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.

[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.

[ 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.]

He would say such a thing. He would have enslaved my people long ago and thought it beautiful as we were tormented beyond recognition.

[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.]

You were his captive as much as the others.

[He's felt Eric's guilt, and he knows it comes from somewhere.]

You will forgive yourself. Not right now, perhaps not soon at all, but you will. You must only continue till then.

[His hand reaches up to brush a couple strands of hair away from Eric's eyes.]

Because the blame you bear is not yours. It is all the guilt he should feel and does not, and so it falls upon you, though you were given no choice but to be what he made you.

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.

[Eric shakes his head at Thranduil's words. There is something about their relationship, and the way that Thranduil is looking at him, is trying to help him, that he cannot hide the way he wants to.]

I was not his captive. [There's a pause, as if to suggest that he's finished with that thought, before he says rather abruptly:] I was his hound.

Whatever you were, you were and are no longer. You have said thus yourself. [Both hands reach to cup the sides of Eric's neck, enhancing the touch-related comfort.]

You have called me yours, and now I call you mine. And my Eric is no one's hound. My Eric is proud and lordly and a king of Men. Whoever you were made to be during his time with you, you are now my Eric again. You are not his.

[Eric meets Thranduil's eyes steadily, although his own eyes are sad, tired, and not entirely his own. Certainly not an expression that might have been seen on his face before this had come to pass, not without equal prompting.

It pleases him, to hear Thranduil's words. That he is Thranduil's... That he should consider the relationship as such. It should be as such. Their bond should be a lot more than it is. But it had been an accident, and then an alliance, and even if there are traditions of bonding, he would not force these things on Thranduil. Not anymore... His voice is soft when he speaks up to say:]

I have failed you.

You would have failed me if you had not come back to me, but here you are. [Thranduil shakes his head softly, keeping Eric's gaze.] What you believe of yourself now is a thing he put in you. A day will come when you may separate truth from lies again. But for now, if you cannot trust yourself, trust me. Do you not trust that I would know who can be trusted, Eric?

[Eric is quiet for a long moment. He does not trust himself. He cannot trust himself. Maybe that's because of something Morgoth has done. Maybe he never could. He cannot remember. He doesn't know which would be worse, all things considered. At least he is sure of one thing. At least there are some things that Morgoth did not take away from him.]

I trust you.

[He doesn't like being this vulnerable. He doesn't like feeling this open. If this were anyone else, he wouldn't be able to say these things. Godric, perhaps, but besides him... He feels weak, ashamed that Thranduil should see him like this, but not enough that he wants him to leave.]

You are safe here. [Well. Safe in the way that counts right now, anyway.] I alone was his captive for five days. Do you remember? Now he is dead by my own hand. He cannot conquer for ever.

[The fact that he's dead does bring some relief. He cannot harm Thranduil anymore. He cannot harm Eric himself anymore. The stains of his blood are still there, on Eric's borrowed outfit. Even what they have cleaned off, he can still feel it, as it was when he stood there, freshly broken from his compulsion, from his corruption, covered in it, trying desperately not to ingest any because god only knows what that might do to him.

But it is a small relief. He feels empty inside. It is a small victory, and one that was not even his. He had to be rescued. Rescued by someone that he has time and again failed to rescue in the past. Failed to rescue from Morgoth, failed to rescue from his own demons, and now failed again when he had been taken under Morgoth's influence, and failed to rescue himself.]

I remember. [he responds, softly. How can he forget? There is something in his tone of voice as he says it that speaks of his overwhelming sense of failure there. Although perhaps Thranduil can feel that as well. He isn't sure what subtleties are being transferred over the bond. He is trying hard not to project, but there is only so much that he can do in that regard when they are bonded as close as they are.]

[He can feel the unspoken words, and shakes his head.]

You saved me, whether you knew it or not. You gave me comfort at a time when death was upon me, and kept me alive.

[Words stop then, his emotions stuck in his throat like a hurricane trapped inside a glass vial. It's the first time it's really struck him how lost he would be without his bondsmate, then or now. You kept me alive. Whatever this was before, it is now far deeper than he ever dreamed it could become. He can't simplify everything into mere speech, not when it comes to Eric. Their relationship defies all definition.

He leans in and pecks a butterfly-light kiss from Eric's lips, and immediately wonders why he didn't go for the forehead instead.]

[Since the day that their bond began, Eric has been close to Thranduil. Felt close to him. Those feelings only strengthened as he convinced Thranduil to trust him, to trust in him. As the pair of them grew close together and Thranduil came to rely on him and learn to rely on his protection and the bond as well. And they strengthened further once the bond strengthened itself, their connection grew, as did Eric's sense of loyalty to Thranduil, and his desire to do right by him, to keep him safe, to be more traditional with their bond.

And then Morgoth had taken him. And Eric had realized that he would do anything and everything to keep him safe, to get him back, and once he did, that he would do anything he could to make it better. To do what he could to help. And that desire, that feeling, as the days passed it had less and less to do with the bond itself than it did with the person he found himself attached to. Tauriel had asked him if he had feelings for Thranduil once. If he loved him. It had been just before Thranduil had been taken away. And Eric had not been able to give an answer, although even then one had existed. But now...

Thranduil saved him. Despite not even remembering him at times, after they came together, he has never pushed him away. He has always believed in him, and believed in the good in him. Even now, he is giving him credit where Eric isn't really sure credit is deserved.

Eric is too distracted by Thranduil's words that the kiss takes him by surprise, which says something about his state of mind in this moment. In the past, he has thought about doing something similar countless times, but something always held him back. His fear of Thranduil's reaction, perhaps, and the idea that this might be the one action that couldn't be forgiven. So he had hidden his desires and his affections as best he could, for the sake of their bond, and for the sake of it continuing as it had, for fear of ruining one of the most important things he had left to him here.

But there it is, soft and gentle, and Thranduil is kissing him, and Eric is a tumble of emotion - failure, defeat, regret, resign - but now surprise and honestly a little confusion too. And a warmth, filling in the spaces that have been numb since he has returned to the ship from the kidnapped base off-ship. He can't bring himself to speak. He can't bring himself to do much in response. But Thranduil will feel this shift in emotion. And he will see the look in his eyes, the spark that slowly returns to an expression that had been dull and nearly unseeing until just now. He will see his emotions on his sleeves like they may never have been before. Because he is too worn out and too surprised to hold anything back now. Too tired to hide his pain and his regret, the low self-worth that Morgoth has established in him, the guilt that he has for what happened because of his weakness - because he couldn't fight it off, and the love he has for his bondsmate - who somehow still believes in him even despite it all. Who has just kissed him, however delicately.

He opens his mouth slightly to speak, to ask a question, to say something - anything - but no words come out.]

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12 ❂ Video | Evening PSA after the shuttles return

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