Bitter elf is bitter... and maybe being dragged to a game.

[makalaure]

[ The elf is hunched over, hands clenched tight and held close to his chest beneath a ragged cloak. He is almost hiding behind a curtain of tangled black hair and his silver eyes are wet with tears, but he still manages a steely gaze. ]

Why do you bother me? Why not leave me to mourn my family in peace?

I have fulfilled my father's Eru-damned oath, and those cursed jewels are out of everyone's reach now. What more do you want?

[ Maglor's mun just wants to send him to a game for fun... sadly, he's a little too upset by his canon point to see the upsides. Like getting medical attention for his burned hand or the very slim possibility of other people bringing in some of his brothers... ]

... I am done with games. With fulfilling others' promises and wills. Let me be.

Comments

[silmarils]

[ .. ah. for a few moments, maedhros can't speak, can't find the words. but this is his brother, closest and dearest to his heart, and the one he'd led to heartache and ruin. ]

.. Our words mean little in this place. They do as they wish.

[makalaure]

[ Hearing that voice, for a few moments words fail Maglor as well. He just looks at Maedhros, eyes wide in shock, but then the shock fades, and he turns away rather than letting his brother see the hurt - the anger and the sorrow. ]

... words once meant a great deal.

[silmarils]

That was a long time ago.

[ he hesitates, then lifts his hand, pushing the hair back from maglor's face in a rough gesture of affection. he's never been the most demonstrative of his brothers, even before kinslayings and morgoth closed him off, but-- this is makalaure. ]

Do not turn from me. If you must curse me, do so, but look at me.

[makalaure]

[ He trembles a little at the touch, but he doesn't pull away. However, he is reluctant to look at his brother again. The last time he saw Maitimo was when his brother was burning to death in the fires of the earth. It's difficult not to think of it when he looks again. ]

... as you turned from me?

[ It's spoken with a little more bitterness than he means. ]

[silmarils]

I do not ask your forgiveness. [ he can't. he hadn't been able to bear the weight of his sins any longer, he hadn't been been able to think. he'd simply wanted it to end.

he hadn't wanted to leave his brother. he simply hadn't seen any other option at the time. ]

[makalaure]

[ Eventually Maglor will think more rationally about this, will realize that it's unfair of him to expect Maedhros to stay after everything he's been through, but he's not thinking rationally now. He's still reeling from it all.

And yet, after another few moments, instead of saying anything, he ducks his head and lurches forward to bury his face against his brother's shoulder, clinging to him as best he can with burnt and bleeding hands. ]

I am sorry. I cannot -- [ He breaks off, shaking his head. ]

[inafadingcrown]

[And suddenly, there's a figure kneeling down beside him, reaching for his hands.]

Makalaurë. [She's angry still. She hasn't forgotten. But seeing him like this, there seems little point to it. What he brought upon himself has made him suffer a thousand times more than anything she could or would do. And, after all, he was still family.] You do not mourn alone.

[makalaure]

[ The voice startles him, but he flinches away from her hands. He stares at his cousin for a second or two before looking away, not wishing to meet her eyes. It has been years since last he saw Artanis, but she is hardly someone forgettable. ]

... perhaps not. But it is my lot.

[inafadingcrown]

And will suffering here, wretched and alone, bring them back? Will it undo what has been done? [She's surprisingly insistent. A part of her never really stopped caring, she supposes. She almost wished she had; it would have hurt less.] We are the last, Makalaurë. Look at me, I beg of you; you owe me that, at least.

[makalaure]

[ Slowly, he lifts his head a little, looking back at her without meeting her eyes. He can still see the Light in them, and he'd really rather not. But she is right. Looking at her is the least he can do. ]

It will keep me from harming any more with my curse.

[inafadingcrown]

[She shakes her sadly] It is finished. You saw to that. [There's something in her tone there, almost a hint of approval. Something like "you got it right at the end."]

[makalaure]

Is it truly finished? Or is it only a brief intermission? [ The Silmarils are out of reach, and Morgoth has been cast into the void again, but elves are still elves and humans are still humans, and he's seen too much to believe that there is an end. ]

[thingol]

[Mun is making him talk to you, Maglor. If he had his way he wouldn't.

But there's also a thing where he's got to have some things clarified or he's going to choke a bitch.]

And in fulfilling this oath, what more did you do?

He looks so happy in that icon! xD

[makalaure]

[ He has never seen Thingol in person - only his descendants. But Thingol is nothing if not distinct in description and appearance - and the eyes... No other Sindar would have eyes like that.

Maglor lets out a bitter laugh and looks away. ]

A great many things that can never be undone and will never be forgotten.

As he always looks when faced with crap from the sons of Fëanor

[thingol]

[Yeah, duh, Maglor. He was looking for specifics. Plunging down slippery slopes is what you kids do.

It's unfortunate that he knows his own line has inherited a Silmaril at this point and he is wondering what in hell happened to it not at all because he's worried about the jewel itself no that's silly. As a result, he sounds (and looks) particularly dangerous right now.]

If I learn that further harm has come to my kin because of you, I will not spare your life.

And probably when Beren was sassing him, too.

[makalaure]

[ The slippery slope is where it's at, man.

But Maglor smiles just a little - or, rather, he twists his lips in an imitation of a smile. Better to put on a fake smile and bury his grief behind dead eyes than to show that weakness. Or perhaps not, but while he will not hide what he feels from family, he would rather not bare his heart to others. He has spent too long leading armies and tending to a steadily dwindling people for that. He doesn't even think about it, really, especially not when faced with someone soobviously hostile. ]

Say it had. What would killing me accomplish but to make you a kinslayer, as well, and to complete the set in Mandos' halls?

Beren smelled so bad...

[thingol]

It would be an acceptable price if it would end this ruin you have brought to Beleriand and make safe my people.

[To say Thingol is a family man is sort of like saying a Knight Templar has religious tendencies.]

no baths for ten years...

[makalaure]

[ He makes a scoffing noise. ]

... Beleriand is already ruined, but neither by me nor by my people.

[bythewaves]

I would say it gets better, but it does not, not really.

[ have a soft murmur from someone who looks remarkably like you, give or take a few decades wandering along the shore ]

/makes happy noises! c: Always happy to see another Maglor.

[makalaure]

[ But with elves, what are a few decades either way?

He looks at his other self and then down at his ruined hands. ]

... will I - ... can you play music, still?

*blushshy* me too, he needs more love (they all do, really)

[bythewaves]

[ Not much, it's true. But the clothes are getting a bit salt-crusted and worn... ]

Eventually... [ your other self turns his hands over thoughtfully, and you can probably see how the scars look as if they have been stretched enough to reopen and then healed over again a few times ] It never stops hurting, of course. But that is also as it should be. While they healed I sang, mostly...

They really do. :c All the elves need hugs. Except maybe Eol.

[makalaure]

[ He watches and does, indeed, see those scars. As if in empathy, he feels an extra twinge in his own hands and reflexively clenches them shut again. ]

No... it should never stop... and there are many songs left to sing.

[ Laments, mostly... ]

*squints* You could... maybe argue that Eol didn't get ENOUGH hugs when younger?

[bythewaves]

Too many... [ laments, yes; and simple grief sometimes, anger others...It is both punishment and catharsis of sorts ] There will always be songs to sing, lest our tale be forgotten and our lessons unlearned.

[darkenemyoftheworld]

"Done with games"? Far from it, last of the line of Fëanor. The greatest suffering for you has yet to begin...

[makalaure]

[ That voice... One that sends chills down his spine, but Maglor swallows any impulse to run. ]

Is that so?