elfoflight | OPEN RP POST

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open rp post

OPEN RP POST

Pretty straight forward. You have an idea you want to play out with Finarfin, throw up a starter or plotting comment and we'll go from there.

Haven't threaded with me before but want to try something different than how you found this journal? That's fine too! I'm always open to new RP partners.

If you have questions, feel free to shoot me a PM if you're more comfortable that way.

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France pouted, though it was hardly real.

"Then they will have learned them right and true. And I will feed them tales of England's professor, in French." What other language would France let his children study? Especially those tales, though he'd snuck a peek to make certain the translations were correct.

"I miss John" Maglor admits. "He was a good man, and the first mortal I taught Quenya too in so long. He called his wife Luthien, did you know? It is written on their tombstones - Beren and Luthien. He loved that tale the best."

A proud lift of his head. "The tales are accurate. I helped him with the translations myself." Mumbled "If only that movie director had been more willing to listen"

And that explained everything. France listened quietly, raising a brow as if in doubt. Even though there was none. "That does explain the Noldo concentration." Not that he'd minded. "Perhaps you'd like to explain why my granddaughter supposedly had a twin at first?"

And Jackson's mention earned a little wince and a sigh. "He did draw more attention to the tales, however inaccurate he protrayed them..."

"I wanted to do more but... then the War came. And I was busy also." Using elven skill to get into places Men could not, trying to save as many lives as he could.

"Ah... well John did his best, but some of those transcripts are very archaic, and not the best preserved although Mirkwood has done what he could. And I was not always around to correct them until later."

A shrug. "In fairness, he did speak to both England and me, and he did the best he could. I know the studios pushed him a lot in certain directions as well. ... I still feel vaguely like I need to apologise for the existence of Tauriel in the latest movies. I am sure Mirkwood will never speak to me again."

Maglor didn't need to say what he'd been doing. France could guess well enough, and sent his nephew a proud, if sad, little smile. "Perhaps you could write to his son. Talk to him of more than just our family."

He nodded in understanding. And frowned faintly at the mention of Mirkwood. "I regret not having paid Mirkwood a visit." Ever. It hadn't occurred to him. Who else of the old world should he have hunted down to speak with, but hadn't?

He would have to fix that, and hope the ancient nation would forgive the terrible over-sight in time. "Men need their romance," he murmured dryly. "And controvercy."

"I suppose I should. It just... never seemed the right time." Maglor nods slowly.

"Well. In fairness Mirkwood never speaks to anyone except England? He doesn't much like me, either." Not surprising, really. "If any of the other Elven Kingdoms remain, I have not seen them. The Dwarven Realms the same. If there are any, they are very well hidden."

Maglor does not roll his eyes, but only because he has better manners than that. "They could have got it in any other way than rehashing our family's tragedy in less than subtle means."

"Make the time right. I think he might enjoy hearing more." Though he was just as guilty, having never really gone to meet Tolkien before his death.

France stifled a sigh upon hearing that. It shouldn't surprise him, even before he'd become France he hadn't sought out certain individuals. He had to change that - he was bigger than he'd been. And nations should stick together. "I will need to see if I can find him." Resolute. "And others, if they remain."

Arafinwe had the same manners. But France didn't particularly care about them when he didn't feel like it. He nodded, a wince not quite making it to the gesture. "They could have done many things. But they didn't."

If he had, he might have run into Maglor earlier, sitting there in the Eagle and Child with the Inklings, or laughing at his wedding, the quiet guest in his house.

"Mm. I suppose I should see how Christopher has grown. He gave an interview in French, you know. About how heartsick the movies made him. I... am just glad he did not actually make the Arkenstone a Silmaril. It wasn't, you know. I would not be here today if it was."

Because he would have been oath bound to reclaim it, and would have almost certainly died doing so, by dwarven axes or dragon fire, whichever got to him first.

Something that he would regret. Dimly, yes. But it would be there.

France nodded absently, thoughts turning back to that interview. "I was unable to go - I believe I was in New York at a conference." And he'd been less than happy to miss it.

His attention snapped right back at the mention of anything being, or not being, a Silmaril. "I know. I am glad for it."

"I wasn't here, but I heard it on the radio." Maglor nods.

"I... almost wish I was. Perhaps you're right. I will go back and see how Christopher is doing."

He shivers. "I... went to see. The stories do not tell of that, but... I went to Erebor. Snuck in. I had to be certain. It might have been Maedhros' one. I was never so glad to be wrong."

France nodded again, putting the last of the dishes into the dishwasher and getting the machine started. Turning, he leaned back against the counter and folded his arms.

"I listened to it too. Had to go off recordings."

His lips quirked at Maglor agreeing to go visit. Then the faint smile vanished and he reached out to rest a hand on his nephew's shoulder. "I'm glad you got back out safely."

A small quirked smile, a little sad, a little proud. "I am... very good at passing unnoticed, Uncle. How else do you think we got into the camp of the Valar?"

Of all the brothers, Maedhros worried the least about Maglor. Maglor could go where and when he pleased and seldom brought any guards and Maedhros never worried. Even then, the bard had learnt how to hide in Song, to twist eyes away from him, to be utterly forgettable and forgotten.

He allowed himself a quiet chuckle and reached out to pat Maglor's cheek affectionately.

"I have every right to worry, nephew. For that skill, I'm glad." Even if it meant Maglor got into trouble just as he escaped it.

"Come. Walk with me a bit, unless you wish to rest a bit more?"

He almost leans into that hand before he collects himself and a small pleased smile quirks his lips at the praise.

"I think I am rested enough."

Give him time, he counselled himself.

"Good."

France hummed and reached down to grab hold of one of Maglor's hands, fully intending to drag the elf off with him. Off outside, back into the bustle then on to one of the parks for that walk.

Mischief? No, of course not. He was a great and powerful nation! He was a former mighty elf king!

And he was one of the oldest five year olds out there.

"Uncle?" Maglor blinks, but allows himself to be towed.

"Where are we going?"

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OPEN RP POST

/cackles

/walks right through fourth wall

OMG XD

Re: OMG XD

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