therookery | (Of secrets kept, strength like a tower.)

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(Of secrets kept, strength like a tower.)

FORM: Sending crystal.
SENDER: Maedhros
RECIPIENT: Everyone with a crystal.
WHAT: Oh look. Planning.
WHEN: A week or so after his brother's disappearance.
WHERE: Kirkwall at the moment.
NOTES: Let's talk about monster hunting.

Tell me about dragons. (Short, sweet and to the point.) Apparently bears and large spiders will not do.

(Maedhros, get out of your head and explain. Quiet comments to yourself don't count as communicating.)

I want (need) to go on a hunt.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Interesting dichotomy of options, Maedhros.]

Oh, Russandol. One day, you should consider the possibility that some problems cannot be blamed on you.

[Aaawww]

I truly can't persuade you otherwise?

(This is his life. "I love you, but you can't leave me.")

Multiple problems cannot be blamed on me? This is news!

(He lets his eyes widen in mock wonder before he smiles.)

No. I'm quite firm on that point.

[Sighing so heavily. Feanorians....]

Most of them, even. Does that make you feel better?

[Not at all the answer he wants to hear, really, but the smile is heartwarming]

Then I shall try not to let anything happen to me.

I'm not sure. It's such a shock; I need time for it to digest!

(His voice lowers, sweet yet somehow stern.)

I beg of you to avoid injury. Let them fall on me.

[A small, bright smile; he's so amused, Mae, he can't even]

Take your time, beloved. I know some things take longer to absorb than others.

[Mildly chiding]

And so you would have me wait for protection, rather than do what need be done? Would you accept that if I asked it of you?

That the world does not revolve around me and my mistakes is staggering.

(He bows his head, laughing mostly at himself.)

I would, but I would not do the same. I know that makes me a hypocrite, but I am not inclined to apologize.

And to think, I used to believe you ridiculously without vanity.

[Laugh, Mae. It's good for you.[ ]]

Oh, dearest. I do not doubt your heart, or your protectiveness- but you must let me be myself, and live on my own terms.

Otherwise, what would be left of the one you love?

My vanity is strangely placed. (More to his detriment and not as a boost for his ego. He glances at Fingon sharply, clearly battling with himself before he sighs.)

I won't have you being anyone but you. Fight as you like, but know that I will race to be at your side whenever you lift your sword.

That it is. Your particular version is still, as it happens, wrong.

[Look, he's sorry, but it had to be said.]

I know. And I am sorry, I know how you can worry sometimes. But I worry about you as well, and I cannot sit back and watch others put themselves in danger for me.

That is wholly dependent on your perception. Mine says it is right.

(Don't use that logic on him, mister.)

There is the reason you are a terrific King. (He softens and shrugs.) I will adjust and learn to fly to your aid.

I must object; an outside view is essential, and you are too trapped inside your own mind.

[Nope not listening

And he would argue with "terrific king," but there really is a losing battle.]

That is all I ask, Maitimo.

How can I not be? (He has several factors against him! Though he does try when he is around Fingon.) I do not know how to see through another's eyes.

(He will lose that argument. Maedhros is proud of the job Fingon did.)

You truly desire nothing more from me?

You can start by asking what they see.

[Fingon is surrounded by crazy propagandists, clearly.]

I want you to try. In all the ways that you can, to work to make yourself better. But I won't blame you for failure, so long as you do that.

What do you see, Findekáno?

(They are lovingly psychotic. This is why none of them need to be in politics.)

I am trying. (He flushes and busies himself with braiding his hair.) As long as I live, I will try.

Someone with many flaws he fixates upon, and many gifts he ignores. One who has done much wrong, but can be better than he is.

[Maybe. On the other hand, the Noldor apparently only follow crazy people (because they are crazy themselves, perhaps.....)]

I know you are. [Watching fondly as Maedhros works] And I trust you will succeed.

Your vision is kind to me. I am undeserving of your perception. (But maybe some of his gifts bring Fingon joy? He hopes so.)

Even if it takes me several hundred years? (His lips quirk at the edge and he ties the braid off with a simple leather ribbon.)

You are not the one who can decide that.

[Well, of course they do. As does Maedhros' hair.]

I was already assuming that it would, more or less.

Am I taking your right from you?

(He can have all of his hair if he asks for it. Maedhros will cut it.)

We Fëanorians make decisions too rapidly, but changing our rash ways happens rarely. Most of the time, we are not alive to put forth the effort!

[He laughs, then says gently] Oh, love. You could not if you tried.

[Fingon has exactly the amount of Maedhros' hair he needs, tucked away in that locket. The rest is best where it is.]

Hush about the Feanorians, love. Few of us change as quickly as we ought, even when we understand why it might be needed.

(He smiles softly, enchanted once again. This is why Fingon will always triumph over him.)

Why would I try?

(He will grow it nice and long then so it can be played with for long periods of time.)

I am finding that while I can accept my heritage, I should not allow it to weigh me down.

[That wasn't quite what Fingon intended, but alright]

I do not know. But you are very silly, sometimes.

[He will take that, absolutely.]

You have no idea how glad that makes me.

(It can't be helped. Maedhros has been smitten for centuries.)

You will not hear any argument from me.

(Rapunzel length even!)

Would you be willing to show me how happy it makes you?

I would.

[Nodding politely and agreeably, though the laughter is clear in his eyes]

What did you have in mind? A poem? An errand of gallantry?

Only because I am silly.

(Well, well well. Maedhros thinks over his options, tapping a finger against his chin.)

A poem would be sweet... But an errand of gallantry would be exciting. Must you leave me to do the latter?

I do not, if that is what my lord wishes.

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