If there was anything between them at all, it was a mutual love and respect of Music. Sometimes that was enough, though Daeron never forgot either what he did, or what he knew Maglor had done.
Another thing they had in common was a keen sense of self-hatred.
They should both be long gone, and yet somehow, it never ends. He'd never wanted to sail, though he didn't begrudge others for going.
Then perhaps one of the more frightening things happened, and the former minstrel of Doriath struggled not to gasp for breath, learning he was in space! The walls felt far too close, despite knowing objectively they were right where they should be.
"If any know of another who needs a minstrel..." A soft voice ventured, uneasy with reaching out to those he neither knew nor could see.
That voice, that voice, as wild as the trees which birthed it, grey sorrow forever wound through it, and Maglor would know that voice waking or sleeping, despite all that lies between them, both time and blood-stained floors.
"The stars sing clearly here."
It is not... the right answer, perhaps, but he knows Daeron will understand.
He almost choked on his breath at the answering voice. The words didn't matter.
That voice did.
Daeron could hear the sea crash against cliffs, how water shushed over sand. "Elbereth hears all." A blessing or curse or just a greeting, who could say? He was torn between wanting to know where Maglor was so he could go to the one voice he could put a face and name to, or stay far away from him as possible because Maglor could do the same.
Daeron lay back down, though curled onto his side with his back to the cold, metal wall. Music was his biggest weakness, as Maglor knew, and used to smooth some of the chaos.
A much quieter breath could be heard. "There are...strange creatures here. I think they have fixed anything that might send me to the Halls."
A soft hiss of alarm. "No trees?" Focus. "...Are there ever any reprieves? I" feel the walls closing in.
"They are called robots - mechanical creatures." Maglor supplies him the information, tucking away the fact that Daeron is not dying, and is probably not bleeding, but will definitely need company, if not proper healing.
... Maybe Finrod might be better for him? The Arafinweans are... less intimidating, he knows (which is hilarious, considering).
"Not on ship." He reassures, and paints the picture in song for Daeron of the great forests he has seen. "But when we dock, depending, some of the planets are Green."
His lips curled in distaste at the strange word but he refrained from comment. Maglor would know anyway, but it hardly mattered. Just...as long as he could just keep hearing that song. It was too quiet, the air too still and stale, and cold.
The song changed and he sat up, listening intently, seemingly drinking in the picture. A lifeline. "When will we dock next?" People would have difficulty convincing him to return once he was back among trees. Maglor might manage it.
Might.
He wasn't surprised at the lack of answer, and simply dismissed it. The Feanorian was well enough if he was singing images for him.
"Roughly every month, we move on to a new location." Maglor tells him, never stopping the lifeline he provides for the other, a steady hand until Daeron has his feet under him well enough to manage on his own.
"We usually stay no more than a few weeks. Some places are green, others... not so much so. But it is a reprieve. Also, the Iskaliut has a small garden."
"Are we forced to leave with the ships?" There was a hard edge to the question. The minstrel slowly began to gather himself, body gradually relaxing and uncurling from the tightly defensive posture.
"The Iskaliut?" Just a hint of curiosity, finally.
"I do not know, but I assume so." Sulkily. "I have never had the chance to find out, my brother has always dragged me back on board." Unwillingly.
There, that's a good sign.
"Mm - the fleet is the Marsiva, where you are now, the smaller ships where we all stay, and the Iskaliut, where one can find, or set up, shops, pubs, and so on."
There was a flash of irritation on Maglor's behalf. Daeron scowled. "So we are prisoners." Flat tone was flat. Though, he supposed they both deserved it. "Which brother?" Who else did he need to watch warily?
Fingers slowly began threading through silver hair, smoothing out imagined tangles, listening to a voice which was both hated, adored, enjoyed, and yes. A lifeline.
"Is that where you spend your time? In this garden on the Iskaliut?"
"Yes. Kept in comfort, but without a doubt, we are here for their entertainment, and no more than that."
Maglor's is equally flat.
"Maedhros. Also, my cousins Finrod and Fingon are here, as is my grandfather, Finwe." So, you know. If Daeron would find it easier, he can ask one of them to keep an eye on him instead?
"Sometimes, yes - I... have a room that I have soundproofed, on my own ship. I compose there, often, though... I might move to the Iskaliut."
Then settled. "That must be...strange." He cautiously ventured. For Maglor. Difficult.
Daeron hummed quietly, pulling a leg up to loop arms around it loosely, resting his chin on his bent knee, hair forgotten. "It...sounds like the Iskaliut is better." At least it had a garden.
Daeron frowned, looking away. "You were there before me." Despite it all, here was someone who understood his need of music and nature and could help settle him. He found he didn't want to chase Maglor away from a place that clearly brought him comfort.
It could be seen, if only through the nuances of the music they both understood so well. "I will probably go straight to the Iskaliut when I am allowed" lips twist "to leave. I will...contact? you when I do so."
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2016-11-14 03:44 pm (UTC)Another thing they had in common was a keen sense of self-hatred.
They should both be long gone, and yet somehow, it never ends. He'd never wanted to sail, though he didn't begrudge others for going.
Then perhaps one of the more frightening things happened, and the former minstrel of Doriath struggled not to gasp for breath, learning he was in space! The walls felt far too close, despite knowing objectively they were right where they should be.
"If any know of another who needs a minstrel..." A soft voice ventured, uneasy with reaching out to those he neither knew nor could see.
no subject
Date: 2016-11-14 03:50 pm (UTC)"The stars sing clearly here."
It is not... the right answer, perhaps, but he knows Daeron will understand.
no subject
Date: 2016-11-14 05:26 pm (UTC)That voice did.
Daeron could hear the sea crash against cliffs, how water shushed over sand. "Elbereth hears all." A blessing or curse or just a greeting, who could say? He was torn between wanting to know where Maglor was so he could go to the one voice he could put a face and name to, or stay far away from him as possible because Maglor could do the same.
no subject
Date: 2016-11-15 07:42 am (UTC)"Even so far as here? The stars are strange."
But still beautiful, still clear and bright and almost painful in their pure song, although perhaps for one born under starlight they are less so.
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Date: 2016-11-15 08:20 am (UTC)"Why not here? Stars are stars, whatever formation they hold. If any."
Did either of them deserve such comfort? His crimes were nowhere near the Feanorians, and yet did that still matter? "I can hear them sing even here."
no subject
Date: 2016-11-15 09:31 am (UTC)"Are you hurt?" Daeron is so much wilder than he, he knows, it would not be the first time he has found the other lost minstrel so.
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Date: 2016-11-15 10:06 am (UTC)"Not as badly as the last time we met." Which didn't say much. "How long have you been here?"
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Date: 2016-11-15 10:18 am (UTC)"Good. Healer needed?"
He shrugs a little. "A little while. Some months, I think. It is safe enoug, but there are no trees here."
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Date: 2016-11-15 10:31 am (UTC)A much quieter breath could be heard. "There are...strange creatures here. I think they have fixed anything that might send me to the Halls."
A soft hiss of alarm. "No trees?" Focus. "...Are there ever any reprieves? I" feel the walls closing in.
"Are you well?" Focus on other things.
no subject
Date: 2016-11-15 01:48 pm (UTC)... Maybe Finrod might be better for him? The Arafinweans are... less intimidating, he knows (which is hilarious, considering).
"Not on ship." He reassures, and paints the picture in song for Daeron of the great forests he has seen. "But when we dock, depending, some of the planets are Green."
He doesn't comment on himself.
no subject
Date: 2016-11-15 11:10 pm (UTC)The song changed and he sat up, listening intently, seemingly drinking in the picture. A lifeline. "When will we dock next?" People would have difficulty convincing him to return once he was back among trees. Maglor might manage it.
Might.
He wasn't surprised at the lack of answer, and simply dismissed it. The Feanorian was well enough if he was singing images for him.
no subject
Date: 2016-11-16 05:08 am (UTC)"We usually stay no more than a few weeks. Some places are green, others... not so much so. But it is a reprieve. Also, the Iskaliut has a small garden."
no subject
Date: 2016-11-16 05:24 am (UTC)"The Iskaliut?" Just a hint of curiosity, finally.
no subject
Date: 2016-11-16 05:52 am (UTC)There, that's a good sign.
"Mm - the fleet is the Marsiva, where you are now, the smaller ships where we all stay, and the Iskaliut, where one can find, or set up, shops, pubs, and so on."
no subject
Date: 2016-11-16 05:59 am (UTC)Fingers slowly began threading through silver hair, smoothing out imagined tangles, listening to a voice which was both hated, adored, enjoyed, and yes. A lifeline.
"Is that where you spend your time? In this garden on the Iskaliut?"
no subject
Date: 2016-11-16 06:24 am (UTC)Maglor's is equally flat.
"Maedhros. Also, my cousins Finrod and Fingon are here, as is my grandfather, Finwe." So, you know. If Daeron would find it easier, he can ask one of them to keep an eye on him instead?
"Sometimes, yes - I... have a room that I have soundproofed, on my own ship. I compose there, often, though... I might move to the Iskaliut."
no subject
Date: 2016-11-16 07:11 am (UTC)Then settled. "That must be...strange." He cautiously ventured. For Maglor. Difficult.
Daeron hummed quietly, pulling a leg up to loop arms around it loosely, resting his chin on his bent knee, hair forgotten. "It...sounds like the Iskaliut is better." At least it had a garden.
no subject
Date: 2016-11-16 07:34 am (UTC)He smiles a little.
"I like it there too. You could... maybe spend some time in the garden?"
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Date: 2016-11-16 08:03 am (UTC)Daeron frowned, looking away. "You were there before me." Despite it all, here was someone who understood his need of music and nature and could help settle him. He found he didn't want to chase Maglor away from a place that clearly brought him comfort.
no subject
Date: 2016-11-16 08:28 am (UTC)"I don't mind sharing." He offers shyly.
"Once... we played together." A long, long, time ago. "I do not mind doing so again."
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Date: 2016-11-16 08:37 am (UTC)A glitter of emotion, shy and hopeful, flicked into silver eyes. "...I have my flute still." Quiet consent. Then a sigh. "Thank you."
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Date: 2016-11-16 08:56 am (UTC)"Thank you. I am assigned to the Huntress - you need but ask for me."
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Date: 2016-11-16 09:10 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2016-11-16 10:22 am (UTC)"I will see you then. There are good people here, Daeron. You are safe."
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Date: 2016-11-16 09:14 pm (UTC)"It does not feel safe."
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