the war was over - I cut a steel helmet when no one else could. [He puffs up a little because this actually makes him proud.]

All the other swords weren't made for splitting heads, but I was. So when it came to my turn, I cut straight into the armor.

Do you recall what your blades looked like? Their measurements? We could remake them; they would likely be different from before, but that is better than lacking them entirely, yes?

(He understands this sword better than others he has encountered. Perhaps that is what makes him feel generous.)

Steel is...a mighty metal. How did you manage it? (He is impressed!) Does your shape help you in your task?

I do. I remember each and every one of 'em and all of their memories, too. But that doesn't mean I want you to make more of me. That'd be weird....

[Like having dead bodies surrounding him all day - the empty shells of what used to be. He shudders.]

But yeah, the swordsman who used me was skilled, but I'm made thicker, heavier, and straighter than most other swords. I was made to cut through muscle, bone, and armor so it wasn't such an impossible task for me.

Ah so they too would take your form? I did not realize, forgive me. (That would be strange and he frowns sadly at the shudder.)

Let us shine and sharpen you. You deserve proper care for your feats!

More...like they'd look like my sword, but their souls wouldn't be there. We were all connected back home - so I could hear and feel 'em hanging around at the back of my mind.

[How to put this in a way people would understand....]

I'd be like havin' a bunch of dead bodies hanging around. Kind of weird?

I think you are treating it too gently. (He can easily imagine having his brothers' bodies without their fëas attached. Wrong. Unnatural.) I will not make you suffer such a fate. The best we can - and should - do is strengthen the parts you have left, hm?

Well, they're still swords and they're still useful. Even if they ain't got the tsukumogami attached to them.

[Plus there are a lot of swords or tools around that don't have souls. It's just weird when it's...him.]

But yeah, I'd appreciate it if you could keep me patched up. Ores hard to find, but I'll search every planet we go to for it.

Can you describe the exact ore you need? Elvish eyes are keen and we have little trouble seeing in dark places.

(Not that he looks forward to going within a planet. A cold sweat breaks out on the back of his neck and he grits his teeth.)

voice;

voice;

voice;

voice;

voice;

voice;

voice;

voice;

voice;

voice;

voice;

Re: voice;

voice;

Re: voice;

voice;

voice;

voice;

voice;

voice;

Re: voice;

voice;

voice;

voice;

voice;

voice;