don't touch me

[lintamande]

Confirmation reaches them in the spring that Elwing of Sirion has the Silmaril.

It takes as long as the spring only because they weren't looking. They can stretch the oath that far, they can be disinterested in knowing - but now they know, and so there it is. Elwing of Sirion is twenty-three. Half-man, so fully grown. Sirion is a city of refugees. Elves and Men and, since there are Men, children. Elwing herself has infant children.

They debate whether to send messengers. Debating is allowed, even protracted debating. The Oath, these days, is loud in their minds, and louder when they're pushing it like this, but they drag out the debate for a few months. Messengers will probably be shot on sight. The last time Elwing of Sirion received news of the House of Fëanor it would have been the news that her brothers, twins, aged seven, had not survived the sack of Menegroth.

They send messengers anyway. The messengers are shot on sight. They have good armor, Fëanorian armor, and return home injured but not lethally. Maglor's songs no longer stitch them together. War makes you worse at healing. Maglor's songs are more powerful than ever - he can knock back a wave of approaching enemies, he can make a blade's next touch deadly, he can make them faster and more impervious to danger, but he can no longer do healing.

Maedhros, when he thinks about this, thinks that perhaps there needs to be part of you that is not broken for healing spells to draw on. Or perhaps the Enemy is amused to strip that away first. Perhaps the Enemy finds it suited to the theme as the Oath tugs and yanks and twists them into violence against the lands they once defended and the peoples they once sheltered.

They send messengers to Sirion again. The messengers deliver a plea for the Silmaril, an offer of anything at all in exchange. The messengers do not return at all.

The Enemy is many many hundreds of miles from here but at night Maedhros can hear him in his head. Is it so implausible that I really let you go? the Enemy likes saying. You serve me better free than you ever would have willingly.

The Oath allows them to work slowly. They begin planning the sack of the refugee camp even more slowly than the Oath allows, so slowly that its currents are constantly tugging at them. Any slower and the currents would erode all the things they care about which are not the Oath, and it would be a disaster to go to Sirion once they've been stripped of their capacity to care about anything that is not the Silmaril. So they do not hold out forever. But they work as slowly as they can.

Comments

[lintamande]

"The Lady Elwing, Lúthien's granddaughter, and Eärendil son of Idril and Tuor."

[imeanforever]

Nod. "Thank you."

[lintamande]

She sings a little while later, once she's had some tea and offered Promise some, and then someone else comes in with an injury and she heads off to look at that.

[imeanforever]

Promise can walk without feeling like she's making her knee worse now! She totters outside to see if Elwing is just conveniently walking down the street or living in a particularly nice refugee tent or anything.

[lintamande]

Elwing lives, she is told, in the palace. It's an under-construction palace but still quite elaborate. Is Promise from Doriath? Elwing likes to meet her people.

[imeanforever]

Promise is not from Doriath but she is a new person.

[lintamande]

With twin toddlers the Queen is very busy but eventually no doubt Promise can meet her.

[imeanforever]

That would be nice.

[lintamande]

Does Promise have a place to live? The space is very full but she might know someone who knows someone who knows someone who has an empty bed.

[imeanforever]

Promise does not have a place to live. She might not stay long term, she'd hate to impose and she's not used to crowds, but a bed for a bit would be lovely.

[lintamande]

She really should stay, nowhere else on the continent is safe save for servants of the Enemy. It's no imposition, we're all in this together. But certainly a bed they can do.

[imeanforever]

That's very kind of them.

She lets herself be steered around; she is not in enough of a time crunch to make it really obvious that she wants to talk to Elwing on a deadline.

[lintamande]

And they find a bed for her, and offer her food but don't seem distressed when she refuses it, and almost everyone introduces themselves by name.

[imeanforever]

Convenient.

She sleeps.

[lintamande]

Does she do anything? Sewing, fishing, building? Lots of projects would love her help if she can help, though if she's still recuperating of course no one will insist, it's just that some people find it helpful for their recovery to start doing helpful things.

[imeanforever]

She can sew, although she is mostly accustomed to doing with leaves, as with what she is wearing.

[lintamande]

Does she have some kind of magic that makes it not fall apart? If so, people would like that. Here people do not make clothes out of leaves because they rip and die.

[imeanforever]

Maybe they're just different leaves. Anyway, she assumes the underlying principles of stitching hold.

[lintamande]

They do! People are happy to bring her fabric to sew things.

[imeanforever]

So she sews some things. On the pretense of not wanting to get too absorbed in stitching, is Elwing likely to want to meet her soon?

[lintamande]

She's only half-Elf, you know, but that's still half-Elf, and she's got the children, it might be months. Is it important that they meet sooner?

[imeanforever]

If possible.

[lintamande]

Someone will ask someone who will ask someone who is helping build the palace.

[imeanforever]

Promise appreciates that. And everyone is being so kind about her privacy. She appreciates that too.

[lintamande]

Lots of people here don't want to talk about the past. Elwing watched her city destroyed and everyone killed, Eärendil did too, it's very common. It'll be all right. They'll cling here together in Sirion until the end however it comes.