milliways_bar | (no subject)

He does not mean to give a sour look, but he is sure that is how it appears.

"The Elves believe that way. Once you love another, you love no other. They marry, have their children, and find other uses for their time. But they never part. Perhaps it is due to how I was brought into love that I view such a thing as terribly restrictive. If I thought that, I would not be able to love Gorlim or you, and that would be a terrible shame, for such emotion brings me joy."

A tilt of his head.

"Are you not loved by Gorlim? Or do you always worry it shall die because he would grow bored with you?"

"Fine, so it's restrictive. It doesn't mean it doesn't have its merits. It's just quality over quantity."

Again, he checks his tone, realizing that he's beginning to sound angry.

"It's not really the same thing with Gorlim. And I don't always worry. But yeah, I'd be lying if I said the thought never crossed my mind."

"Why can you not have both?" he asks gently. "That is something Ramon also seems unable to understand. It is not as if I bed the whole bar, or give my heart to all who ask for it. There are those my heart calls to, those I desire both physically and emotionally. Not many, I will say that, and I am usually terribly surprised when it happens. One love is not lessened by another; I find it makes the other loves sweeter. I cherish what I am given, for I do not believe love should ever be given in a miserly fashion."

He leans back in his chair and crosses his legs.

"As awful as this will sound, I mean it in the best regard -- mortals confuse me with their narrow vision and their inability to see more than what was taught to them. I am reminded again and again it is due to the shortness of their lives, their need to experience all in that space of time, but you are no longer restricted by that."

Námo regards him for a very long time, though it is obvious he has more to say.

"Eternity, Lee, is a very long time. And that, melda, is what now sits before you."

"I'm used to being restricted by it," he says. "I was alive for thirty-four years. I've been dead for six months. It takes time to learn...overcome things...you say 'eternity,' and I get what you mean, but it doesn't mean anything yet, you know?"

He sighs, as he mulls Namo's words over. "It's not like what you say doesn't make sense. I just wish there was some way jealousy didn't have to figure into things at all."

Now his curiousity is piqued.

"What are you jealous of?"

He has had the occasional moment of envy, but it never lasts long.

"Not just me," he says, slightly defensive. "And I'm not jealous of anyone now. But I used to be. You remember that. Everyone has issues with it at some point. The threat of it would always be there...but of course the benefits of it far outweigh that..."

He leans on his hand, his eyes still on Lee as he lets out a long breath.

"You are indeed prickly like a hedgehog," he remarks. "I try to find your belly, as Gorlim explained, and I tend to find the spines instead. Forgive me for speaking about things I have little experience in," he says sincerely. "I should have remained silent."

"I don't mean to be," he says, contrite and now annoyed with himself. "I'm sorry. I'm too cynical about this. I shouldn't be."

He slowly shakes his head.

"You have your reasons to view things as you do, and I should recognize that. I have not. My mood is off this evening, my thoughts troubled, and I foist my views upon you. 'Tis not right."

"How's it not right? Everyone does it." He moves a bit closer, leaning absently on the armrest.

"I'm the one who's bitching at you when you're already worried. Forgive me."

"It is never right to continually push one's thoughts upon another. I know how that feels, and it tends to not have a positive effect on me. And my worries will pass. They always do."

He smiles gently at Lee as he looks at him, admiring his face in the firelight.

"You are quite lovely, lamcaraxë."

He smiles faintly, relaxing a bit more against the armrest. "So are you."

The nickname still makes him blush a little, and want to laugh. He's never liked nicknames before Milliways--although to be fair, the only one he'd ever really had was 'Castle the Asshole.'

"I think I need something to call you," he muses. "I wouldn't know what, though."

He chuckles.

"Gorlim tends to call me either 'ashen beauty' or 'heron'. Not many have bothered to name me anything other than Mandos. It was odd to hear such names of affection associated with me. And, I must admit, my name for you is not one I chose for you, so I may eventually choose something other than lamcaraxë -- for now, that will do, as well as melda, though I often call Gorlin that, too."

"It's like meldir, right?" He hasn't asked for a translation to that one.

"I don't usually give people nicknames. It just sort of feels awkward, but I've gotten more used to it. It's just that everything sounds a bit stupid in English." He laughs.

Námo decides he has had enough of the distance of their chairs and stands, walks to Lee's chair, and perches easily on the arm as he looks down at him.

"Melda is a Quenya word. I do not often slip into Sindarin," he say, remembering when he did with Lee. "It means 'beloved', where meldir is Sindarin for 'male friend'. And if your language does not please your ears, find another that does."

"Oh," he says quietly, sobering.

He remembers, suddenly, speaking with Gorlim several months ago.

"I would sooner call you gwador."
"That better not mean something like 'idiot,' Gorlim."
"...It means 'brother.'"

He looks up. "'Cher,' in French."

He sees the change in Lee's demeanour when the definition of the word is given. "Would you not like for me to call you melda? I did not mean to assume..."

But he pauses, looking toward the fire, mulling over the sound of 'cher'.

"A lovely word, though I will not try to repeat it. I know I pronounce your name incorrectly, and I hope you do not mind."

"No--no, I--" His laugh is nervous. "I didn't mean to sound like I didn't want you to. Not at all." He looks up, eyes sincere.

"I love the way you pronounce my name, actually," he confesses. "Your accent...it's beautiful."

He hopes the shadows of the firelight hide the light flush of his cheeks.

"I am glad you do," he says quietly, continuing to stare at the hearth.

Lee focuses his attention on the upholstery of the armrest.

"Yeah, well..."

"Thank you," he says as he reaches out a hand to run his fingers through the man's hair.

"It's true." He turns so that his lips brush lightly against Namo's hand and leans into the touch, closing his eyes.

"That feels nice."

He continues to stroke through Lee's hair, staring down at him with a soft smile. "This is pleasant. Very enjoyable. I am glad you found me this evening."