Tag: how do you even

imindhowwelayinjune:

Maedhros paused and gave it some thought, turning the question over in the same way he pondered their winter stores or military incursions along the border.

“Their lack of subtlety,” he said at last, running a pen over his brass knuckles with a sound like a spring frog. “Their utter lack of guile or nuance. They tell one story but they tell it simply. Do they indicate emotion? Care? Compassion? Romance? No, at their root they tell merely the tale of physical arousal and by damn they tell it in all manner of conditions. It’s an admirable steadfastness.” Outside the winds of Himring Hill wailed and he shifted in his seat. “Their capacity for comedy! ‘Sblood, is there anything more satirical in its very nature?” He moved an oblong paperweight that Fingon had sent him aside on his desk with a fond smile. “Which isn’t to say they can’t be very fair as well, though that is obviously a matter of, hah, taste. And of course it is interesting – shall I say, deliberate? – that you choose to describe them as ‘handy’, given your audience, but I won’t deny that as one who had to relearn dexterity in my non-dominant hand I appreciated their straightforward design and execution. Far easier to learn that left-handed than penmanship or fencing or deboning a grouse.” He cracked his bone knuckles against the brass ones and moved the paperweight again.  “So there you have it: a singleminded weathercock, appreciated in its dependability – well, mostly – sleek of design, lacking in artifice; ridiculous, whimsical, ergonomic.” He sighed deeply. “Though doubtless you would get a different answer from someone else. Why on earth do you ask, brother?”

Maglor raised his head from where he’d been cradling it in his hands for the last ten minutes, having failed several times to interject. “Music,” he said faintly. “I was asking your opinion on the musicians I should book for the winter festival.” He sank his head into his hands again. “Pianists, brother, for the love of all that is holy.”

“Oh,” said Maedhros, after another pause. “No, go with harps, I’ve never liked all those tinkling keys and besides they’re a nuisance to haul around. Your articulation must be suffering,” he added, as Maglor groaned and fled the room. “If I can’t tell from ‘pianists’ then you might want to work on your, ah, diction.”