rowancrowned | fade rift ✧ inbox

[ his voice is precise, though lacking the edge that would make it sharp. ]

Do you know what we are? Have you considered it, even once, in all your time here?

(For him, the change of subject is odd and abrupt, but he answers as honestly as he can manage, though he sounds terse.)

Strangers - guaranteed nothing - and only in these lands until our time is deemed finished. That does not mean we cannot treat one another with some tact.

No. We, the Rifters. Consider your dreams, the Fade, what has become of our birthright as Quendi.

I must rest, I must eat and I can grow ill. It is possible - nay, likely - that one of us may well succumb to a mortal death. If we enter this Fade, what will become of us? It would be unnatural.

We are more fëa than hröa here. We enter the Fade every night as we sleep; we fell from it when we arrived.

We will not die, Maedhros. We were not born, but neither were we crafted as our ancestors were at the lakeside in the Elder Days. We are dreams made flesh.

I am already dead - as is Findekáno. If we live as dreams, so be it. You, however, and the Lady Galadriel are in a less comfortable position.

(He empathizes with them, but for Thranduil to speak so callously before is not something he willingly accepts.)

[ pleased, at least, that he's grasped it and following the conversation. ]

No. I will bring no knowledge of this place to Arda should I depart. The doorway only allows passage through, not back. We cannot affect change in Arda any longer, only Thedas.

Did you witness the Men's struggles over your father's palantíri during your lifetime?

That is so for me whether I am here or within the Halls. (It will be great fun facing the Valar after all he has done. He looks forward to it. ~~Not.~~)

They occurred outside of my scope, but I heard of them. (More people dying for things. Fëanor cannot be blamed fully. Greed touched everyone who desired the objects; greed and a ridiculous hunger for power.)

Perhaps you will be reembodied, perhaps not. But it does not matter to the you speaking with me now. We will never see Arda again.

And because we will never see Arda again, because the things we create here may well outlast us, because Men squabble here and now over what our kin the Elvhen left behind, three thousand years later, I asked for an accounting of what you made should you leave us.

I packed Galadriel's clothes and some of her writings in a cedar chest when she departed; I burned what did not fit lest they fall into unworthy hands. I have done this thing six times for those dear to me. I have arranged to have it done should I not be found in my bed tomorrow morning or the morning a month hence. If you mistake my preparedness for greed you forget the lesson you yourself taught my lord king and all his court.

(He is taken aback. Maedhros is understandably accustomed - too accustomed - to fighting for what he sees as just. Accordingly, he is usually fighting himself and the Darkness he called upon himself by taking the Oath and facing Morgoth.)

The swords and the armor will be difficult to dismantle. Anything left behind by Kano or Elros will be taken care of by either myself or Fingon. Should we disappear, you will know where to find the belongings. I will prepare a chest or two for us and make you a key for the locks.

I will rise to the occasion. Thedas, doubtless, has a volcano somewhere.

I appreciate your understanding.

I try to avoid those. (Oh look, is that humor?)

I understand your reasoning and you are right. My family has caused enough wars.

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crystal.

crystal.

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crystal.

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crystal.

Re: crystal.