faderift | (But he that sows lies in the end shall not lack of a harvest.)

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{ maedhros }

(But he that sows lies in the end shall not lack of a harvest.)

WHO: Maedhros & Open
WHAT: Various prompts~
WHEN: Throughout the month.
WHERE: Kirkwall - Lowtown specifically - and near his Forge.
NOTES: Fëanorian insanity.

Lowtown

Children are drawn to him. Maedhros has fought the truth, knowing how undeserving he is, but eventually, the small souls of Lowtown win. It was inevitable. The twins had been as bull-headed, demanding affection that they richly deserved.

Just not from him.

"Á pusta!" he captures a small, giggling boy around the waist, "Show me what you took." he keeps the child far enough off the ground that all he can do is squirm like an overexcited puppy.

"I took it fair an' square!" the boy pouts up at the towering Elf, his pale face smudged with dirt. Maedhros tuts, pushes down his frustration and sets the child down gently.

"There is nothing fair about theft. If you continue on this path, I promise you a miserable existence." he then tells a tale he knows well.

His own. Three jewels and so many lives ruined. The value of something cannot be assessed by a stranger. Sometimes sentimentality wins out, though in the case of the Silmarils, they were basically priceless to everyone. Even though, now, Maedhros would gladly throw them into a volcano or two.

Without him following after. Old Elves can learn from their past mistakes - and a child can profit from that wisdom. If he listens.

"Do you understand?" he waits until he gets a small nod - and the return of one of his tools - before he lets the boy go. That one reminds him of Elros a little too much.

He will make a fine leader one day. Maybe. So much can interfere and if the boy doesn't make it into adulthood, all possibility is nil. Thus why Maedhros focuses on his work, reinforcing buildings that are in sore need of it and building new structures where materials cannot be strengthened.

Training Area

Every weapon he makes must be tested. Maedhros does not like traveling far for such an endeavor - thus he designates an area by his Forge for that purpose. He even has a wooden dummy that can easily be replaced once it becomes too full of nicks or holes.

On any fine day he can be found - shirtless - copper hair pulled back into a ponytail - sparring against the dummy, moving with a grace that is definitely beyond the scope of Men. He is also, of course, open to train anyone who desires it, but remember he is a tall, muscular Elf who has seen centuries of battles. While he has a rather soft heart in some cases, he can be a downright taskmaster in his domain.

Until he is approached, however, he will continue to test what he makes. The sound of a sword or knife cutting through the air and embedding into wood is strangely comforting for him. If any weapon fails to impress, it will be melted down. However if he is pleased with his work, he immediately fashions a scabbard from leather.

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"Ugh, Maedhros. Put a shirt on."

Mal pulls herself up onto the stone fence that lines the area along where Maedhros has his forge, wrinkling her small nose at him as he swings his sword into the wooden dummy. He's her ElfDad and she is really not wanting girls to come over here and fawn over him. It will be Gross.

His eyebrows rise, more amused than offended. Let's be honest, very little offends him anymore and she can't. He is too fond of her.

"It's easier to practice like this." his shirt won't accidentally be dirtied or cut and he has more freedom of motion without seams holding him down, "Are you here for a lesson or to gawk?"

Or boys, now that she thinks of it. All the fawning over her WAY TOO OLD for them Elfdad oh gag. She smirks at him, kicking her booted feet against the fence.

"It's easier to practice without a shirt on, when you're probably not going to be fighting without at least a layer of armor. Huh-uh. You just want to prove to all the kids that you're still a piece of something ... ew, ew. I can't even think about it." She made a face, waving her hands.

A roll of her eyes, "And ugh, no. No gawking. Not sure what you can teach me about battle magic but Sure. Why not?"

He's too old for just about everyone ~~except for the one who lays claim to his heart~~. But he won't stop someone from looking if that is their wish. There is some logic behind him being shirtless for the moment.

"I don't need armor." Maedhros isn't exactly bragging either. He wore very little armor on Middle Earth. While it can protect, it can also get in the way at crucial moments. Then again, he had been rather reckless back then too. His life hadn't been as valuable to him in those final days.

"I'm not attempting to prove anything. The swords need to be tested." his eyes shine with mischief, "Magic won't always be there to save you. I suggest you learn how to defend yourself without it, hína."

She gives him the appropriate Daughter Eyeroll, before hopping down off the wall. She has her staff in hand, but at his statement that magic won't always protect her, she hitches up another eyebrow to follow the first.

"Okay ... point, but I'm not going to be able to wield one of those big swords, Maedhros."

"I'm not going to ask you to wield a big sword." he walks into the Forge and comes back with a slender version of the other swords he has made. The blade is much lighter than she likely expects and incredibly durable. Welcome to the talent of an Elven Smith.

"Try this one." he unsheathes the weapon and holds it out to her.

"Good because I couldn't if I tried." She stated firmly, even as she stepped forward to take the lighter blade from him. Surprise flashed over her face as she gripped it. "I ... hardly feel it at all. What is this made of?"

"It's not what it is composed of, but how it is made." Maedhros smiles somewhat mysteriously, "I learned how to form blades from my father. No one on Middle Earth is his equal."

"What is ... 'Middle Earth'?" Mal asked, giving the blade a few practice swings, after turning away from him. Just her luck she'd cut him accidentally open with this thing.

"The land I Sailed to when I was young." and the land he died on, "Relax your arm; you will have more flexibility if you stay loose." he has taught his share of young Elves and so the comment comes naturally.

"Ah!" Well considering how long ago THAT was ... she's sort of surprised the place is still around. She loosens her grip, holding it more like she would hold her staff.

From the crowd passing around Lowtown, Jang is looking for Maedhros. She has a long duster on and a pack, with a back holster and she looks...nervous as she approaches the forge, as if she's worried that this will end up being dashed hopes.

"Maedhros, I assume? I'm Jane. We talked before?"

He isn't hard to spot. Standing at six foot eight and with a head of fiery copper hair, he stands out like a sore thumb. Her nervous approach isn't missed and his expression softens.

"Yes, we did. You need some help with your weapon." and he is curious to examine it. A Fëanorian Smith is voracious in their hunger for new ideas to try in the Forge.

"Help may be the wrong word. I need blueprints. And copies. We are going to need a lot of guns." Jang pulls he rifle out of the holster and sets it carefully down on the table. She also pulls a bullet out from a 3/4 full box.

"I also need to make more of these, which are the linchpin. Without bullets, this is just a lump of metal and wood."

Jang still has a hand on her rifle protectively. "I could take it apart and clean it, so you can get a good picture of the parts. What do you need from me?"

His brows rise and he cocks his head: "May I ask why the guns are needed? I will not make blueprints or otherwise until I am fully informed."

That's just how he rolls. Maedhros knows the downfall of acting rashly and without a clear picture of the situation.

"I foresee no problems thus far." his smile is measured, "You must trust me. I am a Smith; I would never damage a weapon." in the Forge, at least. Battle is another matter entirely.

Because a storm is coming. And if you start headin for the storm cellar when the twister is already in your backyard, you're gonna end up dead. We need to be ready, and in order to be ready, we have to be geared up."

Jang begins to go over her rifle, carefully dissaaembleing it to clean it, the indivual parts lining up on the table next to her. "Does that explanation satisify you? Because this is going to be very tricky I think..."

"As fond as I am of metaphors..." Maedhros trails off, watching her hands and the rifle intently. There are a lot of small parts and he pulls out a sheet of parchment and a quill pen. After unscrewing an ink pot, he begins to draw the pieces faithfully, making notes underneath them as he goes.

"Child, I have dealt with war and politics for centuries. Tricky situations are common - expected, even. I would like to hear the whole truth of the matter if you please."

"Very well. We are under attack, there are people wbo think we are demons, or a resource to bw controlled. I have strong opnions about that. But I can defend myself, it's why I carry a rifle and I can use magic. But what about the people who have no way to defend themselves? What can they do? Use a sword or a bow? That'll take years to be anything other than a danger to themselves. This? A week, maybe two and you can defend yourself against almost anyone."

Jang continues to lay out pieces, 76 in total, carefully spread across the tabletop. "Also, we do have that demon king thing, Corpherius, or whatever his name is. He's powerful, but a .45 slug in his brain will discourage him."

"And finally, please don't call me child."

He is torn at her explanation. On one hand, yes, everyone deserves a way to defend themselves; a reliable way. But to put such violent weaponry into unknown hands makes him uneasy. A war could be started accidentally with the press of a trigger.

"I will not make a rifle for everyone indiscriminately. I must know they are mature enough to handle a weapon of this caliber." he grits his teeth, stern, "I do not mind being more free with knives or swords, but these could cause considerable damage."

Maedhros sighs and rubs a hand over his face.

"But a child you are in comparison." to him. Sorry, Jang, the Arda Elves are as old as dirt.

"I am not one who should communicate caution to you - my actions in the past have been incredibly rash - but I have learned from them. Power should not be used or given recklessly."

"Then I will call you Lǎorén." Jang says with a slight grin. Then the grin fades. "Do you have crossbows where you are from? The kings and nobles hated crossbows in the old times. It took years upon years to make a good bowman, but a crossbow? No time at all. They hated that, as they were worried that the just anyone being able to fight would take the 'honor'" Jang almost spits when ahe says that word, "Out of war. It would make all people equal, no matter their birth, they could be taken down by a man with a crossbow, a man of no breeding or training. They hated that thought."

Jang sighs, and begins to oil the indivual pieces. "I understand your worry, I really do Lǎorén. This is a level of warfare that has never been seen in this world. Maybe, I've never seen what a mage war would look like, at least this won't raise your corpse up and command it to fight on your behalf."

Jang looks up at Maedhros. "What qualifies someone to handle a weapon like this? Who should be the gatekeeper?"

"If that means 'old', I can hardly argue." his lips twist for a moment. "Each world is different. On Arda, we make do quite well with our bows, arrows and swords. Of course the blades of the Elves are superior to most - as is our armor. But, still, too many have perished."

Her bitterness concerns him; he too has a nasty temper that has blinded him to good reason in the past. While her pursuits are noble in theory, he cannot help envisioning a blood bath.

"A clear head." he answers softly, solemnly, "A head unburdened by anger and bitterness. There are those who are made to be great leaders and soldiers. For them, I will gladly make weapons. But for those who do not know that death lies at their fingertips with such a weapon, I would rather spend my time protecting."

Perhaps he shouldn't be the 'gatekeeper', yet he senses that someone needs to stand in the way.

Edited 2018-05-19 05:49 (UTC)

"I do want you to not overstate the power of this weapon. It's powerful, to be sure, but a person with the gun can still be stabbed, or hit with a rock, or a arrow. Or even a bolt of magic, it just gives an edge. A big edge I admit, but it doesn't make them invincible."

Jang sighs and pinches the bridge of her nose, leaving a smear of grease. "Sorry. I just feel like I'm stuck. We have very few people on our side, and when I try to stop this, people say I need to just lie low. I don't like lying low, and it's not like I can teach everyone magic. This is all I have, a technological edge, and it's one that I can actually do something with. Now, watch carefully, I'll start reassembling her." Jang moves slowly and deliberately, carefully putting each piece back in place, testing the action and trigger pull, until it's reassembled on the table.

Jang gives another grin. "Now if we had one of those crazy Mad Scientists around, then I'd be much more worried about their tech getting out in the wild."

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(But he that sows lies in the end shall not lack of a harvest.)

Training Area

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Lowtown - The Way Of The Gun

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