Quiet Captain of Doriath

Beleg had said it wasn't urgent, though. So then something personal. Which wound up leading thoughts in a few directions—most of which he hadn't bothered to consider just for sake of the way things were. With certain things dismissed for various reasons, it left Mablung wondering just what it was Beleg so needed of him.

He'd been about to voice that very question when Beleg stepped up again, and Mablung found himself distracted instead into trying to make sense of the movement in conjunction with that demeanour. Confident thing.

...And then that—well, that. A faint shade of red lit across his face.

“Beleg...” Mablung considered himself to have few weaknesses in dealing with others, but the beaming Elf before him was a glaring one when he let his guard down. Backed into a metaphorical corner, like this, really. Or it felt like it. To play the fool and offer his hand literally would do little good; to say no would be dishonest; to acquiesce or say nothing at all would be rude; to say yes... would seem too soon.

Rather than any of those things, he found himself laughing quietly to himself.

Though, perhaps a small part of him might not have minded—

Focus. You're too old for this.

How well he knew how unapologetic Beleg was! For something like this, not even sheepish. No matter, because it didn't appear to have disturbed anyone. The confession, if it could be called as much, earned a low hum, and a skeptical look—far from made in earnest. Mablung loosely folded his arms across his chest, and upon the posing of Beleg's question, he shook his head.

A part of him wondered just what could be so important that the warden would forget himself and the hour, but then Mablung quickly reconciled it with the fact that this was Beleg. Not that the Elf was irresponsible in such a manner, but more that his eagerness at times was not unknown. A thing Mablung found himself rather fond of in his friend, most of the time, though now it made him wonder just what the excitement was over that Beleg would behave so.

Once reached, Mablung bowed his head for a moment before straightening and regarding the other.

There were parts of their stay and service he hadn't minded, that he had even enjoyed, and though he at times would recall the spirit of the place, he was not so attached that he regretted moving on from it. He did not dream of it the way Beleg did, either. Were he ever to wake before Beleg, he would be sure to ground him; it was how they'd ever been, wasn't it? Beleg light and Mablung solid.

Though he felt his companion stir, Mablung had yet to rouse; it was merely a note before his mind slipped back into sleep. Even then, he shifted, his hold changing but only slightly in accordance with the form he'd since curled around. He was further lulled as fingers moved through his hair, but the delicate kiss snagged the last remnants of awareness and drew him closer to wakefulness.

And so it started, twisting some, drawing away only enough to look up to Beleg with a groggy, questioning face. It was another moment before Mablung decided he was well awake enough, and shortly after that he made effort to sit up, weight settled on his hip so as to remain yet somewhat tangled.  

I’m still not sure wtf is up with the hip plates, but I’ll eventually make those look reasonable. Whenever it is I clean this up.

But hey, captain in armour. Being grumpy. Probably watching babbies learning how to do thing and wondering how hard he can push them before it’s too much.

Headcanon is that the armour crafted for the Elves of Doriath is a blend of primarily chain and scale for large-scale battle (with a few pieces of plate). More commonly worn, however is a blend of leather armour with some chain. Shit usually doesn’t hit the fan, after all.

Usually.

And then someone has to go and be a brat about a shiny rock.