OPEN RP POST

[mortalhalf]

Pretty straight forward. You have an idea you want to play out with Elros, throw up a starter or plotting comment and we'll go from there. Haven't threaded with me before but want to try something different than how you found this journal? That's fine too! I'm always open to new RP partners. If you have questions, feel free to shoot me a PM if you're more comfortable that way.

Comments

[castintoflames]

He liked to watch him. Elros was a far cry from the little child he had once held in his arms, but he wasn't so far changed that Maedhros wouldn't know him anywhere. Maybe he wasn't worthy of being called Elros's family, yet that didn't matter.

He would still watch over him. No one else had to know that he kept to the shadows - including Elros himself. The young King's life was far too exciting without a Fëanorian weighing him down.

Even if said Fëanorian only wanted the best for him. The absolute best.

Maedhros chuckled when his horse buried his nose in his thick hair. Yes, it was time to go. He couldn't risk being found out.

"Be well, star foam." he tugged on his horse's reins and set about making his way back to his camp. But as he followed the path, he saw a group of black-clad riders approach the city's gate. His current position on a large hill made it easy for him to count their number and he was mounting his horse before the next breath.

The pounding of hooves took the riders by surprise - as did his sword. Like hell was he going to let anyone touch his son -

No, not his. But close. Very close.

His blade cut deep and without mercy.

PART A: Elros is immortal

[seakingswife]

"Ellllllros~" A very familiar voice calls. "Where have you gotten to darling? We're going to miss dinner at this rate!"

Gaelil wanders through the hallways, looking for her wayward husband. "Do not tell me you are hiding because my brother is coming to dinner!"

PART B: Elros is mortal

[seakingswife]

Gaelil sits at her window and looks out over the palace, and wonders that she sits where she sits. It seems so strange - not that long ago she was nothing more than a soldier's daughter. Never would she have thought that the King would even realise who she was, but how things change. In the beginning, with the newness of Elenna, all hands had worked together - noble and common alike - raising the walls, ploughing the fields. She had not realised that the handsome young man who worked beside her was her king - and not as young as he looked, either! But sitting here, looking out over the work their hands have built...

No. She cannot regret it either.

"Oof!" She looks down and laughs softly at her stomach. "Patience, patience. Soon, you will have plenty enough to do, child of mine. Now. Where is your errant father, I wonder?"

[castintoflames]

Life was ironic and full of surprises. Maedhros thought he had released his son - adopted son - from his company long ago, yet circumstances demanded that he contact Elros and, if need be, stand guard. The horse he rode was large - befitting his height - and he hid his bright hair and face under his helm as he entered the city.

No one would dare halt him; he truly paid the guards no heed. Once he was in the palace's courtyard, he dismounted and entered the building at a run, desperate to see Elros safe and sound.

Because early morning ideas are the best.

[castintoflames]

Somehow he had torn himself away from the volcano. He had been so close to the edge, but then he had stepped back. One step turned into two, three; then he was on his horse and riding hard and fast to Eru knew where with the Silmaril burning a hole into his hand. It shocked him when he arrived in Elros's city and he barely noticed that people were running from him in a panic.

His horse reared and he fell, landing in a broken heap before the palace. Shaking and sobbing, he still refused to let go of the Silmaril.

[bythewaves]

He came on the boats with the others, refugees and soldiers turned farmers, people all looking for a new start, a new life, following a new king. No one questioned a bard, nor why the King kept him close, but he kept to himself, for the most part, and everyone was mostly far too busy building a new home to care so long as he did his share - which he did.

People do wonder, of course. But there is more than one, in Elros' following, who wants to leave the past behind. No one asks.

But he is always near the King, in one way or another, and those closest to him whisper rumors that the King has been heard to call him father. Most of Elros' following are Edain, and many remember the old tales, and look upon the seven pointed star he wears, and wonder.

But no one asks.

As the frenzy of building slowly subsides, people start to settle down, and rather than a camp, it begins, at last, to look like a city. And the King's eyes often follow a certain lass, of late, and his people rejoice. She is no great lady, no grand house. But they are starting afresh, after all - and she loves him in return. A good match, people murmur, and are pleased when the King announces his wedding.

The wedding is lavish, nobility coming from far and wide, even from both sides of the Sea.

(One is the King's twin brother, and he takes one look at the bard and punches him before hugging him tightly, but Numenor is used to politely not saying anything, by now)

And at the wedding, when the speeches are done and the toasts are made, the Lost Bard of the Noldor stands, and looking at the Man and Elf that he considers his sons, he sings for them all, and rather than the laments that legend reports he sings, he sings only joy, and it catches all of them up in it's spell.

[marriedanidiot]

No mortal ships may sail West beyond sight of the shores of Numenore, but their elven neighbours can come East, and do, ships plying the long distances to meet and trade and learn from and with each other.

On one of those ships she comes, just another neri amongst others. She wears a Master's braid, and a Stonemasons gem, and her hair is a shade of red that very few of the Noldor bear. She is quiet and polite and does not stay in the Eastern Ports, instead following the few who tread the road inland, heading towards the capital, where she sets up a small market shop in the main square, setting out her wares - little sculptures so realistic that they might caper to life at any moment, and there she waits.