I thought I would sail about a little and see the watery part of the world...

[tar_minyatur]

WHO: Elros and Maglor and you
WHAT: Elros' Sea-Longing is getting worse since he can't put out with the fishing boats in the winter. So he's building a boat, instead. What? This makes perfect sense.
WHEN: Most of the rest of winter
WHERE: a quiet spot in the harbor
NOTES: probably none!
 

He is no Cirdan, but the Shipwright wasn't about to send the Edain off in boats they did not know, so since War of Wrath ended, Elros put aside the soldiers life to work alongside his men in the shipyards of the Falathrim, learning to build their own ships as well how to sail them.

And then he came here.

He has wheedled and charmed the local sailors, worked passage on the fishing boats in good weather enough to be able to claim this small dark corner and provisions enough to start... well. Not a ship. Little better than a raft, in truth. But the Falathrim knew their business, and taught Elros well, who has the blood of mariners in his veins.

Come and find him splitting wood or planning the planks smooth, or perhaps working on the design in the early days. Since he can't afford iron nails, he's using mortise and tenon joints, and slowly over the weeks the little boat begins to take shape. He'll chat to anyone who comes by, and is happy to accept help, or just company. Come late enough in the business and you might smell the tar he's mixing for the caulking. Or maybe you've got some idea where he can buy or work for more materials?

Closed to Maglor 

His foster fathers are idiots, but Elros has considered the tales told, and the things not said, and reached a conclusion - Maglor needs to learn how to build a boat of his own. Since Maglor has taken to watching him as if he is going to vanish, this serves two purposes quite nicely.

"See, the joint needs to be tight, so!"

EDIT: Elros is also afflicted with the Blue Cold - feel free to catch him here with that in place

Comments

[laurenande]

His work is fascinating and strange, something that holds her attention well enough, and she nods as he invites her to sit and drink. She is perpetually thirsty these days, it seems, and takes to the seat he has offered like a lifeline. Her legs stretch before her and the burn of them is momentarily distracting.

"You are building me a boat? You know I do not sail? Not with any skill," Galadriel asks and sounds perplexed. She has taken boats, shallow and wide down the rivers of Lorien but Elros would not know that. The ocean is not unfamiliar to her but she has never had great skill navigating it.

"When last I crossed a stretch of sea it was on foot."

[tar_minyatur]

"Really?" He blinks at her. "It's not that hard, really. So long as you don't go out in a storm, or anything! I can show you how, if you like! But see, I thought it'd be unfair if I didn't build you one too! I've got enough wood, now. Probably! I can always get more if I need."

He wrinkles his nose.

"The Ice, right. But seriously, you're telling me you lived on an island and didn't even learn to sail? ... I mean I dunno how big Aman is... "

He is decidedly more talkative than normal.

[laurenande]

"It is very large," she assures him but his enthusiasm is endearing and engaging. The idea of learning how to sail is one that appeals to her now far more than it probably should. She regards the scattered pieces with no small amount of interest.

"I should like to learn, I think," she says and settles her hands on her legs. Her fingers drum across them of their own accord, twitching with the growing unease of stillness. "But it will not be today.

"Do you require help in the building of them?"

She was no master woodworker nor shipbuilder, but she could take direction if the need arose.

[tar_minyatur]

He beams, clearly very pleased to be asked.

"I would be honored to teach you!"

He considers the mess around himself and grins sheepishly.

"Probably could use a hand." He agrees. "Have you done woodworking before? The basics, I'm sure, are the same!"

[laurenande]

"I have but I will make no great masterpieces," she says and pushes herself to standing once more. The muscles in her legs jump in protest but she is too restless to remain seated.

"Show me and I shall aid you as I can," she asks and gestures about them. Her smile is earnest and eager, if a little unsure of the value she can truly contribute.

[tar_minyatur]

He laughs.

"I cannot imagine that anything that comes from your hands would be ugly, cousin! But here, let me show you."

He comes over to show her how to plane and shape the wood.

"And what about you, cousin? How have you been filling your time?"

[laurenande]

"I have spent many hours of late building my strength," she explains as she takes the planer and attempts to replicate the pieces he has nearby. Hers are...passable if one discounts the very firt of them. "I dislike feeling weak and it has been too long since I truly engaged in such things.

"I have also spent some time rebuilding my notes. Translations of the histories of this place, instructions for reading the written tongues of Thedas, an assortment of drawings--I made them for myself, at first, but I think they may serve you well. I have given them to Fingon for now."

[tar_minyatur]

"You're never weak." He says immediately, loyally.

"I can't ever apply that word to you. You and Uncle... Cousin Celeborn, and Cousin Gil-Galad... and Cousin Celebrimbor, even. You are some of the strongest people I know."

Not the strongest, for Elros would probably argue that Maglor was that, to his own destruction.

"Are you going to take up sword or bow? I know the Silvan and Sindar prefers bows..." Elros himself, of course, was always a swordsman, which is why Aranruth was given to him, and not Elrond. "And don't worry about Maedhros. I'll knock some sense back into his head. And get him to apologise."

"Oooooh! I don't think I could sit down long enough to concentrate, but I really should probably look at picking those up, if only because if Elrond ever comes here, he'll never forgive me for not even trying!"

He nods at her work and, more patiently than one might give him credit for, shows her again, guiding her movements.

[laurenande]

His rebuke is enought to give her pause, as are the names he rattles off, but she does not correct him even as the venomous void inside her whispers to the contrary. The topic shifts again as he patiently demonstrates the planer and Galadriel is torn. She is not even slightly annoyed with Elros but she remains livid with his adopted father. It would not do to take her anger out on him, nor would she be able to refrain if they continued to speak of it.

"Maedhros has lacked sense for many years, I do not expect you to accomplish what time has not."

Ah but she sounds bitter there, the edge of her fury and hurt creeping through, and she clears her throat to banish the faltering note in her voice.

"The mages here have reminded me of my penchant for staves and glaives. The weapons will serve well with the styles of combat practiced in Thedas and so I retrain myself to use them." She pauses and regards the wood in front of her.

"Ive made a few bows in my time here but, ai, they were abysmal. I should attempt another."

[tar_minyatur]

He grins at her, fierce and proud.

"Ah, but who would I be if I didn't try? I'm from a family which makes a history of doing the impossible after all!"

He nudges her companionably.

"Can I watch?" He asks interestedly. "I don't know much about spearwork. I can try and help with the bow but I fear I've never actually made one!"

[laurenande]

"Watch?" The very idea seems to surprise Galadriel a bit and she glances at him as it rolls through her mind. There is no reason to refuse him, she had even begun teaching Gwenaelle to weild weapons as ths Vanyar did...but there is something strange in showing him. She had not even shown his nephews, nor his niece--

"Yes, of course, if you like," she offers and has found her footing again when she speaks of bows.

"I am not a master, but one cannot be wed to one of the elves of Arda for as long as I without learning bow-work. It is simple carving, but the wood should be--"

The last bows she had made were terrible because they had been carved of young wood, green for its freshness, but they had held well enough. Something simple would serve as a demonstrations. She casts a glance around his workshop and the wood he has cast about. When she spies something that would work she moved to pluck it up--a long piece, as tall as either of them, and split from heartwood.

"This will do," she says and ances back at him. "Have you a large carving knife?"

[tar_minyatur]

"I don't think it would be a weapon for me, mind." He adds thoughtfully. "But I was taught never to turn down a chance to learn a new weapon!"

He nods.

"Let me see...ah! Here!"

He hands it to her and sits down to watch.

[laurenande]

Galadriel takes the blade from him and works quickly with practiced hands. It is easier going than using green wood to carve a bow, but it will never be as beautiful as those of Lorien. She carves one side of the wood into the belly of the bow, fashions the grip, and then draws the blade over the back to form the spine. It occurs to her that the planer would be best suited to this task but she is determined and her hyper focus has transferred itself to this.

It takes her nearly a half hour of quick, efficient work to render a bow of passable beauty and more than reasonable quality. She lacks the tools to finish the wood but, despite that hurdle, she can finish the bow. She does not even think before reaching up and plucking a hair from her head. She has strung many bows this way and never has it failed her. It does not fail her now, either.

"If you have stain or wax, the body can be sealed. I expect of all people you might wish to waterproof it."

She sets the knife aside as she passes him the bow.

"Ah, if the draw is too much, carve from the interior arms and it will become lighter."

Unless the wood has a deeper flaw, she cannot imagine it snapping.

[tar_minyatur]

For all his restlessness, he applies himself to learning with a single minded focus, and the only concession to the itch in his fingers he makes is to whittle as he watches her.

He nods, grining.

"Definitely will want to wax it." He agrees and then laughs.

"You know, you were so casual about using your hair for it. You do know you just answered one of the bets Elrond and I had ever since we were very young and met you."

[laurenande]

"Bets? About me?" Galadriel asks and seems nothing if not confused. At first she cannot imagine what they might bet about, but she recalls the tales of her hair well enough.

"Did you often wonder what I string my bows with or was it something else?"

[tar_minyatur]

He grins at her.

"We bet if your hair still glowed when it wasn't attached to you."

Obviously, he has no plans on telling her which twin bet what.

[laurenande]

That startles a laugh out of Galadriel; the sound is surprised and delighted and she pauses as she reaches for the planer to laugh a moment. She is exhausted and the motion tugs at sore muscles, but it is too funny to restrain herself. She laughs a moment and then shakes her head.

"I am glad to have answered that for you," Galadriel replies and wipes at a tear that has slid down her cheek.

[tar_minyatur]

He smiles, delighted to have gotten a laugh, and hugs her impulsively.

"So am I! I can tell Elrond that the next time I write to him. Thank you for the bow! You'll have to help me name it now."

[laurenande]

The hug she does not expect and she freezes as he gives it to her. She is sticky, covered in sweat, and clad in rough mortal clothing. She is not an appealing target for touch, not even at her best, but here he is. At once the warmth of his arms and the steadiness of him reminds her of how very long it has been since she has touched another person, even in passing.

She hugs him back but it is an awkward motion.

"Name it?" she repeats after a moment and stares at him incredulously. "It is no masterwork, do not bother with such things."

[tar_minyatur]

Elros likes hugs. Clearly, if all his relatives are going to react like this, he has to hug them more often.

"You made it for me." He says loyally. "And you strung it with your own hair - I had a mostly Noldorin education, you know. I know what sort of significance that means!"

[laurenande]

Galadriel has no rejoinder for that, it was impulse but not something she would have refused him. Elros has no darkness in his heart; his ambition is not to be feared or rejected. Galadriel leans back and looks down at him.

"Very well," she acquiesces after a beat. "What would you call it?"

[tar_minyatur]

He eyes the bow thoughtfully, the feckless young man fading to a someone more serious.

"It is my first gift, here." He muses.

"Perhaps...Herianna, Lady's Gift?"

[laurenande]

It is fitting and, for all she objects to the idea of naming it, there are precious few weapons with so amusing a name. The idea that the Lady's Gift fires arrows is...frankly rather delightful.

"An amusing name, and somewhat poignant, I like it," she says and pulls away from him (with some reluctance but an understanding of how long they have embraced). "Tbis truly cannot be the first gift you have recieved in Thedas, can it?"

[tar_minyatur]

"Most definitely my first gift." He grins at her.

"I promise I'll take good care of her."

[laurenande]

"I would rather she take care of you, gwanur nin," Galadriel says and reaches up to brush some of his hair back from his face. Her smile is tender, then, laced with her amusement and the air of the moment. The contact is fleeting and deeply personal, however, and she withdraws from it after a moment.

"Let us build your boats."