Video 8 - Sewing Shop

[roseofthetyrells]

[the video opens on Margaery sitting neatly in a chair, wearing one of her usual gowns with her sword sitting on her lap. for those with practiced eyes or those who know Margaery well, they will be able to tell that her smile is still strained and not entirely meeting her eyes, but it's still bright and beautiful just the same]

Hello, everyone! I wanted to remind you that the Sewing Shop is open and ready for business here on the North Island. I can make a wide variety of clothing or embellish that which you already have. You have only to ask.

The only price is that you have to obtain a bolt of fabric from Tranquility in exchange. All manners of fabric are welcome as are all colors.

Thank you and I hope to see you soon!

[filtered to the Killjoys cast]

One of your friends, Party Poison, has approached me about making clothing for all of you. He's already paid in advance, so all you need to do is come over so I can take your measurements and talk to you about what you would like to have.

[filtered to Eleven (and Wash)]

I have a few surprises for you. Come over whenever you like and I'll have them ready for you.

Comments

[roseofthetyrells]

Oh, dear. It sounds as though he made trouble for himself.

A dragon large enough to destroy mountains! Balerion the Black Dread was said to be the largest dragon the Targaryens ever had, but even he could not manage such a thing. I should know, I saw his skull in the catacombs of the Red Keep. Ancalagon must have been truly monstrous!

[bythewaves]

I never met him, but the tales of him are clear enough.

[ Maglor sighs ]

The poor boy had a terrible temper, and a tendency to impulsivity bad enough he might have been one of my brothers if you looked only at behaviour! Then to be directly cursed by Morgoth himself... he never stood a chance.

But aye, Ancalagon the Black was the greatest dragon that ever lived, Morgoth's finest creation, presumably, or so he hoped.

[roseofthetyrells]

And yet, Morgoth lives?

What could possibly surpass such a creature? It sounds impossible.

[bythewaves]

Aye - Morgoth is one of the Valar, the Powers of the World, although we do not count him in their number any longer. They are beings of spirit, not of flesh, and although he bound himself in fleshly form, and thereby made himself vulnerable, no art of Man or Elf or Dwarf can slay him - we can slow him down, a little, but he poured so much of himself into the world that the only way to truly slay him would be to destroy the world itself. After the War of Wrath he was cast out of the world and bound beyond the Doors of Night - but he lives still, and will doubtless one day win free and return.

[roseofthetyrells]

And then there will be a terrible battle. One which will place your entire world at risk. May he stay trapped as long as possible, for I would not want such a force unleashed on anyone.

[bythewaves]

Even so. The Wise call it the Dagor Dagorath, if you like, the "Battle of Battles". They say it will be the end of our world, but what comes after we do not know. Some speak of a Second Prophecy, that with Morgoth finally defeated that Arda will be made anew, her hurts mended. But no one knows for sure.

[roseofthetyrells]

May it be so, that Arda will be remade without Morgoth's foul influence.

What do--what do you think will happen?

[bythewaves]

I do not know.

[ He sighs softly ]

I... hope for a second chance. But I do not know.

[roseofthetyrells]

[she reaches to take his hands in one of hers and looks into his eyes]

There will be a second chance. Everyone deserves a second chance.

[bythewaves]

[ he smiles at her faintly ]

I hope so. Finrod used to argue that if we are indeed what the Valar called us, the Eruhini, the Children of the One, the sueely we are not forsaken, for what Father would write an ending for his children without hope?

[roseofthetyrells]

No father would beget a child for the purpose of forsaking it later. It would be cruel and short-sighted. There will be a second chance.

[bythewaves]

So mote it be. [ He says gravely ]

But I suppose we won't know until the End finally comes, whenever it does.

[roseofthetyrells]

May it not be for a long time. You and your world have been through enough.

[bythewaves]

Oh, it will be at least another Age, I think. Aragorn will teach his children well, but Men do tend to forget, eventually. I suppose we will have to see.

[roseofthetyrells]

In such cases, the importance of knowing one's history is paramount. Matt told me of an Earth saying, that those who forget their history are doomed to repeat it. It seems true enough for every world.

[bythewaves]

It is a wise saying and one folk would do well to heed. [ Maglor agrees ]

It is one of the reasons I chose the penace I did - music endures. If I can keep the memory alive... then, perhaps...

[roseofthetyrells]

Then perhaps those who were lost won't be gone completely?

[bythewaves]

I hope so, anyway. [ He shrugs wryly ]

Or I delubde myself, I suppose.

[roseofthetyrells]

Hope isn't a delusion. [and she offers a wry smile in return] And I'm not speaking of the being calling himself Hope.

[bythewaves]

[ Maglor snorts, amused ]

That one is a poor representative. I've known better!

[roseofthetyrells]

[she arches an eyebrow playfully] Really? Do tell!

[bythewaves]

His name is Earendil, and he is a peredhil - one of the halfelven. My little cousin Idril's son, to be precise, and his father was Tuor, one of the Hadorians, and an especial servant of the Lord of the Oceans.

[ Maglor smiles a little sadly ]

I never knew him, but his tale is one that is forever tied with mine, for he took to wife Elwing of Doriath, and she had in her keeping one of our father's Silmarils, the one her grandmother Luthien stole from Morgoth himself. When his twin sons were still very young, Earendil kissed his family goodbye and put out to sea, sailing Westwards in hope of finding Valinor, there to beg for aid for Middle-earth. When we... sacked Sirion, Elwing jumped into the ocean, rather than surrender to us what we were seeking. The Lord of the Oceans took pity on her, and perhaps, as Luthien's granddaughter she was a little less bound to her shape than she had thought. He turned her into a seabird, and she flew to Earendil's side with the Silmaril around her neck. They thought we had slain their sons, and so they turned westwards again, and this time, with the Silmaril to guide them, they made it at last.

For their trials, the Valar offered them the choice - to be counted amongst the elves, or to take the Gift of Men and to go out beyond the world, but they could not come back to Middle-earth. Elwing chose to be an elf, and for love, Earendil chose the same. His ship they hallowed, and setting the Silmaril at it's prow they set it to sail in the skies, and so he sails now the stars, and may look down upon the lands he left although he may not set foot here again. And to us, below, he is Gil-Estel, the Star of High Hope, a reminder that out of the most terrible of deeds can come still light, and that we are not forsaken.

[roseofthetyrells]

That's beautiful. Even in tragedy, your people find ways to create beauty out of it. Would that we all had such skill.

[bythewaves]

As I said - a far better example! To craft beauty out of tears is indeed the province of bards, but Earendil proves the principle of Estel - Hope in the darkness.

[roseofthetyrells]

When hope is most needed. In the darkness.