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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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[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.

[castintoflames]

I am not leaving. (He is quiet and still in his resolve; the chaotic, fiery anger he had shown her before has fled, leaving only ashes in its wake. His treatment of her is one of a long list of grievances and he cannot leave her, knowing she is upset; that she hurts.)

Before you stands a fool, cousin; a fool for love, for duty, for pride. My temper is abominable - there is no excuse for it - but I tell you plainly that the words I spoke on that day are not how I perceive you.

(He bows his head, posture nothing but contrite.)

Hate me as you wish, but I would not question you if I were in my right mind.

[laurenande]

[Anger and sorrow are, in the end, so similar that only a fine line ever separates one from the other. She tries to hold on to the former as he bends in contrition, but it bleeds out into the latter. Once again she is left with sadness alone, even her bitterness cannot seem to temper it this time.]

You presume I am capable of hating you.

[She folds her arms about her waist, a posture she has not struck in ten thousand years or more, and steps back again. She considers him for a moment longer and turns, ready to abandon her books, her notes and all, and leave this place.]

You truly are a fool and you know me not at all.

Stay or return to your family, as you like, but follow me again and I shall disabuse you of your perceptions, whatever they may be. As desperately as I miss my cousin, you are not him, just as I am not a child climbing trees.

Namárië, Russandol.

[castintoflames]

...who am I, then? (Maedhros's voice shakes and he sounds young. Speaking of children climbing trees! She makes him feel...small. But that is one of her gifts, is it not?)

I am Maedhros whether you accept me - as I am - or not. (His jaw is tight as he lifts his head and his eyes are filled with the heavy weight of sorrow.)

Tenn' enta lúme... (When she can accept who he is outside of the influence of foul magic or fouler oaths.) ...mauya nin avánie.

(He pulls a delicate necklace from his pocket - one forged from bright silver - complete with a delicate flower pendant and sets it her notes. Then he turns to leave.)