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]
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.