Maglor Dreams by MaedhrosFeanorian
Fanwork Notes
For those who don't know, "filit" means "little bird". It is not an official epesse for Maglor, but I always imagined Maedhros using it.
- Fanwork Information
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Summary:
Maglor dreams. He dreams about many things, but this night, he dreams of Nelyo. And of how he ended.
Major Characters: Maedhros, Maglor
Major Relationships:
Artwork Type: No artwork type listed
Genre:
Challenges:
Rating: Teens
Warnings: Character Death
Chapters: 1 Word Count: 377 Posted on 18 January 2015 Updated on 18 January 2015 This fanwork is complete.
Maglor Dreams
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This terrain is dark and unfamiliar. All I can see for miles is grey, sharp rocks. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a flash of red, and turn in time to see a figure vanish into a crack in the stone. I follow, glancing at the stars before ducking into the mountain. I have to find him. “Maitimo? Russandol? Where are you?” My calls echo through the cavern, fading away into nothingness. There is no reply. I walk further, cautiously, as the way is dark and obscured with smoke. I know I saw my brother enter here. Cautiously unfurling the light of my silmaril, I use it to guide me. It burns my hand, but I can endure. “Nelyo?” I call again, hoping at least one of his names will get his attention. There is no verbal response, but I suddenly hear a groan issue from a tunnel slightly to the right, the source of the smoke. I cautiously step through the dark curtain, surprised to find the next cavern bathed in an orange glow. I slip my silmaril carefully into its pouch, which hangs inside my cloak. I can’t lose it now, not after all we went through to retrieve it. I take a few steps into the cavern, and my heart stops. I am standing on a long cliff, hundreds of feet above a vivid, billowing sea of fire. “Nelyo!” I call, this time more urgently. The heat has finally hit me, and I can feel the sweat running down my face. Suddenly I see him, perched on the absolute edge of the precipice, red hair flying in the warm updrafts.
“You shouldn’t be here, Filit.” His voice is a chaotic fusion of fury, anguish, and something else; something worse. Madness.
I want to move closer, but my feet are frozen to the rock. It’s as if I am here only to watch.
He turns slightly towards me, clutching the silmaril to his chest. His eyes are red-rimmed and full of heartache. “Eonwe was right. We’ve ruined everything.” He holds the jewel out in front of his face, watching, detached, as it blackens his one hand. “Everything…” His glance strays to the fire, and all at once, it hits me. I know why he came here, and it chills me to the bone, despite the intense heat.
“Nelyo, what are you doing?” I ask, although I know the answer already.
The voice that responds has lost all of the composure Nelyo prides himself on. “I can’t do this anymore… It has all been in vain. there is nothing more for us, Filit. We are Sons of Fire. To the fire we must go.” A ghost of a smile crosses his lips. “Perhaps it is our path to freedom.” He turns away from me, taking a step towards the edge. He is now balanced on the very last piece of rock before the fire.
“Nelyo!” I plead, “You can’t do this, you can’t leave me alone! We’re the last. Please!”
He looks back at me, and a shadow of regret crosses his face. “Forgive me, Filit.” he whispers. His body pitches forward, arms outstretched and red hair flying. Only now are my feet unfrozen. Such a cruel irony. I run to the edge, in some last hope of catching him before he falls away forever, but by the time I get there, he is far out of reach. I can only watch as he plummets into the fire below. Tears surge down my cheeks, and one last, heart wrenching scream tears out of my throat. “NELYO!” The light of the silmaril lingers for a few seconds more, a bright point of cold light in the deeply colored flames. Then it, too, is gone forever. I no longer care about dignity, or decorum. Am I even a prince now? I know I am not deserving of the title, even if it belongs to me. I fall to my knees, head falling into my hands as I weep. In my mind, everything replays, and my tears splash down my cheeks in a vain attempt to wash it away. The sea-elves die once more, under the silver starlit sky, on swords of shining steel and priceless gems. Their beloved ships burn brightly, masking the death screams of Pityo, trying to return home. The fire beasts kill my father, and from then on it is only blood and loss and terrible judgements. What can mere tears do for such horrid stains? With great effort, I stem the flow, rising. I close my eyes, taking a deep breath. “You will be remembered.” I whisper to all the dead, “Forever.”
My eyes open, and I see the stars shining brightly above me. It was but a dream. No matter. My promise still stands, as it will until the end of time.
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