#laethir

Praetor of Law Hér Nelyafinwë Maitimo kept very large and ornate chambers within Tirion’s houses of parliament for his work. A great deal of it’s furnishings were gifts from his family, the large centre table in particular had been a family effort after he had mentioned a need for such a thing in passing. The desk he sat at right now had been a more personal search, but he had still enlisted his father’s aide in it so that it might fit all the many treatises he was wont to pour over, as he was doing right now. 

Or at least feigning too.

This gift of a gully that Telvo was worrying into his office floor with his pacing feet was new, and perhaps not as welcome as the others had been. Upon hearing a knock at his door Maitimo had assumed his littlest brother would find his voice eventually to relay what was so obviously troubling him. But after a drawn out silence of him pretending to read and Telvo pretending to look at his books, he decided a push was needed. 

              laethir said: ❛ Put me down you fool ! ❜ —elurin to maglor. babie is MAD!!!!

       it was with a RARE genuine smile adorning his lips that maglor stopped spinning for a moment, whilst he carried elurín in his back. he had almost forgotten of his wish to have children of his own with his beloved wife that stayed behind in valinor with mother, almost forgot how the utter joy of a child’s voice brought him such peace. even if these were dire circumstances, maglor could not help himself to feel responsible for the twins –––––––– after all, maedhros did found them but he seemed to want distance from the both of them. therefore, the second son of fëanor stepped forward and took that responsibility. 

       after hearing elurín’s voice demanding to put him down, maglor simply glanced upwards his shoulder, the smile growing into a bigger one and it almost HURT is jawline to smile. how long had it been since he felt at peace with himself? how long since this last gesture? he did not place elurín down at that very moment, yet, he went for another spin as a laugh was released and after that he ended up placing him down in front of his feet, hands securing his shoulders to remain certain he wouldn’t fall and harm himself. 

      ❝ alright, alright. ❞ he still spoke with jest, truly, he was enjoying this feeling. ❝ i hope you are not foo DIZZY to walk now. ❞

     “𝕴 don’t want it now.” That broth scalded his lips and surely his tongue too, if Ñolofinwë had let it. He does everything he can to make Lalwendë keep it in her hands, open-palmed stays her from bringing the spoon back to him. “I can still eat if I want to.” A hurt leg didn’t make him lose strength.

But it does pinch his mood. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “You know it’s too salty.” Yet, as well, surrender makes him lean back into the cushions — and he won’t send his sister away. He can vent to her. “Father is hosting a delegation and I can not go.”

They wake to the sound of screaming and the coppery scent of blood and death in their nostrils. It takes several moments before Eluréd realizes that these sensations are merely the product of haunting memories and nightmares. Their gaze falls upon their brother as they attempt to quell the paralyzing fear that has once more gripped them. 

They are safe. Both of them. They are no longer in danger of death at the hands of the terrible Kinslayers. 

Eluréd takes a deep, shaky breath and gets up, quietly slipping outside and tilting their face upward toward the skies. The light of the stars filters down from cloudless skies and offers a certain measure of comfort.

                       laethir said:  ❛ This is not happening. ❜ —thran to maemae

      the news traveled fast and when word came that beren and lúthien were dead, the light of a silmarill could be seen shining in the woods of doriath once more it was celegorm that riled his brothers up to prepare an attack. even if maedhros had seen his fair share of death, blood, anguish and pain he knew their oath required them to at least be there during the KINSLAYINGS. he also knew it was inevitable to try to change their brothers minds when tyelko was already getting cheered on by the others ( not the twins, they never seemed to want to be a part of it either. ) 

       the oath was a curse, whether they saw it that way or did not, there was no turning back until it was fulfilled lest they would endure an eternal darkness. no rest for their souls when they time would come, sooner than expected per times, maedhros throught to himself. none of it was to be enjoyed, all the slaying, the oath causing the heaviest of responsibilities in their shoulders and what remained of their souls. after so much death and screams of pain whilst being slain, maedhros took as CAPTIVE the only one that seemed to have been spared by his siblings. 

       ❝ this is happening, ❞ he contradicted the words of the silver haired elf. ❝ all we wish to know is where the silmarill rests, than perhaps you shall live longer given that you provide us with that information. ❞ his sword remained sheathed, for it has had it’s fair share of spilled blood this day, yet his glance was as SHARP. ❝ where is the silmaril that belongs, rightfully, to us? speak. now. ❞ 

     Ungently he led. Had Elurìn the power to resist him at all Tyelkormo’s strength would still break his arm, and he would cry and cry more still. He felt and was relentless. He had tasted blood again, both of foes and of his own on the quest for his father’s creation, and he had come so close– So Close! It drove him mad!

   “It’s too big on you.” Comes from without the chamber. But disapproval only rings for the shoulder seam that comes too low, doesn’t sit. Celegorm has the finer clothes, yes, and yet he is a little confounded.

@laethir​: 🌜— nellas 🌜my muse is exhausted after a long day | accepting

       He has a low fire burning, keeps bright and warm this little camp. Even Huan lies behind and around beside him, where Celegorm may rest  his hand on his head like the arm of a throne. Yet his own head falls gently on hers. She’s reined in a little bit of his flaring spirit, a little more each time they meet.

And she’d let him shut his eyes here and now, which have slowly learned to find an old light in the moon, yet have forgotten—it’s laid asleep—a different desire for that same spark.

His hound, though ever watchful, is undisturbed and does not disturb them even as Celegorm sits differently, takes his hand atop hers, that is already on his other. She unwinds fingers that have become too tender and tight by holding a bow. Before they sat here he’d seemed a bit worn.