Forgotten harper, singer doomed. (gold_cleaver) wrote in untold_logs, @ 2008-07-10 16:50:00 |
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Entry tags: | avarian, caranthir, ithiriel, maglor |
Who: Caranthir, Ithiriel, Maglor, Avarian
What: advice gone wrong (aka - lil' discussion about Caranthir/Avarian/past-Haleth gone awry), then trying to discuss visions gone wrong.
When: Um, a while ago, sometime before Caranthir had a Haleth poking at his brain. I forgotted t'post, so whatevuh! Ish posted nao, kthanxbai. XD
Caranthir: *marches into the citadel, and throws open the door to his brother's room. Regardless of what's going on in there.* Maglor, I need to talk with you and your wife.
Maglor: *nakedness was happening, yet again* x_@ *at least that 'room' has 'two rooms' and so...Caranthir is in 'living' part of the 'room' and they are in 'bed' part of other 'room' and...still looks dismayed at intrusion*
Maglor: *...* *pulls blanket up over both their heads to HIDE*
Caranthir: Maglor?!
Maglor: ...you mean right now? Right...now-now? Talking now?
Maglor: *IS UNDER BLANKETS WITH ITHIRIEL*
Caranthir: *stomps into the room* Yes!
Maglor: *meekly* ...now?
Ithiriel: *was not at all happy with the intrusion, herself, and is still curled against Maglor, with her head hiding under the blankets so that Caranthir can't see how red she is right now from embarrassment.*
Caranthir: Yes now >.< Oh come off it, it's not like either of you has things I have not seen before.
Maglor: *is red too* ...yes, yes, I know but still...
Caranthir: *has a seat. Obnoxiously*
Maglor: *sticks one hand out from under the blanket to wave it in a frantic SHOO sort of way* At least let us... *not finish, doesn't mean that really, is just thinking it* ...get dressed.
Maglor: *finishing would be nice, though?*
Ithiriel: *would love to finish!*
Maglor: *sadly, woefully, does not think that is going to happen* ... *sighs*
Ithiriel: *isn't tempted to do naughty things to Maglor with her tongue while she's hiding under here, isn't tempted, nope*
Maglor: *hopes not, since then he'd be tempted to do things with his tongue, too, and...just can not DO that with one of his brothers ANYWHERE NEARBY in IMMEDIATE VICINITY*
Maglor: *fidgets* ...are you in the other room yet, Caranthir?
Ithiriel: You had better go there, for my husband is the only male ever seeing me naked again. *mumbles, from UNDER THE BLANKETS* *where she is STAYING*
Caranthir: *snorts**rolls his eyes and gets up* I do not have all DAY. *stomps out*
Ithiriel: *wonders if not having all DAY means they can't finish >.>*
Maglor: *is staying too!* *is not the sort to parade around nekky in front of OTHERS* *peeks out of the blankets and whispers to her* ...quickly, be swift! *darts out from under covers, falls onto the floor with a kerthud*
Maglor: *quick does not mean graceful, obviously*
Ithiriel: *can't help but giggle a bit, gets out of bed a BIT more gracefully and offers him a hand up*
Maglor: *takes hand! is helped up! grabs robe! puts it on!* *and has the look of graceful elvishness about him, once more, even if we all know its a LIE*
Ithiriel: *hopes Maglor is going to act in some of his own plays, at this rate.* *throws on a dress and pulls her hair back neatly, then pulls on her own mask of composure, and nods her head*
Maglor: *if he did, he'd stumble around MAGNIFICENTLY and would look mortified half the time* *nods to her then takes her by the hand and walks out into the other room with her*
Ithiriel: *gives Caranthir the look of 'This had better be good since you interrupted naked FUN TIME'* *then smiles* Brother.
Caranthir: *snort**has helped himself to their wine*
Maglor: *giving brother look of "woe! you have interupted naked fun time! no nieces for you!" then smiles* Caranthir.
Caranthir: It is about the elf I bought. *..okay, the joke IS funny*
Maglor: *smiles at that, like it IS funny* Oh. Did someone else buy her away from you?
Ithiriel: Did you finally tire of her and give her back to the brothel? *chuckles, puts the kettle on the fire*
Caranthir: Nay. *sighs* I merely have some..questions to ask you. About...*waves a hand* Well, not what you were just doing. I doubt I'll need help for that. >.>
Maglor: *folds arms over himself in self-defensive hug sort of way and is blinking* ...you are asking...me?
Caranthir: Yes you. >.<
Maglor: ....why? *looks mildly shocked*
Ithiriel: *thinks this development is highly amusing, but doesn't say so* *instead, pulls out some tea mugs,and then goes hunting down something for the three of them to nibble on*
Caranthir: You are the only living brother I have who has successfully been in love 9_9
Maglor: ...well, yes, I suppose...but...you do realize...I muddled my way through this, rather clumsily. My wife is likely to agree. *smiiiiiiles?*
Caranthir: I fear I am developing feelings I do not wish to have -_-
Ithiriel: We were both horribly clumsy, and I still say he merely puts up with me because I am the last elf alive who will put up with him. *winks at Caranthir, sets down some fresh cakes*
Maglor: *smile falters* ...no, no, I think you put up with my fainting with a fair amount of patience... *makes a little cough-ahem noise and sits down in a chair, near Caranthir* Why do you not wish to have them?
Caranthir: I do not, is that not enough reason?? >.<
Maglor: I suppose it is enough reason. Or not. Unless you still have that rather depressing interest in mortal women. *sighs like that is the most terrible thing, ever*
Caranthir: That is part of it, yes.
Ithiriel: Nay. *shakes her head* It is not a good enough reason. There are few people who really WISH to develop these feelings when they truly happen.
Caranthir: I feel as though I've not yet...earned it.
Ithiriel: *makes a face like 'Ah, THIS again.'*
Maglor: ...if you mean, after that long of a wait, in nothingness...I would say you have. They did not cast you back here, expecting you to remain alone. At least, I hope they did not. *softly amends* ...have earned it, I meant.
Caranthir: I do not think -she- is ready, either. It took an orc attack cutting open scars just to get her to let someone heal them. 9_9
Ithiriel: *blinks* She is injured? I should go and check in on her...
Maglor: *winces a little and then nods at Ithiriel like that might be a good idea*
Ithiriel: *nods at Maglor, gets up from the chair she'd set herself down in, and heads back into the 'bed' area to get on a more serviceable dress quickly*
Maglor: *sighs a little and switches into quenya* I do not think there is a choice, in regard to timing. Whether you are both ready or not.
Caranthir: *shakes his head* Elrond tends her. She had..scars..from Angband, that have not yet healed.
Maglor: *really winces at that*
Caranthir: *sighs*
Maglor: You are both stubborn. But, there is no rush, either.
Caranthir: >.>;
Ithiriel: *emerges, grabs for her cloak* Even Lord Elrond will tire quickly with healing such a thing, and if she was attacked by orcs I doubt that is the only wound. *kisses Maglor on the ear* Mind the kettle. *rushes out*
Maglor: *blinkblinks at Caranthir, then smiled at Ithiriel, and cast a glowering Noldo-look at the fell kettle forged in Angband*
Caranthir: >.> We've done things. Sort of. <.<
Maglor: ...I suppose then, there is a rush. :/
Caranthir: Not those sort of things. >.<
Maglor: ...I do not think I want to ask what sort of things you have done?
Caranthir: *eyetwitch* There has been...kissing.
Maglor: ... *is giving younger brother the 'I thought I said I wasn't going to ask...whyareyoustilltellingmethis?' look*
Caranthir: Among other things. >.>
Maglor: *sighs woefully* You are doomed.
Caranthir: I am not doomed!
Maglor: Yes. Yes, you are. *look of woe* You both are.
Caranthir: Why do you look as though I've stepped upon a kitten?!
Maglor: *sighs and announces* Because you are so hard-headed, that your head might as well be a rock set atop your shoulders.
Caranthir: ..what does that have to do with anything.
Maglor: *woooooe!look* It will take you forever to figure out that you should be with an elf and not some...fragile little mortal woman...and in the meantime, you will both suffer for it, and stupid things will happen.
Maglor: Which I will, no doubt, be called upon to either fix, or smooth over. *fidgets nervously at the thought of Caranthir acting 'stupid' meaning anything could happen, but only having that effect doubled by troublesome female Noldo*
Caranthir: Haleth was not fragile!! >.< *pounts his fist into his hand*
Maglor: ...time made her fragile, and she is dead because of it. *existential artistic woe look*
Caranthir: Such is the fate of all mortals, who's flame burns faster and brighter than most of our kind.
Maglor: *shakes his head* You seem to be attracted to those who are either going to burn out too quickly, or those who will just fuel the fire until there is a huge mess left for everyone to cope with. :/
Maglor: *pessimistic*
Caranthir: >.> Lomiel is not that bad.
Maglor: *gives Caranthir a weary little look like 'was in a brothel filled with mortals, to be eyed by them like something grand that is now cheapened as a tourist attraction' as though that says it all*
Maglor: *says as gently as possible* You will hesitate, regardless, and cause much woe for you both by doing so. My own hesitation was out of second-guessing myself, and being nervous...your hesitation is out of sheer stubborness.
Caranthir: *agrees with that assessement!* I am not going to marry. Ever. >.<
Maglor: *says in a hushed voice* I like being married.
Caranthir: ...you do?
Maglor: It has calmed me down. *like...one notch down on a very very very tall ladder, but still, that one notch is a...improvement* *of sorts?*
Caranthir: Calmed you down.
Maglor: *nodnods emphatically*
Caranthir: Really.
Caranthir: *disbeliving*
Maglor: It does not fix everything, Caranthir
Caranthir: What's the bloody point then.
Maglor: ...because you love the other person. That is the point.
Caranthir: .....
Maglor: If you can not figure that much out, Caranthir, then perhaps you should...be in no rush, as you are, right now. u.u
Caranthir: I do not wish to love again..
Maglor: That love was not returned.
Caranthir: *look of woe flashes over his face*
Maglor: That mortal woman was being more wise than you should be, at your age. *sighs mournfully*
Caranthir: If love is something worthy, than is it not worth dying for?
Maglor: *pensive, tries to put this as gently as possible to get it through thick skulls* It is, but...that mortal woman, she did not love you, as you loved her. She did not die for you. She died because she was mortal.
Caranthir: I was referring to myself. *shakes his head* I know she did not love me, in the way that I loved her, though she loved all those she cared for. I was not implying she died for me.
Maglor: Then I would have to point out that you died in pursuit of rather shiny stones, not for her, either. And you are not about to go off and die over this elf. I have a feeling the reception in the waiting halls would be... *scrunches up his nose* ...lukewarm, at best.
Caranthir: I am not going to...leap into anything. But I do not want to lead her on and hurt her. But...
Ithiriel: *knocks on the door to let them know she's back, then opens it, and steps in* I was quite annoyingly shooed away.
Caranthir: *smirk**then returns to woe*
Ithiriel: *eyes Caranthir* He is working on her back again. She has drifted into some kind of trance, and he has had to lash her more tightly to keep her still. *frowns*
Maglor: *is not looking like happy elf, no*
Ithiriel: *goes to fetch the kettle from the fire* I am not strong enough to help. *waves to the two of them* Carry on, I did not mean to interrupt.
Maglor: *solemnly* There is nothing to interupt.
Caranthir: >.> I can admit, that it has been...enjoyable.
Maglor: *sighs*
Ithiriel: *looks at Maglor while pouring the tea out* So he has decided to be as stubborn as a brick, then?
Maglor: He has.
Caranthir: I am not being ... okay. >.> I am. That makes no difference!
Maglor: *shrugs a little?*
Ithiriel: *pours her own cup out* When I realised my feelings for Maglor, I stubbornly told myself I was not interested. That I did not love him. That I never would.
Ithiriel: That I did not deserve him, that I did not want to feel that kind of PAIN again. *chuckles*
Caranthir: Yet you married him anyway.
Maglor: *now is giving Ithiriel a look of WOE*
Ithiriel: And would you like to know how long my stubbornness lasted? *shakes her head* I had already fallen in love by the time I was trying to fight it.
Ithiriel: You, brother, are swimming upstream in the Anduin. Good luck.
Caranthir: .............................
Maglor: *asks as kindly as possible* ...can't you find a...nice, sweet, mellow elf...who does not dance in brothels?
Maglor: *long pause* ... *smiles?*
Ithiriel: Her face is memorable. She fought with the King's soldiers during the war. *shrugs*
Caranthir: *mockingly* Can't you find a nice, sweet, mellow elf who does not skulk around beneath the city hunting former wraiths?
Maglor: -_-
Ithiriel: *glares at Caranthir*
Caranthir: *rolls his eyes* If you think she is so terrible, perhaps I ought to marry her to spite you >.<
Maglor: *siiiiiiiiighs*
Maglor: *tries to sound aloof, instead sounds miserable* Go ahead. It does not matter if I approve, or not, nor does it matter to anyone else, other than the two of you.
Ithiriel: *sips at her tea* I would like to think I am to be measured for all my actions in life, not merely the one I was doing when Maglor met me?
Caranthir: *glances at his brother* Then do not sound so miserable. >.<
Maglor: If you had any sensibility then you could gather if I'd approve or not, merely by my tone. *casts a weary little look at him* But, as I said, it will not matter. It only matters to you, and to her.
Caranthir: What is wrong with her? *squints at him*
Maglor: *whispers and reiterates* It does not matter what I think. Nor does it matter if our father scowls at her, either.
Caranthir: *softly, almost gently* Of course it matters what you think..
Maglor: *shakes his head a little* No, no...it does not. Had either you or Feanor said no to me, I would have bonded with Ithiriel, either sooner or later. Regardless of what you did or said to me.
Caranthir: That is irrelevant. *sighs*
Ithiriel: *might have changed her mind, though >.>*
Maglor: It is not irrelevant. -_-
Maglor: *wouldn't have changed his, but would have been a bigger nervous wreck*
Caranthir: I am not asking you to say yes or no, merely wondering why you disapprove so strongly.
Maglor: ...I refuse to answer.
Ithiriel: *frowns* *decides SHE isn't being listened to, gets up, takes her tea into the other room*
Caranthir: *glowers at his brother*
Maglor: *just sighs* *at all of it*
Caranthir: You are always like this! You voice disapproval and then do NOTHING about it!
Maglor: *flinch!winces*
Caranthir: *stands, waving his hands around and pacing*
Maglor: *still wincing* What would you rather I do? Voice approval even if I feel otherwise? Would you rather I had told Maedhros no, to fetch two stones in one hand? We both expected to die, as it was.
Maglor: I voice disapproval and it is never heeded, and I am talked out of it or proved otherwise. As I said, it does not matter.
Caranthir: I expect you to stand up for yourself! You are my BROTHER, you are not some simpering girl like we jest about!
Maglor: *rubs one hand over his face* *at times like these, swears he should have been born a woman, then thinks he would have been dragged into things, anyway, so that doesn't matter either*
Maglor: Calm down. *realizes fruitlessness of that, and just sighs again in a 'do as you will' sort of way* It is your choice, not anyone else's.
Caranthir: *growlsighgrr* We are the sum of our experiences, Maglor. And believe it or not, we always did try to weigh your opinion.
Maglor: *split-second dry look of utter complete disbelief* *almost managed a sulk!glower*
Ithiriel: *listens in, while stringing up her loom* *sighs a bit, and shakes her head at the two of them* *thinks she's going to need to join some sort of 'I Married a Noldo' support group*
'Noldorin Wives Anonymous: 'Cause you'd have to be holy to put up with this shit'
Maglor: No, you did not. Even when it was left up to me to listen to those who wished us to surrender, when Maedhros was held captive. It was all I could do to sit and wait, myself. And all that has nothing to do with your decisions, now.
Caranthir: We did! Damn it, Maglor. We did. We were just too proud and stubborn to realize you were right. *probably something Maglor has wanted to hear forEVER*
Maglor: *grabs cup of tea and starts drinking it, so he doesn't have to talk* *does not look at all relieved, pleased, nor happy to hear that* *since him being even one smidge right? did not do squat for any of them or change anything that happened*
Caranthir: *sighs, and changes subject* She is...brave, and stubborn, and stupid at times, but can sing with a sweet voice, and knows a gentle hand. Gentle enough for jewel work, at any rate.
Maglor: *damn it, finished tea, so holds the empty cup in both hands, since...well, didn't have gloves on, and feels nervously naked without them* That is good to hear.
Maglor: She is also running off, impetuously, to be attacked by orcs, it seems. And you are as gentle as a dragon on a rampage.
Caranthir: I am beginning to feel, that no matter what any of us do, something or someone, or we ourselves, will ensure we cannot remain happy for long.
Caranthir: *twitch* She was attacked while on horseback because I distracted her when last we spoke >.<
Caranthir: Because I am masterful with words and making people feel splendid.
Maglor: *appears to be considering that first part, with a slight frown*
Maglor: Then why do we even bother. Why was I allowed to live, and why were the both of you brought back. To ensure that none of us are happy, or that we continue to ruin everything we touch?
Caranthir: Nay, of course not, it is just..sometimes it feels like that, even when we -try-...
Maglor: *expression of doom and gloom while staring into empty tea cup*
Caranthir: *similar expression, and he sits down heavily and slumps in the chair* Maybe we are going about things..wrongly.
Maglor: I do not know. I doubt myself to ever come to firm or final decisions.
Caranthir: And I am overly......confident and firm.
Maglor: You would have been better off asking Maedhros, were he here, or...well, anyone, even our father, other than the twins...they would have stared at you as though perplexed. Then started to aim arrows at your feet, to see if you would dance or not.
Caranthir: *actually smiles a bit at that*
Maglor: *is not smiling, since they are not here, also*
Caranthir: Perhaps we both need to..change a little. Adapt. I do not mean change ourselves wholly and fully, but to...frankly, we both need to grow up.
Maglor: That is the problem. I did nothing but that, and growing old in such a manner, did nothing but leave me mostly insane.
Caranthir: That is not what I meant. You are more mature than I, but neither of us are as we could be.
Maglor: The bonding eased that, but it can not take such things fully away. *shakes his head a bit* I have, more or less, always been like this.
Caranthir: *punches his hand with his fist* That is it! The theatre is a good start. Perhaps a fine start >.> As is...this..marriage thing.
Maglor: There is no rush, Caranthir.
Caranthir: >.>
Caranthir: I am just trying to brainstorm ideas to make us better.
Maglor: *says mildly* It is not me that you need to worry over. Just you, and the elf you bought.
Caranthir: You are my brother, of course I...oh never mind. >.<
Maglor: *smiles* I am not about to go insane again. If I did, no doubt that Ithiriel would tell you all about it.
Caranthir: ......I either want to hug you or hit you. >.<
Maglor: *small sigh while setting the cup down* And yes, yes...I am aware that I act much like a girl. That is because I spent much more time with our mother, than the rest of you did.
Maglor: *thinks on that*
Caranthir: I regret that. *quick to admit this*
Maglor: Well, at least until she distanced herself from all the madness and greediness, and we left. And then we really left. *nods*
Caranthir: I regret that more.
Maglor: It happened. There is no changing that, now.
Caranthir: There is regret for it, and making up for it. Eventually.
Maglor: We would each need to do something...extraordinary...to make up for the whole of the ill we did, in the past.
Caranthir: How about a dozen ordinary things? You're...well ahead of me. The witch, and letting yourself be happy.
Maglor: *shakes his head* No, in sum, in total. I think we both know, that this theatre will only hold our interest so long, before...something else happens. If they did not know something was going to happen, they would not have allowed you or Feanor to come back here, as you should be. Even if I did want that. It was greedy of me to want something like that, also.
Caranthir: You think we will be needed to defend these people, before we sail. *statement* Neither of us are of the mind to let any but father hold command over us in battle, Maglor. We are more suited to command, then be commanded.
Maglor: *applies blanket statement, without further elaboration* It is only my thought on the matter, now that I am thinking on it.
Caranthir: We could raise an..nay. Nay!
Maglor: *goes to pour himself some more tea*
Maglor: Our armies tended to march to their doom and were scattered to the winds, in the end.
Caranthir: It is tempting. >.>
Maglor: I would not lead any of these mortal men, on such a crusade. I am merely saying...that I think the Valar have...set their pieces, in place.
Caranthir: And what role are we to play then?!
Maglor: I have not dwelled on that, as of yet. I suppose that...we will be given some sort of sign, or warning, or something of that sort. And then, we will know.
Caranthir: *siiiigh* I hate waiting. >.<
Maglor: *sits back down with the tea cup held in both hands* I think that I have grown too accustomed to waiting, so it does not bother me as much as it would, you.
Caranthir: You have that advantage, at least. *gets up, and walks over to his brother, and kneels next to him**in a slight undertone so CERTAIN NOLDO WIVES CAN'T EAVESDROP, says* I will follow you, brother, in this. I am proud, but I am not stupid. Of the three of us, you are the one I would trust most to be clear-headed.
Maglor: *blinks, and then looks down at Caranthir with a wistful smile* Your trust is ill-placed. I do not trust myself, half the time. And my thoughts are often a jumbled mess, which must give my wife a headache, quite often.
Caranthir: I do not think it is misplaced, if you do not trust yourself.
Maglor: Then... *sighs a little sigh* We will know what to do, when the time presents itself. I think it will be very clear. In the meantime, pass your time with the theatre, if you want my advice.
Caranthir: How is the writing coming along?
Maglor: Finished. Adapted one full-length play about some sailor losing his wife, and two short stories which are somewhat less depressing. I have also composed three pieces of music for the dancers.
Caranthir: Some things funny, I hope?
Maglor: *shakes his head* You are looking right at me, and expect comedy?
Caranthir: Dark comedy.
Maglor: Then I would have to turn our entire history into a farce, so that I could finally laugh it off. *is not serious*
Caranthir: ............. >.>
Caranthir: <.<
Caranthir: Why not?
Maglor: ......why not what? *blinkblinks*
Caranthir: Father burning to ashes would be a wonderful song for that play!
Maglor: *facepalms* *with one hand, otherwise would have poured tea on his face, had he used both hands as he initially wanted to*
Caranthir: Come now, it would be a good play!
Maglor: ...you can not be serious...
CAranthir: Deathly so, I am afraid.
Maglor: Even I would not laugh at it. And then there is the matter of finding the appropriate actors to play our parts. *though, would hire on that gay shopkeeper to play as Morgoth, as a form of revenge*
Maglor: *entertains thought for about 2.5 seconds, then shakes his head* No one would want to watch that. It would be mortifying.
Caranthir: Maybe that is what we need. They say humour is the best medicine for woe.
Maglor: I like being happy. I also think the woe is a comforting reminder not to foul things up, all over again.
Caranthir: *sighs*
Maglor: I'll try it.
Caranthir: ...you will?
Maglor: Yes. *inbetween happy naked fun time with wife* Yes, yes....perhaps I will. But I will not play a part, as myself. I think it would ruin the mockery of my own girlish woe...ing...ness.
Caranthir: *IDEA* Perhaps..the part of all of us, should be played by women.
Maglor: *gives brother a look of o.O wtf-ness*
CAranthir: why not? Morgoth should be something even more mocking.
Maglor: *considers* Well...we only have...currently...the women of the brothel, who can act....but I know who should play as Morgoth. Even if he can not act.... e.e
Maglor: He knows his shinies.
Caranthir: Oh?
Maglor: *nods, leaves it as that* I will need to write this out, and turn it into a musical. We will need talented musicians, many actresses...yes. It might work.
Caranthir: *grins* With father's special effects, the steam and water powered devices..
Maglor: Morgoth's shiny crown...
Caranthir: Aye...
Maglor: *nods* I will see if I can write this out, first.
Caranthir: *nods his head, seems..upbeat and cheerful now*
Maglor: *has to ask* What did you say that distracted her, when she rode off and ran into those orcs.
Maglor: *way to ruin upbeat and cheerful, innit?*
Caranthir: ................
Maglor: .................
Caranthir: >.> I told her she would die if she rode south.
Maglor: Why did she want to ride to the south?
Caranthir: To try to prove something to herself. I was rather insistant that she not go, then decided that I could not stop her. I was carving her memorial stone when her horse dragged her back >.>
Maglor: *idly wonders if there was some other brothel there she was trying to escape to, and if it was run by witches....then shakes his head to clear his thoughts* What is there to prove in riding to the south. *said sullenly*
Caranthir: She saw a vision.
Maglor: *sighs* I can not help but think this is an ill match. -_-
Caranthir: She said there would be war. And how is it an ill match?!
Maglor: You are apparently both impetuous, stubborn, and rush into things. I doubt either of you will temper one another's lesser qualities, in the least.
Caranthir: She listens to me. Most of the time.
Maglor: *says softly* She is riding off, distracted, after visions of war in her head, while you are letting her do so, carving her memorial?
Maglor: *shakes his head* As I said, it does not matter. You apparently seek out others who are much like yourself.
Caranthir: *sighs* I could have..tried harder to talk her out of it. -_-
Caranthir: *snidely* Perhaps I just love myself so.
Maglor: Perhaps you do.
Maglor: *said that absolutely unsnidely*
Caranthir: .............. *gets up stiffly*
Maglor: I should not have said anything. -_-
Caranthir: *twitches, opens his mouth to say something, then manages to barely think better of it and shuts his mouth*
Maglor: *speaks, since there's a pause* If you are angry, though, I would rather you yelled about it, in here, rather than at her, when she is feeling foul.
Maglor: I have my own bad habits, but I know the bad habits of my family, also. And you tend to take your anger out on others, at times.
Caranthir: *terse* It is a habit I am trying to do BETTER on. >.<
Maglor: *says in a calm whisper* Hitting me over the head after our disagreement was a splendid start.
Caranthir: *balls up fists* I apologized did I not?!
Caranthir: *really...steamed.*
Maglor: ...you did, but you did not think, beforehand, about having to apologize, when you carried out the deed in anger.
Caranthir: *SNAPS* That was one of the things that made me THINK about this!!
Maglor: You did not think about it, while you were waiting for so long?
Caranthir: YES!
Maglor: Caranthir...your temper is as foul as ever. If it was not ever going to be foul, you would not have names such as you do.
Maglor: *sips tea* *then points out, in a calm but woeful way* Perhaps her vision of war, is our sign.
Caranthir: *SLAMS his fist on the table, and storms to the door, rather than hit his brother*
Maglor: *watches him go, with a long, long sigh*
Door: *SLAMS*
Ithiriel: *winces*
Maglor: *winced also, finishes the tea, then stands up, to fetch his gloves*
Gloves: *are in bedroom*
Caranthir: *storms out of the citadel and goes somewhere to just....cool off*
Maglor: *walks into the bedroom, picks up the gloves, and pulls them on*
Ithiriel: *gets up from her weaving, walks over to him, and pulls them off*
Maglor: .... *questioning look*
Maglor: I must go speak to that elf that my brother bought. *tries to get gloves from her, without putting up a fight*
Ithiriel: *lifts both hands up, palm up, and kisses at them*
Maglor: *smiles fondly, then places his hands on the sides of her face, and kisses her, cutting it short with a sigh* I am comfortable not wearing them around you, but not out in public. I would rather have my gloves, fair Ithiriel.
Ithiriel: *hands them back to him* You cannot hide forever. *sighs, goes back to her loom*
Maglor: *pulls them on* I will not hide them, in Aman. *maybe, though there'd be nothing to cover up there* I would rather be courteous by not waving them around wildly, especially to those eating sausages impaled on sticks.
Maglor: *walks over, behind her, then leans down and places a fleeting kiss over one of her ears, this time*
Maglor: I will be back shortly. I just want to see if that elf is awake.
Ithiriel: *nods her head* She may be, by now.
Maglor: I hope so. *smiles? for her*
Ithiriel: *smiles? back?*
Maglor: Do I look presentable? *hair? is sticking up in 3839283 different directions, but that's not uncommon for him since he hasn't stopped pulling on it, or fussing with it* *no matter what, until it grows out, his hair = going to be a mess*
Ithiriel: *sets down her shuttle and gets up, to look him over, then smooths her hands through his hair to straighten it*
Maglor: *smiles at her, much more brightly*
Ithiriel: *hugs him against her* .... I would like it, if you approached this with an open mind.
Maglor: I'm trying. Blame my lineage.
Ithiriel: *nods her head* *squeezes him one more time, then goes back to her weaving*
Maglor: *hugs and then lets go* And Caranthir's ill temper. And likely the elf in question, also, whom...I'm still rather shocked by. If not appalled.
Maglor: Insulted. No, appalled. Shocked. One of those things.
Maglor: *leaves while mind is cluttered trying to figure out which it is*
Ithiriel: *sighs* I would try and speak to you about this but I believe I would make about as much headway as you did with your brother.
Maglor: *says before he closes the door* This is true. But I love you, and love you more for thinking about trying to make the attempt. *is outta there, and heads out of citadel for the healing houses*
Ithiriel: *sighs, sits back down .... unravels her weaving again, and throws her loom at the wall, just...... out of frustration*
Maglor: *can't help it, is more quiet-stubborn, which often ends up being the worst brand o' stubborn there is* *tries to find the room the elf is staying in*
Room: *is in the very back, where no one can disturb the healers trying to work in there*
Maglor: *finds it, and waits patiently until he's not going to disturb any healers*
Healers: *will not be disturbed!*
Maglor: *continues to wait* *will just wait, thank you, is being unobtrusive, and its not like he can't wait 1000 years or anything*
Elrond: *opens the door* *eyes him*
Maglor: *eyes Elrond*
Elrond: Did she send you down here in some misguided attempt to allow her to try healing this?
Maglor: *fights off a fidget-twitch* No. I came of my own accord. Is she awake?
Elrond: *arches a brow* Yes. I cannot say for how long. Do try not to overly upset her. *steps to one side* *was on his way to take another nap*
Maglor: *looks worriedly at Elrond as he's walking by and says regretfully* You came here for your daughter's wedding, and yet you are growing wearier, healing elves. *sighs, then nods and enters the room*
Maglor: *goes to Avarian's bedside, and stands there, trying to think on what he's going to say that...is not upsetting.*
Maglor: *is all rather overly upsetting, in his head*
Avarian: *is still lashed down so at least she can't kill him?* *looks up at him with bleary eyes* You are .. not Moryo.
Maglor: *combs fingers into his hair, thoroughly messing it up* No. I am not.
Maglor: He is off, being angry with me.
Avarian: *nods her head, closes her eyes* You are not here to give me good news.
Maglor: You are insightful, yet do not have enough foresight to stay out of brothels. *sighs miserably then shakes his head*
Avarian: *squeezes her hand for a moment, and follows that by a wince* *though that's not a reaction to his words, more a reaction to the BURNING* We are the sum of our actions, not one of them.
Maglor: I will say nothing further on that. *not like he NEEDS to* I wish to know of this vision, that you had.
Avarian: *squeezes her eyes a bit* It does not matter.
Maglor: It mattered enough, at some point, to you...or you would not have tried to ride south, nor be strapped down to a bed, as you are now.
Avarian: I am strapped, because the shadows are trying to win. ... or so I am told.
Maglor: Then perhaps these shadows of yours, are what gave you such a 'vision', and it is not truth.
Avarian: *sighs, shakes her head* I have been able to see things in the fire ever since I was young.
Maglor: Then what is it, that you drove you to end up like this, now?
Avarian: The shadows are ten years of Angband. *opens her eyes* You do not have to worry. I know I am beneath him.
Maglor: *sighs, slightly exasperated* That is not for me to say, it is between you both.
Avarian: If you think it does not matter, you are as foolish as I am.
Maglor: *gives her a STARE and then tries to get back on track* I want to know what this vision of yours was, so that my own fears and thoughts can either be confirmed, or ignored.
Avarian: .... I saw war, over land, and over sea. Fire, and spears, and death.
Avarian: *lowers her voice* We are not prepared.
Maglor: *nods in agreement, then asks as gently as he can* Did this land bring war, or was it brought to them, and from where?
Avarian: It brings the war, but it is unclear where the clash takes place ... I have not been South in ..... a thousand years? *ponders* Too long ago. I wished to ride to better place it.
Maglor: Tell me where you were trying to go to. I have wandered, but...alas...not far to the south.
Avarian: *shakes her head, balls up her fists again* It does not matter. It is too late, now. *blinks tears out of her eyes*
Maglor: ...how soon, then?
Maglor: *sighs softly* It is not too late.
Avarian: .... I do not know... only that ... sooner than we are prepared for. *shakes her head*
Maglor: You have told this city's king, of your vision?
Avarian: I brought the news to Estel, myself.
Avarian: I do not believe.. that this war is for us. *softly*
Maglor: That is good you told him, then. *lapses into quenya* You will need to let Elrond do his work, and do not protest. But...I do believe that we did not all end up here, on a whim. Unless you wish to see this place fall, and sit idly by when that happens.
Avarian: He does his work, and I do mine .... ...... this is my HOME. I would DIE for this City before I would sit idly by, whatever else you must think of me!
Maglor: *says rather calmly, like there's no question to it* Then this war is meant for us, as well.
Avarian: Not in the way you might think.
Maglor: I had already volunteered to go south and fight against witches. I am not about to shy away from that and your vision does not sound as clear as you would have liked it to be.
Avarian: ...... You do NOT wish to ride south ...
Maglor: Unlike you, I would not go alone. Which is why I would wish you to be in better health, as quickly as possible. I have fought against a witch, already. I know well enough, if there are armies and witches...then I could not face any of that, alone. *looks at her* Do not be stubborn.
Maglor: You are in no position to be stubborn, at present.
Maglor: *is not speaking unkindly, either, nor looking at her in an unkind manner*
Avarian: *is really ..... crying, right now* None of you should go south ..... being stubborn is how I survived this the FIRST time ..... I do not know any other way to .. fight this.
Maglor: *grabs a cloth and dabs it at her face, since he knows how annoying tears are, then confides in her* I do not think it a whim, or mere chance, that we all ended up here. Including you.
Maglor: Be it for better, or for worse.
Avarian: It will be for worse. Just ... stay here, and .... work on your Theatre ... take care of your wife ..... do not be part of this.
Maglor: I am already a part of it. If we wish to atone for the ills done, before, properly, then I doubt that it is merely to start a theatre, and put on mocking plays about ourselves. *smiles? at her*
Maglor: I also doubt Caranthir will sit idly by, either. Nor Feanor. He would not want his work in that theatre, to be sacked and pillaged. It would highly offend him.
Avarian: *still crying* *whimpers* I will fail him .. again..... *was trying to PREVENT all that*
Maglor: You will not.
Maglor: You are guilty of the same thing that I am, letting one's fears get the better of them. You will not fail him, or I will...stare at you in a most harsh manner. *continues to wipe the tears away* You are both braver than I am. So stop weeping. Leave the tears to the professionals such as myself.
Avarian: *shakes her head* I will .... I saw it.... *squeezes tears out of her eyes and ponders just letting the shadows win now*
Maglor: Then consider it a warning, this thing you saw, and change it.
Avarian: WHAT DO YOU THINK I WAS TRYING TO DO!?
Maglor: By riding south, by yourself? That is not changing anything. That was riding to your death, to avoid things, entirely.
Avarian: I was NOT riding to my death. I was riding to better understand what I saw and ..... *digs her fingers into the blankets* *winces* ..... go away.
Maglor: *sighs silently*
Maglor: No. -_- *tosses the cloth aside as he stands upright* Do you love him or not?
Maglor: *is TRYING to find something endearing or at least UNDERSTANDABLE about this she-elf, here* *and not lose his own temper, in the process*
Avarian: *sighs softly* I love him enough to never have cared that he did not love me in return. I buried him with his woman. I carried his sword - but never used it for war again. I love him.
Maglor: *wonders how, then, the witches got ahold of Caranthir's sword* *gives her a dubious little look, like he's pondering that, without asking*
Avarian: It does not matter. It never did. But that is how I feel. *grits her teeth a bit, growls*
Maglor: Then how can you fail him? You do realize, he is just as frustrated by how he feels, than you are about your own feelings.... *gives up, waves hands around* I AM TRYING TO LIKE YOU!
Maglor: THAT IS GOING TO BE VERY DIFFICULT, IF YOU ARE TELLING ME TO GO AWAY!
Avarian: *sighs, softly* You are upsetting me, and making the battle I am trying to fight over here harder than it already is. I am easier to like when I am not in pain and covered with wounds, and therefore extremely grouchy.
Avarian: And that is before you add the things whispering in my ear or the memories I do not want or the visions of his death - AGAIN - that I cannot prevent - AGAIN.
Maglor: He is not going to die, unless I am there dying also.
Maglor: A second time, I meant.
Maglor: ...third time.
Maglor: IT DOES NOT MATTER! THE NEXT TIME!
Maglor: *paces while fidgeting*
Avarian: *winces*
Maglor: *winces also, then mumbles an apology*
Avarian: *would so be curled in a ball right now if she wasn't lashed down*
Maglor: *paces, then stands in one place with much fidgeting* You are leaving this vision very vague. You know more than you are saying. Specifics.
Avarian: *works her throat* I have told you everything I know.
Maglor: *hugs himself and stares at her with a slight frown* ...yet you seem to know the how and the who, when it comes to dying or failing others. And are neglecting to divulge those things to anyone, but yourself.
Avarian: *doesn't have the headspace to even handle this right now* It is not perfect... I interpret where I know I should not, out of fear.
Maglor: *sighs, then...throws up his hands a little, like he's relenting* Then I shall go away, as you want, and will trouble you no more.
Maglor: I am sorry that I raised my voice.
Avarian: .... Maglor..
Maglor: ...yes?
Avarian: There are many things going on right now. .... I can sort through what you need to know later, better... maybe.... I know you need to know.
Avarian: It is just ... difficult, right now.
Maglor: I have troubled you, through poor timing. On my part. Do not worry over this, merely...get better, or my brother will be as weary and woeful as I used to be at the worst of times. You do not need to speak of it, again.
Avarian: .. I am trying ... he told me to prove him wrong. ... so I am trying.
Maglor: *says simply in a softened tone of voice* Then prove him wrong. Its a rewarding pursuit, at times, to see the look on his face when it happens. *nods to her and heads for the door*
Maglor: *has decided its better to leave brother and she-elf to...sort things out on their own, yes*
Avarian: *goes back to crying and generally feeling miserable*
Maglor: *thought talking now might curb the stubborn streak, that seems a consistant thing where Caranthir's taste in females is concerned* *sighs* *still thinks she's impetuous, stubborn, angry (rightfully so), and...was trying to remain calm, failed miserably, thinks distance = better*
Avarian: *will probably try later when she's not on the defensive and neither is he* *is a BITCH when she's on the defensive, knows it*
Maglor: *no, no, it is his fault for going there too soon, so goes back to citadel room, and sits down, and starts trying to...write a comedy...which is not working very well, since it ends up depressing*
Ithiriel: *gave up on Loom and went to go try and FORCE her hand to grip a bow*
Maglor: *there is no winning here, so just...gives up.* *writes depressing play in which its planned for everyone to die spectacularly in the end*
Ithiriel: *eventually gives up on that, comes back to the room, drags him out of his chair, and makes him cuddle her until he smiles again*
Ithiriel: *before they BOTH go insane*
Maglor: *in fact, wrote out last few pages first, where everyone dies spectacularly* *before he was dragged out of his chair, and ended up partaking in sigh-filled cuddle-fest* *smiles? a bit*
Ithiriel: *nuzzles at him and does THINGS to him until he smiles? maybe?*
Maglor: *is feeling v. v. terrible, but does smile afterward?* *so it was a temporary reprieve!*
Ithiriel: *manages to not feel like crap now, is relieved, feels accomplished* *helped husband!*
Maglor: *does things to make her smile, then after they've both had their smileyness, is back to dwelling on it all again* *hopes wife is not frustrated with him too much after that, at least*
Ithiriel: *would be pulling her own stitches out at this point, if she had any, but .... will have to talk about it later*
Maglor: *maybe will talk about it, or...might just get it out by writing the rest of spectacularly depressing play with spectacular deaths, yes*
Ithiriel: *no, WILL talk about it*
Ithiriel: *LATER though*
Maglor: *no, will write play*
Maglor: *then maybe talk about it?*
Ithiriel: *>< >< >< fine*
Maglor: *emphasis on 'maybe'* *loves her though?*