bakerstreet | JUST YOUR VOICE

JUST YOUR VOICE

AT WHAT COST? Meme

You have a wish. You know what it is. It is something important. Maybe it is something so important that it shaped your whole life. Maybe it is objectively petty, but you want it, and you're willing to make a deal for it.

Guess what, it's your lucky day. Someone just arrived to make you that deal. But it comes with a price: for that valuable prize, you must give up something else valuable. It may be a precious item, station, memory, a sense, a limb, or it may even be the lives of others. It may also be your soul, but you may have gotten off easy on that one.

The point is, the deal is done. Your desire is granted.

But was it worth the cost?

Here's how it works: You decide what your character most wants, and you decide what they would give up for it. The highest price is what the person selling miracles demands. Note that in the case of 'my life', something like erasing all evidence and memory of your character existing is likely what would happen. There is no fun if the person doesn't live with their choice!

Other people tag your character, either as the wish itself or reacting to whatever wish was made. There are two ways to go about it, either your character alone remembers the changes, or everyone knows exactly what they did (or knows how it used to be and can figure it out)

Finally, it is up to you whether the spirit of the wish or the letter of the wish is observed. Whether you had a sly salesman or a trickster grant the wish is all up to what you prefer to make your character suffer through!

Bonus option: Genie types! If you like, you could always play the wish granting one, and see how many people you can seal the deal with.

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...How-

[The Eldar do not die like that, he wants to say; he has witnessed it in Men, that they would simply pass away in their sleep, yet the Eldar do not-

not normally, but they are not normally reborn in just any place, either. Certainly not in Middle-earth, and his hand goes up to his chest, coming to rest protectively over the small bulge at the center of it.

He could not find a thing that had been taken, and he almost laughs harshly at the sudden revelation of what has been taken instead (laughs out loud, without humour and joy, barking more than speech, really, though he does not notice it himself). How could he ever think that it would hit himself? To evil shall all things turn and of course this would be no exception. Of course it would not be him who suffered; they have, as a family, always been too wrapped up in each other too much for their greatest loss to not be another member of the family, or at least something strongly tied to them. And of course it would be Maedhros - they all rely on him, and while Maglor can keep them together, while he can keep things running, that is about it.

He should have known, and he didn't, he was too desperate and rash and desperate, having wished too fervently for his brother for too long, and now Maedhros is dead.

It really was too good to have been true.]

[ Makalaure would have drawn his brother into his arms and hushed him in confused worry, but Maglor only watches him and lets him laugh and cry himself into stillness ]

Make sure you control yourself in the presence of the High King. It will be hard enough with Fingon. Come. There is much to do.

[He will not stay for Fingon's arrival, maybe not even for that of his other brothers - maybe even coming here like this was a bad idea. It obviously made him miss a messenger or two.

It really would be a bad idea to stay, too- not for his own sake. He can take whatever will come his way in anger or accusations or other reactions to what he did; but he fears that if even a small part of it hits Amras... He is only a babe now, still fed with milk and sleeping more than he is awake, far from words or movements coordinated enough to defend himself, and incredibly fragile. Less so than a human child, but still too much so to endanger him. He does not fear his brothers, exactly because they are his brothers, and he doesn't think that they are a true danger for either of them as they are one for everyone else. But their family can be rather passionate, so to speak.

On the other hand he will not be able to conceal the child's presence for long, and of all his brothers, Maglor will be the safest to tell - not because he is the least affected, far from it; but because of what Amrod remembers of when they believed Maedhros dead, or as good as dead, for the first time.

So he shakes his head.]

I need to speak to you in private, first. A few minutes will be enough. [Or perhaps they will not be; but then, that will not be up to him.]

Edited 2015-01-23 14:40 (UTC)

[ Maglor tips his head in agreement and leads the way to Maedhros' private study (he has even started to move a little like Maedhros - head up, eyes piercing) where he gestures Amras to a chair ]

What is it?

[And oh, how that resemblance hurts, and Amrod's lips press into a thin line.

Instead of an answer or sitting down, the younger elf divests himself of his coat, placing it on the back of the chair, and quietly peels away the other layers of his clothing.

It takes a bit before what he wants to show becomes obvious - there are many layers and his twin is still very small - but after a bit the sling that he carries the baby in starts to show, and a little while later, very fine russet hair peeks out and he pulls the fabric of the sling away enough for Maglor to see the baby's head - the child is asleep at the moment, but stirs when it gets colder and more light comes through, and by the time that Maglor sees him, Amras is feebly trying to dig his fingers into the shirt of the older twin, moving unhappily.]

[ Maglor cocks an eye at his brother curiously at his actions and then goes very very still. Of all of them, Maglor has always been the closest tuned to the Song - when younger he had been good enough to pick up footsteps and voices with unerring accuracy from across a room. It is a long time since those skills were put to such benign use, but... ]

Amras? [ He chokes a whisper out ]

[He could joke - "Do you think me to be so cruel that I would not have sent word to you of a marriage, or that I would sire a child in such times as ours, and to a family such as ours?" - but he does not, for it is not the time for it nor the topic.

Instead, he gently, carefully lifts the child out of his nest and holds him out to their now eldest living brother, presenting him to Maglor as much as hoping that the presence of such a small baby brother will... will what? He cannot tell how Maglor will react when he learns what Amrod fears has happened, but perhaps the baby will work as a peace offer of sorts.]

[ For the first time in the entire conversation Maglor's mask cracks - or rather, it splinters and shreds like a mirror dropped on the ground, as trembling hands accept the babe and disbelieving eyes lift to look at the older twin (he knows this Song, has always known this Song, since it was still tiny and innocent) ]

How? [ He chokes out, and then grey eyes cloud over, a storm rising and his voice goes very, very flat and controlled, the calm before the storm (but he holds Amras so very gently, tucked close to his heart) ]

What did you do.

[This, he can do. With Amras tucked away safely in Maglor's arms, there is no need to worry about him, and Amrod bows his head for a moment, accepting the accusation in the tone; agreeing that what he did was terrible, because it was - to not think, to not understand the consequences, is no excuse (their Oath was terrible in the very same way, and look where it has lead them.

He looks up again, though, fingers clenching into fists at his sides in worry, but calm besides, his eyes locking with Maglors. Which is testament to how deeply the shock still sits in his bones - he was never good at calm, never good at taking responsibility after the fact. He is more numb than anything now, though upset (and fear, and he hates fearing his brother, but it is not really without reason right now) is burning inside his chest, and the smaller twin feels it as well in Maglor's arms, growing restless and whimpering softly.]

Lord Irmo came to Middle-earth; why, I do not know, and dwelt in the forest just a two day's ride to the south from my halls. He accepted my wish. [His voice is as flat and devoid of anything as Maglor's though for another reason - he cannot tell what to feel at any of this anymore, not with the news of what the other end of the wish was.] I should have realized that the highest cost would not be a price taken from me directly, but from one of our brothers. [He had thought that speaking of "us" again would fill him with joy, but now he isn't so sure anymore.]

[ Maglor's anger is slow burning, not the whipcrack of their father but the volcano of their mother, and it is roused now, and his eyes blaze in fury and his voice drops to a low, furious hiss (still, even trembling with anger, his hands are so, so gentle with the babe, hushing him instinctively) ]

You fool! You did not even ask the cost, did you? What are we meant to do without Maedhros?

[ A hissed breath and he thrusts Amras back into his arms ]

Get out. [ His voice is frigid ice ] Before I do or say something I will regret.

[For one fey moment he wants to refuse Amras; wants to make Maglor hold on to the babe longer in hope that the presence of the infant will force him into calmness (but then Maglor's calm is a calamity of its own...). But he does not, instead bowing his head again and stepping forward to receive his brother and place him back into the sling, their fëar mingling quickly as they always have, soon almost indistinguishable from one another.

He only picks up his coat and doesn't waste time on pulling all the layers back over his twin.]

I did not; to suddenly be granted a chance that I had never even hoped for blinded my judgement. [A breath and then he shakes his head.] And I do not know. [He steps over to the door.] Continue and enure, I would assume - at least this time you are not weighed down by High Kingship, he made sure of that. [His last words are biting (no, the whole sentence was) as he opens the door and lets himself out into the corridor.] We will be gone as soon as our horses are rested enough. My lord. [And with a bow, a hand resting over Amras to make sure that he does not fall from the motion, he closes the door behind himself.]

Out. And think on what you may have cost us, if we are ever to even hope of fulfilling our Oath!

[ Maglor does not flinch visibly at the blow, but his eyes flash and his hands clench. As Amrod leaves he will hear a very telling sound from the room - the smash of something shattering... and the discordant sound of strings. Maglor has just broken his harp. ]

[It takes almost a year before Maglor will hear more from his youngest brothers than letters that cover only the most practical and necessary things - military and trade related things, one or two news about alliances and the lack thereof.

When news come, they are from Caranthir; a short, irritated note that Ambarussa visited him and are still alive, and that he doesn't wish to see the older of them again. Half a year later, in spring, there is a letter from Amrod, which on top of an update about the usual things ends with the words,] Eleniel, my seneschal, will in my place take care of this area's affairs for a few years. Further letters will have to be addressed to her.

[And then that is the state of things. For eleven years, no word of either of the Ambarussa comes to anyone's ears, though there are rumours of them having been seen all over Beleriand where they can possibly roam, and beyond.

In the spring of the twelfth year, two horses arrive at Himring's gates. each of them carrying one russet haired elf- one grown, one at about the age of the name-choosing.]

[ If Maglor ever speaks to anyone outside his brothers of the Ambarussa no news ever reaches them. At Maedhros' funeral he sings the dirge but plays no harp, and his voice alone would wring tears from stone (they say he cast the broken remains of the silver harp that Feanor made for him on the pyre). He weeps over his brother's pyre but the next day his eyes are dry. He never cries again, but neither does he sing or play - the songbird is silent.

He grows more and more like to Maedhros, cold and grim, and in some ways he is very like his father and Curufin, voice soft and cutting in the councils of the Lords of the Eldar, dangerously persuasive. People whisper that Himring steals the warmth of its lords, for the gentle bard of long ago is nowhere to be found, and Maglor of Himring is as cold as the mountains. He still holds the Gap, as well, and if it stretches him thin, he never says.

The Ambarussa are greeted at the gate by Maedhros' old seneschal - Maglor's rules in the Gap, these days - and told that the lord is away on a raid, and should return shortly. They are shown to the rooms that were always Amrod's, and there is a second bed in there now. It is only late in the evening that the trumpets announcing Maglor's return sound. ]

[Amras is out of the door before his brother can hold him back, rushing down the stairs to greet their eldest brother. Memory returns as age does, and all memory that he has of Maglor is of a young man who, Amrod has tried to tell him, is long gone. Who is, most likely, much further gone now than he was before. But the man that his twin tells Amras of is so different from the Makalaurë that he remembers that to a twelve year old, they are impossible to reconcile.

So it is Makalaurë that the boy expects, though older, sure, and not quite the same, but essentially... not the person who rides into the court, and his running feet skid to a halt, bright smile freezing and then falling away, at the sight. At the song (of the two, he has always been the one a bit more attuned to it, and it is so jarringly different now). It takes a good minute for Amrod to catch up with his twin, coming up behind him and gently touching a hand to his shoulder. His hand grows heavy though after a moment, forcing the younger twin to not hide his face against the older's side but remain as he is. Words are exchanged, though not through speech, and they go along the lines of no, look, that is him now, and only then Amrod lets the smaller elf turn away from the sight and cling to him, though the older twin's own eyes never leave Maglor, his expression stony and blank.]

[ Maglor is a mimic. When they were young, it was a game - something they would ask him to do, to mimic the voices of their friends and family. It is no longer a game.

Maglor is a performer. When they were young, he would entertain his brothers and younger cousins by enacting the stories he told them, playing all the roles himself. It is no longer a play.

The eyes that look back at them are Maglor's grey, and not Maedhros' silver, but he moves like Maedhros, as he swings down from his horse, and he talks a bit like him too, if in his own voice - the abrupt, clipped bluntness. The face he wears is calm and blank, the High King's mask of long ago now perfected into that of the Lord of Himring. ]

So. You both return. You have grown, Amras, it is good to see you looking well. What do you want?

[ Behind him his men are dismounting, the wounded being helped to the healing rooms. If Maglor himself is injured he hides it well ]

[Amrod, who expected this - tried to impress on his brother that it might happen and failed - still grows rigid at the sight, his features only a bit harsher. He has always been emphatic, and while in his youth this showed as sympathy and was turned on his brother to the point where they were almost one, in sync enough to at times appear as the same person, it turned outwards after Amras's death and hurt terribly, especially with the general emotional state that everyone was in at that time, so he shut off completely for a while. In time, he learned to turn it down instead, to learn empathy instead and keep his own feelings and that of the other person separate, but at times it still slips in, and with is twin around, that has gotten stronger again.

And Amras at his side catches the subtle shift, the slipping away of the faint glimmer of hope and excitement that Amrod had taken up from him, and he shies away a bit more. But he also senses that Amrod won't answer this for him - they agreed on this before - so he raises his chin in defiance and answers.]

I wanted to meet you.

[Because of what he remembers, and because of what he doesn't remember but has heard about. And because it just is so jarring and wrong to only have one brother around.]

Hm. [ Cool grey eyes sweep over the younger twin, and perhaps there is a glimmer of affection there, faint, but Maglor could never hate his brothers, no matter how angry he is (and he must still be angry, for the way he almost ignores Amrod) ]

And now that you have, what now, Amras?

I...

[His fëa reaches out to his twin for help, but all that Amrod can give him, is willing to give him right now is a reassuring gentle squeeze of his shoulder. No matter what happens, he'll be here. But anything that he does right now will hardly be helpful, and he doesn't want to make his presence be a burden on Amras's and Maglor's encounter more than necessary (and that alone is a jarring thought, but then, there is so much between himself and his twin now, their songs in an odd discordance that he cannot fix: What is one more thing between them, even if it is a separation put in place by himself?).]

I thought we could talk, or just ...spend some time together. And I remember [you sing, barely quieter for not having been spoken aloud, tumbling from the boy's lips even though he knows that most likely, it is a futile wish to hear it again. Not with what his twin has told him.]

[ Maglor cocks his head (exactly the way Maedhros used to, when amused and exasperated by his younger brothers) and reaches to ruffle Amras' hair ]

I no longer sing, Pityo. But if you wish to stay a while, I will not refuse you. I am very busy however - I cannot spare you much time. Can it wait til after dinner? I need to see the healers.

[Amras clearly isn't sure how to react to any of this, but worry overcomes insecurity without fail.] You need to get treated if you are hurt! [He bites his lip to not continue, for all the ors would lead to a name, and none of these names - father, mother, Maitimo - are present here.

So for a moment he just stands, a bit closer to Maglor with the half-step that he took towards him while speaking, and tries to grasp for better words, until Amrod takes over for him.] After dinner, then. Will he [and oh how it pains him to speak of "he" when denoting his twin] dine with you? [After all that is what they came for. The twins will be around each other all the time again soon enough. And if separating himself from his baby twin is the price of Amras getting to speak to one of his other brothers, he will do it, no matter how bitter it makes him.]

Only minor injuries. [ But Maedhros used to say that when reeling of fatigue, so it probably isn't much comfort. Still, Maglor doesn't limp or seem like he's about to fall over, so... ]

If you wish. [ A small tip of the head ] I will ask the seneschal to set the table for three. [ He is angry, but not so much that he will refuse either brother a place at his table ]

[There is the briefest almost-smile of utter relief on Amrod's lips, barely there and gone before anyone who isn't really looking would have seen it, and his voice is neutral again when he bows his head lightly in thanks.

Maglor was always one of the most reasonable and politically aware members of their family, plus more time has passed... and perhaps he should have expected no less, but... he did, especially after the rather massive fallout with Caranthir.]

We will see you there. Please take care. [Amras might buy that act, but Amrod... really does not. And because he might take issues with things that his brothers do (don't blame his folly on his twin, don't punish Amras for what Amrod did even though they should not be apart in anything, though he does not want them apart, he wants them apart in this) but certainly does not want them unsafe or hurt (especially not after what he did to Maedhros, however much he wishes that he could change it now) he ends the conversation here, bending down slightly to take his twin's hand and squeeze it, prompting him to bid Maglor farewell, which he does, worry still in his eyes.

They'll arrive wherever Maglor dines a little bit before dinner time, the younger twin clutching his older brother's hand tightly, clearly unused to situations of this kind, - or courtly proceedings at all, at that. Amrod doesn't speak much, trying to leave the conversation to his twin and only nudging him every once in a while, guiding him through a meal under such new circumstances to the best of his abilities without interfering in anything. Amras, after his initial shock by how different this Maglor is from the Makalaurë that he remembers, seems to have set his mind on telling Maglor everything that they have done since he remembers, which seems to mostly be travelling all over Beleriand and some of the area behind the Blue Mountains and Amras learning how to hunt and stay safe. And, apparently, a number of adopted squirrels.]

[ At the dining table, out of his armor, the injuries Maglor hid are more apparent, the bandages peeking out from his shoulder and down his left hand. But like Maedhros he ignores them, moves as if they are not there (hopefully this means they are not severe after all). It is like having dinner with a strange blend of both older brothers, Maedhros' fond and resigned acceptance of his younger brothers' antics, and Maglor's quiet amusement and gentle nudging of behaviour.

Much like how Amrod left a space always for his twin, Maglor has done what is needful - they need Maedhros, and Maedhros is gone. So Maglor has done his level best to become the missing link.

He listens and makes quiet commentary, and if some of the questions he asks have a subtle political bent (how many, Amras? where did you see them? were they armed?), well, he did mention he was busy. When the younger twin starts to droop he shoos him off to bed ]

I will be in my study [ (Maedhros' study) ] if either of you need me tonight.

[ He nods at the both of them, and turns to head back to work ]

[They take their leave, and when Amrod moves to pick his twin up and carry him back, the child pulls away for one last bout of activity and rushes around the chairs to wrap his arms around Maglor and hug him (though very carefully) before letting the older twin carry him off. Amrod for his part does only bid Maglor farewell briefly, implying without saying that he will indeed find him later to speak without the presence of his other half.

It isn't all that much later when a brief, soft knock at Maglor's door announces a visitor.]

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,... I MEANT TO WRITE THE RIGHT TWIN THERE

...you know I messed them up in the thread starter you are SO excused stoopid twins

cries oh well its canon that no one can tell them apart anyway I guess...

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