Maglor Makalaure Canafinwe Feanorion (
bythewaves) wrote in
hadriel2017-12-14 01:32 am
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[ It's early morning, just past false dawn, the light filtering though the mists of the hot springs and casting the whole place into a dreamy golden light, even as the sky above starts to brighten from indigo through to blue.
A voice winds through the mist, sweet and low, so much a part of the view that it might not even be recognised as a voice, at first.
Grief, it sings, Sorrow and loss, low and mourning the souls of those who fell. But also Hope, it sings, New beginnings.
It catches at the hearts of those who listen, it is tears in the night, it is the empty space someone beloved once filled.
It is alright to weep, it says. But see! The night is over.
It is a warm hug, the hand on the shoulder, the support of friends and family, the strength to carry on. ]
In western lands beneath the Sun
the flowers may rise in Spring,
the trees may bud, the waters run,
the merry finches sing.
Or there maybe 'tis cloudless night
and swaying beeches bear
the Elven-stars as jewels white
amid their branching hair.
Though here at journey's end I lie
in darkness buried deep,
beyond all towers strong and high,
beyond all mountains steep,
above all shadows rides the Sun
and Stars for ever dwell:
I will not say the Day is done,
nor bid the Stars farewell.
[ Maglor is sitting by the edge of one of the pools, as the sun burns off the mist ]
A voice winds through the mist, sweet and low, so much a part of the view that it might not even be recognised as a voice, at first.
Grief, it sings, Sorrow and loss, low and mourning the souls of those who fell. But also Hope, it sings, New beginnings.
It catches at the hearts of those who listen, it is tears in the night, it is the empty space someone beloved once filled.
It is alright to weep, it says. But see! The night is over.
It is a warm hug, the hand on the shoulder, the support of friends and family, the strength to carry on. ]
In western lands beneath the Sun
the flowers may rise in Spring,
the trees may bud, the waters run,
the merry finches sing.
Or there maybe 'tis cloudless night
and swaying beeches bear
the Elven-stars as jewels white
amid their branching hair.
Though here at journey's end I lie
in darkness buried deep,
beyond all towers strong and high,
beyond all mountains steep,
above all shadows rides the Sun
and Stars for ever dwell:
I will not say the Day is done,
nor bid the Stars farewell.
[ Maglor is sitting by the edge of one of the pools, as the sun burns off the mist ]

{Action}
He wanders around the pool's edge toward his brother, looking around in some wonder. He takes a seat beside Maglor, listening and finding a tight knot within start to loosen.}
Still here.
{Action}
We all are. I'm glas. I missed the sun, even if this isn't Arien.
{Action}
Mm. I wonder what other changes we will find here.
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{Maedhros curls an arm around Maglor and presses a kiss to his temple.}
Maybe we will at the least get a dawn or dusk.
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[ He leans happily into that hold ]
Well we do - it's certainly more a night than we got when we were children! - but you're right, I miss the stars.
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A simple song, but fair indeed.
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Hope from the uttermost despair, reward of the valiant and brave heart.
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So it does.
[Closing his eyes for a moment.]
All artists have their motifs, I suppose. Even the One.
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[There is not a what? enough to contain the whatness of that news.]
For a folk you said like peace and quiet, these Hobbits find themselves in the strangest of places?
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Aye! The smallest and simplest of folk, but they are brave, Finno. And their wisdom is simple but no less true. Samwise deserves a place amongst heroes, although I think that he will only wish to see his Master again. Frodo must Sail, or he will die - the hurts he took were too deep. So Sam will Sail, for he will wish to be by his Master's side.
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like Haven, had taken the music out of her at some point.
Maybe here though she can get it back. ]
Nice song.
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