Month: December 2015

masteroftheseas:

misbehavingmaiar:

“Ah. How lovely…” the great maia purrs in appreciation. He studies the carven wolf with a distant expression, running a thumb over the detailed ridge of its back. 

“Do you want me to sing you another song, Cousin?” 

Ossë is not that easily tricked. Though he hears the question, he does not acknowledge it, floating and idly ‘pacing’ in lazy circles in the depths. Sauron really did have a lovely voice, and if he chooses to sing again, Ossë can see no harm in listening.

It is, after all, just a song.

“Do you think, Ošošai, that one such as I could ever brave his opposing element, and see the alarming miracles of the deep? I do not think, in all my years, that I ever dove beneath the surface of the sea.  What is it like, below? I have spied such colors and abundance of form in what is brought up in the nets of men– yet the sun filters weakly past the shallows, and creatures make their own fey lights to see by. You have such secrets… and I fear them, for their shapes and ways are utterly foreign to me, yet I know they must be beautiful beyond compare. I could learn much from a look into your realm. How lucky you are!” 

masteroftheseas:

misbehavingmaiar:

A box, eroded abalone and barnacle-encrusted, bobs to the surface, trailing baubles of green-gold kelp. 

Sauron smiles, places the intricate clasp of his design within the parcel and shuts the resisting lid. 

“There you are, cousin. Your elf will splendored above all others, though I still believe he holds your leash impudently short. Do let me know how it looks in his silvered hair, as I doubt very much I will see it in person.”  

He rolls up one sleeve and sends the box back into the depths with a surge of bubbles. Shaking the droplets off his skin, he adds “…As I know you will be gnawing your fins over it, I do swear, on my left hand, which you may strike from me if I lie, there is no breath of spell on it, not dormant, not disguised, not overt–” he grins, “So you have no reason to squint your eyes at me from the depths, you mistrustful flounder.” 

Ossë snatches the box up and darts it safely into the deeper waters for a closer inspection. It is just as beautiful up close as it was from a distance, delicately crafted but sturdy in design. The perfect accessory for someone who needs to look lordly but likes to do the work of a craftsman. And there is no buzz, no hum, no tingle or itch to suggest the trinket is anything more than what it appears. With a huffed chatter he glances towards the light glimmering from the surface – clearly he is too obvious with his thoughts.

But another mood overtakes him then and he thrums with frustration. This is why he does not like when people label his brethren as ‘bad’ or ‘good’. What use is a label on a spirit that defies it? Is he himself not also an example of a spirit whose work can be presented as ‘evil’, and yet is not himself evil?

Drumming his fingers on the box (in a gesture he learned from his Elves), he closes the hair clasp back inside and takes one last look towards his cousin. He promised not to speak to him, but he does owe him some form of gratitude for the generous gift…

A small piece of driftwood floats towards the pier a short time later. As it gets closer, it gets clearer – it has been carved carefully to take the shape of a wolf, with intricate attention to detail. The work is too precise to have been done by a Child.

“Ah. How lovely…” the great maia purrs in appreciation. He studies the carven wolf with a distant expression, running a thumb over the detailed ridge of its back. 

“Do you want me to sing you another song, Cousin?”