Forgotten harper, singer doomed. (gold_cleaver) wrote in untold_logs, @ 2008-06-12 22:57:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | ithiriel, maglor |
Who: Ithiriel, Maglor
What: Ice Sword Duels and Fell Tea-Kettles! Oh, and talk about sailing. F0 rlz.
When: After the sword is finished, sometime around when Galadriel went on her walk and ran into a knife Khamul.
Ithiriel: *sitting in front of Aerhen's door, like she does most days, with sword across lap and gem in her hands*
Maglor: *makes his way to the house and finally pauses to take a breath like he hasn't had a chance to do even that, since Feanor dug the stone out of the snow* *not that he minds! hasn't been busy in ages...unfortunately, that's literally and not figuratively e.e* *knocks on the door and says in westron* Its Maglor, and if you are an easterling woman who does not belong within? I really do have a sword now, and I will weild it against you, if I must.
Ithiriel: *blinks up at the door, and laughs a bit, then tucks the gem and sword away and gets up to let him in* She has finished it, then?
Maglor: It is, indeed, very finished and very fine a sword. *holds it up in all its frosty icy looking goodness so she can see the gemstone set in it, also, as soon as she opens the door* *waits*
Ithiriel: *blinkblinks at it, and gasps a bit, clearly impressed with the workmanship and the way the stone fits into it* *as an afterthought, steps aside so that he can come in* Please... come in... I keep forgetting to get you a key. I think ... I may just give you mine.
Ithiriel: *refraining from reaching a hand out to touch the sword, actually, since it is an item that at once commands that sort of attention and also warns people away*
Maglor: Wait until I am done with my task, you do not need to give me your key, Ithiriel. *smiles as he walks past and then sets the sword down on a nearby table* ... *watches her* ...you may pick it up, it is very light, and it does not feel like it a thing of darkness...I do not mind. I think it is a thing of wonder, that Feanor could forge such a sword as this, while in a mortal body.
Ithiriel: He ... is still quite gifted, that much is definitely true. *walks up to the sword, and lightly touches her finger to it, then traces it along the blade, which has quenya markings from bottom to tip* It is a bit cold to the touch, as well... like the winter has been trapped inside it, waiting to be unleashed upon the unwary. *smiles, and nods* But it does not have a bad feeling to it. That is... very surprising.
Maglor: *nods and smiles* It will be as quick and biting as a cold, sharp wind during the midst of winter. I believe that was his intention from the start, since the witch that bore their swords cast fire upon them. But it is not some foul thing, not at all. Had it been, I would be compelled to set it aside and not use it, as it might cause some catastrophe. I shall be careful as it is, regardless.
Ithiriel: *picks it up off the table, and does a few sword forms with it, impressed at the way it glides through the air, then sets it down*
Maglor: *watched that intently, like he's impressed by merely looking at her* It suits you, also.
Ithiriel: It is light, as well. *nods approvingly* Had I not decided to put away the sword, and had my sword not already been a good one, I might ask him to make me something as well. Or ... her.
Ithiriel: You should test it, before you go.
Ithiriel: And... train with it, a bit. It is much lighter than your current one.
Maglor: She might get it in her head to do so, as it is. *blinks and then shakes his head* I will, but in private. I do not want to practice with another, and not know what it is going to do, although it might react differently when it meets that witch. That sword seems to have a life of its own, or merely accepts what it is, and that is humbling to bear such a thing.
Ithiriel: How do you know, that you are practiced enough at fighting others, if you do not train with someone else? *eyes him* Train with me.. I can probably take whatever the weapon might throw at me.
Maglor: *shakes his head and looks like he's trying not to go panicky at the thought of it* No, I would not dare. If something happened to you, then...I do not know if I would want to weild it after...
Maglor: *is being all hesitant!*
Ithiriel: *frowns* *gets an idea, unsheathes her own sword and flips it toward him, hilt first* Test the weight of this one....
Maglor: *takes it, turns away and flips it in his hand, then holds it out at arm's length so he can look down the blade, nods and takes a couple of swings* Heavier than the one with the gem in it, but not unsteady, it is also very swift...but still would cut deeply if swept at the right angle, I think.
Maglor: *sighs and then holds it back out to her, hilt-first* I am rusty, I admit. I have only my memories.
Ithiriel: *eyes the hilt, but doesn't take it back yet* It would be incredibly foolish to go into this, with only your memories to guide you.
Maglor: *sighs and looks solemnly back at her* Do you wish me to practice, or are you using it as an excuse to not speak on why you dropped the stew bowl in your kitchen, after spying an imaginary bug?
Ithiriel: *blinks* I had....forgotten all about that, truthfully. And I do wish you to practice. I am ... worried, and I feel I have a reason to worry... *runs a hand through her hair* Besides all the usual reasons I aught to have.
Maglor: I have not forgotten, and it will be mentioned again, but can wait if you wish it. Until I return. *sighs softly and then nods* I will use your sword, then, and you will take mine. Then I will have to go forth and sing and play music for coins, so that I can afford a suitable sheath, as well as to pay to borrow a horse.
Ithiriel: *tries to decide if waiting until later will get her out of having to speak about this, at all, while pushing furniture around to make enough room to spar him* It is not a subject I wish to discuss, especially not when I am about to take a blade in my hand and wield it against you. *admits this, calmly, and ties her hair back*
Maglor: *is holding her sword in one hand and giving her a blinky look like he's starting to wonder if this is a good idea, or not....*
Maglor: *twitches his left hand like its missing something, stares down at it*
Maglor: *hm's and then goes to push a chair further aside*
Ithiriel: *picks up his old sword, and tests it a bit, doing a few half-crescent moves and twirls*
Maglor: *sees that and eyes go round* Not that one!
Ithiriel: Not that one? *blinks* You do not want me to use the new one, surely....
Maglor: *quietly* That one has seen too much blood, already. I would rather know, by watching, what the new one is capable of, if I am on the receiving end.
Maglor: *and then does not have to subject her to such testing-it-out*
Ithiriel: *blinks* ... I see.. *sets it down, and hefts the new one in her hand again* *twirls it in her palm and faces him, then nods*
Maglor: *nods like he's ready but is pausing so it looks like he's waiting, even if he's just mulling things over in his head, like he's recalling how it used to be, finishes THAT with a wince and decides its better to just...go with the flow, so to speak*
Ithiriel: *tilts her head to one side, regards him, and then advances*
Maglor: o.O
Maglor: *takes a step back and bliiiiiinks at her*
Maglor: *eyedarts suddenly and blurts out* I am on guard.
Maglor: *yes, that's it......riiiiiiiiight.*
Ithiriel: We are practicing. I am not going to harm you unnecessarily. You are not going to harm me unless it is an accident. But you are going to have to be on the offensive when you meet the witch. She is not going to come to you.
Maglor: *sighs wearily and nods*
Ithiriel: *darts back a bit to give them more room* Just come at me. It will be fine.
Maglor: *hesitates again like he's thinking it over, figures that he can still be mindful of not going into some sort of...angry battle frenzy or the likes, and then raises the sword and comes at her as though finally on the offensive*
Ithiriel: *nods approvingly, blocks, pushes him off a bit, and circles*
Maglor: *doesn't look like he's approving at all of this, is pushed back so circles her and then attacks once again*
Ithiriel: *parries the attack, effortlessly .... notes the elasticity of the blade and is really quite impressed, decides Feanor's work is really unparallelled by anything these days* *thinks she notices some frost where the two blades met*
Maglor: *noted it also, pops back a step, swings the sword again and then swiftly sidesteps, bringing the blade back down again, but not so much that it isn't easy for her to parry also...at least is remembering a bit more*
Ithiriel: *does parry that strike, with a bit more effort than before, and sidesteps, bringing her own blade around to keep him too busy to attack her* *so far, is being a bit casual about this, like she could easily be playing cards or reading a book instead of swinging a blade around*
Maglor: *is, perhaps, overthinking things, but always had a sorry tendency to do that when practicing* *parries the blows and seems much lighter on his feet now, than before, as well as the strikes starting to become faster and more frequent*
Ithiriel: *finds herself having to pay more attention now, and actively parry, block, and dodge his strikes* *goes into that mental place where it's all blades and movement, and focuses only on the fight, instead of letting her mind wander*
Maglor: *conversely, his mind is wandering to battles long ago, and while he was before hesistant, isn't shying away from it now, is sidestepping, swaying, moving forward and back, as well as making certain to block and to strike low and high, so its not an easy 'I could be playing a game of chess' thing now* *would blame that on having six brothers who were very skilled at fighting and hunting and the likes, and being used as a practice dummy of sorts*
Ithiriel: *is finding that the longer she goes through the moves, the harder it is to do them, and can't decide if that's her being tired, or the sword itself fighting her - like it knows she isn't the one meant to wield it* *either way, it starts making her more clumsy, instead of graceful* *the end result being that the next time he attacks, the blade ends up slicing down her arm a bit before she parries it off*
Maglor: *makes a choked little noise and drops the sword down*
Maglor: I'm sorry! I did not mean to!
Ithiriel: *blinks at him for a few minutes, confused and trying to clear her head* ... hu... what? ... Why....?
Maglor: *takes the sword from her and sets it back on the table, before rushing back to her and...tries to press his hands against her arm to stop the cut from bleeding too much*
Ithiriel: *looks down at her arm* OH. ...*squints at it* Maglor, it is barely a scratch...
Maglor: *is cursing vividly and most panicked-like in quenya*
Maglor: I should have been more careful... >.<
Ithiriel: *remains calm* *wasn't expecting that to happen, honestly, thought she'd be a bit more graceful than that, though.. she really should have been prepared for what'd happen if he DID cut her* I should have been on better guard. *pulls his hands off the cut, gently* It is fine. Please...
Ithiriel: See? It is not even bleeding anymore.
Ithiriel: *points at it, smiles?*
Maglor: ....you were doing so well, and it did not seem like you wanted me to hesitate and... *sighs and looks at it, then rests both hands on her arm, leaning down so he can INSPECT IT*
Maglor: *kisses just above where the scratch started and murmurs an apology, regardless*
Ithiriel: I did not want you to hesitate. You were doing very well. It is my own fault for not doing as well, and ... that just is not your fault, please don't apologize...
Maglor: You WERE doing well, though. You were, you were doing much better than I. *frowns a bit and looks regretful*
Ithiriel: It was getting ... harder. To use the thing. *frowns* You may want to keep that in mind, in your own battles while using it, though I think it merely realised that the wrong person was trying to wield it...
Maglor: ...perhaps it is just that you are weary again, or... *shakes his head softly* I will bear that in mind.
Ithiriel: *shakes her head, as it's begun to buzz a bit* I was actually worried that I would cut you.
Maglor: I would have rather it be me with the scratch, than you.
Maglor: *rests his hands on the sides of her face*
Ithiriel: Well... you will need all of your limbs without scratches, to face what you are about to face. I at least can stay at home and rest, with nothing better to do but heal people and think about you.
Maglor: *siiiiiiighs* I would not have you give up fighting as well. I think it wiser for a healer to protect those she's caring for, and herself, than for her to merely sit next to a sickbed.
Ithiriel: If they need protection, I will protect them.
Ithiriel: *looks up into his eyes* It is merely that many more need healing, than protection, these days. ... I suppose I could not merely sit next to a sickbed, either, without being busy with something else.
Ithiriel: In these days since I started watching over Aerhen, I have sharpened my knives and sword more times than I care to mention.
Maglor: *nods a little at that, in agreement* But it is better to be prepared, and I know you can do so. You are quick also. *pets his hands over her face and says softly* Fair Ithiriel, I would not want you to sit idle. I would rather have a happy...healer....who can still fight as she wishes to, be it with bow or sword...than a someone who feels as though that is all she can do, is set by a bedside. *almost said 'wife' or 'mate' but caught himself*
Maglor: *says hopefully?* ...you are probably far better with a bow, than I. The irony of that being my love of stringed instruments.
Ithiriel: I am .... about as good as anyone else who spent any time in Lorien or Imladris training with one. There are elves who are known for their bowmanship, who I might on a fair day beat, or might also beat me. *shrugs her shoulders* Perhaps between healing shifts I will work in the training yards, with the youth. That way I will not forget how to fight.
Maglor: *smiles and then...sneaks a peek at her arm again to MAKE ABSOLUTELY SURE IT IS NOT BLEEDING >.>*
Ithiriel: *already applied some healing so it would scab over* *smiles?* See? It is fine.
Maglor: *relaxes a bit more*
Maglor: *looks like he still feels guilty over it* When next we practice, as I am certain we will from time to time...I will be more cautious.
Ithiriel: *flexes her arm for him, too, so that he can see she still can* *nods her head* Well ... and I will use a different weapon, and be mindful, as well. I was honestly getting clumsy, otherwise I would be fine now.
Maglor: *stares into her eyes and sighs a little* You are still somewhat weary, aren't you.
Ithiriel: *stubbornly stares back, and shakes her head* I am fine. It has been a good day.
Maglor: *staaaaares*
Maglor: *blinkblinks*
Maglor: ....why do I get the sense that you are not being truthful? -_-
Ithiriel: ... I do not know.
Maglor: ...Ithiriel... *says her name in a long sigh*
Ithiriel: *picks her sword up off the floor, and picks up a cloth to clean it* *eyes him* Maglor..
Ithiriel: You worry too much. Honestly.
Maglor: What suitor of any use would I be, if I did not worry over you?
Ithiriel: ... well ..... *eyedarts* ... I suppose a bad one, at that...
Maglor: It is not as though I am going to slap your hand and say 'nay, Ithiriel, do not do anything to ever make me worry, now go sit in the corner like a good little elven maid and do not give me cause for concern.'
Ithiriel: *decides the sword is sufficiently clean, and sheathes it* Ah, but you may very well get that way, by the time you return and discover who you really fell in love with. *winks at him* I am ... very stubborn.
Maglor: ...and I am not? If I was not, I would not have marched off with the others in the direction of Angband. Though I regret much afterward, that does not make me the picture of perfect lenience toward others.
Ithiriel: ... We are perfect for eachother. *chuckles softly, and starts putting her furniture back where it belongs* ... It will, I think, end up being me that backs down in the end, most times. You may be more stubborn than I am.
Maglor: Alas, for my attempts as of late to make reason of things, while being stubborn in my own way. *helps her with moving things* I still would not ever tell you to sit in a corner, as that would make things very boring for the both of us.
Ithiriel: Good, for I would most seriously despise you for it, even if I loved you in every other way. *sets a chair in its place, and pulls on her rug to move it back into position* *has to bend over to do that, so... Maglor probably has a nice view right now*
Maglor: *opened mouth to say something but now has this curious little head-tilt while noticing said nice view, eyes go round as he mentally slaps himself for staring like that* *even if...well...liked it...liked the view alot >.>*
Maglor: ...well....I would not...want you...to despise me....for I love you, very much....
Ithiriel: *stands up straight, rubs at her head for a second - carefully disguises that as pushing her hair back into place, and smiles at him* I would not wish to despise you either, for it would make loving you as much as I do less sweet. Though I suppose we wil have our ... disagreements, at times.
Maglor: *is watching her again, or still...or...whatever, is watching her* I am certain we will have those, and it might not bode well that I am looking forward to them, should they happen. Or if they happen. For all the qualities I have that make me like my father and brothers, I still am the most like my mother.
Ithiriel: I do not know what she was like. But I think she must have been gentle, and patient, and she must have loved music like you do. Mainly what is written concerns you... your brothers, your father. I have tried to read up on the histories, as well, since you arrived. *But spent most of the time sleeping >.>*
Maglor: *tells her, so she knows and doesn't have to read up on such things* She was gentle of spirit, and known as 'the wise' for a reason. It is likely her wisdom that estranged her from my father, ere we departed. Her hair was as red as an autumn leaf, and her voice was sweetness and light when she sang.
Maglor: If she could withstand the temperment of Feanor, then I feel that I have a very good chance, withstanding your stubborness.
Maglor: You are much less stubborn, than my father is.
Maglor: *adds very mildly, like he's making note of this and not pushing the matter too much* ...you never speak of your family, I've noticed. You know more of mine, than I know of yours.
Ithiriel: *takes all of that in, and then blinks her eyes* I do not have as famous a family as yours. *tilts her head, and looks thoughtful* And it is not as big, either, so it is easy to forget to mention it.
Maglor: Is that 'fame' or 'infamy'? That is a question better asked, when it comes to me or my family. *starts to make HER some tea, and if she's smart, she'll be wary of it after the point that the water in the kettle is hot enough to be poured in a cup* I would still want to know who they are or what they were like, when you are ready to share such things as that.
Ithiriel: *wonders why she aught to be wary of the tea* *collapses into a chair, and watches him put the kettle on, then lets out a bit of a sigh* Some would argue fame, some infamy. It is easy to look at the actions of your family, point a finger, and cry that they were all horrible deeds. Yet they were not all horrible, for all the bad actions are also laced with good. Even your father's craftsmanship had as many good points as bad.
Maglor: And yet, they were not used for good when the light of the two trees dimmed and died out, leaving us all in darkness. *sighs and watches the kettle, with his head tilted like he's waiting to listen for the sound of boiling water* We were not the first nor the last to pluck the silmarils out of Morgoth's crown, but too eager were we, to steal the two we could reach, thinking we would both die and the oath would at least be fulfilled. *shakes his head* I would find your family far less...muddled...than my own.
Ithiriel: As to my family .... My mother, is dead. My father, was a healer... he tried very hard to teach me his ways, after the one war, bit it failed miserably. I was an incredible disappointment, at every opportunity, and it drove a very large wedge between us. Even before my mother died, my father could not stand to be around me for any length of time, because I preffered bow and sword to healing and books.
Ithiriel: When she died, it only got worse, and it was to the point recently where instead of sending letters begging me to sail with him, he stopped sending any at all. It was only because of another's letter, that I learned he left.
Ithiriel: .. Perhaps only less muddled, merely because there are not more of me. *winks at him*
Maglor: *blinks when he hears that, and looks back at her*
Maglor: ...he sailed, without you?
Ithiriel: *nods her head* He desperately needed it, though. I do not begrudge him that. Merely, I would have wished to know from his hand, at least. I could have rode north, to wish him farewell.
Maglor: I fear that I would have only harsh words, should I have met him at the time. Count us lucky that I was not able to, for it seems cold to not let you know. He was your father, above and beyond however much he might have needed to sail. *exhales and it comes out a soft sigh*
Maglor: *stares down at the tea kettle and then finds himself asking* Why have you not sailed, also?
Ithiriel: It was never my intention to. *shakes her head* These lands still hold too much that I am interested in watching over.
Maglor: So you mean not to sail, at all. You would rather live here and fade away with great age, and I still find it a wonder that I did not do that by now. *smiles faintly as he makes his way into the kitchen for the tea and some cups* Or do you say such things, as you know that I can not sail, and bonding with me means that you would not have such an option.
Maglor: *at least while peeking through jars and things for tea leaves, he doesn't have to hide a look of woe*
Ithiriel: I say such things,because they are true, and it was a decision I made long before you came into my life.
Maglor: *sniffs at the contents of a jar, decides it smells like tea, and in his woe, starts putting big hefty pinches of it into the cups* Even so, if you wished to, some day, and stubbornly changed your mind, I would not...stop you from doing so.
Ithiriel: I always meant never to sail... I think I love mortals too much. The things they build, the way they live... I want to see what will happen, now that Aragorn is in charge....
Ithiriel: Perhaps I never wanted to see my mother again, or I worried that I would see the one I loved with someoe else. Perhaps I merely do not feel the call. *shrugs her shoulders* It was just something I never wanted. Even when some were pushing me in that direction.
Maglor: ... *is quiet at that, then walks out with the two cups, puts them on a table, grabs hold of the kettle and starts pouring while mulling things over*
Ithiriel: ... And .. thank you, but, I do not think I will change my mind.
Ithiriel: *rubs at the side of her head a moment, thoughtfully* ... Though I thought you were all forgiven?
Maglor: ...were we? If so, then why were they still stuck in the halls of waiting, all this time. *shakes his head and notices he's nearly overflowed that cup while pouring, switches over to the other cup and pours* I do not think I can sail. That was a choice that I made, at the end, to fight alongside Maedhros, rather than to choose to sail back and face their verdict, as I should have.
Ithiriel: Because the Doom was very specific....
Ithiriel: ... I swear I have a book on this somewhere, but you might want to speak to someone about it ... the Lady, perhaps...
Ithiriel: Though I know, it is only a very small hope. Me and Gladharil already spoke on it, some, ourselves.
Maglor: *is pouring very slowly, its a mere trickle, so leans one hand on the table while he listens with a pensive expression on his face* ...Artanis would not be forgiving, I do not think...
Ithiriel: Her name is Galadriel now, and ... *gentles her voice a bit* Forgive the correction, but I hardly think that the years could change you so much, but have no effect on her at all.
Maglor: *looks very deeply thinky about that, and a sigh is cut off when THAT cup does overflow and the hot water spills onto his hand* *hissysigh! leaps back, with kettle, nearly tosses it, stops self, shakes out his hand*
Maglor: ...I simply do not think...she would...it was a horrible time...had by all! >.o *waves hand around!*
Ithiriel: *jump up and hurries over to him, takes the kettle with one hand, and his injured hand with the other, and instantly gets to healy!work on the burn* ... I am sorry, I should not have brought it up....
Maglor: *shakes his head, then doesn't want her seeing the hands, so quickly pulls it away in case healy!work involves taking the glove off* ...its all right...it is not as though I haven't had...plenty of time to...think on it, myself... *smiles?*
Ithiriel: *frowns* ... give your hand here, please, I am not going let you run around with a burn that I can aid somehow.
Maglor: *blinks and is like o.O* *hides it behind his back*
Maglor: *POINTS! with his other hand* Look, your tea is ready.
Maglor: My hand will recover. *nodnods*
tea kettle: *reigns triumphant at boiling water to burn elfy!hands with*
Ithiriel: *gives him a stern look for a few seconds, then sighs, and goes back to her chair*
Maglor: *eyes it like it is a FELL!tea-kettle, forged in ANGBAND*
Maglor: *gives his hand one last shaking out, then points at the tea again* Would you like me to bring you a cup? *since its swirling with a whooooooole lot of loose tea leaves*
Ithiriel: *is always most unsettled when people won't let her tend to them* *sniffs at the tea lightly, allowing its scent to calm her a bit* I can get a cup... you should sit, and get some rest. You were up in the mountains, and have probably had a long day tending to your pink moose.
Maglor: No, no, I'm fine. Here. *is holding out a cup of tea to her already* My pink moose is sleeping, and it was not a bother. I let my mind rest for an hour or two, overnight...
Maglor: *yes, so she can sniff it*
Maglor: *and take it, and drink it*
Maglor: ... *smiles?*
Ithiriel: *takes the tea, sips it?* *smiles?*
Maglor: *smiles!* *walks back over, takes the other cup, drinks, then makes a face like something is 'off' and stares down at the cup, tuuuuuurning slowly so his back is facing her and he can pick a bit of the 'tea' leaf away from his lower lip >.>*
Maglor: *discreetly makes a face like 'bleeeeeeeh' with his tongue sticking out, so he can pick another piece of soggy leaf off the tip of said tongue*
Ithiriel: *definitely thinks something is off with the tea* *blinks her eyes* ... What pot did you get this tea from, again?
Maglor: ...umm...the rounded green glazed one... >.>;
Maglor: Is that bad? *trying not to shudder*
Ithiriel: *pales a bit* Oh ... uhm..
Maglor: *sniffing at it, then tries another sip, makes a huge blech face and sets it down*
Ithiriel: I think perhaps it would be a good idea if you sat down. *had about as many sips, before she decided something wasn't right, too*
Maglor: I thought it smelled like tea, when I sniffed it in the jar...perhaps I should have asked... *turns and looks at her like o.O* ...why?
Ithiriel: ... Because the stuff in the green glazed jar is the tea laced with things for mortals with injuries, who need to be put to sleep.
Ithiriel: I have never tried it on elves, so I have no idea what it will do to either of us. Perhaps nothing, as we had so little of it...
Maglor: ...but that wouldn't work on us...would it? *starts wiping off his tongue with his fingers*
Maglor: *nodnods like she's right! perhaps nothing!*
Maglor: *sits down next to her, trying to act all calm, cool, and aloofly elvish now*
Maglor: *like THAT will make sleepy-time tea...not work*
Ithiriel: ... I will go and get the tea I brew.... *needs that tea, it has stimulants in it* And then we can have a cup of that, as it will likely counteract the other tea, and you can... go and sing on the streets, was that what you were planning on doing?
Maglor: Yes....I really should do that. *curls up where he's sitting, with his knees hugged to his chest, like he's sitting on top of a rock instead of in anything resembling a chair or some such*
Maglor: *sighs and then starts to get a half-opened-eyed dreamy expression*
Ithiriel: *rises, and makes her way into the kitchen to get the right tea, then returns, stumbling a bit on her way back* ... ... *has new tea cups, sets them down, and starts pouring more hot water*
Ithiriel: *stares at him* Maglor? *waves her hand in front of his face*
Maglor: *still sitting there but now has a faint grin on his face* *blinks, then looks up at her* Yes?
Ithiriel: I think that .. tea... may be effecting us ... you have this... really quite... dreamy expression on your face.
Maglor: ...did I? Oh. *blinkblinks and rubs a couple fingers against a closed eye*
Maglor: Yes, I think that I should try to stay awake. There is still a bit more to be done, before I can leave.
Ithiriel: *drowsily pushes a cup towards him*
Maglor: *takes it and sips it eagerly!*
Maglor: You should sit, too, I should have made this tea....since I made a mistake with the first cups I made.
Ithiriel: *plunks into a chair, takes her new tea cup, stares at it, continues staring at it* Nay ... it is alright.... you did not know where this tea was...
Maglor: ...I'm not a very good...tea-maker. *sipping at it, then looks at her and blinks* Ithiriel?
Ithiriel: *blinks her eyes at him, has a similar dreamy look on her face* *giggles* I cannot lift the cup.
Maglor: *sheepishly grins, sighs slowly and then sets his cup aside and stands, moves over and takes the cup, then holds it to her lips*
Maglor: One sip, then I will put you into the bed, and I will keep watch so that nothing happens to your charge.
Ithiriel: *takes a sip, trying to get together enough will to take the cup away from him and hold it herself* Nay, I cannot... sleep... there is too much to do.
Maglor: ...it is not as though you are mortal and in a race against time itself, to get all your wants and desires accomplished by tomorrow. *sets the cup down and kisses the side of her face, before picking her up and carrying her into 'his' room...which he hasn't been using very much, has he? XD*
Ithiriel: But I am in a race against time, for time is taking you away from me sooner rather than later... *complains, while being carried*
Maglor: I will return to you. *sounds sure of that now, and is more assured, since at least he knows he can still hold his own in a sparring match...even if it got a little more carried away than he would have ever wanted >.<* *carries her into the bedroom and lays her down on the bed* Even if I must crawl back, as I said before.
Ithiriel: *yawns a bit and clings to him slightly* I was working on .. something for you, and .... for you to take with you, but it is not ready, and I fear it never will be if I sleep.... and then you will not have it....
Maglor: ...if it is a surprise, I would not ruin it by asking. *smiles at the clinging and...well...scoots her over and hugs onto her after laying down by her side* *but that is as FAR as anything is going to get, since...well, is naturally very wary of doing anything further for obvious reasons* ...how much longer do you need? For I think it might take me a fair amount of time, to earn enough coins singing to buy a proper sheath for that sword, or to pay for a horse.
Ithiriel: ... if I work hard ..... two more days? Perhaps three... *snuggles in against him, with an extremely happy sigh* If you are returning... you may borrow my horse, as I do not ride her enough, and will not be going anywhere...
Maglor: *is drinking in all the snuggling and smiling a bit despite himself* ...then I would leave sooner, and I do not want any harm to come to your horse.
Ithiriel: *yawns a bit more and rests her head against him* *if she was a cat, she would so be purring right now*
Maglor: *will just ponder that and...hasn't yawned in a very long time, but he's doing so now since those things do seem to be contagious*
Maglor: *pets the tips of his fingers through her hair*
Ithiriel: *mumbles* love you... *drifts off, still clinging*
Maglor: *sighs out a very soft 'love you' in return and appears to be back in that half-awake (trying to stay awake) dreamy expression again*