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563 Lord Prelan


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  1. Macalaure extended a hand to catch the child as she emerged from the close. “It is all right, little one? Was this thy first battle? “Well do I recall mine; many a grown ellon and elleth took ill from fear and dismay. Tears are the hroa’s way of calming itself; there is no shame in it. “Certainly I cried after that first skirmish, and I had lived some centuries at that time. The first battle always leaves one shaken; such is the way of things, and thou art far younger than I had been.” Though, of course, there had been significant differences, Macalaure admitted to himself. For one, this battle has been against yrrch and bandits. My first battle saw the death of my kin and friends at my own hands - and I and my family the bandits! At least this will not be so terrible for her, and will likely end better than ever it did for us.
  2. ( @ShadowLord_Lith, is it okay if I move us ahead (since we are riding together?) If not, I'll delete this.) ”There!” Macalaure cried. “The branches are broken.” He leapt down a second time, landing with barely a sound. “There are more prints here; she was ambushed from the side. The horse runs,” he followed the tracks, “and his bridle is caught. They circle here,” he gestured at the trampled area, “until he is calmed. Then see,” the elf prince pointed, “they tied him to the saddle; they took him with them. But there is nothing of the girl...” he paused, thinking, his gaze roving about the wood. ”Perhaps...” he murmured. And then he sung. Fair was his voice, and deep as the sea; it’s beauty beyond any in that age, and equal to few before. He sang of remembrance, of the echoes of time; he sang of children lost, and children found again. He sang, and beneath his voice the glen remembered. Like shadows and wraiths the past could be seen in flickering moments. A girl riding wildly, an ambush, a horse rearing, a maiden tossed aside. A steed calmed, bandits fleeing, two rangers and an elf in pursuit. Then two horses, an elf lord leaping forth - The song ceased, and time resumed. Macalaure walked slowly toward the thicket. “Come out child; it is safe now.”
  3. Macalaure smiles gently. “To break the will of an Elda is to kill him. We are a different breed; our souls are different. We are bound to Arda marred; thou and thy kin are not. Thou shalt go beyond the world when thy time comes; when my kin are slain, it is only to be reborn within it. ”Our will is bound to our fea, our soul. When our will is broken, we die. An elda cannot live with a broken spirit. Rape tears a hole in the fea; it is why an elda cannot survive such assault. “That your kind can break our wills I do not doubt; but to prevent our deaths requires the skill of the Valie, and only Morringotto would do such; and he is bound until the ending of the world. “Most like, these prints belong to the Dúnedain, who patrol these parts, and one of their Elda allies. My cousin’s fosterling, Gildor, and his troop, has been known to aid them in this. The markings on the prints would indicate as much.” So speaking, he mounted again. (Note: the first part is cannon; because of the spiritual difference between Men and elves, elves die if their will is broken. Unless Morgoth is doing the breaking, of course. Elves and humans don’t differ genetically; the difference is in the nature of their souls. (Gildor Inglorion was originally intended to be the son of Finrod; in deference to that, I tend to headcannon him as being fostered by Finrod.)
  4. Macalaure leapt down from the horse, and knelt by the tracks. “Her horse was moving swiftly, but it’s path was wild. See the broken branches; it swerved, but she maintained control. ”The feet here were large, and the imprint deep. A man, most like. Tall and heavy. He walked quickly, but not overly so.” The ancient prince frowned. “Wait. These...” he murmured something in Noldorin, before shaking his head. “There were three following. The boot prints differ. These two,” he pointed, “were both men. Likely connected; the prints vary but slightly. The boots were fashioned by the same hand. But one is lighter and smaller than the other. Still, almost certainly male. ”The other...” His dark brows drew in, and his face took on a wary cast. “He moves lightly; his feet left little imprint. His boots were made by my kin; he is likely one of them. ”At the least, it is unlikely your friend is in trouble. Though my kin are not incapable of evil, as I know well, one of the Quendi would not willingly ally himself with the Yrrch. Any I know who did, did so only after being broken in a manner which none today have the skill to do. And Eru be thanked for that!” @Merlin @ShadowLord_Lith @Ookla the very snazzy
  5. Macalaure laughed then, deep and bitter. “That I have tried. But you do not know the Oath.” And then he was silent, and would speak no more on the matter. (Worth noting that the Silm implies that the Oath actually drove the sons of Fëanor to chase the Silmarilli. By the end they really didn’t want them anymore. So he’s not actually being metaphorical; if the Oath awoke he WOULD kill anyone who tried to stop from retrieving a stone he doesn’t want. It’s not really his choice. (You do realize he’s a mass murderer and a terrorist, right? Like, he slaughtered a town full of refugees... that’s not something you just come back from.)
  6. The later volumes were better executed than the first, thankfully. In part because we got a better artist. (The first one gave me a headache!) Also, later books did more ‘showing’; the first book insisted on telling us EVERYTHING. It drove me absolutely nuts. My reading order: Mistborn Era1. Elantris (+Hope of) and Warbreaker. The Emperor’s Soul. SA + Edgedancer. White Sand prose. Mistborn Era 2. Reread Era 1 while inserting SH at the appropriate points; this will happen while waiting for the next SA book. Read the rest of AU. (Note: Alomancer Jak should be read AFTER BoM and SH. It reads rather differently after.) White Sand GN. Aether of Night.
  7. “In the Song Eärendil is hope. But I slew his people, stole his sons, and, were it not for the mercy of Ulmo, his wife, too, would have perished by our hands. Ill were those deeds and yet! The theft of his sons, who became mine, I cannot regret in true; such joy they brought my brother and I; in our despair they were our one comfort. “And, too, Eärendil’s star aught to be my birthright; it is naught but the Silmaril of my father. But for my sins, the slaying of my kin, it spurned me. “Doomed and damned I have become, by my deeds and by my Oath. And still! If the stars were mine to grasp, or the seas’ depths, or the bowels of the earth - still would I be drawn and blood again spill, seeking that which may never again be mine - for am I not a son of Fëanaro! ”And so granddaughter, I am without hope. For only Eru may free me from those cursed words; but He will not. My Doom is of my own design; the punishment borne of my own deeds. There is no hope for me in all of Arda; thus I do not sing of it.”
  8. (Maglor is riding with Gallen.) Macalaure frowned. “I do not sing of hope child. Hope is the province of Eärendil, and I doubt he holds any fondness for me. Thou art another matter. “I sing of wind and earth and the ring of horses hooves. I sing of Oromë and Nahar, his steed, and the Great Journey. “I sing of long journeys made swift with song; tired legs growing strong with the Sun’s first rising. ”But of hope I do not sing; it is not mine, and I have none.”
  9. Exactly! Their lives are so similar - in the exact opposite manner!
  10. (Nothing to add really, but good luck getting Cano to stop talking about his kids and grandkids. He’s a proud grandpa! He brings up his random grandkids ALL the time. Expect not to know most of them. (He also likes to talk about his brothers, his nephew, his cousins, etc. Also the horrible things he’s done; I am going to have him sing the Noldolante at some point.) Macalaure quietly sung a hymn of Oromë, his powerful voice barely audible. Spurred by the song, the horse moved swifter than it ever had before, touched by the echo of the Song of the Great Rider.
  11. Macalaure balances with the ease of long practice, enjoying the feel of riding. He had not done so in some years, but here, at least, the stories were true; some things one does not forget easily. Or at all, it seemed. Soon, they neared Bree.
  12. No, but it could work in the short term.
  13. He’s on the horse already.
  14. It is also possible that Cognitive entities, like Cognitive Shadows and Spren, engage the Cognitive realm differently. It is their natural place, after all. Physical beings need to do other things to interact with the Cognitive. Similarly, Cognitive beings need to work to interact with the Physical. And Spiritual beings likely need to do something to interact with the other two realms, just as Physical and Cognitive beings don’t naturally interact with the Spiritual.
  15. Kelsier and Kaladin, but subverted. In some ways they are very similar (even to both of them having noble/lighteye heritage), but they react in an opposing manner to almost everything. Even their placement in their families is reversed; Kaladin is the eldest, while Kell is the younger brother. It’s almost like Brandon said, “how would Kell NOT react” and did that with Kaladin. Note that Kell is psychopath, and thus has limited empathy; Kal, from the beginning, struggles with having too much of the same. (A surprising number of surgeons may be neurological psychopaths, according to some studies.) So it’s quite interesting to see the two of them because, in terms of backstory and life experiences, they are remarkably similar in many ways.