What: Maglor has an ouchie. A continuation of this log because I = lazy ass and damn proud of it! *thumbs nose at 99.9% of society at large!*
When: Sometime whenever in the past.
Ithiriel: *so doesn't know....*
Ithiriel: *is a bad, bad, horrible, awful, terrible wife*
Maglor: *sorry, couldn't exactly stop in-mid-flail-run to rouse her out of nap and tell her and she was not really talky anyway, so is trying not to worry her because was a very very bad, horrible, distracted elf*
Maglor: *and did not notice orc arrow stuck in back until after the fact?*
healer: *staring at back wound all frowny like**pokes it**thinks it looks NASTY*
Maglor: *yelp!ouch!s*
Maglor: *arms went FLAIL*
Healer: *wince* *tries some of that athelas magic, then declares* Yep, poison! *singsonglike, no less*
Elrond: *was on his way from checking in on Avarian, passes the door, hears the word poison and ... despite his better judgement, pokes his head inside*
Maglor: *looks like a fantastical paranoid pale clammy mess right now*
Healer: *fangirls Lord Elrond*
Maglor: ...oh, just...clean it out...and I'll go home, now... *and hide it as much as possible*
Healer: Orc arrow ^_^ *pokes the wound again*
Maglor: *yelp!ouch'!s again*
Elrond: *sighs, like he might as well take OVER the healing houses, and shuts the door behind him* Quit poking at it, as you are likely to drive it in further. -_-
Maglor: *oh no, noooo, DOOM...tries to crawl off the bed to get away by...hiding underneath bed, comes close since lands with kerTHUNK on the floor*
Maglor: *was extremely ungraceful, too*
Maglor: ...feeling...very well...thank you... *is pulling self under bed with hands*
Elrond: *says silent prayer to the Valar for patience, then carefully helps the healer pick Maglor up off the floor* Do not be ridiculous. You can smell that wound from here.
Maglor: ...do not tell my wife... ;_; *will never be allowed to ice-rink bridges ever again if she finds out*
Maglor: ...it does not...smell that bad? It takes...some getting...used to?
Elrond: I will not tell her, if you cooperate. *makes a face at him* I have had quite enough of wrangling with elves this week.
Maglor: *sighs faintly and cooperates, then*
Healer: Oooooh trouble with the Missus!
Maglor: *gives the healer a pissy little look*
Maglor: *then sulks*
Elrond: *gets Maglor back onto the bed, and starts examining the wound himself* Irisse, perhaps you would be better served mixing some athelas into a bowl with boiling water? *glowers at her, then goes back to inspecting things*
Irisse: *does as ordered!*
Maglor: *cautiously asks, since isn't certain asking questions is allowed either* ...after this, I can go back to my room then, yes? It is not that bad...is it? x_@
Elrond: Do you wish to explain to me why it is you have a poisoned arrow in your back that you do NOT wish your healer wife to know about?
Maglor: ...no. I do not wish to explain that. -_-
Healer: *presents the athelas* oooooh
Maglor: ...do not be a bad former elfling and ask...questions you probably know the answer to, already. *ie - 'was looking for trouble, as Feanorians are oft prone to do' being the correct answer*
Elrond: *stares at Maglor's back with the Eye of DOOM, even though Maglor's back can't respond, or see it* I see.
Elrond: *isn't ABOUT to push this arrow all the way through to the other side, he's decided* *takes the bowl, and starts cleansing the puncture* This is going to hurt. *almost cheerfully*
Maglor: *TENSES UP IMMEDIATELY*
Athelas: *makes for the foaming tingling burning, like an olden-times hydrogen peroxide! <3*
Maglor: *TENSE AND JITTERY* *and thanks to poison, the jittery is probably the most uncoordinated...well now is attempting a v. uncoordinated FLAIL*
Maglor: *is hissy, says ow ow ow a lot, looks white as a sheet and expression of massive x_@-ness*
Elrond: *casually holds him down, cleans more* *points out some bandages for the healer to bring over to him*
Ithiriel: *might... actually... be getting some of that*
Irisse: *doesn't perv Maglor's back while helping do some clinging, really*
Elrond: I am going to sit here and watch you flail, as it is entertaining. *calmly*
Maglor: *NO no no no, is not going to drag wife in on this, so...makes sure brain is not a avalanche of things, but...giant Numenor sinking TSUMANI of things*
Maglor: *tries not to flail ;_;*
Maglor: *she's USED to it by now*
Maglor: *starts taking deep breaths and making with the nice 'everything's good, feelin' fine' thoughts, then*
Maglor: *does not want wife dragged in on this, is going to get into trouble and hear I-told-you-I-didn't-want-you-hurt and a whole bunch of see-this-is-why-you-shouldn't-try-to-do -these-things, etc*
Elrond: *is applying some extra healing on the spiritual level, at least so that he doesn't get ill or die or paralyzed, at least?* *finishes cleaning a bit, and picks up a wad of bandaging*
Maglor: *resulting turning into area rug, instead of mere doormat*
Elrond: I am surprised she has not rushed in here, already. *casually, still, while ..... yanking the arrow out in one clean, swift motion* *immediately applies pressure to the wound*
Maglor: *shrieked* *like a girl*
Maglor: *exactly...like a girl*
Ithiriel: *goes O_O*
Irisse: *wince!*
Maglor: *covers mouth with one hand, DOES NOT WANT FUSSING plz, or to hear a whole lot of family-related"oh, Maggie, you really shouldn't be anywhere near orcs, here, go play your harp in the corner" talks*
Elrond: *points at a jar* Numbing herbs. *still applying pressure*
Feanor: *can hear Maglor shrieking* *just knows it's Maglor* *actually stops with paintbrush to sniff the air and make sure he isn't setting the theatre on fire again*
Maglor: *crysmiles? now with both hands covering mouth, instead of just one?*
Irisse: *NUMBS!*
Elrond: *lifts the bandages so that she can, and then cleanses, some more* The worst is almost over, Maglor. *might even sound a bit gentle!*
Elrond: *maybe. a little ... well... Elrond!gentle* *which is like the softer side of stern and grouchy*
Maglor: *makes a noise behind his hands like 'oh gooood' at the whole almost over part*
Irisse: *pats him*
Maglor: *would smile like ^^; but is still a little rattled after the arrow part being pulled out, sorry?*
Maglor: *still covering mouth too, just in case more ouch happens*
Elrond: You are lucky this did not hit anything important. *decides, after another look at things sans arrow* *pokes the wound, gently, with a finger* *decides he doesn't like the look of it and cleanses it some more*
Elrond: I am further surprised that she is not laying next to you, with three arrows instead of two. Perhaps marrying her mellowed you out. *snorts*
Maglor: *makes another noise, this time o' protest, but its tinged with a bit of ouch too since...stop poking at it*
Elrond: *has to poke at it to see if it oozes funny*
wound: *OOOOOOOZE*
Maglor: *its not oozing! IT WON'T OOZE*
Elrond: *thinks it sure is oozing*
Maglor: *NO OOZE*
Wound: Ooze.
Elrond: *isn't stitching it shut until it stops*
Maglor: *NO, refuses to BELIEVE its OOZING*
Elrond: You will have to stay here for a time.
Maglor: ... *major noise of protest, even drops hands and whisperhisses!* ...I can not stay here...just...stitch it closed... >.<
Elrond: It is rather nicely oozing poison and puss out of it. Would you like me to further describe it?
wound: *green!*
Maglor: *swears that high-strungness is making him feel woozy and not fact that wound apparently has poison and puss in it* No, just...squeeze it out and...just...close it up. x_@
Wound: *Helpful!*
Elrond: Nay, I will not. Do I need to tie YOU down, as well? For I will, and it will not trouble me whatsoever to do so.
Maglor: *it is NOT green, there can NOT be that much puss and poison in there, there just can NOT be*
Maglor: ....can not...staaaay here...
Elrond: You will have to. *firmly* *cleans, more*
Maglor: ...can not...
Wound: *OOZEACHE*
Maglor: *whimpers at thought of staying there...and...well...because wound cleaning doesn't feel very good AT ALL APPARENTLY*
Maglor: *if was not woozy feeling, would be having the most spazztastic, grandest panic-attack, ever*
Elrond: *is being GENTLE with the cleaning, too*
Ithiriel: *finally can't ignore nagging feeling anymore, and wonders why her back aches* *gets out of bed, realises she napped with her cloak on and everything*
Maglor: *blames the woozy on him having a fight or flight moment, but the emphasis is on the flight part*
Ithiriel: *opens bedroom door, notes lack of Maglor ..... swallows moment of absolute panic*
Maglor: *picked prime opportunity to just faint due to wooziness, which he swears is not due in anyway to any poison that he insists he does not have in him right now*
Ithiriel: *chews on her fist a moment* Where ... where where ..... WHERE?
Maglor: *is blissfully fainted! so its probably a good time for Elrond to do whatever*
Elrond: *is currently trying to decide if he needs to burn some of this, actually*
Ithiriel: *gets noooo answer, and ... has ... no... floody thoughts, and ... makes a noise which would remind brother and father of Maglor quite well in that it is EXACTLY THE SAME PANIC NOISE*
Maglor: *would be quite verily aglahglahalghalahgaGAAHH! at mention of burning, so its better to do it while passed out, rather than waiting for him to wake up?* *can't protest right now, yes*
Elrond: *decides against it,actually, thinks the Athelas will be enough* *makes himself a cup of tea like la la la, this isn't at all serious*
Maglor: *lays there like x_@*
Ithiriel: *takes a deep breath, lets it out, forces herself to remain calm and then ... dashes out of their rooms and barely forgets to shut the door behind her*
Maglor: *brain is blissfully like entire endless field of crickets chirping*
Ithiriel: *finds this utterly disturbing, and instantly heads to the healing houses*
Maglor: *would attempt to hide, but...can not ;_; *
Elrond: *drinks down some of the tea, then takes another seat, and starts cleaning again* *with great deal of concentratioN*
Maglor: *is being good patient by being v. much passed out?*
Ithiriel: *rushes in, pulls aside one of the healers* Elf!? ... Tall ... handsome, dark hair ..... .. husband!?
Healer: *points to the room they have Maglor in* All sorts of elves in here these days. *grumbles, gets back to work*
Maglor: *so v. v. v. x_@ entirely out cold* *that's not a BAD thing, either*
Ithiriel: *nearly FLINGS the door open, before remembering that ... she's calmer than this,a nd that isn't really socially acceptable* *then, rushes in, shuts the door* Maglor!?
Elrond: *looks up at her* Ah. What in the blessed realm of Aman took you so long?
Maglor: *would be like 'hi' in his passed out into passed outedness right now*
Ithiriel: I was being obstinate and napping. Of course. *calmly sits on the other side of the bed, lifts the bandages, inspects, and tries not to make another panic noise*
Maglor: *is FINE, REALLY*
Maglor: *except can't say that because is also PASSED OUT, REALLY*
Elrond: It looks worse than I believe it is. But now that you are here, you will take over. *nods his head, gets up*
Maglor: *TRAITOR! little traitorous elfling >.<*
Maglor: *who's no longer an elfing but STILL*
Maglor: *wishes could wake up now >.<*
Ithiriel: *nods her head, takes his place and picks up where he left off, after getting a a run down of the situation* *immediately feels overwhelmingly guilty*
Ithiriel: *cleans some more, all WOE!GUILT* *with a mixture of panic and worry added in!*
Maglor: *did.not.WANT.this. >.<*
Maglor: *it IS bad* *is going to give up now and be a stay-at-home CARPET*
Ithiriel: *makes with the healing, though .... is TRYING to use lessons she learned from Galadriel, and not do too much all at once*
Maglor: *can have nice dream where Arda, Aman, and everyone in either place, are entirely AGAINST HIM*
Ithiriel: *hums softly as she works, and yes, has a much gentler touch than Elrond's, even if she's nowhere near as powerful*
Maglor: *is trying to start to come out of fainting fit*
Ithiriel: *hums a bit more loudly, still clean-clean-cleaning*
Maglor: *head-fog groaniness?*
Ithiriel: *shhs him a bit* Lay still...
Maglor: *awake in an instant and is as tense as being NOT poisoned allows him to be*
Maglor: *is not Elrond voice, is wife voice, has look of petrified DOOM on face*
Ithiriel: *sighs a bit* Maglor, tensing up is only going to make it hurt worse...
Maglor: *soft whisper but still stubborn* ...I'm fine, I think...yes...its only a little scrape...
Ithiriel: It is not a little scrape ... it is really quite nasty, and this is entirely my fault. *sighs a bit, pokes at it slightly, cleans it again*
Maglor: *whimper of dismay!*
Ithiriel: If I had just .... stayed home... *sighs*
Maglor: ...I didn't... *siiiighs* ...I didn't want you to find out. *winces*
Ithiriel: Maglor! *sighs!*
Ithiriel: How in the name of the trees could you possibly think that this was going to be kept secret from me!? >.<
Maglor: *WINCES* ...very...carefully?
Ithiriel: .... you are the absolute most stupid ...... *breaks that off.... makes a noise* I love you. *lifts him up very gently, and starts wrapping him in bandaging*
Maglor: *is like absolutely most stupid yet cuddleriffic life-sized elvish rag doll right now* ...I love you too...but...it is not your fault...and I will never be able to convince...anyone...that I can do anything...
Maglor: *whispers mournfully* ...other than sit in a corner, and play a harp, and try not...to burn things down.
Ithiriel: Do not be ridiculous, meleth. *ties the bandaging, and curls into bed with him, pulling him against her* Your idea witih the orcs was brilliant.
Maglor: *sighs, doesn't think it went so brilliantly, no*
Ithiriel: *snorts* Wounds are just ..... .... well look at me, with my hand, that wasn't the best idea, but that doesn't mean I'm horrible at fighting.
Maglor: *siiiighs and cuddles with wife as best he can given the circumstances, feels woozy all over again* ...just...don't tell them.
Ithiriel: *cuddles him, closes her eyes, starts healing him some more* I will not tell them. ....
Ithiriel: I think .... you are determined to fight.... and instead of blaming myself for what you'd have done anyway ... we aught to go and practice more.
Maglor: ...I'll do that by myself... -_-
Maglor: *is too self-conscious, otherwise*
Ithiriel: No, you will not. We are stronger together than we are, apart. *softly, pulls him against her*
Maglor: ...I think...I'm sorry, but... *sighs and gives up*
Ithiriel: .... Explain to me, why you wish to go alone, first... *softly, absently, like her mind is very busy elsewhere since ... well ... it is*
Maglor: *sighs and then shakes his head and is quiet*
Ithiriel: *sighs* You are not a floor rug, Maglor...
Maglor: *winces slightly*
Maglor: *says as softly and gently as possible* ...I don't need things that bleed, to practice. I know how to make things bleed, already. Its in... *makes sloppy pointing motion to his head*
Ithiriel: *softly* I think we both know that last night was not really about practicing, for me. ... we can practice, against straw targets.
Maglor: ...and I don't...need to feel like...I'm having my faults...pointed out...I know my faults, already...I think...I'd rather practice, alone....
Maglor: *pauses* ...or not.
Ithiriel: I wasn't going to point out your faults ... I'm not ... Feanor or... .... okay I know I did a bit last time, but that was out of worry....
Maglor: *siiiiiiighs*
Ithiriel: .... you do not wish people staring at you while you do it ... I will ask Faramir if we can use ... you can use ... the private practice yards in the citadel. *nods her head*
Maglor: *just nods, doesn't dare say anything further*
Ithiriel: *can go 'practice' on things that bleed while he does that* *nods again*
Maglor: *nods, doesn't want to offend her or anything by talking about it more, so...is trying to just be ultra-clutter-thinky*
Ithiriel: *isn't offended* *cuddles light and warmth and love and acceptance into him?* You should rest.
Maglor: *just nods absently again*
Ithiriel: *runs her fingers through his hair, and hums, a bit*
Maglor: *is still and relaxed more but is still thinky*
Ithiriel: *is almost getting to the point where she can sort through all that* *almost* *kisses him*
Maglor: *really? because its still in tsunami format, so she must have like...a very super sorting brain since it kind of has the effect of a crushing weight of worries on him <3*
Maglor: *kisses?* *smiles?*
Ithiriel: *rather, when she's NOT weary, and low on patience, has managed to cut through the bs in his head that is not the thought she needs to find*
Maglor: *scratches out the 'worries' word and scribbles in 'self-doubt' instead, but will change his mind in about 2.5 more seconds anyway*
Ithiriel: *although that thing he does there makes her want to snap pencils in half repeatedly*
Maglor: *which thing, meleth?*
Ithiriel: *the it's this , no it isn't , yes it is, no it isnt, yes ... no, I should shut up, wait yes... .... no no no....*
Maglor: *oh. that.* *uhm...did that before even leaving Aman, it just comes naturally to him* *and it just got...a wee bit worse? :D?*
Maglor: *except not the 'wee' or the 'bit' and replace with 'whole' and 'lot'*
Ithiriel: *anyway, manages to somehow not get crushed under tsunami thoughts, gently shuts mental doors, and decides she'll try what Galadriel, Celeborn, and Elrond do sometimes, and ... other healers that no one's seen*
Maglor: *sighs*
Ithiriel: *that being, kisses his forehead, and tries putting him to sleep <3*
Maglor: *doesn't want to go to sleep though >.<*
Ithiriel: *since clutterthinking is NOT resting*
Maglor: *it is for ME* *I was fainted, I'm not tired! ;_; *
Maglor: *isn't moving around, doesn't that count?*
Ithiriel: *mrrrgrr*
Maglor: *is about to go grrrr too at some point*
Ithiriel: *fiiiine, though would point out that HE never seemed to think that she wasn't resting when SHE was laying there awake and thinky*
Maglor: *that's because HER thinking resulted in HER wanting to get out of BED, and HIS thinking often results in SELF-IMPOSED NON-ACTION.*
Ithiriel: *baaaaaah* *lays still too*
Maglor: *except for burning things. or drowning self. Or that one time he tried to conk himself out with a rock while standing on a cliff over the ocean, but that was a long time ago...and still didn't die...*
Maglor: *was v. frustrated by that one in particular* *ponders that, then thinks there really WAS a conspiracy to not let him die and the valar are sick, sick, twisted beings*
( Namo: *toasts <3* )
Maglor: *fleeting sour look*
Ithiriel: *still running fingers through his hair*
Maglor: *cuddles in closer in mini-noldo-sulking fit*
Ithiriel: *nuzzles at him with her lips* *rocks him in her arms like he's 30 again*
Maglor: *sighs but its not a sigh of woe at all*
Ithiriel: *remembers lullabye mother used to hum ..... swallows 4 seconds of grief over mother memory ... starts humming it*
Maglor: *thoughts calm down and listens...*
Maglor: *if he was a puppy, would have very perky ears and attentive stare*
Ithiriel: *keeps humming it, remembering it better as she starts* *really liked the song, wonders if she could remember the words, though would NOT torture him with her singing voice*
Maglor: *likes her voice*
Maglor: *and the song*
Ithiriel: *has never sung, trust her*
Ithiriel: *is lucky she can HUM on key*
Maglor: *meant the sound of her merely speaking*
Ithiriel: *oh well then that's different yes*
Caranthir: *is craftings while his brother and wife are annoying*
Lullabye: *wafts in from some other room, sung with lyrics*
Maglor: .... *blinks at that*
Maglor: *rests a fingertip against Ithiriel's lips*
Ithiriel: *stops humming* *blinks*
Caranthir: *trying sculpting*
Maglor: *is staring at Ithiriel but is listening to the singing*
Lullabye: *continues for a while, then peters off as the singer realises no one is humming it anymore*
Caranthir: *scuplts scuplts in his inn room*
Maglor: *looks thinky while staring at her, then whispers* ...a healer, perhaps?
Ithiriel: *shrugs her shoulders* Perhaps one of the older ones...
Maglor: *looks pensive and nods* ...or another elf, though the only female elf I can think of that might be here would be... *gets look of dundunDUN on his face* ...she-who-is-not-to-be-named.
Caranthir: *the elf he bought?*
Maglor: *that title works too*
Ithiriel: *shrugs her shoulders* That singing sounded far too hauntingly beautiful to have spewed forth from an elven brothel dancer's mouth, don't you think? *softly*
Ithiriel: *ponders* It may be Gladharil, actually.
Maglor: Is she still here, though?
Ithiriel: *shrugs* I have not seen much of her, since we....
Ithiriel: *blushgrins*
Maglor: *smiles?*
Feanor: You know I do not recall ever getting invited to a wedding FEAST.
Maglor: ................ *look of petrification, including having the 'smile?' frozen on his face*
Feanor: I would ask if your wife had managed to lose her fingers AGAIN, if I did not see a bandage around my SON.
Maglor: *weak little laugh?* *tries to think himself into not looking woozy...and into standing or sitting up to prove he's fine?*
Maglor: ...its only a scratch... *long pause* *smiles?*
Feanor: *looks at Ithiriel like 'is he lying?'*
Ithiriel: *eyedarts*
Maglor: *is NOT lying, and STOP DOING THAT*
Caranthir: *brother senses tingling*
Maglor: *thinks it really is only a SCRATCH as far as he's concerned*
Maglor: *gives Ithiriel a stare like now SHE'S the traitor* *cue HURT LOOK OF BETRAYAL*
Ithiriel: *Cue look of HURT AND WOE*
Feanor: *laughs*
Maglor: *stares right at her while saying in a light and airy little tone of voice* ...we were helping someone escape some orcs. Weren't we.
Feanor: Do I need to keep constant watch over you? .... PIty's sake, it is a good thing the other 6 did not come back.
Caranthir: *walks up* What did I miss now?
Feanor: ... wait.
Feanor: *counts on his fingers* Five. I meant five.
Maglor: *sighs, gives up, lays there like doormat plopped onto bed*
Feanor: So you went to dance with some orcs!?
Maglor: *is waiting for it...is waiting...oh, nevermind, it begins, is just waiting for the 'oh Maggie, you should be playing your harp, instead' part* *look of profound -_- ness*
Maglor: *though the look is sort of crossed with profound e_e ness, too*
Feanor: ..... *sighs* If you are going to fight a war in the south you had better get better at dodging. >.<
Maglor: ..... *heaves as massive a sigh as he can manage right now* *continues to stare at walls, ceiling, anything else, with profound -_-/e_e-ness*
Maglor: *would already point out something but...it would ruin the doormat thing, so just looks listless*
Caranthir: You went orc hunting without me? >.<
Maglor: ... *SIGHS*
Ithiriel: *rolls out of bed, stumbles into a chair* And he will be training again, without any of us, so you had better get used to it. *quietly*
Maglor: *oh just SIGHS like that's not going to be a popular statement at all*
Feanor: *stares at Ithiriel*
Maglor: *the sigh is tinged with much 'urgh' also*
Maglor: *wife = ratted him out, sighs again for good measure*
Ithiriel: *stares him right back down*
Maglor: *makes amends* ...no, no...perhaps...bad idea...will stay here, theatre...yes, will do that...
Caranthir: *rubs forhead* *wonders if his FAMILY is his creative block XD*
Ithiriel: *now stares MAGLOR down*
Maglor: *wonders if his is now, too*
Maglor: *can't see anyone staring, since is staring up at ceiling that won't rat him out or make him flip-flop on decisions, since its just a ceiling, a nice safe ceiling that...hopefully won't fall down*
Maglor: *then again? if it caved in and landed on him and him only? would be all right with that too.*
Feanor: So which is it? *arches a brow*
Caranthir: I am going to go back to sculpting. >.<
Maglor: ...uhm...this is a very nice...ceiling.
Avarian: *is around, still humming that lullabye*
Maglor: *POINTS up at it*
Maglor: ...have we failed to notice it...until now? I think...yes, we have.
Ithiriel: It is the first answer, not the second, because if he cannot stick to his decisions in front of you I at least will. *crosses her arms over her chest*
Maglor: No, no...it is the second answer, yes...definitely...bad...idea...
Caranthir: *poitns at the ceiling* Stop staring at the ceiling!
Maglor: But its such a nice ceiling.
Maglor: *still pointing at it, though hand eventually goes flop because effort...too much for right now*
Ithiriel: *losing patience, again, can tell ..... blames healing*
Caranthir: I missed something here >.<
Ithiriel: Do not look at me. *shortly* *gets up* I will leave the men to talk. -_-
Maglor: Nothing to miss...or amiss...or...nothing to see, just...ceiling. *blinkblinks at it like its woozily fascinating, then is wincing*
Ithiriel: *wants to find out who was singing*
Maglor: Nothing to talk about...wife can stay? *tries to sit up*
Caranthir: *grabs Ithi's arm* Stay.
Ithiriel: *growls*
Maglor: *sighs at the growl, then is morose because of it, and because sitting up is posing a problem* ...no, just...she wants to go so...
Maglor: ...don't anger her further. -_-
Ithiriel: Someone was singing. I wish to find her.
Maglor: *rats her out* She's frustrated...and angry...and needs space.
Maglor: Away from me.
Ithiriel: -_-
Caranthir: *not letting go, no* Sit down.
Maglor: *what? its true. is not so scatterbrained, can not notice* No, Caranthir...let her go.
Maglor: Go boss your own bought elf around. *folds arms over himself and looks brooding* Except you are avoiding that.
Ithiriel: I really DO wish to find .... the one who was singing.
Maglor: *will not further rat her out by pointing out that's not the only reason she wants to leave the room -_-*
Caranthir: That's not the only reason you wish to leave the room >.<
Ithiriel: Let me go, or I will remove your reason for needing pants ><
Maglor: ... *is losing his patience and is now grumpified because of recently been POISONED with whatever the orcs used too* Let her GO, would you?!
Feanor: *LAUGHS*
Maglor: *yanks pillow out from under his head and puts it over his face* *hopes it smothers him, feels smothered, pillow makes sense*
Caranthir: *bellows!*Not until you all stop burying shit!
Maglor: *muffled voice from under pillow* ...fell pot forged in Angband? Meet fell kettle forged in Angband. Now. One of you, call the other one black....
Caranthir: *twitch*
Ithiriel: *makes a NOISE*
Ithiriel: *is like......... high-pitched stress noise, totally picked that up from husband*
Maglor: *idly points around at nothing in particular since can't see, then since can't raise hand up enough to really point point, just makes floppy shooing motion* Let her go.
Caranthir: *lets her go in disgust*
Ithiriel: *pulls her arm away with a glare* *then? Starts pushing everyone out* He's been poisoned, and none of this is helping...
Ithiriel: and I do not wish to lose my husband to insanity AND ALSO poisoning simply because his family does not know how to love him properly! ><
Ithiriel: Get OUT, all of you. Shoo!
Feanor: *stares at her*
Feanor: *blinkblinks*
Maglor: ... *oh massive sigh, throws the pillow off his face* ...no, they can stay.
Caranthir: *blinks as well*
Maglor: I'm not poisoned, I feel fine. *woozy does not equal fine, but...well...he thinks it does so go him?*
Feanor: *blinkblinks*
Ithiriel: *wants to go curl up in a ball somewhere where the world makes SENSE again ><*
Maglor: ...really, its fine...just...go find the singer, meleth...and let them stay until you come back?
Caranthir: *rather irritated at the love him properly thing*
Ithiriel: *doesn't care, thinks if family knew how to treat him to begin with he'd only be half as screwed up ><* *nods her head, storms out of the room*
Maglor: *exhales* *slowly*
Feanor: *watches her go* ..... what ... exactly ..... ..... *makes a face like "buh?"*
Caranthir: We love you, damn it.
Maglor: *looks weary and due to poisoned weariness, mind has temporary moment of clarity* ...she's angry because I keep trying to fit into everyone else's casting mold.
Maglor: *tries to grab the pillow, but tossed it too far to reach it*
Caranthir: *throws up hands like EUREKA! HES FIGURED IT OUT!*
Maglor: *starts to sit up again*
Feanor: *smirks* I KNEW he was smart.
Maglor: *decides the room is spinny so lays back down*
Maglor: *sighs at the implication that he is/was not smart*
Caranthir: *chuckles* *walks over and sits on the bed next to his brother* I am glad you realize that.
Maglor: *adds* She's also angry because...the two of you...always try to keep me shoved into the casting mold...you've set aside for me. *sullen stare up at Caranthir*
Feanor: I resent that. I have been trying very hard to let you do whatever it is you wish.
Caranthir: *sighs**nods* That is not what I intend, at least.
Maglor: ...yes, by not allowing me to calm down...and speak like I was trying to...after I tried to burn down the theatre...by saying 'oh no, Maglor, but fine, go get yourself killed if you want' before I could even finish...
Maglor: ...by being offended, when I finally did say something, that you didn't want to hear...and slamming doors and punching furniture...
Caranthir: .....
Caranthir: Those are my faults. Not yours.
Maglor: ...yes...I really can do whatever I wish...can't I...its a wonderful thing, to be Maglor.
Feanor: *sighs* Well you make it no easier by constantly changing your mind the moment we try and figure out what it IS you wish to do.
Maglor: I never have a chance to figure out what I wish to do, anymore...I am too busy, trying to think of what everyone else wants me to do, or be like. May I have my pillow back?
Caranthir: Think first to yourself, in what you wish to do >.<
Feanor: I would love a son who simply is who he is, every day of his life, instead of trying to be the son I particularly want.
Maglor: *wags hand for pillow*
Feanor: *gets the pillow, hands it over*
Maglor: *grabs it, swings, manages to thwap Caranthir, then swings it back, manages to thwap Feanor, then has expended energy doing that, so barely gets it to flop up by his head again, leaves it there* *looks MIFFED*
Feanor: *takes the pillow, and carefully tucks it behind Maglor's head*
Maglor: *is thankful, but...* ...you both, really....need to understand...or contemplate...ponder...whatever it is... *is whispering while gritting teeth* ...that my mind, is not the clean nice pretty place it once was...
Caranthir: I think that is..what I have difficulty with.
Maglor: ...and it is hard for me...to think CLEARLY...a lot of the time...and I know no one...has enough PATIENCE...to wait about...for me to think things over...
Feanor: I thought ... treating you the same, would be the best way to handle it, but...
Maglor: ...because that could take...days...or weeks...or months...and treating me like I once was...is the WORST thing...right now...you can do, for me.
Maglor: *shh's them* I'm talking now, enjoy it...while it lasts.
Feanor: *takes a seat on the other side of the bed* *listens!*
Caranthir; *also listens*
Maglor: *nods ever so slightly, draws in a breath, continues* ...really, I am...not like I once was, and it is not all you, our family...or what happened, either...
Maglor: ...its not even all about...the shinies.
Maglor: It is...simply this? I was alone...and I went insane...very much, flying bats defecating all over everything...insane. Because of that.
Caranthir: *frowns a bit*
Maglor: So my head...is very messy...
Feanor: *is getting an inkling of what new daughter is dealing with*
Caranthir: *nods his head*
Maglor: ...and...its easier to agree, with everyone else...than to try to...sort it out for myself, sometimes.
Maglor: So, I am not...just going to sit, in a corner of the theatre, playing my harp, until we all sail. *sighs and closes eyes* Now...discuss.
Feanor: There are things, that are going to need your decisions.
Feanor: How do you want to handle this?
Maglor: *eyes still closed, but is speaking clearly, should be poisoned ALL the time* ...ask me now, while you have a chance to get answers, on some of these things...
Caranthir: I do not want you to spend all your time in the corner playing your harp >.<
Feanor: Sadly I can think of nothing that needs immediate attention, but the Theatre is yours, and we are still working on it -
Feanor: unless you wish to drop that project, in which case, you will need to work a deal out with the other owner.
Maglor: *nods at the theatre, and says softly to clarify further* ...stop making me feel like that is all I can ever do, then. And I do not want to drop the project, either.
Feanor: You will want to decide, now, how many decisions you wish us to handle,then.
Feanor: while still making you feel that you have an active, creative part, instead of merely fitting a mold.
Maglor: ...me, writing plays and music, and picking actors and musicians. One of you, stage direction. The other, stage manager. I trust you both, not to be swayed by flighty artistic types...like I normally will be.
Feanor: Decisions about money, and things,then, we can handle.
Maglor: ...yes...yes, that would be good.
Maglor: ...make sure...everyone is paid, fairly...and the debt is paid off, quickly...
Feanor: *distressed, but will deal with that later* What of Ithiriel?
Caranthir: *also distressed*
Maglor: ...I do not know. I am...dragging her down, with me.
Caranthir: Bullshit.
Feanor: She must clearly be aware of the state of things, in some way. Perhaps if everything were explained, it would be easier for her to deal with as well.
Maglor: *shrugs a little bit, like take the opinion or leave it* *currently is in a zenlike state of wooziness, with eyes closed* I've tried, poorly, to explain it. Mostly, normally...I'm too...manic, and frantic, and flighty.
Feanor: *ponders this* .... Maglor. You may wish to consider, the children issue.
Maglor: If she didn't close me out, as she's been doing, then she'd be getting every broken fragment of a thought, every waking moment, in her head and...we have spoken about that.
Maglor: *opens eyes and looks over at father questioningly* Why? Should I consider something further?
Feanor: Not the issue where you worry that they will be insane. The issue of you trying to be a father and husband as well, like this. *dead serious*
Maglor: I've already...I think, I should say, rather...those worries flittered through my mind now and again, too.
Caranthir: *glances at their fater*
Feanor: *doesn't look too happy to be bringing this up, no* *but feels it necessary*
Feanor: We can look after them, if you wish.
Maglor: I can not say no to her. Nor can I lay here, and say that I didn't ever want a brood of elflings, either...
Feanor: I will not tell you which way to think, on that subject.
Feanor: I am merely offering that Caranthir, and Me, can also look after your brood. If you want us to.
Maglor: ...I think...maybe, I should muddle through it...if it gets to be too many, and I am too unstable...then...I think Ithiriel would say it was time to stop.
Caranthir: *nods thoughtfully*
Maglor: ...unstable, undependable...either or, both fit. *smiles a little bit*
Feanor: *nods*
Caranthir: *snorts* I would be proud of you.
Maglor: *says in a soft whisper* I hope they are all girls.
Feanor: At least one son....
Feanor: .... please?
Maglor: You...have had enough sons.
Feanor: I want a grandson who will make my own son proud. *smiles a bit*
Maglor: I think...I like the sound, of having daughters...very much.
Maglor: Because...I would be proud, of all of them, equally.
Feanor: *nods his head* Do you really want, to go south and fight?
Caranthir: *curious, too*
Maglor: Yes. But not alone, and not by taking mortals with us. More...like...a preventative measure, a small watch...
Maglor: I never intended...to go all alone.
Feanor: *ponders this*
Maglor: At least, this time, we could fight for something more...worthy, than...reclaiming stolen stones.
Caranthir: What if the preventive measure sparks the war?
Feanor: I want to talk to this elf. There must be more she is not telling us.
Maglor: If the king of this land, agreed, of course. I would not do so, without...someone explaining to him, that it is a watch, we will have no armies behind us....
Maglor: But...finish the theatre first, so that plays can be done, while we are gone. After the first night.
Maglor: *eyes them both, one and then the other* You will need swords.
Caranthir: *sighs, and nods his head*
Maglor: But...not to cause...poor choices and too many deaths.
Feanor: You sound as if we are not returning.
Maglor: I hope. And no. I mean for us to return.
Maglor: And perhaps, this time, not regret nor be ashamed of what we had done. *sighs and closes eyes again*
Feanor: Then there will be many plays when we return, as well. *nods*
Maglor: Yes, I hope so. I'm going to rewrite...the play in which everyone, even the dog, dies.
Feanor: *nods his head*
Maglor: *whispers* ...will need a dog that can play dead.
Caranthir: Aye. *laughs* Child in a dog suit.
Maglor: No, no, its not the same...need...a very talented dog...
Caranthir: A dog.
Maglor: Yes. That can play dead. On cue.
Maglor: *says rather suddenly, like he's idly noting this* I do not think I like being poisoned, even if it makes me think more clearly.
Caranthir: Perhaps you need to drink some calming liquid every day *laughs*
Maglor: *has slowed him down quite a lot, even feels sluggish while its working its way through him and out of him, or whatever it is that poison does* *makes a face of distaste at the thought*
Caranthir: *smirk*
Maglor: ...perhaps you all need to...I suppose asking for more patience is out of the question. Just...be more...accepting, and I will try to do the same.
Maglor: Including toward elves who were found, working in brothels.
Feanor: She was singing in the garden when I came in.
Caranthir: >.>
Feanor: I think that was the one Ithiriel meant to go after.
Feanor: It slipped my mind with all the yelling. *sheepish smile?*
Maglor: *says in a faintly softened tone of voice* So it was her. *nods a little* Hopefully she will not mind, that I am not going to be any less...insane.
Feanor: Ithiriel, or the other one?
Caranthir: >.>
Maglor: Caranthir's elf, who...well...she probably will not mind, since...look whom she's in love with... *vaguely waves hand in Caranthir's general direction* He's less insane, but...not far off.
Feanor: I do not think she minds anyone in this family but me, and only because I made her own up to her feelings. *chuckles*
Caranthir: .....
Maglor: *sighs a little* Yes...yes, perhaps...still...I will say...that it does not matter, what I think...
Maglor: It is worth taking a chance over, until both Ithiriel and I get to burst in on the two of you, and leave your quiet time, in ruin, by being stubborn. *smiles?*
Caranthir: ...........
Caranthir: Once I have cleared my own soul >.<
Feanor: .... I will go and tell the poor thing not to wait.
Maglor: Your soul, is just fine, Caranthir. It is your temper, that needs to be less foul. I can hear you are angry, in your voice, even without looking at you.
Maglor: And if you were not so stubborn, I would not lose my own temper, because you ask my advice, and I can not give it, because you would not even heed what my own wife was saying to you.
Maglor: ...you were naysaying, mostly.
Caranthir: >.<
Caranthir: Because I cannot VOICE to you what it is that is wrong!
Feanor: Is that because of fear of what we will say, or because you do not know what it is?
Maglor: Then voice it. *tries to get more comfortable in that bed, but its not as comfortable as the other bed*
Maglor: *now sounds mildly frustrated, can't get comfortable* ...I want to go back to a real bed.
Maglor: There, I voiced what is bothering me. Now it is Caranthir's turn.
Caranthir: I do not know what it IS
Feanor: Perhaps if you were to describe it.
Maglor: ...yes...yes, do that.
Caranthir: I am..searching for something. To define me. Something I can do that I take joy from and can love.
Maglor: I can think of two things, when I think of you, Caranthir.
Maglor: *rolls around painfully since can not get comfortable >.< but says as calmly as he can in a mini-quip* ...hunting, and taking money from dwarves.
Caranthir: *snorts*
Feanor: *ponders* It was Nerdanel, for me.
Caranthir: It is not Lomiel, for me. She has a calming presence, but....It is not all that I need.
Maglor: You, dear brother, have always needed...a touch of something...dangerous and exciting.
Feanor: Then perhaps, the elf you bought, is not your true love.
Feanor: Unless she can suddenly be dangerous and exciting. *chuckles*
Caranthir: .....
Maglor: Yet profitable enough, somehow. *nods at that, but does so with a sigh, like he's taking no joy at all in agreeing with what Feanor's saying, and really truly isn't*
Feanor: For if she was, she would bring you joy. *looks sad, too. Really liked her*
Caranthir: *shakes his head* you do not understand..
Maglor: *just whispers, while wincing since he's trying to roll over and lay on his stomach* ...try hunting, first...though...I knew, without a doubt, that I loved Ithiriel...very quickly.
Maglor: ...and I still love her. *rolls over with a flop, is just about hanging halfway off small healing house bed now*
Caranthir: *twitches**crankily* I am still trying to DENY my feelings, thank you.
Maglor: *murmurs and reiterates* ...try hunting, first.
Feanor: Have you considered that denying them is also denying you joy? *chuckles* *tries to help Maglor get more comfy, since his wife isn't here.
Maglor: *gives Feanor a grateful look* ...get me out of here and back into a bed that...can hold more than one person, comfortably?
Caranthir: I need to find that thing first before I can allow myself that >.<
Feanor: That is up to your wife, not me. She is in charge. *smirks*
Maglor: *elven butt was hanging off edge of bed when trying to cuddle wife* *frowns a little* ...Caranthir...
Feanor: Listen to your brother. Try hunting.
Maglor: ...I see clearly now, that I...should be the one, slapping you. Stop blocking yourself from it, by being obstinant. Go hunting.
Caranthir: >.<
Maglor: Even now, you will not listen to us.
Maglor: There are orcs. Hunt them.
Maglor: Just avoid the arrows.
Caranthir: *admits* I do not wish to hunt...I have not wished to hunt in a very, very long time.
Feanor: Well there has to be something.
Maglor: *wry whisper* Then, you had better try baking bread, cobbling shoes, or training dogs to play dead.
Caranthir: I will find something. 9_9
Feanor: Weaving, dancing, singing, kissing ...... cutting gems.... *goes through things in his head*
Maglor: Find it quickly, for all too soon, I will be back to...being unable to word things properly, and will instead just get frustrated with you... *waves one hand around, since its hanging off the edge of the bed* Kissing.
Maglor: Try that.
Maglor: Its very nice.
Caranthir: It is very nice *agrees*
Feanor: Are you actuallying opening heart and soul to these things you try, or are you overthinking them, trying to mold a certain thing, or reaching for perfection instead of simply... doing?
Maglor: *nods a little while face is smushed into pillow, like, yes, that's very nice indeed, then whimper-groans like 'OUCH?'*
Caranthir: ....
Maglor: ...he is...over-thinking them...and trying too hard...
Feanor: Do I need to fetch my daughter?
Maglor: ...its not enjoyable...when pushing...one's self and....yes, please? ;_; *still not comfy and is like ouch right now?*
Feanor: *gets up, to go fetch Ithiriel*
Caranthir: *sighs* I cannot NOT try to attain perfection.
Maglor: *antsy sounding* ...not everything is perfect, Caranthir...
Caranthir: I know this. Maglor: ...stop trying to make everything that way...unless you mean to create...shiny stones everyone will covet...
Caranthir: *laughs* nay.
Maglor: *nodnods into pillow, feels clammy, decides he hates feeling clammy*
Ithiriel: *slips in, looking very remorseful for being shrewish, though isn't much more calm* *immediately grabs up some more herbs, for numbing and cleansings* Caranthir, I need your chair.
Maglor: Yes...shouldn't do that...just...do not be mean, or punch her...or pull her hair...she should punch you, instead...so you know how it feels...oh wait, I punched you, before...nevermind.
Maglor: *thinks she was just frustrated, was frustrated too, can't blame her, so gives her look of ultimate elf!pleadingness after turning his head to peek at her?*
Ithiriel: *frowns* I don't want to move you like this....
Caranthir: *has an idea* I am going to try something a little different. *walks out!**has decided to make something that involves sculpting, carving, forging, jewellrycraft and just about everything one can make with hands*
Ithiriel: *genuinely worried* *cuts bandages off him, inspects wounds, winces*
Maglor: ...is it better, yet?
Maglor: I hate this bed...I hate it...I like your bed, better...and the bed we've been in, I like that even more better... *is lightly rambling while wincing a little too*
Ithiriel: Nay, meleth, it is not, and it will not be for ... a bit.. *softly* *shares a look with Feanor* *starts getting back to healing, while cleaning it out again*
Maglor: ...tomorrow? *makes a little 'ouch!' hissy noise*
Maglor: If you find a way...to put me in either your bed...or bed in room atop this city... >.o; ...I will not...I promise...will not...get out of it? Until better? *winces like >.<;*
Maglor: *is trying not to fidget, twitch, or flinch x_@*
Feanor: *holds him steady*
Maglor: *is held steady so now can do none of those things ;_; *
Ithiriel: *finishes cleaning again* *lays down a lot of numbing weed, and has Feanor help him re-bandage*
Maglor: *is re-bandaged!* x_@
Maglor: *ok, sets aside pride, is desperate in his x_@-ness again* ...someone...can carry me, back to...nicer bigger bed?
Ithiriel: ... alright .... fine... that should be fine, yes... *nods her head*
Feanor: *will carry him*
Caranthir: *goes to CRAFT*
Maglor: *nods as much as he can, that yes, can deal with being carried*
Feanor: *picks him carefully up in his arms, and starts carrying him up to the Citadel*
Maglor: *woozy again, but at least the hurtingness is a lot numbed down?*
Maglor: *is carried, without protest*
Ithiriel: *has been putting a great deal of herself into fixing the wooziness*
Maglor: *its a mellow woozy, not like the 'going to faint' head-spinny/room-spinny feeling off-kilter entirely woozy/lazy of before?* *except...keep the lazy part*
Maglor: *is feeling...decidedly lazy right now, like there's nothing wrong with being lazy, in fact, hi, dad, you are carrying grown son who is like rag doll now, thanks*
Feanor: *hugs his son to him*
Maglor: *no protest, knows Ithiriel's trying hard to make him feel better, but...kinda feels like poo right now <3*
Maglor: *really hates orcs right now, too <3*
Feanor: *gets him to room, sets him down on the bed, and then .... notices Ithiriel didn't follow them* *goes back to get HER*
Maglor: *is in bed, feels much much more comfier, then notices Ithiriel is not there and father was leaving, so...kind of blinks at that and then rolls slowly and carefully onto stomach, and plops side of face into pillow*
Maglor: *no pressure on back? is good. wife there? would be better. <3*
Feanor: *finds her curled up on the bed Maglor was in, scoops her up in his arms, carries her up too*
Feanor: *settles her into bed next to his son, pulls the blanket over them both, and then shuts the door behind him* *needs to go brood*
Maglor: *snuggles her as best as he can, given circumstances? before drifting off into lala-land?* *will keep sworn oath to stay in bed, also!*
Ithiriel: *wakes long enough to cuddle in against him, then lets herself pass out, too*
Feanor: *has a broken son* *very broken son* *worried, about broken son, daughter married to broken son, and little broken elflings....* *very very worried*
Caranthir: *is depressed son*
Feanor: *worries about depressed son, too, but..*
Feanor: *knows depressed son will get his act together, if he wants to*
Feanor: *is pretty sure other son wants desperatly to be back together and can't get there*
Feanor: *goes to find depressed son*
Caranthir: *doesn't want to talk to dad, is CARVING*
Feanor: *doesn't want to bother very long, just feels need to do this*
Caranthir: *carve carve*
Feanor: *finds!*
Caranthir: *glares!*
Feanor: >.>
Feanor: Put that down a moment.
Caranthir: *puts knife down*
Caranthir: What do you want.
Feanor: *walks up, hugs him* I love you. And I am sorry that I held you to such high standards all the time. I wish you to be happy.
Feanor: *feels the need to say this, while they're all bonding*
Caranthir: ......................................
Caranthir: ..................................
Caranthir: ......................................
Caranthir: ..................................
Caranthir: ......................................
Caranthir: *hugs back, awkwardly?*
Feanor: I know it is about 8 thousand years too late, but there it is. *nods* Find joy. For all of us. *walks out*
Caranthir: Le melon. >.<
Caranthir: *sighs**picks up the knife again, CARVES*