More about Maglor by Himring

Silver Girl

While Celeborn is away, Celebrian makes a friend.

Written for Independence1776 for Fandom Stocking 2017.

Her wish list included wandering Maglor stories.

Rating: Teens (for background considerations)

Celeborn was concerned. On his return from Nenuial, Celebrian had greeted her father with her usual shining joy. But this time it seemed as if there was also a small shadow—perhaps even thrown by that shining light itself?

At first she seemed unwilling to talk about it. He questioned her gently, without success, and then tried again, after a couple of months.

‘My friend had left’, she said this time, almost by way of apology more than explanation.

This was the first Celeborn had heard of such a friend, but he did not therefore jump to the conclusion that the friend was imaginary. His daughter had not been born in sheltered circumstances, in Valinor or within the Girdle of Doriath, and he knew she was not much prone to indulging flights of fancy, having seen too many unusual things in reality, some of them dark and best forgotten. Yet Lindon had seemed at peace for quite some time.

‘While you were away, Mother spent much time in council with Elrond, Gil-galad and Cirdan,’ Celebrian, questioned further on the subject of her friend, confessed to her father. ‘I realized quite well the matter was important and urgent, of course—the future of the settlement at Nenuial and all that—but after a while I did get just a little bit bored and lonely and started exploring, a short way north along the coast.

I had asked Galdor to explain to me about the tides, but I had miscalculated the effects of the currents in a particular cove and got them badly wrong. The first I knew of it was when I got a terrible fright, as a black raggedy scarecrow appeared almost right under my nose and started shooing me back inland like a sheepdog herding a stray sheep.

I worked out afterwards that it was because he couldn't shout loud enough for me to hear over the noise of the waves. When he spoke to me, it was in a hoarse whisper and I realized that something must have happened to his throat. He'd been in the Wars, clearly, and there was something wrong with his right hand, too. When I'd got over my fright and realized he had just wanted me safe away from the water, he explained to me that I'd been in real danger out there and began to teach me about the tides along the stretch about the cove, in more detail even than Galdor had. Meanwhile the tide had indeed come in, and very rapidly, and I could see for myself in what danger I'd been.

I don't think my friend expected me to come back to the cove, after that first time we met. Maybe he thought I'd stay safe inside, after that fright. But I was curious, you weren't back yet, and mother was still mostly in council. I thought perhaps he might have more to teach me, so I went back there again. He asked me why I was out on my own and I explained, just a bit.

After that he didn't try to send me away again, and I visited him fairly regularly. He didn't speak all that much, though, after that first lecture on the tides. He preferred to listen. Perhaps his throat hurt, but I don't think that was the only reason. He never gave his name and didn't use mine. He called me silver girl. I sometimes shared my lunch with him—because he didn't seem to be eating quite enough— and gathered shells on the beach to show to him and he always thanked me very politely and admired them—you know, he genuinely did!—but when I found a pearl, he insisted I should keep it...

Then Mother got the message that you were coming back and, as soon as I told him, he said he would have to leave.

I only stayed for you, silver girl, he said. Otherwise I would have moved on already. But you won't be lonely anymore, now. You don't need me.

I told him that having my father back didn't mean I didn't need friends. But it seemed he didn't want to hear that and I saw that he had been speaking the truth, although I hadn't guessed it before, at all: he really had been waiting to move on as soon as I had company again.

So I said goodbye to him. I think it would have hurt him to stay. There was no point in making a fuss about it...’

Celebrian broke off and, climbing onto the couch, flung herself at her father and hugged him tight, as if to make up to him for having been even the tiniest bit sad about his return.

There had been no harp, thought Celeborn, no golden voice, no eight-pointed star, no jewel—no evidence at all.

There were still so many elves abroad in rags, after the sinking of Beleriand, and Men, too. Many had seen better days. Clearly, Celebrian had taken her friend's condition and his wounds in her stride. And maybe Celebrian had the rights of it—she had come across such men already and, although some of them had been kinslayers perhaps, in the past they preferred to forget, most were neither notorious princes nor famous bards.

It grieved him that she had already, in her young life, witnessed more than enough misery. He hugged her back and wondered how he could find a friend of her own age for her, a friend who would remain with her. But they moved about so much!

Then it occurred to him that in truth her story showed that she was more resilient, sturdier, than he had credited her with. She had dealt with the loss of this friend she had made all by herself, apparently forgiven him for leaving, even. It was he, her father, who had been worried, perhaps inevitably. But his daughter had her way of making friends, even if she had her own ideas about who to pick and rarely made the obvious choices. Perhaps he should trust that she would find another friend when she needed one.

Celeborn said nothing to Galadriel at all. Whoever he was, the man had left. And there was no evidence whatsoever to prove his identity. What did he have to tell her, really? And in any case, if his wife did believe it had been Maglor, what could they do?

Chapter End Notes

In Himring 'verse Maglor's voice as well as his hand is physically damaged by the Silmaril. Both slowly heal over the ages, his voice a little faster than his hand. As this piece is set in the early Second Age, Maglor's vocal chords are still in a bad state.

The title (Maglor's name for Celebrian) alludes to the first element of her name and the colour of her hair, although canonically it's not certain her hair was  silver.