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[laurenande]

(Galadriel is fairly used to getting mail but she'll be a bit shocked to receive any in Thedas. For any notes, missives, letters, or other communications.)

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[laurenande]

[At this some amusement does creep into Galadriel's voice. Thranduil has his elk once more and, off all creatures, its gait was not the most forgiving. There was an ideal place to ride upon it and several that would bruise even an elf if they were forced to suffer perching there.]

You have him draped over your mount, concussed, and traveling toward the employer he failed?

I daresay I can think of few fates more apropos than that.

I shall attend your wife and to your burning chambers. Be well, cousin, and do not perish in Halamshiral. It would be a terrible fate to leave this world in so garish a place.

a letter, by runner.

[dashing]

Lady Galadriel,

I owe sincerest apologies for failing to attend our scheduled training. My memory was as severely compromised as any other during the sickness, and I deeply regret the disrespect and negligence that came about as a result. To blame the sickness in and of itself strikes me as irresponsible; I am very sorry for the part I played in any injury inflicted upon you during that time.

If you should wish to continue our sparring, I would be eager to do so. I did not wish to make assumptions to that effect after this recent shortcoming.

There is another matter I would also wish to seek out your guidance regarding. If that would be agreeable, then I am happy to speak in person or by whatever means most convenient to you.

Yours sincerely,

Knight Enchanter Amsel

(Letter)

[castintoflames]

(This is ridiculously overdue, but Maedhros has had to come to grips with how he acted and his return to health. Besides that, he is, well, embarrassed.)

Lady Galadriel,

Your forgiveness is sought; it has not been earned - yet - and I only ask that you keep an open-mind. The Elves of Arda are not accustomed to illness and it struck me hard. (I assure you that blue skin is not attractive in the least when paired with copper hair.)

I am sorry, cousin, for my poor, atrocious behavior. What I said may as well have come from my father's lips for I believe I was channeling him. The first-born does not fall far from the tree. However I seek to do better - to be better - and avoiding you, while tempting, will not heal any wounds.

I await your response eagerly - yet nervously - and hope, truly, that you have not suffered the same illness as I did.

Signed,
Maedhros

[laurenande]

You presume many things and chief among them is that I am willing to entertain your excuses. Why would I humor your requests? Of all my kin, you alone questioned my honor. You alone accused me of perfidy. And now you seek to blame it on your father? On the illness we all suffered?

The weight of your actions fall entirely on you.

Write me no more; if you've not the courage to face your mistakes I shall spare no effort forgiving you for them.

[There is no signature, nor greeting, and it is delivered by a different runner than the one who first delivered it. The letters themselves are far more jagged than they ought to be and indented the parchment considerably.]

[castintoflames]

You are entirely correct. I do not run from my mistakes. I know I am cruel at times - and downright monstrous at others. But this time, please believe me when I say if I had been in my right state of mind and body, you would not have been questioned.

I will continue to write you - to seek you - because you are family and I am worried for your well-being.

(He doesn't like the look of the letter. Either emotion is affecting her greatly or she is not well.)

[laurenande]

[The letter is returned by the same runner who took it, unopened with no response. The runner looks a bit...shaken.]

[castintoflames]

(That angers him. He tosses the letter to the side and endeavors on following the path the runner took. You're not getting away with radio silence, Galadriel.)

Action - Library

[laurenande]

[Galadriel is in the library as is often her wont. A series of books are stretched before her on a lone table, her pen and ink are at her elbow, and a parchment rests before her. There is a window is open to her right, letting the ocean air and sunlight in. She does not appear to be in a fine mood, but still she works.]

Action - Library

[castintoflames]

(He arrives, tall, fiery and imposing as always, yet his steps are surprisingly light. His copper hair is bound in multiple, intricate braids and he is wearing a handsome combination of a deep red tunic and black pants. There is also a new locket around his neck, though it is mostly hidden under the fabric of his shirt.)

Cousin. (He knows better than to approach too closely, but he isn't leaving either.)

[laurenande]

Are we?

[Galadriel neither looks up nor rises to meet him. It is a considerable breech of protocol and her own general social leanings.]

When last we spoke, we were not. How convenient it is that relationship should reform in the meantime.

[castintoflames]

My words cannot undo the connection. If I were that powerful, I would have cut ties with my brothers - so they might be free of the Oath - long ago.

(He looks around the room, walking over to the shelves.)

I am your cousin and you are mine.

[laurenande]

[Galadriel, who is thumbing through a book at her arm, shifts her hand and slams it closed. She does not rise to meet him, not yet, but she does look up. Nothing about her expression or the set of her shoulders is welcoming.]

How convenient also the sudden urge to speak of the past. Will you ever be free of it, you wondered so desperately, and yet here you are...reveling in it in an attempt to what? Sway me?

[Her expression is dark as she pushes her chair back and draws herself to standing. She does so gradually, deliberately, and her fingers press hard against the tabletop.]

You are not my cousin; I do not see him in you any more than I see the sun in the scones along the wall. You are a whisper who wears his face, a face too youthful and deceptive for the curses you carry. You are an echo of the words you used to shatter our final ties, and I have no desire to entertain your half-hearted apologizing further.

Begone thought, and trouble me no more.

[castintoflames]

(Many would tremble before her. All Maedhros feels is sorrow and no small amount of irritation. She thinks so poorly of him - and while it is understandable (even expected) - it leaves him in a frustrating position. Family is too scarce for them to turn their backs on each other.)

Reveling? (His tone is flat and his expression is entirely unamused.) I tell you the truth. Words can hurt, they can bind, but they cannot make it so a family does not exist!

(Breathe. He turns slightly away and touches the spine of a book.)

I cannot help that my scars have been erased. I assure you, my mind is not so clean - nor is my apology half-hearted.

(Now he turns to her, moving to kneel before her, hands outstretched.)

Do not treat me like a ghost. I love you - and have loved you since the beginning. I hate myself for hurting you time and time again.

[laurenande]

Love me? [She repeats, tone cut evenly between disbelief and anger, aghast that he would dare to make such a claim now, of all times. Her hand arcs before her and knocks his away as she steps back.]

You care no more for me than the strangers on these streets. I am a point of pride for you and nothing else.

[She withdraws her arms and all but glowers down at him, her expression shifting and laced with bitterness and hurt.]

In all your life you cared not at all for what happened to me, just as my brothers, just as all my cousins; a few weeks in a new land shall not change that much.

[castintoflames]

Yes. I love you. (He makes the claim shamelessly, though he is sad. The impact is barely felt - he has endured far worse - yet it makes his heart ache fiercely nonetheless.)

You cannot tell me what my heart feels. (Point of pride? Yes, he is proud of her for carrying on after the whole debacle that was his life, but he does not seek any glory from her.) Do you honestly believe I would approach you or presume we are close in public? I know the taint I carry, Artanis. I will not make it yours.

However... (He purses his lips.) That does not change that we are kin and that I would do anything you ask of me.

[laurenande]

Except what I have already asked, nay, demanded of you? You will do whatever you wish and nothing more, as has always been your wont.

[Her sadness is replaced with bitter anger as she settles her arms across her chest.]

I do not fear reproach in Thedas for being your kin. Do you think I have not suffered for tens of thousands of years for our association? Do you not think that my relation to you was not brought to attention by every elf who disagreed with me? By the family of my own husband?

[She scoffs then and it is not a pretty sound.]

Still I carry the weight of our association, whether you approach me in public or not; the burden of you and your choices are ever upon me cousin.

No, what repulses me now is not the shame of you and your decisions, those I have long ago resigned myself to.

You dared to question me. You who has failed so grandly in all your life, who claims to love me, accused me of the crime you unleashed upon this world. You cast me out without thought or hesitation and I shall return the favor.

Be gone from me. I have lived all my life without you; continuing shall be no challenge.

crystal.

[elegiaque]

Ma belle cousine, am I interrupting anything?

Crystal.

[laurenande]

[Galadriel is not often caught by surprise but she is now. When she speaks there is a croak in her voice that only comes from bitter weeping. Even she cannot banish that sound quickly.]

No--no you are not, gwanu--

You are not. What do you need, Gwenaelle?

[elegiaque]

I haven't got to need something to want to speak with you, do I?

( and then: ) What's amiss?

[laurenande]

No, you are correct. Nothing need be wrong...unfortunately I am not myself at the moment.

[She would have brushed Thranduil off with that very statement and let it be...why she suddenly feels the need to confide in his young wife, she cannot say...and yet she does.]

I have...had a conversation with my cousin. It went as well as could be expected...and now I fear I am...nostalgic, perhaps? Or perhaps simply lonely. It is hard to say.

[elegiaque]

Well, now I'm here.

( or a semblance of it, through the crystals—her hightown residence might put her out of convenient reach, but her voice is never far. )

Tell me about it?

[laurenande]

[There is a long silence as Galadriel considers how to explain. This is a topic fraught with sensitive subjects and she knows not what Thranduil has said about them, if anything.]

Do you know of them? Maedhros and Maglor? Fingon?

They are my cousins by blood and they have all known me since I was a child. I am...very old, far older than the most of them combined, and I had forgotten what it was to see a face so familiar.

Maedhros, in little more than a turn of phrase, excluded me from his reckoning, from what he considered family, and his apologies all beg forgiveness for his illness.

[She is quiet a time. She is crying once more, though it is mostly silent.]

I recall him helping me climb trees when I could barely walk. Riding with me to meet my brothers. He was my elder once...and now he is a pitiable fool.

[elegiaque]

I suppose even immortals aren't immune to feet of clay.

( she knows enough not to have questions from only that; knows thranduil's wariness and distaste most, and so can hardly be surprised to hear that one of them has disappointed. the words aren't terribly sympathetic, but she is—knows well and intimately that moment of seeing an ugly truth in someone once trusted.

the lack of responsibility, though, that is contemptible more than simply flaw alone. )

Do you know, so many people that I loved were ill the same way. You, and Thranduil. Alistair. Fucking Coupe. ( a beat. ) Not that I'd count her among them.

( mmmmmmm the judges give that save a four. )

The point is—I saw you all. Spoke with you all. Do you know how many of you were uncharacteristically unkind to me? Who said things you'd not have said? It's none. Fucking none of you, Galadriel, so if he didn't feel it, he'd not have said it, and he's a coward who doesn't deserve your tears.

[laurenande]

I agree...so why, then, can I not withhold them? [She sounds miserable about it, but she has not fallen into sullen silence.]

He feared I would use a weapon to slay the lot of them, that arming me would risk his family . Then, as he spoke again, claimed we were kin and that he loved me.

[She sighs and ceases recounting.]

Thranduil still harbors distaste for me...for what they did to his people. Even my husband could not truly forgive me for being their relation. I blame neither of them for their grudge, it was well earned, even if I had no hand in that.

I have never truly been able to cleave myself from the lot of them, not in ten thousand years, so this is not so surprising. I am simply weary of it all...to call you cousin is infitely simpler, and I cherish that.

Please do not accuse me of perfidy, at least not unduly, it would break my heart again.

[elegiaque]

You are ma belle cousine and have done nothing but love me. And I you. So I will never break your heart.

( how young she truly is, to sound so sure. as if it is that simple, and always will be, even knowing—

even knowing a great deal of unsimple things. like: )

And—I know something, about the weight of familial sin. I'd never give you anything that isn't yours.