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

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

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Fingon shrugs absently; he can't disagree about the stupid part. "Maglor has been alone for too long. I think he might have been shying away from such thoughts, to protect himself."

He cocks his head to the side in question. "Does he know about this motive of yours?" Because if not, Elros might need to press his point more strongly, like a healer who needed to re-break a badly healed bone.

Elros' concerns about the Inquisition are reasonable too, of course, and while they are outside the Gallows' walls its shadow still lingers like a great carrion crow over the city. Fingon flicks a look toward the fortress and sighs. "More than fair. There are so many competing influences in the Inquisition. I can hardly blame you for not wanting to be involved."

Elros grins at him.

"I made him promise to go." He says cheerfully.

He sighs a bit. "I know I should try but...ugh. It's just too much trouble."

His eyebrows lift slightly and he nods, cautiously impressed. "Well played, cousin. I'm not sure I could have managed such a feat."

And a promise at that- well, whatever else one can say about the Feanorians, they do the damnedest to keep their word....

"What do you think of them otherwise?"

"You can't nag him with the same level of guilt." Elros points out cheerfully. "But he owes both of us, and he knows it. And he loves us both too much to really fight us on the things that we really want."

He pauses and adds.

"I may also have sat on him and refused to get up until he agreed."

He sobers and looks thoughtful, turning the piece of wood he was working on over and over in his hands.

"I think this place is a pile of kindling." He says eventually. "One wrong spark, and it could blaze into an inferno. The level of hate and distrust here runs deep and too few seem willing to breach the gap. The common folk hate the nobles, the nobles look down on the common folk. The Men hate the Elves, the Elves hate everyone, the Dwarves here are a far cry from the great kingdoms of Belegost and Nogrod. It feels like Morgoth's shadow lies deep on these lands."

"I can't," he agrees with a laugh. "They were always prone to that sort of thinking, though- well, sitting on him is a new twist, admittedly."

It's a strategy that worries him a bit, though. Love and duty and obligation- that is the way his cousins have always thought, and they would move mountains under its influence. But that instinct, pushed too far...well, that was part of why they were in trouble in the first place.

Of course, who was he to comment?

Elros' description of the city is painfully familiar, and Fingon feels his gut twist at the thought. "And to think, I thought the politics of Beleriand intractible, fractious, and short-sighted. You have it right, nephew, from what I can see. And it worries me that having seen their city explode once already, the people of Kirkwall refuse to stop strewing kindling."

"I don't like it either, but if it works..." Elros shrugs.

"Since I'm going to be leaving the circles of the world, there's little enough else I can do. But if I can get him as far as Valinor, Elrond will know what to do. I made Maedhros promise to leave the Halls too."

Parted by time and distance and mortality, but still, they are the peredhil twins, who for so much of their lives had only each other as everyone else left them behind or sent them away. Elros' faith in his brother is unshakeable. He is leaving, but he'll do what he can before he goes.

He shrugs at Fingon, grim and worried. "It makes me very uneasy. It's partially why I haven't gone and asked about officially signing up with the Navy. I just... this place reminds me of my childhood, in all the worst ways."

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

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