Findekáno│Fingon the Valiant (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
utulien_aure) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
hadriel2017-07-03 03:41 pm
utulien_aure) wrote in hadriel2017-07-03 03:41 pm
Entry tags:
002; [VIDEO]
[Fingon's sitting by the lake, his harp already our and positioned against his shoulder. He plays absently as he speaks, changing chords and melodies as though he's not yet sure what kind of song he wants.]
This city never does run out of surprises, does it? Pleasant, unpleasant, liable to get us all killed....
[He shakes his head, smiling grimly]
Still, as deaths go, I've had worse.
Among the Eldar, deaths are often met with the laments of those left behind-and why not? We celebrate every other event in song, and we must deal with grief somehow. There are thousands of such songs now, celebrating both the greenest youths to ever hold a blade and high lords who kept dangerous posts for centuries on end.
But there are a few exceptions. Sixteen years ago, at the height of a terrible battle, the High King of the Noldor rode out to challenge a god to single combat. The king lost that fight in the end, though he managed to give that god seven great wounds before he died. No songs of his death were sung in his kingdom, for the grief of his passing was deemed still too near.
And, I suppose, people may have wondered what madness had struck him in his last hours, to run headlong into death as he did.
[He plays a few more chords, ]
I tried my hand at it, a few times. I served at his right hand for four hundred years; if one of us could have managed it, it ought to have been me. But nothing seemed to fit, no matter how I worked. And eventually....well. There was still a war on, and ever fewer of us to perform his tasks.
And then the city returned him to me, at least for a time, along with others whose losses cut near as deep. I know they were memories, not the real people. But as resentful as I am for the trick, I am so glad to have seen even their ghosts again. I think...I needed to hear what they had to say. What he had to say, about why he chose to die when he did. And, in a strange way, I am grateful for that.
[His playing grows louder then, more complex and challenging.]
My father's lament...I do think I'm ready to pick up the task again. That is something, at least.
This city never does run out of surprises, does it? Pleasant, unpleasant, liable to get us all killed....
[He shakes his head, smiling grimly]
Still, as deaths go, I've had worse.
Among the Eldar, deaths are often met with the laments of those left behind-and why not? We celebrate every other event in song, and we must deal with grief somehow. There are thousands of such songs now, celebrating both the greenest youths to ever hold a blade and high lords who kept dangerous posts for centuries on end.
But there are a few exceptions. Sixteen years ago, at the height of a terrible battle, the High King of the Noldor rode out to challenge a god to single combat. The king lost that fight in the end, though he managed to give that god seven great wounds before he died. No songs of his death were sung in his kingdom, for the grief of his passing was deemed still too near.
And, I suppose, people may have wondered what madness had struck him in his last hours, to run headlong into death as he did.
[He plays a few more chords, ]
I tried my hand at it, a few times. I served at his right hand for four hundred years; if one of us could have managed it, it ought to have been me. But nothing seemed to fit, no matter how I worked. And eventually....well. There was still a war on, and ever fewer of us to perform his tasks.
And then the city returned him to me, at least for a time, along with others whose losses cut near as deep. I know they were memories, not the real people. But as resentful as I am for the trick, I am so glad to have seen even their ghosts again. I think...I needed to hear what they had to say. What he had to say, about why he chose to die when he did. And, in a strange way, I am grateful for that.
[His playing grows louder then, more complex and challenging.]
My father's lament...I do think I'm ready to pick up the task again. That is something, at least.
video
video
How have you been holding up?
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[ Small smile ] I have had better days.
[ The smile vanishes. ] Finrod did not wait for me to die. He killed himself. He and Celebrimbor and I were in the woods near the forge shack, and I collapsed into Cel's arms. Finrod said, "Stay there, I'll get help." And he did. I suspect he was planning to join your father and mine and your sister and brother in their. . . brave but fateful expedition to the tunnels. But he didn't; there wasn't time. He stopped at the shed where I keep my explosives cache and blew himself up.
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[Ruefully] Hasn't everyone?
[Fingon looks increasingly grim as he listens.] Oh Ingo...what a terrible way to die. Although [And here he gives a small joyless smile] I suppose it did work, so he got what he wanted in the end.
[Eyeing Curufin] And you've been left to deal all the mess left by the rest of us? Are you all right?
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[ Small, unhappy laugh. ] Maybe we get so accustomed to knowing we will die, and probably in some terrible way, that we don't even worry about whether or not it will be terrible?
Ingoldo at least got one thing he wanted. He wanted to protect Celebrimbor. He never said so, but it was obvious. So, he protected him against having to watch his father die.
[ Gazing back at Fingon with an unusually open face. He's touched that Fingon is concerned about him. ] I had help. Will Solace insisted I come to the clinic while I regained my strength. I didn't stay long. . . [ Of course not! Not even if he had to sneak out the back door. ] . . . and of course I wasn't alone at home. We put everything to rights, without too much difficulty. But it did feel like Cel and I were rattling around in an empty house, without all of you.
Findekáno, what of yourself? You died and returned to Hope's temple. I have not yet asked you how you fare?
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[Softly] Yes, that is how Ingo would see it. We may be used to the idea of dying, but which of us would wish watching it on those we love?
[A knowing nod, and a small twitch of the lips. Healers: definitely to be avoided at all costs.] I imagine it would be terribly quiet, after having so many of us in the house at once.
[Shrugging] I could be worse, I suppose. At least this time, I've not been snatched from a battlefield with the wounds still intact.
I should have said something when I returned, though, and I am sorry that I did not. I simply...wished to be alone for awhile.
[It seemed easier to be alone and say he wanted to be than to go back and see where they'd all been sitting not long before.]
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[ A soft chuckle.] Oh, that forbidding frown! How well I remember it from the old days. [ Not to mention from the dinner table just a few days ago. ]
Strangely. . . I wish I had had more time with Finrod. Not to ask his forgiveness, but just to listen, and to remember how it was before the family insanity separated us.
The silence was deafening.
That is the one good thing about dying in Hadriel -- people come back intact. [ Brief smile. ] No need to hammer the dents out of your helmet. [ Or your head. ]
It's all right. Death and resurrection are more than sufficient reason to want some solitude for a while. [ Especially when you are coming back without your family. ]
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But even missing them dreadfully isn't going to get him to stop teasing Turgon.] He's had so much time to perfect that look on the rest of us. Poor monsters, they must have had no idea what hit them.
Would any amount of time with them have been enough? When everyone in Nevrast left for Gondolin.... At least then, I could hope that they were safe. [Shaking his head, clearly thinking and look how that turned out.] We can still say now that the worst is over for them.
Isn't it always?
[A dry smile] After the work Celebrimbor put into repairing that helmet? I would hate to make him go through all of it again.
Thank you. I may be here for a few more hours, but I'll be back for supper. It sounds like we'll all have plenty to discuss. Would you like me to grab anything on my way back?
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No, no amount of time would have been enough. [ Gondolin, right. Curufin had never thought that was a good idea, not when his thinking was distorted by the Oath, and not in retrospect, when his thinking was clear. But nobody had asked him for his opinion. ] I guess so. If they were really just illusions, ghosts created by our own minds, then their disappearance does not matter to them, only to us. And as for our real relatives. . . I suppose they must be safe in the Halls of Mandos.
[ Little, sad smile. ] The silence left by those who have left us. . . yes. Always. Even in the midst of a crowd.
[ Laugh. He likes the dry humor. ] Celebrimbor wouldn't mind. He's the most tenacious smith I've ever known.
Then I'll see you at supper. And yes, we should all talk. You can grab anything you'd like to bring back. Whatever it is, either Cel or I will know how to cook it. [ Grin. ]
[Video]
You play beautifully.
[Video]
Thank you, my lady.
I was fortunate enough to have good teachers, and a great deal of time to practice.
[Video]
[One of her goals for day to day life here is to bring a little more class and refinement to the community, which includes encouraging those with talent in the fine arts to continue sharing their gifts. There's not much to do in this acursed place in between the games the gods play with them anyway.]
[Video]
Though why limit it to those who already practice? This beauty was given by my cousins when I arrived, but if others were interested in learning I think they might be persuaded to create more.
[Video]
[Video]
Do you play, my lady?
[Video]
[Video]
[He bows his head.] But where are my manners? Fingon Fingolfinion, my lady. Well met.
[Video]
[She inclines her head as well. Were they meeting in person, she would have curtseyed instead.]
Should any of the bards of your people arrive here, I do hope you are able to convince them to share their music with the community.
[Video]
[Video]
And I would hope my father and the rest of my people would never be forgotten.
Re: [Video]
[Video]
We were told that everything we did would fade, except perhaps the songs of our deeds. I still cannot tell whether it was a curse, or simply the way of the world.
[He watches Cole for a few moments-there's something strange about this youth, but he can't put his finger on it....]
Re: [Video]
People forget sometimes. But they remember too. Forget what they shouldn't, remember what they shouldn't. Songs echo, so they still hear them when they come back, quiet and different. Bright, burning, boundless.
[VIDEO]
The Song of the world is always thus; there are ten thousand harmonies to every theme, and as many counterpoints. Even here, it seems....
But why not? There are people here to sing it, even if this is not Arda.
If I may ask, how could you have made me forget? You have the look of a youth of Men, but that is no power I have ever heard a Man to possess.
Re: [VIDEO]
I'm not a person. I used to be but I wasn't, too. Not really.
[VIDEO]
What are you, then, if I may ask? Or who, if you prefer?
Re: [VIDEO]
I used to be Cole. I hear the hurts and I help them.
[VIDEO]
Are you all right? If you hear everyone in pain, this past week cannot have been easy for you.
Re: [VIDEO]
I forget later. That helps.
(Video)
Voices are comforting. When the sound of them stops completely, the air feels empty.
(He grimaces.)
You passed. What did you see?
(Video)
It does. But would you prefer never to have heard them at all?
[There's a momentary pause before Fingon answers, as he tries to work it out himself]
I had meant to follow them... but then I collapsed. And the next thing I saw was the Temple.
...There was nothing in between.
(Video)
No. I am grateful to hear them and to know their timbre even if the memory hurts.
(Celebrimbor closes his eyes sorrowfully.)
There is much in-between, cousin. This cursed land shielded you from it and sought to return you jealously.
(Video)
[Fingon looks closely at him, setting the harp to one side.]
What do you mean, Celebrimbor? Is there more I should know?