milliways_bar | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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."

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only