“There is no one here by that name,” came the rumbling reply from the other side of the iron doors, which opened reluctantly under Mitsanar’s hand.
“But please, of course, come in. It’s not as though anything I’m doing might be more important.”
“Of course it isn’t your name, but you’ve still just answered to it.”
Mitsanár smiled sweetly as he stepped to cross the room, lightly padding along on his toes. But halfway across he froze.
The change was swift. It was like someone had just dropped a bucket of icewater over his head, somehow drowning out all the Music around him so that instead of being surrounded by a constant roar, the fires around him barely sounded like a whisper, and he was left with just the heat. He staggered, blinking rapidly.
Ah. This again.
“Nothing more important than an apology?” he said, trying to keep his voice casual.
From far back in the forge a sustained, grating noise of turning stone with a piercingly shrill overtone drowned out all other sound, nearly unbearable to hear even from a distance. It came to a halt at the word ‘apology’.
“Oh?”
A gentle clank of metal, and Thû appeared from an alcove, wiping his gloves free of grit and water with a cloth. “Now that, I do have time for,” he said, beckoning his guest over to a workbench. “I was just sharpening a new blade of mine– not so important after all. Come, have a seat. Let us talk.”
He did not mention the altered chord of the smaller maia’s Song; that it was muted as if with a damper. These things happened on occasion; the whim of a passing grey-magic spell could do a maia great harm in the short term, but not permanently unwind them from the Music. Ainur would remain Ainur, unless they chose to vest themselves entirely in matter.
It seemed rude to point it out, as his guest was making overtures of peace.
MisbehavingMaiar: Tumblr Archive 