ataraxion | 12 ❂ Video | Evening PSA after the shuttles return

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12 ❂ Video | Evening PSA after the shuttles return

[The gardens are in the background. Thranduil appears on the screen looking impeccably turned out. His poise is stiff, his tone formal.]

It has been brought to Security's attention that the criminals Melkor and Mairon did capture twenty-two hostages from this ship. Of these, nine were enslaved with sorcery to do their bidding and keep the others entrapped. Their intent was to hide upon the station Arima and make their way to a planet from there.

[He lifts his chin.]

In doing so, Melkor and Mairon emptied several houses and killed and ate their inhabitants. When we arrived, there were piles of half-eaten carcasses to which some of the hostages had been bound face-to-face. The hostages themselves are in varying states of health. When we became apparent to him, Melkor set fire to the house.

[A muscle in his jaw twitches. Legolas' legs were broken.]

Melkor and Mairon are dead, and with them one of their willing servants--AM, I am to understand he was called. Their executions were quick and necessary to free those under their spell. They will not harm another soul here.

One hostage could not be saved. Meriadoc Brandybuck was murdered for his valour, and with his death he saved all his fellow prisoners. Because of the fire, Merry's body could not be retrieved. All effort was put toward saving the living from the fires. A funeral will be held for him. His honor is great even among the many great souls I am privileged to know here. The wake will be held tomorrow night, after a night and a day of mourning.

[He stops speaking for a second, though his face makes no change. At last, his gaze drops briefly and his voice becomes a soft hiss.]

Savo hîdh nen gurth.

[He cuts the transmission.]

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[ The transmission falls upon Éowyn as a dream. At first she cannot quite believe, perhaps even understand, what she hears, yet she does not have the strength within her to replay it.

Merry is dead. All said and done, to her it is all that remains from the message.

She takes long moments to cry her grief away, and when she finally replies she has managed a semblance of composure, though it is clear that this has affected her greatly.

Nonetheless, she speaks. ]

Please, my Lord. If there be anything I can help with, I would like to. Merry-- [ Her voice wavers and her eyes water; she tenses her jaw to stop herself from crying once again. ] Meriadoc was one of my dearest friends.

He spoke well of your uncle, and of you. Your place is among the chief mourners, Lady. Surely your place is to be helped, not to give help.

The only way I could be helped is to feel myself useful. I do not know the customs of hobbits, but... I will do what I can.

I should like to offer him a song, if that is possible.

Of course, Lady. You voice will be welcomed.

Thank you. I wish only that I could offer more. Words feel meaningless now.

They are not meaningless, Lady, nor unnecessary. But it is not for you to grant me comfort when yours is the greater grief in this. Let me ask instead what may be done for you, however impossible it seem, and I will do all in my power to grant it.

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wroughtsteel - 2014-05-13 14:51 (UTC) - Expand

[This... was shocking news, to say the least. He had only known Mairon as... a rather kindly man, or many stories. This tale, however, was horrific.]

I am so sorry for your loss, and that of the passengers who suffered and suffer still.

Were that such cruelty were more obvious in Marion, that no lives need been cost in the brave deed of ending his barbarity.

Had we revealed him, things might have gone worse than they did. Yet I fear we were over-cautious for too long. He seemed benign, at least, as he once was in our history. The coming of his master could not have been foreseen.

You can hardly blame yourself for the misdeeds of others, anymore than the populous here might have been able to condemn a man before he had committed a crime.

...Still. Thank you for making it known to us.

Melkor would never be a thing he was not. Morgoth my people call him--Dark Enemy. Mairon was but his servant, though very different in intent than his master. Ever Morgoth sought to destroy, to end all in chaos, for chaos he was. Mairon wished for rule and order, sovereignty and tyranny. After Morgoth was chained by the Valar, Mairon became as great a threat as he. Gorthaur he was known among my people, and Sauron among others. Ever he has been difficult to predict, for he is cunning, and will reserve his might till a time when it is best used. When Morgoth came, we did not know if he would return to his old master or continue independently--independent, he had little use for causing trouble. Ever we watched Morgoth, and have not been idle, but only now have we overcome him at last.

He had told me that when his Master existed, his world was a 'beautiful' place... though perhaps the definition of beauty truly is very different, dependent on the eye of the beholder.

Though on ill-circumstance and at great cost, I do thank you for stemming the threat as you could. That you seemed to have resisted them in your own world too speaks of troubles many and wearying.

If I can offer anything to you and yours, please let me know. Even if it is only to be slightly less ignorant in hearing what you have to tell.

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elvenking - 2014-04-27 16:46 (UTC) - Expand

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[ She's in her room. She doesn't know what to do, how to fix anything. Yes, she was taken advantage of but it was her state of mind, hers which had been manipulated. She opens the feed, breathes. All she can come up with is that she is so sorry. Which can't be enough. It will never be enough. It's different than not deactivating the Gilbert device and it's worse than almost setting Damon on fire. A lot worse. And Thranduil had warned her days beforehand. Maybe if she hadn't been looking into Melkor or Morgoth.

Maybe...

But, all she has are maybe's and nothing more.

Apologies won't help. Not in this case. So, she shuts the feed off before she can say anything. She needs time. ]

[While Thranduil is out in the gardens making his announcement, Eric is inside the flet, sitting against the headboard of Thranduil's bed, his eyes fixed forward. He could be outside listening to whatever is being said in the announcement, and perhaps he should. Making note of the comments being made in retort, the arguments for or against what they are being told about what has gone down. But instead he remains seated in the same place he has been since their return to the gardens. Let them say what they will. Let them form their opinions, let them pity or hate the captured and captors in turn. He cannot summon the strength to care.]

[When he comes back, he looks weary, but at least he is bathed and in clean clothes. Bright eyes land on Eric sitting on his bed, and he quietly approaches.]

While on Arima I procured fabric. [He sits down beside Eric.] It will make clothes aplenty for us both.

[A benign icebreaker. Nothing too stressful.]

[Eric does not look up when Thranduil approaches nor when he joins him, sitting beside him on the bed. He can smell that he's washed and redressed. He can hear from the note in his voice that he is guarding himself, and he supposes that it's not a bad idea, or necessarily unwarranted at all. He hasn't really given Thranduil much to go on, aside from whatever he felt from their bond. He spent so much time buried in his own head with Morgoth, he doesn't even know how much that might be.

Would that he could bury himself anew.]

A regular clothier, you're becoming... [Despite the casual words, his tone holds an emptiness such that he has never expressed before. Certainly not in front of Thranduil himself.]

Clothes must be made. [He reaches out for Eric's shoulder, little finger brushing against bare neck to ensure contact. He knows it works that way when Eric touches him, so maybe it works that way in reverse.]

Look at me.

[Eric can't help the fact that he gives into Thranduil's touch, the fact that it does make him feel a little bit better just for the contact. He can't help the fact that he feels like he doesn't deserve it, either. Courtesy of his time away, under Morgoth's thumb.

Out of the habit of having to listen to everything he's been told for the last few days, Eric looks up when Thranduil tells him to. Even if he might not particularly want to meet his eyes right now.]

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