[Open] Then may he play his harp in peace...

[seasideminstrel]

The last couple of days have not been good, euphemistically said. Maglor has stalked the grounds like a captive thing, with his sword and flute at his side, sometimes mustering enough patience to blot down this or that imperfect composition, if his mind allowed him enough calm. His behaviour, perhaps, has much of his father's restlessness, but it

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[sissy_queen]

By now, we might assume that Guinevere has recovered (at least partially) from her relatively disastrous encounter with Medraut. She might have been heading out just to take some sun, and when she returns, and hears the playing (it's incredibly familiar), she'll run back towards the Mansion.

All visions of horror of her husband being killed by his nephew have vanished from her mind, and she'll stop short, breathless, looking at the elf with happy, wide eyes.

"Maglor! You're here!" She missed her friend - enough to even beg Sir Lovel, when he was still around, to find him for her.

And of course we don't expect him to remember her, but traumatizing Gwen is one of the typist's favorite hobbies. >.>

Also, I want to send Cara, but he's currently spilling awkward beans at Mae, so I want to wait for that to be done before he's punted over here. >.>

[seasideminstrel]

Maglor is startled, to say the least, to be greeted by name by an unfamiliar Adan woman, and rises to his feet, clutching the harp to his chest and letting the strings shudder and ring out.

"Lady --" the least thing he wants is to disappoint someone else, whether he knows her, or not, and although he means to hide it, it has him sound helpless and awkward. "I fear I am not the man you take me for."

Hee! Feel free to send Cara at a later point, the post isn't going away. ;)

[sissy_queen]

This stops her dead in her tracks - she looks at him, blinks. And then again.

"-- you do not know me?" It's -- half conceivable, have not. Mordred certainly did not remember being there... and there was Agravaine, who seemed to regularly lose memories... not to mention her own patchy mind.

"-- forgive me," she says, quickly. "I must have taken you for another - a long lost friend, very dear to me."

But you play just like him, and he had no equal...

Marvelous! It's kind of an important interaction, so I'd really rather wait to know what level of broken he's at. >.>

[seasideminstrel]

"There is nothing to forgive, friendship and love least of all. My name is Maglor, indeed, and others have told me I was here once before, but the memory of my stay has left me."

He looks up to meet her eyes, probing and questioning. "But if we were friends once, it is conceivable it may become so again." His gaze falls on his harp again, and perhaps it is easier to speak to a well-intentioned stranger than to those he knows well. "I for one have dire need of friends." But she must listen closely to hear that. For all his strong voice he is very silent.

[sissy_queen]

Guinevere only hears a mumble - she'll catch the tone, but not the words, but that is enough for her to know. She's heard his music before, the sadness of it and its nostalgia - though Maglor only played his own music for her once, before. He always ever insisted on playing human songs, otherwise.

"If you would let me know you again," she says, a touch timidly, a touch awkwardly, "I would glad. I have been lonely, all this time that you were gone," even if she's been blessed with Isolde's arrival. A small smile, and she adds, "You may not remember me, but I remember you, and your playing. No-one but the Maglor I knew could play as you do." And a beat again. "I am Guinevere."

[seasideminstrel]

"I would have called it chance if not for the fact that you clearly know me."

And this Maglor may be holding to the same thing, in fact - apart from the Noldolante, he may have kept his own songs to himself as well, and the inner circle of his family.

"Guinevere, then. I am glad to make your acquaintance."

[sissy_queen]

She grins wider - if not her, at least her recognition is acknowledged, and that's --- that's heartwarming. She bobs a quick curtsey, then.

"As I am," she replies, "and full of joy that you have returned. May I sit yet again, mayhap, and listen to you play?"

She's beaming a little. She could use more friends.

[seasideminstrel]

"Please do, and perhaps you would walk with me later?" he suggests. "I am seeking to find flaws in tuning and would rather not wait until she is all too settled in her ways," he replies, and runs a hand over the polished wood, fondly. "She is newly made."

[sissy_queen]

Guinevere sits nearby, then, legs neatly tucked under her skirts, hands on her lap. "Of course - take your time, do all that you need to do." She smiles a little. "I don't mind waiting - I have no place to go, and a friendly face is a welcome sight."

[seasideminstrel]

"Yes, company would indeed be pleasant. And will you do me a favour, lady, and speak to me of the Maglor that you met first? I am seeking to shed light on a mystery, and would require your help, if I might."

He is still playing, if quietly, and only half his attention on Guinevere, but he will be listening if she speaks.

[sissy_queen]

She doesn't speak very fast - her voice is gentle, thoughful. Remembering things is always a painful effort for her, because of all the magical tempering her memory has endured.

"I -- was lost," she says quietly, and she feels bad for speaking why he plays, "and you were just there - I sat with you in the grass, you offered me water."

She smiles, puts her hands under her chin. "You were kind to me, and I knew you for a friend."

[seasideminstrel]

"That is good," he says softly. "It is good to know that you chanced upon a kind man, then, who cared for you." And it reassures him, somewhat, to hear this from a stranger - because the Mansion is a strange place, and he is not ruling out the possibility that the Maglor who was there before came from some future time that he cannot at the moment imagine, and perhaps he found healing there.

"But then -- I do not mean this as idle flattery, but you are kind and gentle, and graceful, certainly. It would be easy to hold you dear, for any whose heart is not blackened."

[sissy_queen]

"You are kind," she says quietly - and gentle as well, aye. It's well that we meet again. Perhaps this time I should give you some water in my turn."

She wrings her hands together, a moment - she has self-loathing of her own. "You speak me fair, Maglor," she replies, "but you always have. I wished to find you again, when you disappeared, and sent a good knight on a quest for you. Have you come with Sir Lovel, then?"

You guessed it, more DF canon - Sir Lovel was munned by Amy, so obvs we don't have one here, alas.

[seasideminstrel]

"Perhaps at another meeting, when I have need of it," he says, understanding what she means, but unwilling to accept it.

"I fear I know of no man bearing that name. There was no knight to bring me here. I am sorry."

He wants to comfort her somehow, for this next misfortune that he caused, but finds very little worth offering.

"Would you have me play for you, lady?"

[sissy_queen]

She gives him a very sweet smile, and nods. "I would like that very much - anything you like, really."

She puts her hands under her chin, and is looking at his own hands on the harp, in rapt fascination.

One of the songs the Mags she knew was Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, but of course that's not binding.

[seasideminstrel]

He sighs under his breath, inaudible, but there all the same. Even self-loathing, with people so unconditional in their support and sweetness, is becoming difficult.

"I heard many legends of another lady of your name," he says, pondering over the songs to sing, and watching her quietly, wondering for a moment, considering her manner of dress and speech, and the nature of this place.

"And perhaps you know this story already, of Sir Gawain and the Green Knight? Your - namesake is in it only briefly, but I daresay you will find the flattery is by no means exaggerated."