Dream || 002 || Counterpoint ♪
[Warnings: None // Dream Effect: None // Filter: Public]
Screaming. Shrill, children’s screaming.
“Give it back! Tyelmo, give it baaaaack!” Caranthir, dark-haired, dark-eyed, lunged for the wooden horse Celegorm, taller, held just out of his reach. The elder child, blond hair tied back in whatever messy braid their mother had been able to manage before the chaos had enveloped them again, frowned.
“Amil!” Caranthir cried for his mother, tears building up in his eyes.
Nerdanel looked up from her task of calming the baby Curufin, her normally kind, gentle expression looking a little tight and frazzled.
And, amongst this chaos…A faint thread of music, sometimes swallowed up by the screaming, by the chatter of overly loud voices, but always there.
Maedhros, red hair neatly braided back, seated at a desk, looked up in exasperation from the essay he had been writing. “Tyelkormo, Carnistir, please,” he said, voice falsely patient.
“Make him give it back!” Caranthir exclaimed, small hands clenched as he glared at Celegorm.
The subject of his glare merely held the horse tighter and glared back. “It’s mine!”
“No, it’s not!” Caranthir shot back.
Their bickering grew louder and louder, setting off a chain reaction, as the baby in Nerdanel’s arms merely screamed louder. Amongst this, Maglor sat, fingers plucking at the strings of his harp, eyes closed. This chord here, instead of the other…A light brushing of his fingers there…He coaxed a bright tune from the instrument.
Shrieking of children, the screaming of a baby, and then Caranthir launched himself at Celegorm. The two knocked against the desk; Maedhros’ inkwell tilted, dangerously, for a moment. He lunged forward, steadying it, then turned, expression mildly annoyed.
His gaze locked on Maglor, serene in the midst of the chaos, seated with his head bent over his harp. And Maedhros scowled and threw a crumpled up piece of parchment at his brother’s head. His aim was perfect, and Maglor’s fingers stilled on the strings as he blinked and looked up at Maedhros.
Maedhros rolled his eyes and gestured to their family.
“Macalaurë, surely you can calm them down?”
Maglor blinked at the scene around him, but then he smiled to himself, bowing his head.
A moment later, sweet, quiet music threaded through the chaos. And then, almost magically, the effect slowly grew apparent. Curufin calmed in a more relaxed Nerdanel’s arms. Celegorm and Caranthir seemed to come to a truce, and, under the influence of the calming music, they played quietly together. With a small smile, Maedhros turned back to his work.
And when he was sure that things were calm again, Maglor slowly weaved in the tune that he had been working on and, closing his eyes, he again began to compose.
--
[Perhaps there is a faint smile on the elf's face as he blinks and wakes up.]
Screaming. Shrill, children’s screaming.
“Give it back! Tyelmo, give it baaaaack!” Caranthir, dark-haired, dark-eyed, lunged for the wooden horse Celegorm, taller, held just out of his reach. The elder child, blond hair tied back in whatever messy braid their mother had been able to manage before the chaos had enveloped them again, frowned.
“Amil!” Caranthir cried for his mother, tears building up in his eyes.
Nerdanel looked up from her task of calming the baby Curufin, her normally kind, gentle expression looking a little tight and frazzled.
And, amongst this chaos…A faint thread of music, sometimes swallowed up by the screaming, by the chatter of overly loud voices, but always there.
Maedhros, red hair neatly braided back, seated at a desk, looked up in exasperation from the essay he had been writing. “Tyelkormo, Carnistir, please,” he said, voice falsely patient.
“Make him give it back!” Caranthir exclaimed, small hands clenched as he glared at Celegorm.
The subject of his glare merely held the horse tighter and glared back. “It’s mine!”
“No, it’s not!” Caranthir shot back.
Their bickering grew louder and louder, setting off a chain reaction, as the baby in Nerdanel’s arms merely screamed louder. Amongst this, Maglor sat, fingers plucking at the strings of his harp, eyes closed. This chord here, instead of the other…A light brushing of his fingers there…He coaxed a bright tune from the instrument.
Shrieking of children, the screaming of a baby, and then Caranthir launched himself at Celegorm. The two knocked against the desk; Maedhros’ inkwell tilted, dangerously, for a moment. He lunged forward, steadying it, then turned, expression mildly annoyed.
His gaze locked on Maglor, serene in the midst of the chaos, seated with his head bent over his harp. And Maedhros scowled and threw a crumpled up piece of parchment at his brother’s head. His aim was perfect, and Maglor’s fingers stilled on the strings as he blinked and looked up at Maedhros.
Maedhros rolled his eyes and gestured to their family.
“Macalaurë, surely you can calm them down?”
Maglor blinked at the scene around him, but then he smiled to himself, bowing his head.
A moment later, sweet, quiet music threaded through the chaos. And then, almost magically, the effect slowly grew apparent. Curufin calmed in a more relaxed Nerdanel’s arms. Celegorm and Caranthir seemed to come to a truce, and, under the influence of the calming music, they played quietly together. With a small smile, Maedhros turned back to his work.
And when he was sure that things were calm again, Maglor slowly weaved in the tune that he had been working on and, closing his eyes, he again began to compose.
--
[Perhaps there is a faint smile on the elf's face as he blinks and wakes up.]