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That's what Mirrors of Forgetting are for. Or Mind Stones. Or Black-clover tea.

One must be worthy of forgetting. One must earn the right.

That hardly seems to be the case with so many ways to forget.

I must adhere to Elvish standards. I must shoulder what I have done and my failures.

That's all that's left in the end.

A bittersweet leaving.

I guess you would know that.

I wouldn't, since mine was a different sort of death.

But. . . are you dead, Macalaurë? Or are you still alive but contemplating disintegration by fire?

Edited 2016-04-07 06:56 (UTC)

I like most of my memories.

We have been too long apart, brother, if you mistake me for our musical brother.

Then you are fortunate.

[ The mun is only half awake, ROTFL! Of course, he knows who you are. XD ]

I dream, then. [ A soft laugh. ] Maitimo.

But it is true we have been too long apart. How fare you? You did not answer my question.

Edited 2016-04-07 07:13 (UTC)

We were practically one and the same. (Everyone feared them; they might as well be shadows of one another.) I have experienced death, but I find myself considering paths I did not take.

[ Sighs a little. That was true enough -- they hadn't truly been individuals, but a collective. And he had hoped, almost, that Maedhros was still in the living world. But then. . . Curufin himself had not begun to think of other paths until he was walking on the last road anyone ever takes. So maybe it was the same for his brother? ]

What paths have you considered?

(It is very similar. Their lives flashed before them at such a tumultuous speed that such things couldn't be considered. Maedhros had lived for over four thousand years and only now does he feel like he can rest and breathe.)

Domestic ones, I suppose.

[ Curufin would be happy to know that such things as rest are now possible for Maedhros. Death does have it's perks! ]

Domestic. Do you mean settling down. . . with someone?

(Yes, it does. He will rest better with his brothers around him, however. Well, most of them.)

...yes. I...wondered... Would that have ever been possible for any of us?

[ Ha ha. Considering the last event in which they participated together while they were still alive, Curufin would tend to assume that he himself was one of the ones Maedhros would rest better without. Although it would hurt him to think so. But then, he recalls their last conversation -- though he cannot say for certain when it was, or where -- whatever, it had certainly had a different character than it might have, had they been both still alive. ]

I think it might have been, for you.

Why not for you too? (He takes in Curufin's expression, intent.) If you found your match, that is. I would not agree to you marrying just anyone.

[ His eyes soften, considering his brother's look, and his words. ]

I suppose you wouldn't. But if you recall, I was married to Celebrimbor's mother. . . if you consider an East Beleriand wedding to be official, that is. [ And some people wouldn't. An "East Beleleriand wedding" is code for making it official after the union. The ethics of pioneers in an a raw, exciting, new world. Also, what you might call a shotgun wedding! ]

And I made a mess of that. The good thing that came of it was my son. And I made a hash of that, too.

But as for you. . . I think you were a more truly loving person than I was. Somebody. . . [ Erm . . who could we be talking about, now? ] . . . someone might have loved you back.

(He arches a brow and looks...concerned. He really can't help it.)

Married, yes, but happy? Satisfied? I think not. (And that makes all the difference with settling down.) We were hardly prepared to be husbands or fathers.

(Warriors, yes. They have always been good at that.)

Are you speaking metaphorically or do you have someone in mind?

[ And well he might be! Curufin had earned a TERRIBLE reputation before he hooked up with Celebrimbor's mother. He was the most outrageous tomcat in Himlad. (It's the quiet ones you have to watch out for.) ]

You're right. I was not happy, and I think I was never satisfied with anything or anyone. [ He runs his hand through his hair, a little disconcerted. ] Husbands? Fathers? Somebody should have sat us down and explained to us the meaning of the words. Or at least, to me. But there was nobody left to do that, by the time it mattered. [ Their mother left behind. Their father dead. ]

Oh. . . you know who I mean.

We younger ones. . . we weren't welcoming to him, when he brought you back. But that doesn't mean we didn't understand.

I don't know about that. Not all fire is born in destruction.

And is that what you want? To be left only with memories?