Námo (
namo) wrote in
milliways_bar2005-12-07 02:29 pm
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Námo sits in a chair near the fire, staring into it, brooding.
He's gotten good at the brooding.
Why yes, it is an imaginative entrance post.
He's gotten good at the brooding.
Why yes, it is an imaginative entrance post.
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"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?"
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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."
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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."
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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."
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"What are you jealous of?"
He has had the occasional moment of envy, but it never lasts long.
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"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."
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"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."
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"I'm the one who's bitching at you when you're already worried. Forgive me."
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He smiles gently at Lee as he looks at him, admiring his face in the firelight.
"You are quite lovely, lamcaraxë."
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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."
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"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."
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"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.
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"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."
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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."
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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."
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"I love the way you pronounce my name, actually," he confesses. "Your accent...it's beautiful."
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"I am glad you do," he says quietly, continuing to stare at the hearth.
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"Yeah, well..."
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"That feels nice."
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