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Author Topic: Time Won't Let Me  (Read 2997 times)

Celeborn

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Time Won't Let Me
« on: January 30, 2016, 08:45:47 PM »
The last few days, there had been much on Celeborn's mind: namely Tinuvagor. The Noldorin warrior had come to seek atonement for his sins and it had given the Lord of Lothlorien much to think and consider on. A large part oddly had nothing to do with the Noldor, or at least not directly, and mostly on Elu Thingol's death and his own feelings towards Dwarves in general. He knew logically that the Dwarves around now had nothing to do with his King's death yet he couldn't quite bring himself to forgive them.

Another group he also had trouble forgiving their sins against him and those he cared for was the Feanorians, which their guest was currently part of. They had killed fellow Elves numerous times and most of them seemed to not care, their lust and drive for the blasted Simarils driving all thoughts of anything else out of their heads. Though, it was slightly ironic that those jewels that had brought so much death and destruction also brought his wife to Middle Earth. ”The only thing I have Feanor to thank for,” he thought with considerable dryness.

But he could almost hear his wife scolding him for such thoughts and he let an amused smile stretch briefly across his lips as he headed off to find Tinuvagor. He wanted to discuss a little more about what things he planned on doing for atonement, and to find out how he was doing in general.

Tinuvagor

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Re: Time Won't Let Me
« Reply #1 on: February 06, 2016, 08:03:40 PM »
Celeborn would find his guest did not quite stand out as he had upon their last meeting.  His worn traveling clothes had been taken to be washed and mended, though Tinuvagor had pleaded with them not to bother.   In their place, he’d been given clothing more in keeping with the people of the wood, soft silvers and pale golds, far too fine for the ragged wanderer he was.   He’d not come for the purpose of being looked after in such a manner, and yet he had been so graciously treated since the moment he’d settled in to the guest room the Lady had so kindly designated for his use, that he had reluctantly accepted much of what had been offered.   Had Celeborn asked around, however, he would likely have heard that Tinuvagor was in the habit of refusing most of what was offered if he found it to be too fine or too generous.   

Yet despite his best efforts, thanks a great deal to the comforts and kindnesses offered him, Tinuvagor began to feel less fearful and, though he would not admit to it, far more like his old self.  Like the man he’d been in his youth before all things were plunged into darkness.  He’d almost forgotten that man entirely…  And yet when Celeborn found him, standing in silence near to the edge of the flet that housed his guest room, he would find the Noldor seeming far more impressive than he had seemed on their first meeting.

There was a far off look in his eyes as they stared forward, losing his gaze among the silver and gold of the branches, or perhaps seeking out the sky beyond.  He stood tall, embracing the stature that was his given right, a gift of his Noldorin heritage that he tried more often to hide than to acknowledge.   A small table sat nearby, one that he had likely carried out from his room, and resting upon it was half filled glass of wine.  He’d clearly not refused offers of wine, perhaps indulging a bit too much in his old comfort.  It calmed him, and he was in desperate need of calming of late.

Tinuvagor had heard the approaching footsteps, and so the proud image he had displayed upon Celeborn’s arrival was fleeting.  When he turned, perhaps a bit too quickly, gone was the image of that proud and perilous figment of his youth, and in its place was a man seeming uncertain and clearly uncomfortable.  Celeborn’s kindness has surprised him upon their first meeting, but it had not entirely banished Tinuvagor’s misgivings. 

“My Lord?” he offered with a polite bow of his head, the tone of the greeting holding all of his questioning. 

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Celeborn

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Re: Time Won't Let Me
« Reply #2 on: December 06, 2016, 06:37:09 AM »
Celeborn had heard much about their guest and while he was partly amused by the fact that Noldo refused things that were too extravagant for Tinvagor's taste, something troubled him about that. Not that he thought the other Elf was purposefully being ungrateful but simply...he honestly wasn't entirely sure what troubled him about it, or why he should be particularly troubled. He could hardly force him to accept everything and it was likely a bit overwhelming that the people who should have hated everything their Lord and Lady's guest had done to their kin, some of whom had followed the couple from Menegroth, were treating him so well.

There was still admittedly some bitterness there in many people's hearts, especially Celeborn's. They had lost much due to the Feanorian's lust for the Simarils and their followers loyalty to the sons of Feanor. Yet, he also had to let those truly repentant try and put right everything that had happened, even if it was showing kindness to those that should have hated him. His brow furrowed. Did he hate the Feanorians? Perhaps at one point he had, when he learned of the First Kinslaying, and then again when they murdered his own niece and caused the destruction of his home, both Doriath and Beleriand. But now? He wasn't entirely sure.

He paused before he got too close, frowning thoughtfully at the proud bearing his guest had, the classic Noldorin pose as he liked to call, though it was usually used slightly teasingly towards his wife. He wasn't upset at seeing it but he was perhaps a bit sad and disappointed for it to be there. Yet as he got nearer and Tinuvagor became aware of his presence, there was something sorrowful about seeing the pride morph into uncertainty and perhaps fear? No, not fear. But something not quite normal. He bowed his own head in greeting, though he was silent as he studied the Elf before for a few long moments. His lips twitched as he finally spoke. ”Some might find it rude to refuse what your host offers you.” Though his eyes lit upon the nearby glass of wine, something he had yet refused, or so Celeborn had been told.

Tinuvagor

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Re: Time Won't Let Me
« Reply #3 on: March 20, 2017, 09:43:09 PM »
How exactly was he meant to respond to those words, he wondered.  There had come no greeting, no formalities, no platitudes.  None of that famous wisdom that was oh so well known to belong to the Lord of the Wood.  It struck Tinuvagor quite clearly that he was being scolded.  Or mocked, if that small quirk of his host’s lip were any indication. 

“Some might,” he agreed, his words maintaining a measure of calm that had never fully suited him.  He wore the mantle of the diplomat with no small amount of discomfort.  He’d always been better suited to soldiering, and it perhaps added to that aura of uncertainty that he had done his hosts the honor of not wearing his sword at every opportunity, even if he felt half naked without it.  Besides, Tinuvagor suspected that there were still many who dwelt in the city who would have believed enough ill of him to think he might use it, and it would not have surprised him in the least to imagine Celeborn to be among them.

It was so very tempting to say more, and in the span of a few moments he had thought up several replies, all of varying degrees of politeness, and even some that were satisfyingly blunt, or even cruel.  But as the wise might remind him, discretion was the better part of valor.  And so he let it slide, satisfied to only imagine what look of shock the lord might have given had Tinuvagor lived up to the lack of grace that was so often attributed to those with, for lack of a better descriptor, poor reputations.

“Might I offer you some wine?”  Caged in courtesy thought it was, there might have been some mischief in the asking.  He was almost hoping that Celeborn would refuse the offer.  The taste of that irony was almost too sweet to resist. 

“Or perhaps you’d rather have a seat?  We can step inside.”  He gestured towards his nearby doorway, though he hardly seemed thrilled at the prospect of welcoming Celeborn into his private space, even if it were a private space granted to him only by the good graces of the lord and lady of the wood.

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Celeborn

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Re: Time Won't Let Me
« Reply #4 on: June 13, 2017, 02:14:18 AM »
Celeborn watched his guest rather carefully. It was not often that they welcomed someone into Lothlorien that he was perhaps less than thrilled with their presence. The only other person in recent history he could think of like that was perhaps Saruman, though for mostly vastly different reasons. Perhaps he might have greeted Tinuvagor properly but then again, his abrupt nature often caused the most intriguing of reactions, especially in those that did not know him very well.

He supposed that he should be happy that all the Noldor said was agreement to his words but instead, the Lord of Lothlorien felt rather disappointed in the lack of reaction. Perhaps it was the slight sting of one who murdered his kinsfolk being here and not lashing out made it thus. But he had mostly promised his wife that he would behave himself and let healing happen for all, including himself.

He was offered the wine and he had some feeling that this might be a test. So it was with extreme purpose he nodded, ”Only if you will join me in drinking some.” Would Tinuvagor drink with him? Perhaps. But perhaps not. This was a test for Tinuvagor in a way as to whether he would allow his host to share a drink with him or not. He glanced at the door that was gestured to before he looked out at the approaching sunset. ”Why force ourselves inside when it is perfectly nice out here?” He had a feeling that Tinuvagor might not want him to invade the one place that was his own and was willing to accept that.

But his purpose here was not quite fulfilled. ”How do you find the Golden Woods, Tinuvagor? Have my people been kind to you?”

Tinuvagor

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Re: Time Won't Let Me
« Reply #5 on: June 15, 2017, 02:52:54 AM »
Did the Lord of the Wood think himself clever?  That Tinuvagor would not see that question for exactly what it was?  It might as well have been a statement.  Had the people been kind to him?  Of course they had.  He’d expected no differently.  They were not, after all, Men, prone to fighting at the drop of a hat over far lesser grievances than Tinuvagor had committed.  No, those words were meant to shame him.  To point out just how gracious the people of the wood had been to someone who so obviously did not deserve it, though Tinuvagor might have pointed out that many who dwelt there now knew very little of the ancient wrongs he had committed.  The greater part of Doriath had fled to Mirkwood, and many of those who had treated him so kindly were far too young to have fallen victim to the kinslayings. 
 
Putting to use all the lessons he’d ever learned on manners and civility, he fetched a second glass and offered it to the Lord of the Wood so that he might pour the wine, first for his guest, and then for himself.  Civility was something very important to Tinuvagor, and he had learned long ago to weather harsh words with proper manners.  Most importantly, it was the right thing to do, but there was no doubt to be had that a small part of himself enjoyed defying expectations of those who thought he was little more than some rough, tactless old soldier.   Whatever else may have defined him, Tinuvagor had once upon a time been a general and he had served at the pleasure of kings.
 
He had also raided the wine cellars of kings, which might have accounted for his dexterity in pouring.
 
“Of course,” at last he answered the question that had been put to him.  “Is there reason to suspect they would not be?” There was some accusation to that tone that, had he been able to, he might have masked, and there was something of a perilous light to his eyes, and that light held Celeborn’s gaze unflinchingly.  The unspoken question in those eyes… do you really think so little of your own people?   
 
And then he waited.

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Celeborn

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Re: Time Won't Let Me
« Reply #6 on: July 31, 2017, 04:01:42 AM »
Perhaps there might be some Lords, Elf or no, that might have no reason to believe that their people treated a guest unkindly. But Celeborn knew that many of those in Lothlorien, particularly the Sinda originally from Doriath, would remember the Second Kinslaying and still hold a grudge towards those that had killed their close kin. Celeborn himself for some time held such feelings to those that had killed his niece, her husband, and twin sons, or rather the twins' disappearance. There were times when he held out hope that somehow Elurin and Elured had survived, despite how likely that might actually be.

But it was good to hear that so far his people had been kind to Tinuvagor and he hoped that his guest wouldn't ask more into his reason for asking it. It had honestly been an innocent question brought out of politeness rather than trying to show his people as anything but kind to guests. But it seemed the dark-haired Elf was insistent on reading into his questions, asking him if there was a reason for them not to be kind to him. Yet while he thought the question might happen, he still took a few long moments to mull on his answer.

His eyes met Tinuvagor's evenly. ”Some of those from Doriath still bear you and the others like you ill will for killing their kin. And while they would never mistreat you, they can still be cold to you or give you nasty looks.” Of course, chief among those was Celeborn's own uncle but he at least avoided Tinuvagor like the plague, thankfully.

Tinuvagor

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Re: Time Won't Let Me
« Reply #7 on: August 09, 2017, 05:35:05 PM »
The lord’s response was not at all what Tinuvagor had expected, and he made no attempt to hide the curious arch of a brow as he regarded Celeborn.  It became more and more tempting for him to say something impolite, and in this case his pride practically bristled at the opportunity.   Any elf that recalled the kinslaying was at least as old as Tinuvagor himself, or older, and he could not help but wonder if perhaps it was some difference in their heritage.  Did the Sindar still, after thousands of years, have difficulty hiding ancient grudges?  Tinuvagor himself had been far younger when he had set aside youthful desires to act on the old hurts dealt him by Doriath, though in times like this he could still feel his younger self awaken and demand justice.

Again, he nearly allowed himself the free will to speak those words that struggled even now to free themselves from his throat, and though he was long practiced in the art of swallowing his pride, his lips even went so far as to begin to form words before he clenched shut his jaw and refused to say what was in his heart.  You relinquished the right to defend yourself a long time ago, he reminded himself. Whatever hurts might have been dealt him by Doriath in long ages past were no equal measure against what he had done, even if, down to the very depths of his heart, he knew he had every right to those wounds, to the pain of those losses dealt to him by Doriath’s callous conceit towards him and those he had loved.

“Of course,” he finally answered, his voice only half a whisper.  “As you say, my lord.”  It made a part of him almost ill to simply concede yet again, but the other part was quick to remember that he would be hard pressed to achieve whatever it was he now sought (he could hardly recall at times) if he continued to jump at every opportunity for a verbal spar with the Lord of the Wood. “How very foolish of me to forget.”

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Celeborn

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Re: Time Won't Let Me
« Reply #8 on: August 31, 2017, 11:40:08 PM »
Celeborn was not entirely sure that it was only Sindar that held grudges, though it did seem to be the case. There were few Noldor and almost no Vanyar that he could think that held grudges quite like he and his kin could. And likely the younger ones were more forgiving, at least towards the followers of Feanor. They had not lived through the repeated slaughterings of their people because of the Oath and the Simarils.

Of course, they likely did hold a different grudge, though still related to the one against the Feanorians: the grudge against Dwarves. He personally had seen what the greed of the Dwarves had done, first in killing Elu Thingol for the Simaril and then more recently the death of Amroth and numerous other Lothlorien Elves because of the Balrog of Moria that had been awoken by their greed for mithril and other precious metals and gems.

His thoughts were brought to the present with the words of his guest, which made him frown thoughtfully. ”Perhaps it would be better for all if we forgave those that we held ill-will towards, no matter how righteous we feel those are.” He gave a slightly bitter laugh at those words. ”Something I perhaps need to practice.” This was said like a murmur to himself, his gaze distant as he stared off into the distance. He had long forgiven most of the Noldor for their sins against his close kin but the same could not be said of Dwarves.

Tinuvagor

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Re: Time Won't Let Me
« Reply #9 on: October 06, 2017, 04:40:50 PM »
He wondered momentarily at the thoughtful expression he observed upon the lord’s face, knowing there must be some deeper thought behind such vague words.  Whatever Celeborn was thinking, it was at least clear enough that he did not seem to regard Tinuvagor’s reply as any victory… or really as anything at all.  Perhaps it was unfair of him to expect his host to read the depth behind those words of concession, for there were very few indeed left in the world that maintained the ability that the Lady possessed, the ability to see right through to the very core of you, to pry out meaning from words as easy as breathing. 

So having settled things in his own mind, he wondered if being direct would not be of greater benefit, yet he was not very used to it. Though he had been mostly a warrior all his life, never so interested in the scholarly arts as some, he was still an elf, and so still saw the value in choosing his words carefully and spending them infrequently. But now he chose his words for a purpose, growing tired of whatever it was that he and Celeborn had engaged in, for it could hardly be called conversation.

“Yet, truly, what is forgiveness without understanding?”  He did not give his own answer, yet he knew in his heart what it would have been. It was empty and meaningless. It was the single largest obstacle that had prevented him from granting forgiveness, even after so many thousands of years. “But perhaps that might now be accomplished.”  There was a keen glimmer in his eyes, a sudden shift as they rose to meet Celeborn’s gaze, a glimmer that was almost eager, but did not entirely mask that deep-seated apprehension that never fully vanished, a wariness that had, over time, supplanted that youthful brashness he had once been known for.

“I saw you once before. At Dagorlad.  Though I was one among many and I doubt you noticed me.” Tinuvagor had still been of a less pleasant temper in those days, and so he had easily taken notice of Celeborn of Doriath. “You fought well, and bravely, from what I marked amid the chaos.”  He raised his glass of wine at last, taking a small sip, even as he wished for the wine to be a bit more potent.  Then he remained, arms crossed lightly over his chest, the wine glass perched almost precariously between two fingers. 

“So I would ask you,” he paused, taking in a soft breath, for this was the point of no return. “Did it trouble you at all to sit idle while Beleriand burned?”

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Celeborn

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Re: Time Won't Let Me
« Reply #10 on: August 12, 2019, 03:33:33 AM »
There were plenty of times that Celeborn wondered if people assumed that he had Galadriel’s power of looking into their hearts and thoughts simply because of their marriage. While at times that thought might amuse him, he was in no joking mood tonight. If anything, he was feeling pensive, though over what precisely he was unsure. He could however read people’s expressions and movements well enough to emulate some facets of what his wife could do but he had not her power, both natural and enhanced by Nenya.

Tinuvagor asked a question that appeared to rhetorical and yet Celeborn still answered it, somewhat. ”Perhaps it is still forgiveness. But that is something the Wise think upon often.” Of course, he was considered one of the Wise, for he was after all accounted as Wise by his wife and he hated to disappoint her. ”Forgiveness or understanding?” Or perhaps even both.

Celeborn waited with a slightly furrowed brow as his guest brought up Dagorlad and that while Tinuvagor noticed Celeborn, it was unlikely it went the other way, which the silver-haired Elf Lord shook his head to. ”Alas, I do not recall seeing you.” He was aware that he was fairly recognizable, especially if one knew what to look for. His silver hair being a trademark of that he was kin to the King of Doriath. He inclined his head in silent thanks at being told he fought well.

But his guest’s next word stopped him cold. ”It troubled me greatly to watch as those I was not able to bring to the temporary safety of the Havens of Sirion were slaughtered by their distant kin. To know that no matter what I or anyone did, little could stop the madness of Feanor and his son’s oath nor Morgoth and his pursuit of the Simarils.” Celeborn’s voice was like iron, cold and unwielding, his anger palatable yet held barely in check. ”I watched my kin, including my brother and my niece slain by those after the Simarils and saw the Valar destroying my home rather than attempt to save.” He stared at Tinuvagor. ”Did it trouble you at all to be party to the death of young children?”

He stood suddenly and turned away from Tinuvagor, eyes gazing unseeing at Caras Galadhon before him. ”I was greatly troubled during those times and they were not even my sins, Tinuvaagor.” His words were spoken softly and he leaned heavily on the rail in front of him, as if he were feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Tinuvagor

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Re: Time Won't Let Me
« Reply #11 on: September 04, 2019, 01:06:07 AM »
For a moment, Tinuvagor wanted nothing more than his sword. 

Years spent living beneath the weight and fog of his despair seemed to melt away in an instant, and the fiery temper of his youth kindled once more, the power and rage of a general of the Noldor in the full strength of his wrath.

All those years of enmity between their peoples that Tinuvagor had grown to deeply regret suddenly did not seem so unfair any longer.  “Mind your tongue, Celeborn the Wise,” he warned, his words heavy with the strain of squelching the raging fires within, yet he still managed to twist the word ‘wise’ into a mockery of itself.  “Perhaps you misunderstood my question. Please allow me to clarify.” Courteous though the words may have been, there was no mistaking the bite behind them.

He hadn’t noticed right away, but Tinuvagor had already closed the distance between them, and so he forced himself into stillness.  No closer. Keep command of yourself. He would not deal out his anger in blows when he had words sufficient to the task.  For the first time in what seemed like ages, he knew exactly what words his heart wanted spoken.

“You closed your doors to us, and it was not unjustified. We knew what we had done. And so we took upon ourselves the hardest task. Centuries guarding the northern front from atop Himring, standing guard in the biting wind and ice while you sat warm and safe in your halls. But it was no less than we had earned for ourselves. It was our duty and our penance.” Here he paused, a breath of bitter laughter escaping his lips before he could regain his calmer mind. 

“Yet it turns out, you were no more than cowards all along, thinking yourselves so far above us.  So very far above us that you would not lower yourselves to even speak to us, even were all the world at stake. And so when we called for aid…  to put an end to Morgoth and to all of it, you would not come.”

He sucked in a breath, forcing his clenched jaw to loosen lest he grind his own teeth to dust. And when he spoke again, the anger of his words had finally given way to grief.  “If you had come, we would have won,” he said, the words half whispered as he began slowly the enormous task of rebuilding his control.  “So much might have been prevented had you stood with us.  So much death and sorrow…”

His eyes closed for a moment, and a deep breath further calmed his pounding heart.  “How many children died because we lost that battle?  Numbers beyond counting… And you ask me if I am troubled by the death of children?  Were you?  Because it has troubled me for every day of my life. The children of Beleriand, and yes, the children of the Havens most of all.”

He seemed for a moment to be on the verge of saying more.  The flood gate had opened, and it seemed as if he might let spill out so much else that had spent ages sealed behind the wall that had surrounded his heart. But to share those deeper sorrows with Celeborn seemed foolish. Wise as the lord may have been, he would not have understood.  Rather than delve deeper, Tinuvagor chose instead to close those words off once more.

“So if you please, in your wisdom, do refrain from mocking the depth of my regret.”

After a moment’s hesitation, he took up the forgotten bottle of wine and drank deeply.  From the bottle.  So much for manners.

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Celeborn

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Re: Time Won't Let Me
« Reply #12 on: October 29, 2019, 04:21:48 AM »
If he was in any mood for amusement, the flare of anger that he provoked would have greatly amused Celeborn and even on a normal day, he would have at least felt at least a small fraction of satisfaction for such a reaction. But Celeborn was grave and tense and could not find amusement or pleasure in the anger of the ellon before him. He was told to mind his tongue and Celeborn gave a sharp laugh, one of no amusement. “I am not some child to be scolded when I answer a question asked of me by you, Tinuvagor.”

He had noticed that his guest had approached him and he stayed where he was, arms crossed over his chest with a hard and foreboding look on his face. He had come to be a good host and was finding his patience was almost gone with the Noldo in front of him. What had he done to provoke such hostility from the other Elf? But he did not voice this since he had a feeling that his question would not be well received.

His face was impassive as he was called a coward, lips a thin, hard line. “And how were we to not think that this was trick for you to slaughter us when we answered? We had already been betrayed many times.” At hearing that their forces would have saved more lives.”Do you really think that our mere presence would have been enough? To stop Morgoth?” As Tinuvagor spoke more about how he was troubled by all the children that were slaughtered, Celeborn almost softened, almost said something in response to that without a bite to it.

Until he was told, mockingly, to refrain from mocking the depths of his guest’s regret. “Mock your regret? I welcome you into my realm and then you insult me and my people? Are you sure you truly want to be forgiven?” He knew he was tottering on the edge of angering Tinuvagor but found that at the moment he did not care. “It seems almost to me as though you would rather wallow in your guilt and lash out at those who you have wronged.” And while he normally would have had a smirk as he said this, his visage was still grave and almost full of pity, pity if not for the controlled anger simmering under the surface of his words.

Tinuvagor

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Re: Time Won't Let Me
« Reply #13 on: November 18, 2019, 02:23:17 AM »
He nearly asked how one became known as “the wise” when he was so blatantly determined to act the part of a fool.  But no. He bit back that question and buried it under six-thousand years of practiced control. Yet being able to regain his control did little to quiet the heat of his anger, and even more his frustration. A part of him wondered if this was some trick… or some test, for he could not fully comprehend how Celeborn could fail to understand.  Or had the fool’s memory simply gone bad after all these years?

“I suppose,” he began, forcing himself to breath and maintain a level tone.  “I am simply disappointed.” The words would no doubt be seen as an insult, and he would not have blamed Celeborn if they only further stoked his anger.  But in that moment of choking back his own temper, Tinuvagor had decided that he no longer really cared. The words he spoke now were only for himself. “I had hoped you would live up to your reputation, but like so many of us, reputations are often exaggerated.”  

With the wine bottle still in hand, he stepped back, sinking into a chair where he leaned forward to brace his elbows against his knees,his gaze not directed at his host, but at the bottle in his hands.  He feared that should he look up at Celeborn, he might find himself unable to hold his anger at bay, and should he fail to make himself clear, he doubted he would have the chance again.

“As I told you before, My Lord, I am not here to beg forgiveness. That is yours to offer if you so wish, but I learned long ago to be satisfied with far less.  I came,” he added emphasis so that Celeborn might actually understand.  “... to offer service and penance towards a debt that cannot ever fully be paid.  And I came to make such an offer in the hopes that I might find some measure of peace for myself.  Whatever darkness lies in your heart is not any concern of mine.”

Finding his courage, he finally looked up.  The anger was not entirely gone, but it was dull and muted compared to its earlier fire.  Only just the remaining embers, yet easy enough to stoke to life again should Celeborn choose. 

“The Prophecy of the North bore many bitter fruits, not the least of which has festered in my heart throughout the ages.  It is a sore trial to bear to be ever berated for your sins by those who refuse to acknowledge their own. It is why I stayed so long among the folk of Lindon… It was far easier to serve penance for those who had done me no wrongs. The true trial is to do the same to those who have done me wrong, those whom my heart insists still deserve my anger.

“And so, whatever you may think of me…  however just or unjust those thoughts may be…” He hesitated there.  A lengthy pause during which he warred within himself once more, struggling against that one thread of anger that refused to let go.  And so, at last, the words that escaped were slightly different than they might have been had he finally, fully released that pit of bitterness in his gut.

“I will forgive you.  I will… try to forgive you.”

Played by Whitney

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