Second-born

I am thinking about Daughters and Sisters. [Independent RP account for a genderbent version of Maglor from The Silmarillion. More commonly on some other Maglor's account.]

[goldenvoiced]

here and there and everywhere i only search for one thing. but still, no sign upon this place of info that i’m wanting!

[triinitysantos]

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[bermuda-triangle-babe]

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Alex Winston — Choice Notes

[highqueenofthenoldor]

Fëanárë’s lips curled, just faintly, just for a moment, then finally that smile trying to get out won against her hard nature and it spread up her lips a little more, sympathetic and understanding.

"I wished the same thing," she said, "when this happened to me. I was but a babe, even younger than you. Thankfully we must only endure this the one year. Afterwards it ceases, and does just as you propose, the body goes back to sleep but thereafter it is ready to have a child.”

She eyed her daughter, “I do not need to tell you why having a child in the near future is inadvisable Makalaurë, you are a very smart child.”

She filled one of the soaking buckets with cold water, and put the smock and her child’s breech cloth into the water.

This was the laundry, and there was clean clothing on the table that the maid had been working at. She got her daughter a new breech cloth, and showed her the square basket with the rags.

"You fold them like such," she folded the carefully cut material up, "it should last you about two hours or so. Then you place the rag in a bucket to soak, and use a new one. I will place this basket in the downstairs privy just down from the laundry room so it is easier."

[goldenvoiced]

She did not speak immediately, instead listening to her mother's words and trying to dole each bitter piece of information into swallowable bites. Only one year--well, now, that was a rather long time.

But it was the last part of the information that concerned her. "Two hours?" Her brows knotted up together. "Two hours--how long is the bleeding supposed to last? Is it regularly two hours throughout the bleeding?"

Makalaurë grabbed one of the rags out of the bin and considered it with great seriousness. It was solid enough, but she wondered if she could tolerate something thicker than this.

Just a year.

"Shouldn't we get something that lasts longer? I would think going four hours much better." And after a moment, she added, "How am I going to survive so much lost blood?"

[nobodyyouknow202020202020]

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[goldenvoiced]

No-good grubby-fingered baby sisters.

[priestessoforome]

Selfish know-it-all old-maid sisters.

[highqueenofthenoldor]

SQUABBLING DAUGHTERS.

[goldenvoiced]

Ahhh-mëhhhhhh!

[goldenvoiced]

Sisters.

[priestessoforome]

Older sisters.

[goldenvoiced]

Brat younger sisters.

[priestessoforome]

Stuck-up older sisters.

[goldenvoiced]

No-good grubby-fingered baby sisters.

[goldenvoiced]

Sisters.

[priestessoforome]

Older sisters.

[goldenvoiced]

Brat younger sisters.

[goldenvoiced]

Sisters.

[nillions]

you want me to draw cute lil babies? awesome. how about screaming ones. perfect.

[highqueenofthenoldor]

"Soreness seems to be a part of it. I was certainly sore when I went through this. Now let me see your skirt…yes we will have to wash this. Disrobe daughter."

Fëanárë glanced around. There was a single maid folding a new batch of washing.

"Please go run a bath for my daughter," she instructed the young woman, "and fetch the pine apothecary’s box from my still-room please."

Finally she turned back to her daughter.

"This is…" she began awkwardly and halted, beset by unexpected and new embarrassment. she frowned at the emotion and shouldered it aside, reaching into old, good, but painful memories of her own mother’s talk, "a natural part of your life. It will last for about a year, not constantly, on and off but not in any predictable pattern usually though some women do say they can time it to 28 days between bleeds. What it is…" 

That strange awkwardness took her again and she bit her own tongue in punishment for letting it take her, “is your body waking up and preparing itself for the possibility of children.”

[goldenvoiced]

Until her mother pointed out the issue, she'd not bothered to check her smock. Grieved, she stripped out of her smock and turned it around in her hands until she could see the spot of blood near the rear.

And this was one of her favorites!

She focused back onto her mother, glancing from her mother's face to the dress in her hands. "Oh." Pulling back her chin at the news, she gave it serious consideration.

"I do like children," she responded. She held out her smock to her mother. "But I don't think it needs to be so soon, do you, Ammë? I'll tell it all to go back to sleep for another few centuries, and perhaps then I will have it wake up."

[goldenvoiced]

Confused, frustrated, and still somewhat nauseous—though nauseous, she realized, was not quite the word she needed—Makalaurë huffed and leaned into her mother’s hand. As loving as her atya could be, it was Ammë who solved problems.

Even if problems, it turned out, did not involve poisonings.

(But then why the blood?)

She released her braid and instead tried to grasp her mother’s hand. “Yes, Ammë,” the girl agreed, and fidgeted in anticipation of where they might go. “I—I hid the cushion on the bench in the library, if it needs to be washed.”

[highqueenofthenoldor]

"I will get it and clean it once I have handled this," Fëanárë promised her, catching Makalaurë’s hand and holding the dainty, soft hand in her own rough one.

She waited till they were out of earshot of Ingwion, not actually back into the house yet before addressing the issue again. “Are you sore at all, or nauseous?” she asked, shouldering the door open and leading her daughter straight for the laundry.

[goldenvoiced]

"All right." While her mother's calloused palms sometimes chafed her skin, Makalaurë now found great comfort in their rough press. Yes, she had chosen the right parent for the task. Atya would have been afraid to get the blood on his hands.

At the question, the girl gave her mother a prompt nod. "I have been very nauseous, but it comes and goes, and now it is going again." After considering, she added, "Yes, and I think I am sore too. As if I had been horseback riding with Maitimë a few days ago--not as if it were yesterday, though.

"Should I be sore?" She tacked her question on to the end, as the faint smell of lye hit her nose.

[goldenvoiced]

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[highqueenofthenoldor]

"Ammë?" The girl tugged insistently on her mother's sleeve, keeping her voice quiet to prevent her father from leaving his trance. "Ammë, something is wrong."

Fëanárë looked up from where she was adjusting the latch on their garden gate and dusted off her hands, sparing no mind for her husband’s deep thoughts as she dropped the screwdriver into the tray of nails with a slight clang.

"What is wrong Makalaurë?" she asked her second born, frowning for Makalaurë was a serious child, though she had humour in her, and would not have used the world ‘wrong’ without it requiring full attention from the requested adult.

[highqueenofthenoldor]

Ahhh

The day had come.

Yes.

Fëanárë had been preparing for this though vaguely she had expected Matimë to be the first to come to her and had assigned her eldest reading on the topic in preparation for the day.

Then again, she eyed her second born thoughtfully.

Matimë still wore child’s smocks easily despite being old enough to don a young maid’s dress. Her form was tall but flat, hipless, breastless, still very much the body of a child though swiftly coming into a adult’s height.

Makalaurë meanwhile had developed a softness to her body of late that had nothing to do with the lingering roundness of childhood. It had caused Fëanárë to take the precautionary measure of sewing a little extra support into the chest of her second born’s smocks, and begin buying material of Makalaurë’s preferred colours in preparation of making a few maiden’s dresses when a child’s smock became ridiculous.

It seemed that much like herself, Makalaurë was maturing faster than her peers. (Though given Matimë was the peer in question and the average age of a elf with a uterus enduring this, Makalaurë was on the younger side of average.)

She reached around her daughter and smoothed a hand over Makalaurë’s dark hair in an affectionate gesture of the type she frequently bestowed her children since finding the right time to bestow word was difficult and she could not get the timing right.

"You are not poisoned," she said bluntly, "this is something that was going to always happen to you, though I expected this to happen later then it has. No matter. Nothing changes."

She forced her face to soften as well as her voice, “and your grandfather is not poisoned.”

She glanced at Ingwion.

For once she was glad of her husband’s preoccupation during a family conundrum.

"Come inside and I will explain."

And also show Makalaurë, amongst other things, the large square basket of cleaned and pressed cloths Fëanárë had prepared for Matimë which was kept in a discrete part of the laundry.

[goldenvoiced]

Confused, frustrated, and still somewhat nauseous--though nauseous, she realized, was not quite the word she needed--Makalaurë huffed and leaned into her mother's hand. As loving as her atya could be, it was Ammë who solved problems.

Even if problems, it turned out, did not involve poisonings.

(But then why the blood?)

She released her braid and instead tried to grasp her mother's hand. "Yes, Ammë," the girl agreed, and fidgeted in anticipation of where they might go. "I--I hid the cushion on the bench in the library, if it needs to be washed."

[highqueenofthenoldor]

"Ammë?" The girl tugged insistently on her mother's sleeve, keeping her voice quiet to prevent her father from leaving his trance. "Ammë, something is wrong."

Fëanárë looked up from where she was adjusting the latch on their garden gate and dusted off her hands, sparing no mind for her husband’s deep thoughts as she dropped the screwdriver into the tray of nails with a slight clang.

"What is wrong Makalaurë?" she asked her second born, frowning for Makalaurë was a serious child, though she had humour in her, and would not have used the world ‘wrong’ without it requiring full attention from the requested adult.

[goldenvoiced]

Now that she had her mother's attention, she removed her hand and pulled on the braid pulled over her shoulder. "Well--I think it was the food I ate two nights ago, when Finwë-Haru visited. I've been nauseous since then, and last night I felt as if someone was sitting on my gut. It cleared up this morning, and I felt well enough to sit in the library, but after an hour my seat felt a bit odd. When I stood up--"

She spared a glance at Ingwion one last time, then stood on tip toes and guided her mother to bend closer to her mouth. "--there was blood on the cushion!" Her eyebrows knotted together. "Have I been poisoned? Do you think Haru is all right?"

[goldenvoiced]

Well, you can’t stop the snow now. And when it melts, it will all be water. You like water, don’t you? Come on. If you would rather be away whilst it falls, then either find a hollow in a tree, or follow me back indoors.

[icalentaur-deactivated20140302]

*flicks his ears before nosing her hand* Does Big-Warm have food?

[goldenvoiced]

Not with me. (Strokes his nose.) There's a little salted meat in the kitchens.

[goldenvoiced]

Calentaur, if you don’t want to be hit by snow, you had best get under cover.

[icalentaur-deactivated20140302]

*Snow? Is snow what it was called?* Do not not not like! *And what did the big-warm mean?*

[goldenvoiced]

Well, you can't stop the snow now. And when it melts, it will all be water. You like water, don't you? Come on. If you would rather be away whilst it falls, then either find a hollow in a tree, or follow me back indoors.