Yours to discover by I_did_not_mean_to

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Fanwork Notes

Postcard of Doriath. A forest, a stone path, a white flower. Text reads: Doriath, yours to discover

Fanwork Information

Summary:

Daeron thinks about his life in Doriath, writing letters he'll never send and wishing things were different so he could see Maglor again.

Major Characters: Daeron

Major Relationships: Daeron/Maglor

Artwork Type: No artwork type listed

Genre: Romance

Challenges: Manwë's Mailbag

Rating: General

Warnings: In-Universe Intolerance
Chapters: 1 Word Count: 806
Posted on 24 November 2022 Updated on 24 November 2022

This fanwork is complete.

Table of Contents

The burned letter

The text going with this postcard was

Life is awfully ordinary here for a supposed secret. The birds sing no brighter; the bread tastes the same. The wind chills, Anar burns. Pain hurts.

This is a small piece of writing trying to address the topic of missives and invitations as well as the slightly forlorn and sad vibe of the text.

Comments

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Ah the suffocating feeling of Doriath. Burned letters. Daeron being miserable and turning the world into poetry. Having visions of a terrible future. 

Great use of the prompt, and you know I'll always be happy when you write these two. 

(So funny story.... the text on the front of the postcard, Yours To Discover, is - or was? - the 'tagline' of Ontario, Canada. I lived there for a bit and feel pretty well the same about it as Daeron feels about Doriath in this fic.)

Sorry, I had not realised there could be comments and/or expected to get any, as a newbie so to say 🙈

Yessss, I am so sorry for hurting your blorbos. I am sure Daeron is just being dramatic and all will be well, right? RIGHT? Nothing bad happens to either Doriath nor Maglor, all is roses...Except...

Thank you so much for your comment! And that is really interesting about Ontario; I've never been to Canada, so I can only dream of it :)

Absolutely beautiful!  I have been in Daeron's shoes, of course - writing letters that will never be sent, wondering how the universe has not somehow molded itself to reflect the experience that has so altered me, waiting for someone to arrive that I know will never come.

Nonetheless, new stars had not appeared in the sky in demure homage to Maglor’s eyes and neither bread nor mead tasted any sweeter in deference to his lips.

🥺💖

Me too; you'd really believe that the world would change to match the shifting tide within you but...eh, that's the cruelty of the world, I guess.

Off the top of my head, I can think of 2 German songs about that phenomenom and I guess they've informed this ficlet quite a bit...come to think of it...

Either way, thank you so much for your comment; it truly means a lot to me <3

Ohh, poor Daeron! This is such a great use of the prompt--and I was particularly struck by this line: the land within the girdle was preserved like a lifeless fly in amber while he was dying to fly free. What a vivid image!