A Ghost is Haunted by Iavalir

Chapter 1

Read Chapter 1

No warmth of the merry season could ever pull him out of the dead cold he lived in. The chilly wind was not known to kill his kind, but it was the cold death deep within which rendered him lifeless.

The streets were bursting with people, but Maglor could not have felt more alone. The smiles and well-wishes were plentiful to others, to the healthy and normal-appearing humans, but none were given to Maglor, the homeless strange man haggard by years of isolation. If any spoken well-wishes were ever given, he was unaware of them but it was not due to his lack of understanding of the strange tongue spoken by the people of this land. No words could bring him joy, and he long since dismissed them. The only deeds he could recall were the gentle tugs into warm buildings where he could greedily drink from a soup bowl. These were the only well-wishes he desired for indeed he felt well in that short while.

He could not remain in such places for long, and he never seemed to remember the location no matter how long he walked in search of a sanctuary. Perhaps he could find some place to rest were he not so distracted. A ghost he was yet he was haunted. Images of familiar faces would pass before his eyes, and he would think he caught glimpse of old friends and family among the crowd. All too often he would find himself by the seashore as though chasing after the fray seams of the past, looking for answers. But the bitter winds and cold sea were all that greeted him, and Maglor would shiver as though a being of ice had possessed him and robbed him of any remaining pleasant thought within him. And far off he would think he saw a glimmer of starlight - his father’s starlight, signaling for him to return.

But he knew what lay at the other side of this ocean, and it was not the home he knew which was bathed in golden and silver light. A mere mortal land it was. But Maglor somehow could not part from water, and where he resided it was beside it.

And so it was that under a bridge was where he made his abode and lived when he found no other place. The winters were cold here but never filled with ice and snow, and the river which ran underneath the bridge was seldom frozen over. Here was some comfort, far from the scrutinizing eyes of the strange humans. Yet here he could still hear the soft songs sung by the people who had the comfort and safety of their homes and loved ones surrounding them.

Sometimes he joined their singing, willing in his mind to see himself in one of the homes surrounded by the loving families who he espied during his strolls scavenging for meals. His throat pained him for long had it been since he last sang, and the mechanics of singing have long left him. But to feel the air leaving him, buzzing into a song no matter how broken, was a small comfort, bringing a familiarity which filled the loneliness of the bridge.

A tune which he much enjoyed, though he knew none of the words, followed, its bittersweet melody drifting over the other songs. Maglor, his back up against the wall, hummed to the song and attempted a few of the words in as accurate of imitation as he could muster. In all his focus on his singing he was unaware of the ongoing occurring atop the bridge, and only when there was a heavy splash did Maglor cease. In his mind’s eye he was still trapped in the visions of his world, seeing only the past about him.

Something in the water was drifting towards him, and as the current pulled towards him he craned his neck out to see what had fallen. A small form lay in the water, and blood rushes through his veins faster as his own heart he could hear hammering in his chest.

“Brother, I found one of the children,” Maglor spoke aloud, but there was none to hear him and none who could understand him. For Maglor saw the illusion of the children Eluréd and Elurín, children of Nimloth and Dior who long passed the stories and memories of the people of the village. But the child could not be farther from the line of elves. A sad victim of a cruel murder the child was, killed above the bridge while Maglor’s mind was far adrift in thoughts far from the shore. And no breath was drawn, but these were not noticed as Maglor fished the child out of the river. He settled back against the walls, cradling the child as he sung to him as softly as his croaked voice could produce. Though the child could not speak, which Maglor presumed was out of shyness, he was glad for his company and said as much to the boy.

“Beloved elfling, long I searched for thee,” Maglor whispered to the child in his ancient tongue.

But sleep was soon upon him, and he soon fell into a deep slumber undisturbed by any sound. All grew still underneath the bridge till two figures likes ghosts approached Maglor. Like the lonesome elf they had lived for many Ages, though they pass from all history and lore. The years have given them an ability to slip in and out of sight right underneath the gaze of watchers, but here under the bridge they were fully visible, had Maglor been fully awake.

“Cruel hands claimed this child’s life,” Elurín said to his brother Eluréd, “but no justice will come to his family while this son of Fëanor keeps him to himself.”

“He means to rescue us, though he is far too late,” Eluréd said with a slight amusement. “Put the child back in the river - let the mortal investigators see him. But make certain Maglor does not sleep under this bridge again.”

Elurín nodded his understanding. “We will lead him again to the shore though it pains him greatly. But it is for his safety. A malice he once was, but he raised the children of our sister and to that we must repay him.”

“And in the only way we can,” said Eluréd, “by protecting him as ghosts of his past.”