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WHO: Maglor and OTA!
WHERE: Coach B
WHEN: Bassoon Day 3, early morning
WHAT: Maglor's singing a rather painful song because certain arrivals have gotten him mopey again.
WARNINGS: See above? Probable mentions of torture, murder, dismemberment, etc...

One of the resident musicians has been having his usual trouble sleeping and has tucked himself away in one of the couches with his harp. Much as he does most mornings before the majority of people are up and about.

Maedhros is here. Alive. Full of regret for not thinking of him when it mattered most.

Curufin is here too, just as full of life as they'd all once been. He's discovered he's not angry with that little brother, but the memories of blood and war still pelt his mind just as fresh as if it had happened yesterday.

Maybe he should keep his silence, but the song he'd composed so his family's dark deeds wouldn't be forgotten East of the Sea begs to be sung again. They'd done too much evil for it to be forgotten or passed off as fantasy.

So his fingers strum over the strings of his harp and he raises his voice in an odd, almost sorrowful, almost light tone.

"Seven sons there were, fell and fair
Bright the light in their grey eyes
Swift their rage against the night
But where now the swift arrow, the bright sword?
Where have they gone, the brave warriors?
They are lost, lost, fallen to shadow
Fallen to flame and madness

"Oh, the blood on the sands, the tears on the ground
Fallen, fallen are they, lost forever
Oh! Fingolfin the mighty, puissant and great,
And Fingon the brave, slain at the gate
Gondolin's walls are broken and Turgon lies slain
Felagund lies silent, his death not in vain
And where are they now, Feanor's sons?
Hands stained forever, oathsworn?" *lyrics come from

bookwormfaith

There is more he sings, but it continues on that vein. Those who hear it will hear the rest as an impression of great grief and sorrow. Of regret.

Maglor won't- can't forget. So why should his family be so spared? He's not angry with his father. Not anymore. Now he's just grateful to see his father (and now younger brother, Curufin) alive and much as they used to be, rather than mad with the terrible Oath they'd sworn.

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There is another who cannot sleep and he hears the song clearly no matter how far he walks from Maglor's compartment. So why bother trying to escape? His slow steps take him back to his brother, but he is cautious about entering, sensing that all is not well between them. Perhaps it never will be.

When the song comes to an end, he speaks gently:

"Kano, put your harp away and sleep. You need it."

But Maedhros is trying, and it starts to help each day Maglor sees him. Still, this morning has him blinking up at the much taller elf as the Noldolante trails off.

Images of the horrible past fade away, back to the memories where they belong.

"...Can't..." he eventually thinks to explain.

He slips into the compartment at last and kneels down beside his brother. He touches his cheek with the back of his fingers, frowning in concern.

"...would it help if I...stayed?"

He shifts to make space for his brother on the table's bench, harp slowly coming to rest, strings still, on his lap. His fingers and the palm of his right hand are once again an angry red, but Maglor doesn't seem to notice enough to care beyond giving the fingers a few stretches.

He leans into the gentle touch, thinking. "Maybe? I never sleep much." Hasn't, for more years than he's bothered to keep track.

"Kano..." he tuts and rises, joining Maglor on the bench. The best he can do for the poor irritated hand is to give it a gentle massage.

"My voice can't match yours, but I remember singing you to sleep after bad dreams." Maedhros had been an attentive big brother, hurrying to his brother's cradle sometimes before he began to cry.

Of course he claims it is simply because his brother is adorable - has been and will always be - but it goes deeper than that. Their connection is like light and shadow.

Maglor doesn't bother trying to keep his hand from Maedhros' grasp. The massage helps ease some of the ache. "It happens sometimes," he says simply.

He shifts to lean against his brother, if only because he can. And because he's missed being able to. "I like your voice," he immediately defends with a faint pout.

Their connection is incomparable. He'd been incomplete without Maedhros to stick to.

"These are angry scars. Anything will irritate them." he is careful with his thumb each time he passes over the old wounds, "I need to find a salve for you."

Or make one. He knows enough about herbs to attempt it. Maedhros flushes at the defense, biting the inside of his cheek.

His next words are sung and his deep voice is like the earth moving or a deep river rushing. He sings of sights that will, mentally, call his dear brother home. No more wandering. No more loneliness.

"Uh."

Says the young man who was really just being a sticky beak and exploring the train.

"Are...you alright there? That's some really gloomy music."

Also he can hear you in his head? And it's very depressing.

Romeo was a generally early waker and being on the train had not changed that. He was wandering towards the kitchen to make something to eat when he heard the music. He paused in his walking. The song was really sad. Not at all music to dance to with friends but music that seemed to fill the whole of him with feelings, even if he didn't understand all the words.

He wondered who was singing it, who was making the music. They must be sad to sing such a song and he approached carefully. If someone was sad then he wanted to try and cheer them up. This train was a bit scary and strange but it was important everyone kept their spirits up.

It was a man and Romeo stood still and watched, not wanting to disturb the song or the singer.

Tony had woken from a dream, a nasty one of course, and heard the music. It was the harp and not something he would prefer but it's beautiful nonetheless. He finds his robe and slippers and tries to straighten his hair a bit before coming out to listen.

He stays back a bit as he comes into the room. The song that was being song was the story of their family, judging by the words. He doesn't know the names or the places and isn't completely sure he knows which one is which, but he's captivated by the talent and the deep, deep sadness. He finds somewhere to sit nearby but not close enough to interfere.

The last days were rather eventful and Feanor definitely felt way too comfortable with his situation. Getting three of his sons back is more than he hoped for. Even if that turns to be temporary it won't cease to be a miracle in his eyes. It won't stop feeling as if he is absolved, in part at least. As if he is allowed to feel anything other than anger, sorrow and regret. It was almost too good to be true.

Because it was...

For the first time Feanor is grateful he took the bottom bunk. It is in the dangerous state of not being fully awake that he hears it. The voice he would never mistake for another. There's only one who can sing like this. No other has the skill nor the art to shape the music that way. To play not on an instrument but on the hearts of all who listen to him.

Suddenly, the last two weeks feel like a dream. Something he would wake up from and find himself in that same dreary place he was for so long. With the last slivers of life and colour fleeting, turning into grey, slipping from his hands no matter how much he tries to hold on to them. Memories of laughter fading away until he can barely recognize what they were. Mere echoes, only there to further torment him.

And yet, the surroundings do not change even when the music stops. Feanor lifts his hand to touch the bed above. He has to make sure it's really there. It is. A solid surface above his head. He can hear the others breathing. Higher, on the top beds, one of the spider kids is stirring nervously. Trouble sleeping? That's probably Peter. He's still on the train. There's only one thing he can do. Go and search for Maglor.

When he finds him he's not coming in. Just stands in the carriage door, staring into the void lights no matter how much it hurts to do this. As if one pain could alleviate the other. It can't. But he can't look at his son either.

"So it is true," he finally says, his voice barely above a whisper. "What they say." It's pretty clear who he means by they. "That it is all I am remembered for. The Oath."

That he brings all to ruin. Everything he touches turns into ash. That cursed fire of his. He can't hate the very essence of his own being but it also destroys everyone he loves. So it's not that difficult to envy the Men their Gift. He does manage to look at his son eventually. He has to. He has to know.

"Do you hate me for it?"

"You can look," he just doubts it'll help all that much. But if it helps his older brother, maybe that'll be enough.

He doesn't quite smile at the flush, nor is he given much chance to before Maedhros starts to sing. His eyes automatically slip shut and he curls against his brother, listening and letting himself drift.

How he feels doesn't matter enough now. Not when this song seeks to protect him.

He's done his own exploring, especially when he'd first arrived. There isn't all that much to see though.

The music drifts off on its own and leaves the elf blinking over at the youth. "I...am sorry if I woke you?" Because that is more important than his own pitiful self, yes.

No, not something to dance to. Something to listen to and remember. Something to sit back and watch, more than anything else.

The elf knows he's being watched, but doesn't exactly notice enough to respond until he brings the song of memories to an end. And, since he hasn't been interrupted, he figures it's not immediately important.

But every song comes to an end, even- especially the good ones. This one isn't particularly good, in terms of subject, but it does it's task appropriately, and so it comes to an end. If it leaves him somewhat drained, enough to let the harp lean against him as the strings trail off on their own, enough that he continues to stare off without really looking at anything...it did what it was meant to.

Dreams have a pesky habit of being either good or bad. Some have more of the one than the other. Maglor's dreams are why he tends to try and avoid sleep as much as possible.

He knows when Tony comes in, of course, but doesn't mind his company. He's already told this man part of this story, it's only fair he hears more of it.

But when it ends, as songs do, he gently sets his harp down, though the fingers of his good hand subconsciously stroke the etchings in the metal frame. He doesn't look at Tony just yet, either.

"There are plenty more laments I have written since this one, which I call the Noldolante, after my people." So many wrongs done. So much death.

Feanor would be welcomed, even while Maglor sings this particular song. Eventually, when the songs trails off and his father speaks, he doesn't quite turn to look at him either. Emotions too raw, and he knows his right hand is bleeding again. Red and angry. He also doesn't care. He feels the angry scars are deserved of their display of pain too.

"Yes," his voice is just as quiet when he answers. Tired, rather than angry or sad. He'd expended much of his emotional energy, as the Noldolante tends to do.

But then he blinks and shakes his head, frowning to look back at Feanor. "For the Oath? ...Yes. But despite it, I do not hate you."

Not, at least, the same way he hates Maedhros. Maedhros, who'd willingly flung himself to death. The rest of his brothers, and his father, had died at the hands of another, and so they were kept from his hatred. And even then...He still desperately loves his older brother

"I do not hate you, father," he repeats, and reaches his good hand toward him in silent request.

Yes but if he doesn't move he'll go stir mad of boredom!

"I wasn't sleeping." He shrugs.

"But you seem kinda... down?" How does talk to adult who he is pretty sure is not human.

The song continues, filling him with big feelings and then it ends, the very tall man sat still, staring off into the distance looking sad. Romeo stepped forwards, he wasn't sure if he'd be seen. People on this train seemed to be able to see him better than normal humans could but he wasn't sure if that was true of all of them.

But the man looked so sad and Romeo couldn't leave him alone when he looked so sad, even if he was an adult and Romeo didn't know him at all!

"Hello sir..." He stepped even closer. "That was a very sad and pretty song, are you alright?"

When Maglor stops and addresses him, he smiles a little though not as strongly as he normally would. The same had been depressing, to say the least, and he wasn't completely over his nightmare. Even so, he gets up and comes closer so he can sit near the elf.

"You'd have plenty to write from my life too, so I'm not judging." He tries to relax where he sits, or at least pretends to. He was on edge, but this was a friend. Besides, he had something for him.

"Are you alright?"

There's the gym?

"You should, humans need more sleep than my people."

Maglor shrugs slightly, though there's a hint of an appreciative smile. "I have a few things on my mind. There is no need to worry, though I thank you for your concern."

Much big, so many!

He slowly blinks, shaking himself from memory and thought when the light watching him speaks, moving closer. Maglor turns to better see it...him.

The question has him almost laugh, lips quirking wryly. "Some emotions have to be expressed in order to let them go, just as some memories do so that those left behind might find form of relief. I am well enough, little light."

Many of Maglor's newer songs are depressing. It's the older ones that he's been playing the most on the train. But he can't always help himself when he gets into a certain mood and is left alone.

There is plenty of space for Tony near him, if the man wants to take it. There's a warm little smile for him regardless. "Nor would I judge you, if you wished to speak of them to me." There's a little stress on the if, no demand or expectation is implied.

Is he alright? No, but that's nothing new so he doesn't bother saying so. Instead... "I am well enough... One of the newest arrivals has brought certain memories back that I've managed to ignore for a while."

Ignis is up early as always. Since the kitchen was occupied at the moment, he'd thought to go back and train with his daggers but he thought he heard a..was that a harp? And was someone singing just now?

Retracing his steps, the advisor turned and backtracked. Seeing and now hearing Maglor, Ignis stayed where he was and listened. The words were depressing even if he had no idea of the places or people that were being mentioned.

And he doesn't want to interrupt but he can clearly be seen and is listening.

"They have to be expressed?" Romeo blinked, that was an interesting idea. You had to show your feelings in order to make them go out of you. He hadn't ever thought about that before, big bad feelings could not be very good things to show at all. But this man hadn't got angry or shouted at anyone, he had just sang a very sad song.

"I'm glad you're well enough! Having big feelings can be tricky." He got even closer. "You must have practised lots to be able to play that so well!"

He's seen a harp before, in the heavens and he had been just as amazed then at how anyone could figure out how to make it make such pretty sounds. It looked really complicated!

"I'm a bit of an insomniac." He says cheerfully. "My hours are a little... odd."

Working at night and all that.

"I'll nap later."

He nods. "Alright. But... that was... really pretty? You know. And sad, obviously. But uh. Why is it painting pictures in my head?"

Just about anyone else, he wouldn't even consider telling his mistakes too if he didn't have to, but for Maglor he thinks a moment on that. It wasn't like the elf could judge him too much after what he'd heard of his family. Still, it was never easy putting light to something so utterly shameful.

"I'll tell you some other time," he promises. It might be sooner than later, but he had something else on his mind- and that was the elf, himself. "Curufin or Maedhros?" He asks, having met both elves and honestly had liked both of them to differing degrees. It was hard not to favor Curufin with his positive attitude and friendly chatter. What was he supposed to say here? Was he supposed to tell Maglor to forgive himself when it was something Tony had never been able to do? "I've wondered some if this train isn't an opportunity for me to make amends with.. whatever balance I've tilted towards the wrong."

No matter how much his pride is wounded by the fact that he's remembered for his madness rather than his genius, he'd say nothing about it. It's meaningless, irrelevant in face of what should have always been important to him. But he was too blind to see. Too self-absorbed, too concentrated only on his own pain to listen to voice of love or even reason. No amount of regret can turn back time or undo what he has done. Nothing can't change the past. It would break his spirit if his son hated him but he wouldn't, couldn't blame him even if he did. It's a relief beyond words that Maglor does not, in the end, hate him. He has all the right to. Feanor knows he had wronged all of them greatly. He comes to sit next to Maglor and takes the hand he was offered.

"I'm sorry," he says, his voice shaking, the words barely coming out. There is nothing in the tongues of elves or men that could express what he wants to say but he has to try. "I'm so sorry, son. I should have never made you do it."

All he ever wanted was for his family to be happy but it was he who ruined it all. His anger, his foolish pride.

"I will." Maedhros makes the two words a solemn promise and then he weaves his brother a song. He leans back a little to offer himself as a place for Maglor to rest. Meanwhile his words bring them back to Aman - to days when they were young and whole. Images of them playing around a fountain or darting through the trees pass between them.

He snuggles into his brother's embrace, taking the offer as he let himself listen and remember. Before all the darkness and pain. There's even a soft smile on his face as he allows the peace of those memories to sink in.

Maedhros will find he's put Maglor to sleep after a moment!

There is no pain in those memories - just children laughing and playing until the darkening sky calls them home. Maglor will likely see glimpses of himself in those visions - for he is seeing Maedhros's point of view - and he will feel the deep love his brother holds for him.

The song eventually ends and Maedhros smiles softly at the slumbering Elf in his arms. Good. His eyelids feel a bit heavy and he ends up closing them, letting himself relax fully too.

It's enough that even when his brother's song ends, Maglor stays asleep. Safe, wrapped up in the love of his brother's memories and the security of strong arms he knows better even than his own.

"Mm. So I see."

It's not his place, really, though habit is hard to break.

Maglor chuckles quietly. "I am pleased you enjoyed it!" Nice ego stroke there! "I suppose because there is power in my song when I wish there to be."

"At times, some of them do. They can overwhelm if bottled up too long." Hypocritical much?

"Aye, that they can. And I have been playing since I could hold a harp." Which was a very very very long time ago! Maglor shifts a little, welcoming the youth to sit beside him if he wishes.

"Have you ever tried to play?"

They have a fairly good friendship going. Maglor hopes Tony knows he won't push if the Man hints he wants to be left alone. But if Tony decides he wants to confide in him, the elf will sit quietly and listen without judgment- because really, he has no right to judge anyone. And he likes Tony for who he is.

At the promise, he smiles and hums quietly in acceptance. No pressure.

"Maedhros," he answers, sounding ever so slightly tired. Maedhros had told him he'd met this Man. "I am finding my reunion with him more of a challenge than I'd expected." The right hand flexes a little in memory, or a hint as to what was so difficult about it.

"Family can be complicated," but he has a feeling Tony might understand that too.

His head tilts in thought at Tony's comment. "Perhaps...Even if just with oneself. It can be a bit of a slippery slope."

The bad had, sadly, eclipsed the good. And the good that remained, few East of the Sea even knew of the connection to Feanor. Only those who'd known him, or known of him.

Maglor shudders a little at the apology. His father doesn't say those words lightly, and never without meaning them from the very bottom of his being. He shifts to lean against Feanor, harp coming to rest on his lap.

"Love binds us now just as before. I will not see those bonds severed. I only..." he hisses out a quiet breath, fingers tightening around Feanor's hand to hold on.

"The wording should have been worked out before we all swore that Oath." The slight twitch at even the mention of it hints that even now it has its claws in Maglor. Buried. Hummed to quiet.

But still there.

Waiting for Maglor to drop his guard.

Ignis isn't imaging things! Maglor's song trails off on its own and the elf lets himself just drift a moment before shifting slightly, head turning a little to indicate he's aware the Man is there.

"You may come in, if you wish," he quietly invites.

"Huh."

He leans against the bulkhead.

"That's cool. Is it magic from your own world? You aren't human are you?"

"If you would like some helping falling asleep, I know a few songs which work every time." He has lots of practice with fussy children!

"No. In your language you might know my kind as elves. And yes, it is magic of a kind I suppose, as you might know it. In my world, Music is what made the planet, and all that lives there, along with the stars."

NOT A CHILD >[

"Thanks, but I'm used to it now." He grins, and whistles.

"Elves? Really? Wow, you're a lot taller than I thought you would be. And made of music? Is that poetic licence?"

ITTY BITTY ADORABLE CHILD!

Maglor hums again, eyes bright. Much less sad at the moment, and he internally thanks this young one for the distraction.

"I've been told that before. No bells." Completely straight-faced. "Ah, no. Not as we know it, and not as I see it." Yup, he sees music~ Because he is Special! "It involves what I believe you might call gods and angels? And them singing life and everything into being."

HE'S SEVENTEEN!!!!

"And no presents, either?" He retorts with a grin.

"How do you see music? And seriously, your world sounds either awesome or terrifying."

Compared to Maglor's over four thousand years, seventeen might as well be four.

"Hmm," he pretends to think about it, looking the youth over. "Maybe if you're very good."

Maglor's smile turns wry. "It comes almost as predictions, seeing the truth of things. And you are not entirely wrong."

That doesn't count he's mortal he ages different!

Kaito laughs. "I solemly promise I will be on my best behaviour!" For now.

"Huh." Truth of things, huh? THat's... well. He supposes he should be careful, with this guy.

"That sounds pretty useful a power. Can all of you elves do that?"

He knows. The elf had been nothing but respectful to him and it had built up quite the trust between them. If he needed it or could get over his pride enough to admit needing it, he'd tell him what keeps haunting him.

"Is he the reason your hand has been injured?" He asks carefully. Unlike Maglor, Tony wasn't ery good at being gentle when he got curious. He did the best he could. At least he could nod in agreement with family being complicated. He'd only recently learned how true that was.

He shakes his head. "No. I'm never going to forgive myself for it. But.. I'd rather talk about you. I have something for you." He passes over something wrapped in some extra fabric he found (or more specifically, part of a suitcase he destroyed). Inside is a metal glove with soft lining.

For the moment, Ignis isn't going anywhere. "I wasn't aware anyone here would play an instrument such as a harp."

He's not sure whether he's been rude to just stay back or if he should just accept the invitation, so he shakes his head.

"I do not wish to interrupt you."

Nah, it totally counts~

Maglor smirks at him. "May I know your name so that I might keep track of you better?" Supposedly there's a list? Maybe? He'll be watching you, Kaito!

"Some better than others. At least those from my world."

He mimes taking off a hat and sweeping him a bow.

"Kaito! Kaito Kuroba! A pleasure."

...he'll watch himself around all of them then.

He's never heard that before. But he nods and looks closer at the harp as he moves to sit down. He shook his head. "No sir. I don't think I have..." Sometimes it was hard to know, untl he tried something.

"I saw someone play a harp once but it was a big harp. Bigger than I am!"

It had made very pretty music though.

Feanor doesn't say such words lightly. Nor very often. Maybe not as often as he should. When he does they don't even seem to be enough. That's both his curse and a blessing, always taking everything one step farther. When he starts he's unable to stop and more often than not that one step end being one too far.

"I don't think the problem lied with the wording. I do, it did with the idea."

There are many things he did that can be explained - even if not justified - by the circumstances, by what happened before, what others did or did not do, but not this. If anything has ever been his one step too far, it was the Oath.

He can just hope that now he's more skilled in recognizing what he's doing earlier than in hindsight.

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