hadriel | Video 3 - Margaery's Apartment

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Video 3 - Margaery's Apartment

[The video opens not in the Sewing Shop but in Margaery's apartment where she's sitting in the middle of her bed, a pillow clasped in her arms. she's looking down from the camera and she's in a bathrobe and nightgown, both wrinkled. her hair is disheveled and her eyes are heavily rimmed with red, as though she's spent a long time crying. which she has been. a whole day and night and a new day of crying.

she tries to look up at the camera, clear her throat and speak, but the words don't come. fresh tears well in her eyes and she looks down again, biting her lower lip.

a long moment passes with nothing but Margaery fighting back tears and silent. finally, she looks back up at the camera and speaks]

I--I thought people may want to know that Matt Murdock is no longer among us. His. His help was invaluable in the time before the Null invasion and [her voice breaks] he will be missed greatly.

[she brushes a tear off of her cheek, looking down again. she forces herself to look back up and continues]

I need to apologize to those I promised garments to. I. It will be at least another month before they're finished. I'm--I'm sorry.

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A wise idea.

[ He smiles at her practicality ]

We could look at building defenses similar to what my folk had in our own home, if a little less elaborate, perhaps. [ Probably not the tripwire arrows inside the house, for example ] And the other things that worries me is stores of food and water.

I wonder, who has experience fighting? And who would be willing to teach those who can't? It would require quite a commitment from both sides, but I don't think we can afford anything else.

What sorts of defenses do your folk have in your homes?

[she nods] Without Hope, we have no food and no running water. And he's the one the Null were trying to kill.

I can say for certain that all of my kin are experienced warriors and war leaders, although for some of us it has been a long time since we rode in active war. The Guard, of course, although I know not the skill level of those within it. But there must be others - there have been a few folk on the network asking for sparring partners. We could look at drawing up a more formal list, for folk to check on each other, perhaps?

[ He smiles a little wryly ]

Far too many, in hindsight! But my brother and his son were, I think, somewhat bored. We barred the windows and doors, both with wards as with more practical means, and boobytrapped many of the rooms inside.

[ He nods ]

Makes sense, from a siegepoint view. [ He says practically ] Without food and water, folk die faster. We've been hunting and fishing, and drinking from the pools but we'll need stores, for open water sources can be easily fouled.

A list of those willing to teach and what they can teach. That would be useful for us all. We could even request that it be added to the "newbie guide" for those new to Hadriel and to combat.

[she arches an eyebrow slightly]

That does sound--rigorous. Are your homes similarly defended at home?

Sometimes, the store have canned food. That can be stockpiled. If we had a good source of salt, meat and fish could be preserved. But what can be done about the water, do you think?

The only problem would be keeping it updated.

[ Maglor muses ] I suppose the other alternative would be some form of notice board, that folk could come and consult.

[ He grins wryly ]

I did mention my brother was bored. But... [ The smile drops, and he looks, for a moment, very old ] We are used to castle walls, my kinsmen and I, to sword and shield and bow. We were at war for a very, very, long time. Siege warfare is not something we prefer - but we know how to deal with it.

As to the water... cisterns, I think. Although I do not know how we would go about producing those here. I can, at need, sing the impurities from the water, but it is difficult, in a world not my own, and I am not my Arafinwean cousins.

That's true. People come and go so often. What kind of notice board did you have in mind?

I, too, am used to castle walls, though I didn't take up the sword until I came here. I never really got to see much of the War of the Five Kings, I was at the Red Keep in King's Landing much of the time. Have your wars ended?

That's true, to create cisterns, we'd need both clay and someone skilled at making such things. [wide eyed] You can sing the impurities from water? That's amazing. I've never heard of such a thing.

Perhaps a large wall where folk can place notices? That way it can be easily adjusted as needed. Someplace public, like the clinic or the guardhouse, perhaps.

[ Maglor suggests and nods, his voice taking the sing-song cadence of a bard ]

At long last the Dark Lord is overthrown, the Shadow banished, and we have peace again. Not that we expect it to endure forever, nor that evil be banished forever, but we have won, and we will have peace now, for a time.

[ He shrugs shyly ]

Water and I .... have an... understanding, I suppose you could say. Mind, I've not tried that here - I don't know if the waters here would answer me.

How close are they to completing those buildings?

[her eyes widen slightly at his voice]

That's good. That's . . .beautiful, perhaps? That now you know peace but also know it can't last forever. That perhaps it's more beautiful in its transience? Am I [her voice grows uncertain] making any sense?

I've never heard of anything like that. It sounds like a kind of magic. And you should try with the waters here. Try it and see?

I am not sure, in honesty - work goes a-pace, I know, but I do not know how close they are to completion.

[ He smiles a little sadly ] Aye, you see it too. A wise man once said 'The world is indeed full of peril, and in it there are many dark places; but still there is much that is fair, and though in all lands love is now mingled with grief, it grows perhaps the greater'. My people call history the Long Defeat, for we know we can beat the Shadow back but temporarily. And yet, we do not despair, for we love well the lands of Middle-earth in all its moods, and we count our time in her defence and betterment well spent, e'en if it fades eventually.

I have heard it named so! [ Maglor laughs ] But to us it is Art, for we are only asking the world to move to the shapes that it already knows, just... a little out of its normal order.

I suppose they'll announce something when the buildings are ready.

[she takes a moment to process] What is the Shadow? Evil made manifest? And it must take a great deal of courage and determination, to fight a battle that you know is doomed to ultimately fail. You must love and miss your homeworld dearly.

If it is art, then it must be beautiful. Would you--show me sometime?

I will ask my brother how it is going.

[ Maglor promises ]

The Shadow... yes, I suppose you could say that. He was Melkor once, the Mightiest of the Powers of the World. But he wanted what he could not have, and in jealousy and greed and pride what he could not have he decided to destroy, instead. It was my father who named him Morgoth, the Dark Foe of the world, and so he is, delighting only in the destruction of all that is good and fair. His power is laced through the world, for he is one of it's builders, and so we call Shadow our enemy, for in the darkness is his power easiest to see, and so we know also that we can but drive it away, for a time. There will be no removing it, unless the world itself be broken apart and remade.

[ He smiles a little, old and sad and bitter ]

Courage? I suppose there is something of that. But he stole from us, too. My grandfather was the first murder that I ever knew. We never forgave him that, and never will. But after my grandfather, one after another, all my family he has stolen, in one way or another. More than anything, I fight him because of hate.

[ He sighs ]

But the land... yes. The land is fair and although all things must pass, still, I love it, although my roots go not as deep as the Silvan who were born there, still... I would fight for her.

[ He dips his head ]

Of course - although I don't know what you would want to see! Most of what I know I learnt for war. It has been a long time since I could play for peace.

The Shadow. . . it makes my world's wars seem petty and small in comparison. To fight a force which helped make your world only to turn around and try to destroy it all. And a war which goes on for many generations. . . Westeros has had its wars, but only the Dance of the Dragons spanned a single generation. But may I ask what it was that he wanted and could not have?

I understand something of hate and what it can drive a person to do. [she hesitates a moment, then reaches out to place her hand on his upper arm] I'm sorry for your losses.

That's admirable. To willingly choose to fight for your home. Men back home aren't so lucky. They're often conscripted by the House whose land they farm and sent off to fight for their lord. But you and yours . . . it's personal. You put your hearts on the line as much as your lives.

[she manages a small, tremulous smile at him]

Whatever it is that you'd be willing to show with the limited water we have to work with? Only if you're willing, of course.

Smaller? Perhaps so. But no war is ever petty, I think, for wars are always fought for reasons that seem terribly important at the time, and the losses are equally terrible, no matter if the initial reasons are true or false.

[ He smiles wryly ]

Everything, of course. He wanted to be not just revered but worshiped, to grasp all that he could see.

[ He touches her hand in thanks ]

Thank you. But we Elves... we are tied to the world far closer, I think, then Men. We fight because to do otherwise ... is unthinkable. There is much still that is fair, and to let it fade away without trying is grievous to us. But we are at the end of our strength now... our time is over.

[ He shakes his head ]

But there! Enough of grief. I am very happy to use for joy what was once only for war - is there something in particular you want me to try? I don't think I can manage a wave!

[she considers for a moment, then says]

The War of the Five Kings started after King Robert Baratheon died. In part, it was because the parentage of his heir, Joffrey, was in question and also because Joffrey ordered the execution of Eddard Stark, Warden of the North. Before we knew it, war had engulfed all of the Seven Kingdoms.

Everything? But--that's impossible. No one entity can possibly have dominion over everything. Not without becoming a tyrant.

[she blanches at the statement that the Elves' time is over]

So, you're all going to . . .die? And your world will die with you because there will be none left to defend it?

[she manages a small smile]

I think perhaps I'd like to see a--a whirlpool? Would that be possible?

Wars of succession... I hear that almost happened in Gondor, once, but the king of Arnor decided that he would not start the Kinstrife again, and stood aside. But it sounds as if that Joffrey was not a particularly good king in the first place, which does tend to make it easier to start such a war.

[ his smile is grim ] Even so. And that is why no one calls him anything but Morgoth now, for so he is, the Enemy of all.

[ He shakes his head ]

Not die, no. But we are fading. We never increased the way Men do - our children are few, and precious. And so our numbers dwindle. And with the passing of the years, we... grow tired. Elvenhome calls us, across the sea. Some of us remain, but most of us are sailing, and leaving the fight to Men. Some will stay until we fade from memory and into myth and legend, but it is no longer our time. There are just too few of us, now. The time for us to march out, bright banners flying, is long past.

[ He laughs softly at that ]

A whirlpool! I don't know if pools are particularly fond of whirlpools. I can try. Calling light might be easier - no, it will be easier, considering how much light this place gets already!

Joffrey was a wretched king. He cared for nothing but power and the infliction of pain on others. He let others fight his wars for him but wasn't smart enough to let others do his governing for him. [she hesitates for a moment] I was his wife for a day.

I suppose I should be grateful that Westeros has no such enemy. The Seven Kingdoms could never manage to pull together to defeat such a foe, not when they've spent the past five years killing each other. The wars have caused us to lose nearly an entire generation of young men needed to combat such an enemy.

[takes a moment to consider this] That sound so sad, to lose an entire race and culture like that. You are the first Elf I've gotten to know, but if the others are anything like you, the loss would be terrible. Are you planning on staying until the bitter end?

It could be a gentle whirlpool? Just enough to stir the water without agitating it? And you can call light as well?

I am sorry that things have been so bad in your world.

[ Maglor sighs softly ]

To loose the young folk makes a war even harder, for they are the future that will now never be.

[ He nods ] I am Exile. [ He says softly ] For my deeds, for the sins on my hands, I cannot return. So in Middle-earth I will stay, to hold alive the memory of the past.

[ But that question brings a smile that makes him look young ]

Calling light is one of the first things all of us are taught - for it is one of the most useful things against the dark, and also one that is easy to do, for the memory of light is something that almost all things hold, and it is easy to awaken.

So am I. It hasn't been right in Westeros since Robert Baratheon killed Rhaegar Targaryen at the Battle of the Trident.

Yes, it's terrible. There are hundreds upon hundreds of orphans in King's Landing alone, to say nothing of the ravaged countryside, especially in the Riverlands.

[at the news that he's an Exile, her eyes widen in shock and sympathy and her hand on his arm squeezes]

You mean that you won't be able to join your kin? That you're doomed to stay in Middle-earth alone? What--what could you possibly have done to earn such cruelty?

[yes, that's a much better look on him]

It must be wonderful, to be able to do such things at will. Could you call the light in here?

[because with the exception of the light cast by a small table lamp, the room is dark]

[ He looks away, and his eyes are haunted ]

Belive me, that punishment is the least I deserve for what I am, and what I have done.

[ He says hollowly, but he smiles a little at that. Reaching for a flask, he tips water into his hand, and sings, low and clear, of the memory of starlight in a world with no moon or sun, a million brilliant pinpricks of light, and the wonder of those who looked up and saw them ]

Aiya Earendil Elenion Ancalima!

[ a spark answers him, a flicker of light drawn from memory and love, flickering to a steady, silver gleam, twinkling merrily in the small puddle in his scarred hand ]

[she takes a moment, summons her courage, and asks in a gentle tone of voice]

What is it you have done? And become? If I--if it's not too much of an intrusion to ask?

[she watches him pour the water into his hand and marvels as he begins to sing. it's so clear and so beautiful, she can't help being in awe of it.

her eyes widen at the spark of light and she looks at it, at him, and back down to the light. a hand reaches out towards it, then shies back for fear of disrupting its beauty and clarity]

...I've never seen or heard such a thing. Never even imagined they'd be possible.

[ he reaches for her hand and pours the little puddle into hers where it flickers merrily for another minute or so before gently fading. ]

It is one of the first things we learnt - calling light! Many of our jewelsmiths used to use it to set in gems.

[ he sighs softly ]

I swore once, that I would refuse none thos tale, so that all might take warning from our mistakes, and although you do not realise, but you have asked for the same tale now twice, for the reason I am sundered from my wife is part of it. Still...it's easier to sing then to tell.

[ Quietly then, he sings for her, and the story unfolds around them, the song sweeping her up into his hold, and this is the tale he tells:

There are two trees, living light, and a woeld that can only be described as paradise. There are three jewels, created by the crown prince of that land, that capture that light living within them. Evil covets the jewel, and the king is slain, the jewels taken, and the distrought prince swears a terrible oath,and all seven of his sons swear it too as their mother turns away and weeps. Evil has fled across the sea, so the prince goes to the swan havens, to ask for their ships...and they turn him away, for they fled the shadows of Middle-earth and do not wish to return. The prince kills them, and steals the ships.

(Maglor's wife comes from the Havens. In the chaos of battle, she dies on his sword, and his brothers have to drag him onto the ships)

There are more of them than ships, but rather than send the ships back, the prince burns them, and accidentally kills his youngest son. His half brother curses his name, but decides to take the rest of their people the long way round over the Grinding Ice - he will lose almost a quarter of them on the ice, and the survivors will never truly forgive the others.

The prince leads his sons against Evil but is slain. His eldest is taken captive but his dearest friend, who braved the ice, saves him. For a while...things look good. And then Evil breaks them. Time and again, they are thrown back, and every death is someone they cannot replace. Heroes and legends are written across centuries in blood and tears....and the jewels remain out of reach, and Evil unassailable.

A maiden dares the impossible for love and wins. A jewel lives in elven hands. The Oath wakes.

Twice more, the sons assail their own people for a jewel they do not want but are sworn to retrieve. In the end, it takes the Gods returning to overthrow Evil, and once again, the last two brothers kill their own, and steal the jewels.

But the jewels are holy, and they have stained their hands unjustly with kinsblood. They burn.

The eldest brother kills himself - unable to face their utter ruin. And Maglor...throws his into the sea ]

[she regards the flame in her hands with awe, enchanted by the little flickering light in her palm]

It's so beautiful. And your jewelsmiths use it? They must do beautiful work.

[she blanches slightly at his telling her that she's asked for the same painful tale twice, but. she's trusted him with the politics of Westeros and her own heartbreak, he can trust her with his pain. she'll never tell a soul]

[she starts crying when king dies because she knows all too well the kind of chaos that can erupt when a king dies unexpectedly and the son and his sons swear their oath.

she weeps harder at the death of Maglor's wife.

and even harder at the deaths of all the brothers but two and the theft of the jewels and the way they burn the hands.

when Maglor throws his jewel into the sea, she lifts her head to face him. tears still stream down her cheeks, but her expression is compassionate and non-judgemental.

she reaches hesitantly to touch his scarred hand]

I'm. I'm so sorry. For what you've been through.

[ His eyes are dry, by contrast, but the scars on his hands are angry and red, and his smile so very sad ]

Thank you. But I think it is fair to say that I brought it all upon myself. We cannot say that we were not warned!

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