lordoflorien (lordoflorien) wrote in untold_logs, @ 2008-06-17 18:39:00 |
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Entry tags: | celeborn, elrond, feanor, galadriel, ithiriel, maglor |
Yes yes, he needs icons XD
Who: Galadriel, Celeborn, Feanor, Elrond!npc, healers, Maglor, Ithiriel, sleeping!aragorn, a woeful teacup
What: Uh, Celeborn puts on his badassed hat and gets all lordly on Elrond's ass. It's awesome. XD THE TEACUP EXPLAINS ALL! Then he goes to talk sense into Maglor
Where: Houses of Healing, Osgiliath
When: recently
Galadriel: *snaps her eyes into focus, with a weary sigh* *wonders for a moment where she is, then realises she must still be in the healing houses... but has no memory of being put in a bed, which is very disturbing*
Celeborn: *puts a hand on hers*
Galadriel: *finds his eyes with hers, smiles a git dreamily*
Celeborn: *holds her eyes with his, then whispers* You did well.
Galadriel: How is he? *whispers, and smiles softly at him*
Celeborn: He has yet to wake. *glances at the King* But he is stable.
Elrond: *looks up from where he was sitting* Ah, she is awake.
Celeborn: *glances at him* Aye, she is *nods his head* Where is Arwen? She should be allowed to visit.
Feanor: *heads down from the Citadel, after a nice conversation with Beruthiel, and decides to stop at the healing houses first*
Elrond: No one is to disturb Aragorn at this time. Not even Arwen. *firmly*
Celeborn: *raises an eyebrow* I think she should be allowed.
Elrond: She will be upset, and hover, when there is nothing to be done but sit and wait. Better she were off trying to keep busy with some other task. I have enough weeping elven maidens to deal with as it is.
Healer: *pokes her head in the room* A very literate Easterling Woman is here, looking for Ithiriel...
Elrond: *blinks* She requires rest, and aught not to be disturbed, either. I already let one person in to see her today.
Healer: This one is very insistant. *shrinks away from Elrond's glare*
Elrond: *is, indeed, glaring*
Celeborn: Let her in. *overrules!*
Elrond: *turns his glare to Celeborn now!*
Feanor: *steps in, looks around* *notes Artanis, at least* ..... Ah ... Artanis ...
Galadriel: .... Uncle.. *waves, ever so slightly, like that is all she has the energy for at the time*
Elrond: Uncle!? *TWITCH*
Celeborn: You did not know?
Elrond: *wait, remembers hearing about this* .... .... It has been a very long month. I remember the note, now, yes. *thrusts a finger at the other side of the screen, where Ithiriel is*
Elrond: Do not over exert her. She is nearly as fragile as Aragorn is, at the moment.
Feanor: *frowns* What happened? And if she is so very fragile, WHY is my son not here by her side?
Feanor: *crosses her arms over her chest*
Celeborn: I know not where he is, but she was injured capturing the wraith.
Elrond: *twitches* She has over-reached her gift, and is in danger of drifting away from us. And that is only the spiritual part. She will likely lose a fingertip, before she is done healing.
Feanor: ... *looks from Celeborn, to Elrond* And you are merely sitting here... WHY? You cannot use YOUR gift to ... bring her back, and... put her fingers back together? I recall elven healers being quite powerful, before I died.
Elrond: *TWITCHES* I have done all I can. And the Lady is in no position to do more.
Elrond: *dodging subject of Maglor, yes he is*
Celeborn: She has drained herself, and the effort to save the king drained the rest of us greatly. I lack the skill to aide in that, myself. Better a fingertip, than a life.
Feanor: *blinks* *remembers Beru telling her that elves of renown had healed the King last night* Of course, the King's life would be more important. Even Ithiriel would agree. *sighs*
Feanor: I still would like to know why Maglor is not here. *looks very disturbed by that, and ducks behind the screen*
Celeborn: *glances at Elrond, as if suspeting he knows something*
Elrond: *thinks now is an excellent time for a cup of tea*
Elrond: *shuffles out of the room*
Celeborn: Lord Elrond, do you know where Maglor is?
Elrond: *making tea!*
Elrond: *is not to be disturbed while making tea*
Celeborn: *shares a look with Galadriel, then goes to speak to Elrond. While he makes tea*
shit = about to hit fan
Galadriel: *frowns slightly* *goes back to letting her mind wander, despite being worried about things*
Elrond: *stares at the tea kettle, like his eyes have the power within them to make it boil faster*
Celeborn: *closes the door*
Door: *clicks shut*
Elrond: I take it from the way the door has clicked shut that you are not in here simply to also get a cup of tea.
Celeborn: *picture of calm**even his silver hair is all shimmery!* What did you tell Maglor.
Elrond: I did not tell him to go away.
Celeborn: What, precisely, did you say?
Elrond: I told him that he needed to think of her, instead of himself. Leaving anything on these shores, even a husband, even if they have children for her to take with her, is painful.
Celeborn: *tsks his tongue, and takes the tea from Elrond to pour**conversationally* Do you remember, when I chased you halfway across Imladris?
Celeborn: And I told you that you were never to speak anything but the truth to me? That is not the whole truth.
Elrond: I do not recall all of my words to him. *sighs wearily* I told him NOT to go, when he decided to leave, however. Will THAT be enough to stop you from chasing me to Pelargir and back?
Celeborn: *stips the tea he's stolen from Elrond* Mm. So you played upon what were likely fears and doubts he already had.
Elrond: *has a look of extreme annoyance on his face* *goes to get himself another tea cup*
Celeborn: And thus chased him off, from what may very well be his last chance at redemption.
Elrond: I did no such chasing off. Her father is not here to interfere on her behalf. He *has* to know there are consequences, even for this. If her father were here, he would already have forbbiden the union, for various reasons.
Elrond: Or is no one thinking of the HURT that is awaiting her, if the ship gets turned away, or he is denied entry? What if the ship he is on gets overturned, taking her with it?
Celeborn: *sighs* How many reasons did I forbid with you, before I relented?
Elrond: Several. And I was far more worthy of your daughter than this ... Feanorian ... is of Ithiriel. *sips from his own teacup*
Celeborn: You do recall *sips* what they say about pride?
Elrond: This has nothing to do with pride. Do you listen to only every other word I speak, oh wise Lord of Lorien!?
Elrond: *has that look on his face* *you know the look* *the extremely miffed Elrond is Pissed and Unreasonable look*
Celeborn: *puts down the teacup**turns and regards Elrond* This has everything to do with pride, for you are too prideful to admit when you are wrong.
Celeborn: Though the crimes against you are greater, I too witnessed the bloodshed they wrought.
Celeborn: And yet, I can forgive, as our kin the Teleri can forgive.
Elrond: If he cannot sail, she will be hurt. I understand that hurt very well, and you, I should think, aught also to understand.
Celeborn: He will be able to sail.
Elrond: You cannot be sure of that. Even the Lady will not be sure until she gets on a ship and tries. *glares* You waved hope in front of his face without also waving the other SIDE of hope.
Celeborn: And he will bring with him one of Feanor's gems, precurser to the Silmarils. *shakes his head* *picks up the tea and sips it* Galadriel gave up Nenya. She gave it to the Nimrodel.
Celeborn: *glances at Elrond* The gem burned one unworthy, but did not burn him, though he clearly was afraid of it.
Elrond: *arches a brow*
Elrond: ... When he mentioned that you had both said he might sail, I backed down a bit, but by then it was too late. *eyedarts, sips at his teacup*
Celeborn: *sighs* Maglor was the one who was least thirsty for blood - and the one most easily convinced by others. That is his fault, and it is that which he must overcome. He lacks confidence.
Elrond: *grudingly* He was most gentle, when I was in his care. Her father would still not approve.
Celeborn: Fathers never approve of their daughters choices. The man could be a saint, and you would still disapprove. *sips again, and remains disturbingly nonchalant*
Elrond: *sighs* I should go and check on her.
Celeborn: *in a calm voice, though with an undercurrent of...anger, and some amount of disappointment* I will salvage what I can, with Maglor, though ultimately, it will be his choice.
Celeborn: Where did he go.
Elrond: If I understand his description correctly, he is in Osgiliath.
Elrond: You may consider taking his father with you.
Celeborn: *finishes the tea**sets the cup down again, turns, and opens the door* You deny love to others, because you have been denied it yourself for so long.
Celeborn: But in time you will have it, and you will have to be each other's strength. *closes the door quietly as he leaves*
Teacup: *waits a few seconds, then falls apart into pieces*
Elrond: *stares at the teacup*
Elrond: *twitches*
Elrond: *still staring, and twitching*
Celeborn: *picks up his cloak and sweeps it around him as he pulls it on* See to Ithiriel, meleth. Elrond is in no condition to tend to her right now, and your uncle has undone her bandaging. *said this without looking at Ithiriel*
Celeborn: *walks out of the houses*
Galadriel: *snaps out of her drifty-dream state to blink at the swirl of Celeborn's cloak as he leaves*
Galadriel: ... I missed something entertaining, I think.
Celeborn: *simply mentally shares the conversation as he walks to the stables*
Galadriel: *frowns, has a hard time keeping up, and eventually has to tune him out with a quick apology*
Galadriel: *crawls out of bed with a bit of a sigh, and steps in behind the shade where Ithiriel is* ..... what have you done?
Feanor: *innocent look!*
Feanor: .... I was ... merely checking on her. I do not trust that one cranky looking elf.
Galadriel: ... He is a very capable healer, Curufinwe. He simply has other .. deficiencies. And we were all very worn last evening. *still looks worn*
Celeborn: *mounts a horse, and trots down through the city, cloaked in lorien cloth, that seemed grey as the twilight, silver like starlite water, or white like the stones around them, or perhaps green like the garden he rode past.*
Celeborn: *seems very lordly indeed, tonight*
Feanor: *isn't about to tell Artanis that she looks worn* *nodnods her head* *looks at Ithiriel again* *worries*
Street Whore: *swoons as he passes*
Celeborn: *exits the city, and sets the horse to a casual canter*
Galadriel: *takes a look at the bandaging, then looks at the fingers, and frowns with concern*
Cloak: *flutters a bit behind him, in a way that indicates it would splay out, were he at a gallop*
Feanor: She is going to lose them, isn't she? *chews her lip, because that is like the worst thing ever for a crafter*
Galadriel: All is well. *calmly* *applies more salve and bandages, and applies more ice* *checks the back of her head, too, but lacks the energy required to check things on the other level*
Feanor: *thinks he's being lied to* Maglor should be here.
Galadriel: Celeborn is going after him.
Feanor: *nods his head* I still do not trust that other elf.
Celeborn: *canters to Osgiliath, like he has all the time in the world, straight backed, and eyes intent on the city**Has decided that someone ought to stand up for Maglor, and really? It should be Maglor himself*
rubble: *quiet?*
Galadriel: *pats Feanor on the shoulder* He is a good elf, Uncle. You will have to trust him, with this. *goes back to the bed she was tucked into*
Celeborn: *slows to a trot, then a walk, listening with quiet concentration*
rubble: *yes, definitely quiet*
Elrond: *finally, after staring and twitching at the teacup for a while, cleaned it up and stepped outside*
Elrond: *blinks, walks over to Galadriel* Lady...
Galadriel: *standing up, asleep*
Elrond: *gently taps her with his finger, then arches a brow*
Feanor: *ducks head out from behind screen* ..... do not poke at my neice like that.
Elrond: *eyes Feanor* *eyes Galadriel again* .... I worry for her. Is that permissable?
Feanor: She does seem very ..... worn. *walks over to her* *waves a hand in front of her face*
Galadriel: *does not appear phased in the least*
Aragorn: *shifts a bit*
Elrond: *looks from Galadriel to Aragorn* *decides checking on Aragorn is the higher priority, and so goes to check him over*
Feanor: *does not want to help the elf that - if he's putting 2 and 2 together correctly, kicked Maglor out of here* *but does try and tuck Artanis into a bed*
Elrond: *makes sure Aragorn is stable, and then walks over to Galadriel, and helps the little Easterling woman who he has decided is just NOT Feanor into a bed* I should make her some restorative tea, next time she is awake.
Feanor: She re-bandaged Ithiriel's hand, but.... She told me I should trust you with it, and I think she might have been coming to get you to ... WHY did you send my son away? *having a hard time putting thoughts together right now*
Elrond: Because I am a blind, miserable, cranky old elf, who has been denied love for too long and who, apparently, angers people enough to break entire teacups.
Teacup: *woe*
Feanor: I see.
Feanor: I would be increasingly annoyed at you if it would not put a layer of unnatural ice over this entire city. WHERE did he go?
Elrond: To Osgiliath. *looking at Galadriel again* *pensive*
Feanor: *glances in Ithiriel's direction* Since my son cannot be here, as certain cranky elves have pushed him away, I will stay by her side. And since I have no CHOICE in the matter, I will trust you to be sure her hand does not wither and die. *struts back to Ithiriel's bedside*
Elrond: *looks extremely put out at this idea, and decides to go and check on the elven maiden, again* *undoes all the bandaging Galadriel just did, and .... lets out a weary sigh, goes to put water on to boil* You do not wish to witness this.
Celeborn: *dismounts, and quietly moves through the rubble, towards the river*
horse: *is really tired of keeping a watch on elf sitting next to river that has not moved in quite some time, other than to blink* *horse sighs*
Celeborn: *walks up behind Maglor, and cuffs him upside the head*
horse: *stares at that, helpfully*
Maglor: *had been sitting staring at river, oblivious, and then is cuffed* *winces slightly like 'ouch'*
Maglor: *sighs out under his breath* ...if you are trying to knock me out again, Caranthir...
Maglor: *doesn't finish, just sighs and it is one of absolute misery and despair*
Celeborn: *calmly* Will you spend your life, letting others decide it's path for you?
Maglor: *after a long moment, says softly* ...is that not also what you and Artanis tried to do...?
Maglor: I am weary. I would fade away now, if I could.
Celeborn: *sits next to him, wearing the cloak close about his body* It is hard, to break out from under another's shadow, particularly of the length that your family can cast.
Celeborn: It is harder still, to stand by, and be the rock upon which they rely. But even if you do that, that does not mean you cannot have your own life.
Celeborn: It does not mean, you cannot let yourself be happy.
Celeborn: Happiness is inherently selfish.
Maglor: *still sitting there, with knees hugged, and harp is within reach but...since there's a string broken on it, there's probably a hint why there's no music* ...I oft left the selfishness, to others.
Celeborn: *nods his head* Loving Galadriel, was selfish of me. Wedding her, more selfish still. *smiles and glances at him* Yet I do not regret, for a single heartbeat, that I did.
Maglor: *is back to staring at the water in such a way that he's not...actually...focused on it*
Celeborn: Even though we have spent centuries apart, at times, we are the stronger, for being together, than if we were apart.
Maglor: ....that is different, and it seems as though I am meant to be alone.
Celeborn: Why?
Maglor: ...I have very little hope left, for myself, and I know that I am my own worst enemy, even after all the things that I have done, before.
Maglor: I do not wish to drag her down, with me, when things go...foul.
Celeborn: You could let her lift you up. You could let her be your rock, and you hers.
Maglor: *morose* I might be many things, and not all of them pleasant...but I am no rock.
Celeborn: *plucks the flute from Maglor's pocket, and puts it together, then hands it to him* Think of Ithiriel, and play her song.
Maglor: *looks at the flute and then at Celeborn, then back out at the water* It is all tainted by how I feel, no matter the song in my head. I would not ruin that one thing, at this moment.
Maglor: She does not deserve a dirge.
Celeborn: You will not give her a dirge, if you play how you feel about it. Strip away my words, strip away what Elrond in his blindness has said. Strip away the past, and the future.
Celeborn: Leave only you, and her.
Celeborn: This precious thing you have found, that you never thought you could have. Embrace it, and play, and you will see what it is I am seeing, when you look at her.
Maglor: Alas, that I feel miserable and unworthy right now, and it would become a dirge in an instant. *mumbles under his breath in quenya* ...I wish others would stop steering me to and fro...
Celeborn: Then do not let me steer you. But do not let Elrond's words steer you, either. *stands* Take the reigns of your life, from the hands of others. *turns to go*
Celeborn: But I still think, you will like the song you would play together.
Maglor: *quiet*
Celeborn: We Eldar..we were never meant to walk through life, alone. *Though he is increasingly certain, he will be walking alone again, for a few centuries, soon.*
Maglor: *reaches over for the flute, picks it up, arranges his fingers over the holes, holds it to his lips, and begins playing*
flute: *out comes a dirge*
Maglor: *makes a horrible face like its all wrong*
Celeborn: *sighs* *mutters* He listens when he should not, and does not listen when he needs to. *finds his horse and mounts*
flute: *is trying dammit!*
horse: *is staring at Celeborn like its being ABANDONED*
Celeborn: *should have told him to think of kissing her*
Maglor: *is struggling with this right now*
Celeborn: *starts to trot out of the ruined city*
horse: *yes, was once Galadriel's horse, why is the lady's spouse ABANDONING it and leaving it to....the elf of WOE*
Celeborn: *is hoping elf of woe will come BACK**decides he should have cuffed ELROND*
Maglor: *plays something much sweeter sounding at least* *but is sad still so it has an undercurrent of that throughout*
River: *glistens under the moonlight, shimmering like Ithiriel's eyes when she smiles*
Maglor: *seems that way* *finally works through it enough to drop the sadness and leave the sweetness*
flute: *longing sweetness, at least, and is managing not to sound like some instrument crafted in the dreariest wasteland imaginable*
Celeborn: *can almost...almost hear the notes as they roll out of the city receding behind him, and is not sure if that is wishful thinking or not*
music: *not wishful thinking, no*
Maglor: *stops finally, but still doesn't feel like anything's...settled in his head, instead is just missing her more* *stands, picks up his harp, and goes over to the horse*
Celeborn: *eventually arrives in the city, and trots up through the city streets to the stables*
Maglor: *puts the flute away in the saddlebags, deals with the harp that needs a replacement string, so really is going to save the broken one too, and mounts the horse...heads back to the city*
Street Whore: *still swooning*
Celeborn: *stables his mount, and sees to his feeding and watering, then gathers his cloak around him and strides down to the Houses of Healing*
Galadriel: *has been tucked into a bed, again, by Elrond and Feanor*
Feanor: *is trying not to watch as Elrond does ... things that will not be mentioned due to certain mun's squickiness, to Ithiriel's hand*
Elrond: *indeed, doing surgeon things to this girl's hand, and is growing increasingly concerned*
Maglor: *eventually...rides in and up through the circles, to the stable and deals with caring for that horse since doesn't want to be viewed as being mean to it or anything*
Feanor: *drinking spiked tea to fortify himself*
horse: *gee, thanks, woe!elf, try not DEPRESSING ME, perhaps?* *ps - need more lembas*
Horses: *get Lembas*
Maglor: *yes, gave the horses lembas, why not*
Celeborn: *walks in, checks on Galadriel, and the King*
Maglor: *then got brushy to make up for...depressing the horse so much*
Elrond: *still working very hard on hand*
horse: *much better, likes pampering*
Maglor: *even thanks it for putting up with him, then gathers his things, takes them to the citadel room and goes to the healing house*
Galadriel: *very deep in dreams now, about the white glare of the trees, and a very dark haired elven boy with blue eyes, Lorien at her finest.....*
Elrond: *shakes his head* I am concerned. *is working a re-stitch on the fourth finger, trying to bind it together better* ( sorry ummie! )
Feanor: *puts down fortifying drink, takes gem out of his pocket, starts getting thinky on how to work what he wants to work with it, thinks Ithiriel being in dire need of healing helps him think about this*
Celeborn: A mortal healer would have given up by now, and you lack the stamina to do more than you have. *glances at Galadriel* And she is weary beyond her years..
Elrond: *lets out a sigh* She may yet pull through... we are stronger than mortals would be. *glances in Galadriel's direction* .... I do not envy you, trying to convince her to do what she must do.
Maglor: *finally walks in, worriedly eyes that king as he passes by, and walks around the screen*
Celeborn: She is too stubborn to sail just yet, and she deserves to witness her granddaughter wed, but after that? *shakes his head, as if he does not know* Middle-earth takes it's toll upon us all, eventually.
Celeborn: *really can't comprehend how Maglor did not fade away, long ago*
Galadriel: *thinks it's because his soul was waiting to meet Ithiriel's, and would say so, if she wasn't asleep <3*
Maglor: *well, did glance at Celeborn when he said that, like he's been a hair's breath away from doing so, several, several times....then is watching Ithiriel again*
Feanor: *stops bouncing the stone in his hand and looks up* Maglor! *stands, hands him the spiked tea cup* .... drink this, and.. stop watching, you do not want to watch.
Maglor: *eyes the cup and asks in a very soft voice* What is in this?
Celeborn: *still looks nonchalant*
Maglor: *looks 50% physically there now, at least?*
Elrond: *being stubborn* *still stitching away at the finger*
Ithiriel: *twitches*
Celeborn: *puts a reassuring hand on Maglor's shoulder*
Elrond: *softly* Cease twitching, or I might sew your finger to your thumb on accident.
Maglor: *sighs a little at that, then says in a clearer voice so Ithiriel might hear him* Meleth, try to hold still so that Elrond might do his work.
Maglor: *pats one hand on top of Feanor's head very lightly and hands the tea back*
Ithiriel: *shivers, mumbles Maglor's name* *tries to remain calm, though fingers? HURT*
Feanor: *sighs* It is merely tea laced with wine. It wouldn't effect you much, but might make ME feel better >.>
Maglor: You should drink it, then.
Elrond: Perhaps you might instead consider brewing her a cup of tea, for the pain. *points at a jar*
Maglor: It might keep you from breaking out with more nose boils. *smiles faintly, then looks at Elrond questioningly, wondering who he's addressing*
Feanor: I meant it wouild make ME feel better if YOU drank it. *mutters* *is NOT helping elf who sent his son away*
Maglor: *takes the cup, takes one sip, then hands it back again, continues giving Elrond a questioning look*
Maglor: You do not remember, do you. Both you and your brother nearly choked on the tea I tried to make for you. I have not...improved.
Elrond: *isn't looking at anyone right now, is staring at half a finger that he's trying to re-sew to the other half*
Celeborn: *has left, and returned with tea. FOR EVERYONE*
Elrond: *was about to say that he was NOT sure he trusted Celeborn with a teacup*
Maglor: ... *sighs*
Maglor: *hopes that Celeborn made some pain-numbing tea for Ithiriel then, because is certain he'd utterly foul it up if he has to make it* *and probably drop the jar in the process*
Celeborn: *gives tea to Maglor to help Ithi drink it*
Ithiriel: *hisses, some more* *tries to pull her hand away from Elrond*
Elrond: *has a very nice firm grip on that hand* *looks like it almost pains him to do this as much as it pains her at least*
Maglor: *winces at that, then rushes over to the bed and begins speaking in a low-toned panic voice* ...no, no...don't do that...look...tea...?
Feanor: *gratefully takes tea from Celeborn* *eyedarts* Thank you for bringing him back.
Celeborn: I did nothing. I left it up to him.
Maglor: *is staying away from Elrond's side of the bed, mmhmm* *holds just her head up with one hand and holds the edge of cup to her lips* ... *smiles?*
Celeborn: *walks over, and gently holds Ithiriel's wrist*
Ithiriel: *sips at the tea, snaps her eyes into focus on Maglor, manages a smile*
Maglor: *smiles with a bit more ease while helping her drink it*
Elrond: *nods a head in thanks, and finishes up the work as quickly as he can*
Celeborn: *remains, as ever, irritatingly nonchalant**and a bit stern looking at the moment*
Maglor: ...try to forget you have a hand right now, and think instead on...the shocking amount of elflings we might yet have, someday.
Maglor: As I have decided, fair Ithiriel, that the song I would play for you, requires a great many more instruments.
Ithiriel: ... thirty ... two? *smiles dreamily at him*
Maglor: *puts the empty cup aside and takes hold of her other hand* Thirty-two.
Elrond: *tries a different salve, this time, bandages her hand up, and yup, bundles that in yet more ice*
Elrond: *then takes his tea, and leaves the room*
Maglor: *has half a mind to...go cuff Elrond, just to see what that's like* *but...probably won't*
Elrond: *might admit he deserves it* *might*
Celeborn: Thirty-two is quite a lot. One was more than enough to handle, for me.
Ithiriel: *clings to his hand with hers* You were ..... gone... I thought... *sighs a bit* ..I do not know what I thought...
Feanor: *goes back to playing with that gem, while watching His son and his hopefully still soon to be daughter in law*
Maglor: *said mindfully* If she is willing to rest...and be healed, herself...I think we will manage. *shakes his head at her* Later, we will speak on it, but not right now.
Maglor: Right now, only pleasant talk.
Celeborn: *discreetly grabs Feanor and pulls him out*
Maglor: Such as, how are we to come up with thirty-two names.
Feanor: *is pulled out* *mutters!*
Ithiriel: sixty-four....
Ithiriel: thirty two father names ... and thirty two mother names...
Maglor: ...ah...valar have mercy...
Maglor: *says discreetly* ...we had better stick with sixteen names, then.
Ithiriel: Maybe one at least.... after your brothers or... is that bad luck?
Maglor: *bends down and kisses her forehead* ...I do not think it is bad luck, at all.
Maglor: But I do think, it will never happen, unless you rest, properly.
Ithiriel: *looks at least slightly rebuked* I was the only one .. that knew where he was hiding..
Maglor: You could not tell someone else where this place could be found, then?
Maglor: *sighs at that* I suppose not. It can not be helped, now.
Ithiriel: *winces* Grabbing a blade with my bare hand .... was very stupid, and .. well it is likely to be a mistake I will not soon forget.
Maglor: I would think not. You are very troublesome.
Maglor: *said in the most loving way, possible, of course*
Ithiriel: He was going to attack me with it. *half-shrugs*
Ithiriel: Better a finger than .. something else, I think...
Maglor: ...you will not lose a finger.
Maglor: You tell me to have hope, and then lose it for yourself. *shakes his head*
Ithiriel: *chews her lip* *squeezes his hand a bit with hers* It is easier to hope when you are here.
Maglor: Then I will remain here, and offer you hope, so that such things do not come to be. But you will have to stop twitching, and put your faith in another healer, for the time being.
Maglor: *squeezes her hand enough to reassure her* I am sorry that I left, but I had...some things to ponder over, in private.
Ithiriel: *gets little tears in her eyes* I was trying not to move... it hurt... I could not stand it anymore.
Ithiriel: *gets a bit of a drifty look in her eyes* I thought .. perhaps Lord Elrond had scared you away... *sighs a bit* I am glad you are here. I will ... try not to be any further stupid.
Maglor: *smiles down at her and then says in a voice of infinite teasing patience* ...oh, Ithiriel...must I sit on you to keep you still?
Ithiriel: *smirks a little at that* When I am out of this bed, I will tease you within an inch of your life... for some reason.. or another. Just to get you back.
Maglor: Please do.*pets his other hand on her forehead* When you are resting, I will go fetch another harp string, for mine is now missing one...then I will return here and play something soothing for you.
Maglor: Perhaps that might help.
Ithiriel: *nuzzles her head up against his hand*
Maglor: *grins at that, can't help himself* ...hopefully, it will not annoy the sleeping king, in the other bed.
Healers: *will die of being depressed, just watch!*
Maglor: *will...merely have to attempt something more...uplifting*
Maglor: *will just play the 'my father burned to ashes' song, without singing, since its 'jaunty'* *the lyrics are what makes it 'morbid'*
Ithiriel: Is he alright, do you think? *gives Maglor a worried look*
Maglor: *says with a look of regret* I do not know. I wish there was more that I could do, but...I am no healer.
Maglor: I can not tell. Would you like me to look over at him?
Ithiriel: *nods her head, very softly* If he dies... my actions mean nothing. *sighs a bit*
Maglor: That's nonsense. *sighs at that and lets go of her hand, stands, and walks over to the screen and peeks around it*
Maglor: *tells her while peeking around it* It was not even the easterling man who did this to him, according to what Elrond's son reported.
Celeborn: *is with Galadriel*
Aragorn: *is snoooozing all worn out*
Maglor: ...he looks weary, even while sleeping.
Ithiriel: He was not ... lying, then. *sighs a bit more, at that* *officially declares herself the most stupid elf, ever*
Maglor: No, no...it seems not, but... *looks back over at her and his sigh echoes her* I could not play a flute in here, the pitch is too high. It is not as gentle as a harp is.
Maglor: And you are blaming yourself for what you did not know at the time.
Elrond: *will very discreetly send a note up explaining to Boromir that Arwen might come visit, and only Arwen, for the time being*
Boromir: *send it now, rather than later?*
Elrond: *is working on writing it, while drinking a cup of tea for his nerves >.<*
Boromir: *Im~paaa~tient*
Ithiriel: I just... was very stupid... for no reason whatsoever.
Maglor: *clearly teasing as he looks at her from where he's standing* Yes, meleth, you were very stupid. Now go sit in a corner and do not give me cause for worry, ever again.
Maglor: *shakes his head at her* You did as you felt was right.
Maglor: But unless you truly do wish for one of your fingers to snap and fall off, I would say it is not something you will be able to do for a long while.
Ithiriel: *tries to crawl out of bed so that she can go hug him* *which makes her even more stupid*
Maglor: *rushes over so she never makes it out of bed*
Maglor: *hugs gently*
Maglor: Resting typically means laying very still, like the king of this city is.
Ithiriel: *hugs him* The King of this city is very mortal, and sleeps.
Maglor: *whispers in her ear* ...then slip off into your thoughts for a while, as Artanis has.
Ithiriel: .... *finds that bit about Artanis disturbing*
Maglor: *mindfully tells her* ...do not stress your hand any further, and cause Elrond to have to mend things yet again.
Maglor: I am the only one allowed to have messed up hands.
Maglor: Cease trying to copy me.
Ithiriel: I did not stress it to begin with.... your Father came and undid the bandages to have a look, and ... they all decided that one needed re-fixing or.... I do not know I was half-awake for most of it.
Maglor: ... *stops hugging, makes sure she's situated on the bed so she's laying down, and THEN facepalms*
Ithiriel: And ... imitation is the most severe form of flattery? *smiles*
Maglor: Not in this case. We will be accused of being more like hand-twins of some sort, rather than a wedded couple.
Maglor: Let me have hope in this, would you?
Maglor: *gives her a pleading look once his hand is removed from his face*
Ithiriel: *nods her head*
Maglor: *smiles* Do you want anything from our room?
Ithiriel: The most important thing is here. *smiles*
Maglor: Then the most important thing should go fetch something so he is not kept idle and thus starts to fidget and drop everything in this room.
Maglor: And so the most important thing to him, is not laying in bed, watching her most important thing, cause mass destruction.
Ithiriel: *looks thoughtful* ... ah well ... I can still embroider with my good hand, while this other hand is mending... ?
Ithiriel: What I was working on... is still up in that room.
Maglor: *shakes his head at her* Though I would love nothing more than to watch Arda's first one-handed embroiderer.
Ithiriel: *chews her lip* I do not know what else....
Maglor: A book, perhaps, though you will have to use one hand to turn the pages....
Maglor: I will run swiftly and bring whatever I can to you, to keep your one-handed self, occupied.
Ithiriel: ... sadly... there is nothing I know how to do, with one hand.... besides lay here, and watch you destroy things.
Maglor: ...we might try that, then. *....smiles?*
Ithiriel: But... the necklace you gave me, is still up in that room .... perhaps you might go get that.
Maglor: *nods* Yes, I'll bring that back for you then. And perhaps a book or two. *starts to head out* But I will leave the fell tea kettle forged in Angband, since it is cursed.
Ithiriel: I think that might... be wise, yes... and I will let my mind wander .. like Galadriel's, though ... that really is disturbing.
Maglor: ...she is weary, as Celeborn said...and I will be back, shortly. *smiles at her, tells her he loves her, and departs...quickly! rushes to the citadel and gathers everything he's taking back with him*
Healers: *prepare for Feanorians to set up camp in their healing houses, think this is crazy*
Maglor: *rushes back with necklace, three books, his harp, some parchment and ink and a quill....to keep him occupied...and a pouch that he kept extra strings in* *no fell tea kettle in sight*
Ithiriel: *lets her mind wander, and is already dreaming about a dark haired son and red haired daughter playing with eachother by the time he gets back*
Maglor: *comes around the screen with arms full, sees that she's drifted off, and tries not to drop everything he's carrying* *sets to work restringing the harp, tunes it, and then plays...soothing and not-dreary things*
Elrond: * comes around the corner to check on his patients, hears the music, peaks around the screen .... watches for a few seconds, ducks away and ...... smiles*