dear_mun | someone had to

Your wiki article was hilarious.

So is yours. Oh, I forgot, it isn't even about you.

They'd just get it all wrong anyway.

You've distressed my writer by being old. Which is, frankly, baffling.

I have one of you, you know. Or not-you, as it were.

Quite baffling. There was never anything wrong with being old.

Definitely not-me. Though maybe I should have some commissioned proper. We'll see.

My writer is just as upset by the ocean. It's just a fear of vastness and change, not a value judgment against age. Those are my domain, and, I admit, purely recreational.

You might. I have better things to see.

You share those fears. I haven't forgotten the terrors in your mind.

I'm deeply flattered, I assure you.

I suppose I do find it unsettling to a degree, myself. And disappointing, though on some level I know there's no other end for you but passivity. But I wouldn't say I'm terrified by the future.

You should be. You plagued me long ago, but not any more. I am still standing, how well do you think that bodes for you?

Oh, don't waste your time on bravado, or mine either. I am probably long since resolved, not that you would have had anything to do with it, most likely. Your continued existence doesn't indicate nearly so much as you seem to think.

You get boring, and I cause some kind of trouble that gets me killed. There's the future, and I don't even need timelines to see it. Or hints from a dusty old building, for that matter.

Very well. I have nothing to prove to you.

But perhaps you should take a look at some of my secret collection. Here.

I suppose it was too much to hope for, that your sense of humour might improve with age.

No, I don't think I care for your version of the future. I think I declare war on it.

But have you tried burning the rope?

Well now what do I do with the rest of my day? The song didn't give me enough suggestions.

Oh, I have not thought about gardening in such a long time. And cooking, do you remember? There were a lot of broken eggs. And knots in threads. You were never a good keeper of pets, either. What a shame it all was.

Try to do something less silly than threatening war on your future. You never live up to your purpose.

What, never? Is that a prophecy handed down from the vantage point of the future, or just a statement of characteristic? Why do I even still ask.

If you didn't like what you ordered, you had no one to blame but yourself. Maybe you were never any good at ~~keeping pets~~ rewriting minds.

It's all the same, from here.

He was exactly as I had intended him to be. And more, elsewhere, when he was given the chance. My dislike was of a different nature. Several different natures.

What different natures? I'm curious.

I'm assuming you're referring to the parts where he demonstrated the capability to be an actual person. That certainly was never your intent.

Hmmm, hoom, yes, they are... hasty folk, these writers. Too, mm, what is the word? Too preoccupied with speech. As if thought could not exist without words to give it shape. But it is, perhaps, to be expected.

Edited 2013-11-27 23:17 (UTC)

Well said. They must be hasty, as their lives flicker and burn so quickly. They haven't the time to appreciate thought without shouting it into the world.

You must have some experience with humans.

Humans? I have not heard that name before. Humans. [He repeats the word a few times to himself, a grumble of thought as he accustoms himself to the feel of it, pondering how well it fits those whom it names.] In the common tongue of my world, I believe the word is simply 'Men'. Of course, in my own language, it is much longer, but, hoom, humans; an interesting word.

And I do not know about experience. More than some and less than others. I have met but few Men; it is the Elves whom I know best. Men... are less thirsty for knowledge. There are old tales of us told, so I hear, in their great cities; but even those who do not dismiss them as, hmm, superstition, are more like to fear us than seek us out.

[She can certainly appreciate someone who gives thinking the proper care. Her own thoughts don't move as quickly as they used to either.] Ah yes, I was part of legends, once, too. Still am, out there. The younger races do cling to their superstitions.

I wonder if I will have visited your world. I like the sound of your Elves.

And, hmm, what do they say when they speak of you in legends? I do not believe I have come across your like before. The world is changing! [He rumbles again, a deep, aching wood-sound that manages to contain both joy and regret] The old lists grow, against all odds, and yet I do not see such as you anywhere.

Eä, it is called by the lore-masters; the world that is. And the Elves were its first children. Ah! I remember their awakening next to the waters of Cuiviénen, when first they spoke to us with voices, and taught the trees the craft of their tongue. They are, hum, less hasty than Men, for they have a longer count of years, and are accounted the wisest of the Free Peoples, and yet, the fire in them is hot and dangerous. Hrmm, yes, very dangerous indeed. I suspect, in the end, one elf among many is much the same as a man in a crowd of Men. Cruel or kind, wise or stupid, each to his own.

They speak of the Doctor, the Healer, the Oncoming Storm, and his blue box, his temple, his ever shifting labyrinth. His ship. I was known as the TARDIS, and we traveled to every star in every sky. Now I am simply the Gallery, and we watch over paintings instead of planets. Change is the way of the universe; it must be embraced. Nothing would ever get started if nothing ended.

There may be a few worlds we never did visit, perhaps yours is one of them. I don't recall the name, but then, my databanks aren't entirely reliable, these days. It is harder to come by spare parts when one doesn't travel.

Fascinating. If you witnessed the awakening of the Elves, does that not make your kind the first children?

[Well, all this is strange indeed, and the noise of surprise Fangorn makes sounds like branches creaking in a gale. Long, unhurried moments pass as he ponders.]

Hoom, hum, now that is-- hmm, I have never heard its like! You are a ship? Mmm, a ship for travelling the skies! In my world, that would be accounted a great marvel. A TARDIS. Most curious, harrum, indeed. I cannot say I understand most of your words, but-- becoming the Gallery, I think, among my people, is what you would call going treeish.

[Her question about the Elves gets another thoughtful rumble.]

It is, mm, difficult to explain. We Ents are not Children of the One; Yavanna Kemántari was our mother, and we came in thought after Elves and Men. It is true, we were about at the beginning of things, but we were not awake until the new Elf-children wandered among us. But, hoom, it was such a long time ago; my memories are half-asleep, like fog through the leaves.

[ here, have another ancient. Not as old as you, perhaps... ]

One sees much, watching instead of talking.

[Some ways away stands-- a tree? No, not a tree, not with those eyes, watching Maglor steadily, with infinitely patient curiosity. Fangorn does not know the elf to put a name to his face, but his age is plain, and there is a particular, bright burning to all those of the First Children who had lived in Valinor and known the light of the Trees. Fangorn feels it just as he might the sun on his bark and in his leaves.]

((OOC: Zomg, a Maglor! You beautiful person))

Edited 2013-11-28 02:58 (UTC)

[ One does not survive the First Age without learning how to pay attention to one's surroundings, so it does not take long before this old elf comes slowly wandering in your direction. ]

Ah, now this is a surprise unlooked for, mae govaennon Old One. I did not think to see one of the onodrim here.

[A slow incline of that neckless head, and a glint in the eyes, like motes of light off water.]

Master Elf. True, I do not now wander as I did in the days of my youth, but sometimes, hoom, yes, sometimes still I stray from my long home.

[If he's thinking it unusual to find such a venerable elf wandering by himself, he says nothing of it, though something shrewd creeps into his expression.]

[ Maglor, if he notices that look, ignores it with the ease of the politician he was, long ago ]

It is good to see the wider world one at times one supposes. I find that things change all too swiftly now, but it keeps me interested. [ and not suicidal, he doesn't add ]

Ah, but you make me feel young again, Old One.

Aye, aye, things do change; and more swiftly, now, I think, than in many thousands of years past. Betimes I wonder what will happen to my folk, in the coming Age. Men never cared for the trees as the Elves did, and even your fair people hewed us for your ships and halls.

[He smiles, a strange expression full of many layers, bittersweet and resigned. After a moment, though, it flattens out into something far simpler.]

Hoom, though! It is also true that I have felt younger in this last year than I have for a good many seasons! It does not do to forget, hmm; not all change is for the worse.

Not all change, no. I wonder sometimes, looking at the quicksilver lives of Men, if my people's lack of change was what doomed us, in the end. They burn so brightly, in their brief time, never ceasing to strive for something more. [ the smile, if it can be called that, is as bittersweet at yours ]

They will have to learn to care for all things, I think, and they are learning. But slower than those such as us might prefer, perhaps.

Hoom, hum, perhaps, perhaps. It is... easy not to change, when one is as long-lived as our races. There seems no great hurry, and so we are content to remain as we are.

And yet, I have met a new race of the Free People uncounted in the old lists-- queer things, but, hmm, most sensible, yes; Men could learn from them-- and I have welcomed a dwarf into my forest, which I thought I would never do. It is the spring, and an old Ent feels Kemantári's warmth, even if it is long since his own sprouting.

[ that smile turns bitter and self-loathing now ] Aye, too old and too set in our ways.

A new People? Well, the wide world is wide, they say, and there may yet be wonders and new things that were not heard in the Song. I have known many a Dwarf in my time, and some have been friends, although us Noldor are more like to them, I deem, than many of our other kin. May your springtime be long and joyous, Master Ent, but I fear my winter is upon me, and it will be unending.

Mmm, like to the Noldor, and most unlike the Ents. We are not crafters, nor makers of great treasures; we see the land as it is and protect it from all comers, yet we feel no desire to make of it gardens, nor to carve the wood of our trees, for to us their forms are perfect. And yet this Dwarf came; he feared me, aye, harrum, he did, and my forest, and yet also marvelled at its beauty. I have not seen such in all my long years.

It gives me... hope. Hoom, yes, hope, though it is strange to think. And you, Master Elf; I would have a care, lest your winter burn your heart.

They are good friends, the Dwarves, and terrible enemies. But aye, they love beauty too, though it might seem strange to other eyes. Are we not all Children of the One? I mourned the estrangement between our peoples, and it eases me to see it healed, even in such a small way.

Hope? I fear there is none left for me, Master Ent. My heart is nought but ashes and dust. The fire burnt out long ago. [ the light in his eyes is feral and wild and terribly, terribly sad, and he turns his hands palms up so you can see his scars ]. I am familiar with flame, you see.

[There's a rumble from deep in the heart of him as Maglor shows his hands, Old Entish that, to the ears of outside peoples, sounds only barely on the verge of language; a slurry of consonants all pressed together into a sound of surprise, of wariness and respect and old sorrow.]

I have heard tales of the Noldorin prince who burnt his hands on a star.

There are many tales of my family's madness. [ for so he sees it, now ][ he laughs, a little, bitter and despairing ] Aye, I held a star in my hand, and in its light I knew despair. Even here in this place between worlds I may not escape.

Hmm, hum, yes indeed. The prince who burnt himself and lost all his brothers for the sake of a few pretty stars, that is how the tale goes. Have you then been alone these many years, Master Elf?

[The Ents have rarely bothered with the business of the world, but even Fangorn had heard whispers of the Fëanorians, with their hot blood and quick blades. That, though, that was long, long years ago, and this last son of Fëanor looks to have learned his lesson well.]

[ for a brief moment the fire comes back into his eyes, that hot flame that did so much damage ] Do I not deserve to be? What I have done cannot be undone, and there is no forgiveness for the Dispossessed.

[ just as quickly it is gone, snuffed out so swiftly that it might never have existed ] It is better that I am alone. It is my punishment, and my penance, and it keeps my curse away from those it might harm.

Hoom, harroom, I... do not know. It is not for the Ents to pass judgement. What meaning has it for us? There are no Halls for us in the Undying Lands once we die.

[He watches Maglor curiously. Fangorn has fondness for many of the Free Peoples; more, indeed, than do many of his brethren, and yet he is rightly wary of them. Many, to his eyes, do far more harm than they do good, and there will always be a part of him that longs for the days when the only ones who walked the woods were Ents, and the Elf-children knew fear of the dark, but no hatred of it. That Maglor, then, should recognise his own ability to injure others and wish to prevent it, seems like uncommon wisdom. If, still, unnecessarily self-flagellating.]

[ the smile you are granted is weary but more genuine than before ]

And in that you show the greater wisdom, maybe. Perhaps if we hastier beings could learn to pass judgement slower we might bring less harm. I do not know what awaits your people beyond Death's door, but I fear that rest too, will be denied to me.

[ Maglor will be self-flagellating for centuries yet, don't worry. He's got the time, and plenty of motivation ]

In truth, the fate of the younger peoples seems strange to us. We are Middle-Earth, and when we are hewn down, or fall to age, or blight, we return to it, as do our trees. Hoom, it seems a mighty lonely fate, long and lonely, to last out all the ages of the world without the rest of sleep.

[Maglor may be near as old as Fangorn, but he still can't help but regard him as a curious little thing. Curious, and sad.]

Maybe so, but there are none who can say I did not deserve it. [ there is no bitterness there, Maglor has long past that point, only resignation and weariness ] Truly was it said that the Eldar would envy the sons of Men! Aye, and you and yours too, who know at least your ending.

[Maybe she should start making tea. She still prides herself on her hospitality, after all.]

I have always preferred to watch. It is in my nature not to interfere, but then, it would make life quite boring never to challenge one's habits. Talking was an enjoyable, though rare endeavor in my younger days.

What do you see, when you watch?

[ one of the things he has learnt to appreciate over the millenia is tea, so he certainly wouldn't say no ]

What does one ever see, watching? I have watched their joys and their sorrows, seen their brightest lights and darkest shadows. I have seen Hope born from the most terrible of times. [ have a shrug and a small smile ] Although I would say I preferred to talk, in my younger days. I have few to talk to, now.

Edited 2013-11-28 22:08 (UTC)

someone had to

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COME ON ICONS COOPERATE WITH ME

oh you

i could have thrown some young baby at her, but i felt like she might appreciate him

haha yes, it's a good choice

gosh, he does go on rather

look at them go, they're just missing tea and biscuits

sorryyy, late tag is late. just as well. treebeard wouldn't know what to do with biscuits

I am sorry for a random tag but you are awesome for this idea

I'M SORRY BUT I COULDN'T NOT COMMENT. LAURA, DO YOU MIND IF I THREADJACK?

asdlajsdk *blushshy*

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I feel like I should apologise to the OP whose thread we are hijacking

she is a darling and says she does not mind. i suppose we must take her at her word

well in that case... ^^

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thaaanks, I can't resist adding to my TARDIS collection. and I entirely approve of the threadjack XD

oh good!

asdlajsdk blushshy