Song of Myself by Beansidhe

Chapter 1

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Maglor’s head was spinning as he turned away from the campsite, and it wasn’t from the wine. He needed to get away from everyone; from the campfire and the storyteller, from the people who sat around them.  Hastening into the surrounding trees, he walked in no particular direction until the fire was only a dim point behind him, then sank into the deep shadows under a large tree. He wanted to think - or run - but he would try to think first.  

 

He had been travelling with the small band of nomads for nearly 6 months. A very, very short time in the life of an Elf, yet he felt that their companionship had already begun to change him. After more than an Age of wandering alone it was strange to be in the company of the same people day after day.

 

He hadn’t meant to stay with them for more then a few days. When Jari and Ratha stumbled upon him on the beach one night he was cold, alone, and hungry, certainly, but no more so than he had been on a thousand other nights. He wasn’t looking for company. In spite of his attempts to demur, they coaxed him in like a stray cat. Jari took him on her horse, and they went back to the camp “just to trade for harp strings”. Before he quite knew what had happened he was warm and fed, seated at a bright fire in a circle of tents, and Ratha was spinning tales for the children while Ravi boiled spices for their wine. Even now Maglor smiled at the memory.

 

Since then he had planned several times to leave the group, but was never able to follow through. There was always some committment to keep; a day of gathering bael fruit that needed extra hands; music lessons promised to Ravi’s son; a wager with Jari about who cooked the best pan bread (still hotly contested).  Simple, everyday things, but they wove the bonds of family that were quickly tying him to the group. He had almost decided to stop fighting it and simply stay awhile. Until tonight. Tonight the stories that were sung around the evening fire had shaken him. They were certainly false, tales with no more than a grain of truth, twisted and mishapen by forgetful mortals as they were passed from one generalion to the next. Nonetheless, the implications behind them made his stomach churn and his head reel. He didn’t think he could be comfortable staying any longer.

 

“Brother?” 

 

Maglor startled and turned to see Ravi standing behind him, a worried look on her face and two cups of hot, spiced wine in her hands. She offered one to him.

 

“Mags, you ran away like you’d seen a demon. What’s the matter? Or do you simply hate us, knowing our past?”

 

“I…No, I’m sorry Ravi, of course not.” He took the offered cup.

 

“What is it then?” She seated herself next to him, tucking her small brown feet beneath her skirt and arranging her shawl around herself for warmth. Maglor bristled - he hadn’t asked her to join him, not now - but Ravi had been exceedingly kind to him, and her present concern made him feel guilty for his hasty exit from the camp.

 

There was silence between them as Maglor fidgeted with his cup. “I have met many Men, Ravi…”

 

“But no women?”

 

Maglor gave her a sour look, but Ravi laughed at him, teasing.

 

Her laughter broke a little of his tension. “I have met many Atani.” He continued “Long ago, with my brothers, I fought alongside Edain, descended from Atani who had run from the Darkness, and escaped before they were chained to it. And I knew Atani who served the darkness only too willingly.” Maglor looked away “Those I killed whenever I could.”

 

“Yes.” Ravi shrugged.

 

“I’ve met a great many more in the miles I’ve walked since then. All the same; Atani who’s fathers hated the Darkness and fled before it, or Atani who’s people continued to serve it willingly. Here, your band….the way you took me in…. I was certain you were of the former. In fact, you almost seemed to be something my people did not think existed; Atani who somehow escaped the darkness in the very beginning and never felt it’s grasp, so little does the shadow seem to touch you. But tonight I heared from your very tongues that this is not true. That your fathers were, in fact, some of the most devoted servants of the Dark Lord. His captains and his high priests.”

 

“Yes.” Ravi shrugged again.

 

“And in spite of that you say Eru Iluvatar, walked among you himself, and called to you so persistently, that you turned against your own families to follow him. That you were traitors to your own kin, but were accepted and forgiven by Eru.”

 

“This is why we wander the Earth even now, homeless but unafraid.”

 

“But it can’t be true, Ravi!” Maglor’s voice rose, his hand gestures becoming sharp and jagged.  “People who follow the Darkness….who do things like what your people did….they aren’t forgiven!  They are evil, and they stay evil, and they stay cursed!”

 

“You don’t think the All-Father can forgive?”

 

“Lord Eru isn’t here, Ravi! The Valar aren’t here either, if that’s who you mean. Lord Eru has never been here. He is unreachable, beyond the world, outside of time, and except when he’s called on to punish idiot Atani who can’t stay on their own bloody island, we don’t get to see him!” 

 

Maglor stopped to catch his breath. His hand cramped and he realized how wildly he’d been gesturing.  “I am sorry.  But that much I have learned directly from the Valar, and my own experience.”

 

Ravi’s expression was pained “Are the Valar always right?”

 

“Yes. No! I don’t know. I thought not, once. But what I did, thinking that, was unforgivable.” Maglor getured wildly in frustration, then caught himself and drew his arms tight across his chest. “I did something, Ravi. One day maybe I’ll sing you the whole story. But I swore an oath, in anger, that compelled me to do horrible, horrible things. It’s an oath sworn to Iluvatar that only Iluvatar could release me from. But I cannot reach him beyond the World, and so I will remain in bondage to it until the world ends, or the Everlasting Darkness takes me.”

 

Ravi began to speak, but he stopped her. “I’m sorry.  I should not have discredited the songs you sing about your own people. I suppose I’m jealous of whatever peace you have found; whether from the All-Father or simply from each other. I ache for it. 

 

“You obviously are not slaves to the Darkness now. I find it difficult believe you ever were. Perhaps such things are different for Atani, because Lord Eru calls you from the World when you die.  Perhaps your voices reach him in ways that the Eldalie can’t. My son hoped so.”

 

“Perhaps. But perhaps we are not so different. Have you asked Him for release from your oath?”

 

“How? What, shout at the clouds?” Maglor’s voice rose in anger again, and he waved vaguely towards a few clouds that glowed in front of the setting moon. “You mean pray? The way you do in the morning, with my head in the dirt and offerings of basil or bael leaf?” The Elf shook his head. “I am sorry Ravi, but I’ve lived in the Blessed Realm, and sat at the feet of the Vala who is closest to Iluvatar of any being in Arda. Manwe can perhaps reach Iluvatar’s ear in great need, but that was certainly not permitted to any lesser Vala, much less an Elf. In honesty, Ravi, these past months I assumed you made your morning prayers to the Valar, as many ignorant Atani do. I learned otherwise tonight. But I think prayer to the absent All-father only makes your people look more foolish.”

 

“The Edain had prayer, didn’t they?  Even after they met the emissaries of the Valar in your great war?”

 

Maglor snorted derisively. “Oh yes, grand gestures. Songs of praise from the highest peak in the mortal world.”  He picked up a small stone and threw it hard into a neaby bush. “It serves better on the bottom of the bloody ocean.”

 

Ravi grabbed his arm with enough force to deter further projectiles. “Stop, Maglor. I’m sorry I mentioned it. I had no idea it would upset you so much.”

 

“It was just….” Maglor’s frustration shut out whatever words he was looking for. He paused, trying to decide what he wanted to say, and surprised himself when his eyes suddenly clouded with tears. Brushing them away, he took Ravi’s hand from his arm and held it in his for a moment.  

 

“It was my son’s island. One of my….my foster son’s island. He had so much hope for it, Ravi, and he died.  He was willing to die, I mean, and…” Maglor shook his head. “I’m sorry, it’s an old sorrow, but never completely healed. I grieve for my son’s dreams, more than for my own now.”

 

“Perhaps it is the same for the All-Father, Maglor.” 

 

The Elf didn’t respond, and Ravi pretended not to see the look of anguish that passed across his face. She rose to her feet, picking up the now empty cups. “I should return to camp.  My own son fell asleep at the campfire, but I should put him to bed proper. We’ll see you in the morning, Mags.”

 

“Goodnight, Ravi.”

 

 

 

****

 

 

 

Ravi did not see him in the morning.  He was already gone. 

 

***

 

“I could not stay with them. Not and listen to their foolish prayers breaking my heart every morning.” 

 

The problem with spending six months among people was that Maglor had gotten used to having someone to talk to. The inherent solution lay in the fact that, being alone again, there was no one to question his sanity if he talked to himself. At least some problems contained their own answers.

 

“They’re moving inland now, anyway, farther East.  I don’t like to be away from the water. It’s too quiet. Too easy to hear myself think. And the last thing I need is people. I can’t make them listen to my sad songs every night, and I can’t not sing. ” 

 

In spite of having been up all night, Maglor was pushing himself to walk at a quick pace. He was retracing their route of the last several months, going back to the Sea. He was bitterly tired, at the point of exhaustion where he felt drunk and giddy and slightly sick all at the same time. But he was too determined to put distance between himself and the band to slow down or sleep. And having a good rant at full volume was proving to be quite enjoyable; at the very least it kept him awake.

 

“No good befriending Atani anyway. They just die. Even if I don’t kill them. Die with their foolish prayers on their lips. Can’t have any more deaths to sing about, not enough lung capacity. Best to stay away. Ocean is warm here anyway, the nights aren’t too cold.”

 

The Elf crested a hill and paused, surveying the land spread before him. “Ravi thinks I should pray.  Might as well just talk to myself. Heh. See Ravi, I’m praying!” Maglor threw his hands into the air in mock exhaltation, spinning in a circle. “Aiya Iluvatar! Átaremma i ëa han ëa!”  He waved his hands and shouted at the sky. “What, no answer? Maybe I will gather an armada and storm the shores of Aman. Will you come then, All-father? Will You cast me into the Darkness yourself, and not wait for Time and the Valar to do it for You?” 

 

Maglor paused, lowering his hands. “Huh. I thought that’s what you’d say.” He began walking again, coming down the hill, massaging his right hand with the left to ease the muscle spasm under the scar tissue. He was feeling more sick than giddy now, an anxious queasyness churing in his stomach. “The Darkness might be a blessing now, anyway, All-father. We wouldn’t want that.”

 

Eventually he let himself sleep, still walking, open eyed in the half dreaming of the Elves. And he ate a little; dates and almonds and dried bael fruit that he had brought from camp. And he continued towards the sea.

 

 

 

***

 

He had been walking for three days since he left his band of nomads. Long enough for his initial anxiety from that night to mellow.  Long enough for him to start calling them his band again. 

 

The sun had set, and the moon, a thin crescent no more than four days old, was following swiftly behind it. Maglor had stopped for a rest and, he thought, to heat a proper bit of food, but he found he wasn’t hungry. He picked idly at the leaves of the tree where he sat, a rather short bael tree who’s lowest limbs were easily within reach. His mind had wandered aimlessly most of the day, but confronted with another meal alone, another night with no shared songs, his recent companions were high in his thoughts again. 

 

What am I running from? I miss them, and I miss people, and although I have given myself a thousand reasons to suffer alone, are any of them still valid?

 

Maglor picked a leaf off the tree, running it absentmindedly through his fingers before letting it go to flutter away on the evening breeze.

 

Why did Ratha’s story anger me so?

 

It was difficult, but Maglor forced himself to consider the answer fully. Because it increases my guilt a thousand fold. Because if their ancestor’s voices reached Eru himself, perhaps mine could have as well, before it was too late. 

 

He let another leaf drift from his fingers.

 

And what would I have done, if my voice could have reached beyond the circles of the world?  If I thought I could seek release from our oath? Would I have withheld from kinslaying?

 

No. He would not let himself look away from the question.

 

Not at Alqualonde. I did not want release then. Not before. Not during. After…no not even after. After I regretted my actions, but did not relent my purpose, no more than my father or brothers.

 

Not at Doriath.  My anger outweighed my sorrow which in turn outweighed my shame. I wanted a reason to have suffered. A release from the oath would have made it all for nothing. That was the last thing I would have asked for.

 

Not at Sirion. Perhaps at Sirion. I was so very tired. But escape the kinslaying at Sirion and I would not have had my sons. Fool that I am, I should regret that day more than any other, but I cannot regret having loved my sons. Eru do not ask it of me. 

 

At Eönwë’s camp. I would have begged release, and gladly. I almost did, but from the Valar. So four Elves less may have died - the four we slew that night - if I thought I could reach Him. Too late, too little. My brother was so horribly broken, and we were already damned. What could Eru Iluvatar have done then, but to free us from our oath, only to give us to the eternal Void in punishment for deeds unforgivable. 

 

But four is still four.

 

Another leaf.

 

And where in Eä does any of this leave me now?

 

I cannot even sing this.  There are no notes that can carry it. I am become without song.

 

Maglor spoke aloud for the first time that evening, his voice weary and thin.

 

“All-Father, I am so tired. Alone, and empty, and aching, and so very, very tired. And I have no power to alter the past.”

 

A wry laugh, almost a sob, snuck out from somewhere within him. “It seems I’ve even given up on talking to myself. All that’s left is You, and You aren’t even here.”

 

He remained where he was that night, laying down to take rest fully for the first time in days, but his sleep was fitful and unsatisfying. The branches waving above insinuated themselves into his dreams in odd, uncomfortable, ways. At one point in the darkness he thought he saw his mother, or someone who reminded him of her, but he woke fully to find nothing but phantom shapes made of branches and shadow and his own sorrow.

 

 

 

***

 

He might have lingered in his bedroll long after morning broke,feeling no less tired than when he laid down. But the sun was up, the day was passing, and there were miles to walk. Begrudgingly he rose and packed up his things, shaking the dust from his blanket and brushing an errant leaf from his hair. It fluttered away on a bit of wind and disappeared from his signt. He choked down a bite of dried fruit and continued on his way.

 

His mood from the previous evening had not lifted. If anything, it had rooted deeper, and combined with the weariness of his body it left him feeling hazy and detached.  The day passed him in a blur; he walked; he bought rice and lentils from a farmer who’s lands he crossed, thinking he should to eat a real meal soon; he bathed in a river as he forded it. He did not know the river’s name, but the farmer had told him he could walk along its west bank towards the sea, and it seemed as good a plan as any.

 

At evening he stopped again, hoping to find better rest than he had the night before. He boiled some of the food he’d purchased, and although he still didn’t feel hungry, he felt better for having eaten. As he relaxed beside his small fire he began to hum a little, quietly to himself. It was the first music he’d made in days, and it felt good. He let the tune wander on its own for a time, until it seemed to demand words to go with it.  Words about himself. They came easily with the tune, words about his journey of the past week, his loneliness, his fear. They didn’t last long however, even riding on the tail of the music. The notes caught in his throat and faltered, as tears welled unexpectedly in his eyes. 

 

“Shit. Fine.” Maglor threw off the blanket he had wrapped around his shoulders. He wasn’t sure who he was talking to anymore, or if he was more sad or angry or afraid, or at what. “I’ll try it.  I don’t even know what I’m doing, but I’ll try it.” He stood, fumbling at his boots with jerky, angry movements. “I take my shoes off, right, and then what? Kneel? Where? Do I face a certain way? This feels so horribly foolish!” 

 

Maglor threw his second boot to the ground but remained standing, his hands working aimlessly at the air. He couldn’t bring himself to kneel. “I just…..” his speech was broken by frustrated sobs. “……..Eru, just…..help me.  If you can even hear me. If you can forgive my oath.  If you can forgive…..a horrible mistake…I don’t know what you can do….please…….just…release me from this bondage. I can’t do this anymore. Even if it means the everlasting Darkness. Please let me go.” His sobs overtook his speech and he continued weeping into his hands until, eventually, the force of emotion ran itself out. His sobs gradually grew quieter and his breathing more steady. Wiping his eyes, Maglor looked out plantively into the darkness beyond his dying fire. The night was quiet, the world as it always was. 

 

“Fuck.” He fumbled angrily in his pack, pulling out the first bit of cloth he could find - an old sock, as it happened - to wipe his face. Then he slumped back down by the fire, shoving his feet into his boots. He sat for a long time, staring blankly into the embers, until weariness finally overcame him and he lay down in his blanket. Utterly exhausted, eyes closed against the darkness, he rested deeply and with no dreams.

 

 

 

***

 

He was drowning. 

 

That was his first thought as he wrenched violently back to wakefullness. He couldn’t breath. But there was no water. His lungs labored, unable to open, as if the air was too thick, or his chest had become rock. He would have screamed, but he didn’t have any air. All he could manage were shallow, desperate pants. Then he felt the pain, a searing heat in his hand that radiated up into his arm, in waves of alternating fire and numbness. It was this that had woken him.

 

He couldn’t rise. In fact it was a struggle even to lift his eyelids, but he peered into the darkness as best he could.  He had not slept for more than a few hours; the sickle moon sat low on the horizen, and around him all was quiet.

 

Poison? In the rice? But?…Through watering eyes he saw a sinuous form rising up from the grass near at hand, hood spread, as if guarding its prey.  It’s silhouette was black against the moon. A serpent? Dread coiled in the pit of Maglor’s stomach. Oh Sweet Eru, it bit me.

 

Maglor attempted to rise, but got no farther than lifting up a few inches on his elbows before collapsing back down, panting for breath. The serpent turned and looked him in the eye, it’s forked tongue flicking out as if to taste him.

 

“Shhhhhhh, little Elda. Sleep now.” The creature made no sound, but Maglor heard the words in his head, clear as mind speak with his brothers. “I am sorry for the pain, but the physical body must be released through physical means.”

 

“What? You venomous little shit!” Maglor’s body was weak and racked with pain, but his mind could still scream at the creature.

 

“Peace, Elda. You ask for help, and He answers you as He can. He will not enter the world to intervene in the life of the Elves. He agreed to this condition with the Valar in the beginning. But He will give you a Gift.”

 

Venom or no, Maglor’s eyes widened like saucers. “No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no.  I can’t….my home…” He panted harder, desperate to master his lungs, to make them open properly. “I never..asked…no…not….leave Arda. He can’t.” He will send me into the Void.

 

“Shhhhh. Sleep now, little one. Let my kiss sing you to sleep. Wait for Him, when you wake.” The serpent dropped back into the grass, but remained coiled protectively at Maglor’s side.

 

“Hhhha.” Maglor choked in what little air he could as a fresh wave of pain radiated from the wound in his hand. As the heat subsided, he looked blearily towards the snake with unfocused, pleading eyes.  Then his mind, like his eyes, clouded over, and he could no longer think coherently.  Sleep, or what felt like it, enfolded him.

 

 

 

***

 

It felt indescribably good to breathe. For a long moment Maglor simply took in as much air as he could, eyes still closed, gratefully filling his lungs to capacity. It was several moments, in fact, before he considered what this meant.

 

“I’m not dead? I’m still in my body! I…”  Oh. It was still night, and he was still in a forest…but not the one he had last seen. No tropical setting, it looked like the old forests of Beleriand, with oak and elm, and ash, and soft moss underfoot.  The serpent was gone. Tentatively, Maglor pushed himself up into a seated position on the moss.

 

“I’m not dead.” he repeated. There was no one to speak to, but it was a relief to hear is own voice, strong and steady, in the night. Maglor brushed at the bits of moss and dirt that clung to his hands and stopped short. He knew every line and whirl of the scars across his palm, had memorized them over long empty nights of tracing the patterns in the moonlight. But now his palm was smooth and nearly clean, save for two small circular scabs in the flesh near the base of his thumb.  They were tender to his touch, but appeared to be healing.

 

He stared, entraced by his own palm, until he realized he was shaking ever so slightly, his breath gone sharp and ragged. Enough. I am a prince of the Noldor. I have faced the armies of Morgoth himself and not stood down. I have looked my enemies in the eye on the fields of battle, and slain them where they stood. I have heard the Doom of the Valar pronounced against me and not flinched. Whatever is asked of me now, I will meet it with courage. 

 

The tremor in Maglor’s hands gradually subsided. As though his mental resolve passed to his body as well; he sat a little straighter, his expression hardened with determination.

 

He rose slowely to his feet, and found his body to be strong and hale - the bite wounds appeared to be the only mark left of his encounter. Surveying his surroundings, he saw he was near the top of a mossy hill and silent forest stretched out and down around him in all directions, except directly behind him, where a small clearing opened on the crown of the hill itself. Even for his Elven eyes there was only barely enough light to see, the cool glow of starlight filtering through the thick branches overhead. Maglor stepped into the clearing itself, where he was aforded a little more light, and surveyed his surroundings.

 

It was beautiful.  But also terrifying.  A sense of…..foreboding……lay over the landscape. No, he thought, not quite foreboding.  But a waiting, a watchfullness, as though every tree and tendril of moss held its breath in expectation of something about to happen.

 

Or someone about to come? An involuntary tremour ran down his spine, in spite of his resolve. If He did hear me, if I’ve actually ……..must I speak to Him? He will send me to the Void.

 

Maglor sank to his knees in the soft moss. Part of him wanted to simply curl into a ball under a tree and hide his face, but the rest of him, the Elven prince, the son of Feanor, swiftly destroyed that instinct. There was anger to replace it. A Gift? A Gift? To put me through…..that. And then to leave me alone, here. How dare He? All-Father or not, how dare He? Does He like it when I TALK to Him? Shout at the air? Fine!

 

“All-Father! Arda is my birthright! My birthright to sing the song of the World until its End. And You drag me away?! I did NOT ask for this. Do you hear me? I did Not. Ask. For this! My oath will send me to the Void! Is that not terrifying enough? Maglor wiped tears of frustration from his eyes. At least I would know what was happening! That is justice. Not this. NOT THIS!”

 

“Maglor! Stop this.” The Elf had not seen anyone approach, but firm hands suddenly gripped his shoulders, gently shaking him. Startled into silence, he looked up into concerned eyes. Eyes that didn’t sparkle, or shine, but burned, as though with a deep flame.  

 

Panic washed the anger from him in a near-crippling wave. “No, no, please. I’m sorry. Let me go home. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please. No.” He struggled to pull away, hiding his face, but the hands gripping him, though gentle, were unyielding. They held him until the urge to flight subsided. As the initial panic ebbed, Maglor remembered his earlier resolve. This was unseemly, and embarassing. The Elf forced himself to breathe deeply.  When his pulse had quieted just a little, he dared to meet the All-Father’s gaze again, this time without flinching, and made the best response he could. “I am very, very sorry, my Lord.” 

 

Illuvatar relaxed his grip on the Elf’s shoulders, but did not release him. “Maglor, I did not bring you here to be alone, or to send you to eternal Darkness.  But you must talk to me. Explain to me this judgement you have already passed on yourself. Our conversation under the Bael tree was good, but there is much left to be said.”

 

 

 

***

 

Every creature’s judgement is their own, and of the hours he spent with Iluvatar on that hilltop, Maglor spoke hardly a word. However, it might be said that if the conversation was stern and solemn, there was some laughter as well, and if tears were shed, not all of them came from the Elf.

 

Hours later, with the moon long set and the sun just barely beginning to lighten the eastern sky, Maglor sat quietly next to the Eru Iluvatar, looking across the horizon. Odd as it felt to the Elf, there was no room left for formality between himself and the All-Father. They sat with shoulders touching, and Iluvatar quietly hummed a little to himself, in a distracted sort of way as they watched the stars gently set.

 

When Maglor finally dared to rest his head against Iluvatar’s shoulder, like a child with a parent, he could feel the vibration of it through their bodies.  Suddenly he chuckled.  

 

“I know that one!” It was a Sindarin lullaby, one he’d used on the twins from time to time to good effect. He easily chimed in with the words, playing a little with a counterpoint overtop of the melody, which Iluvatar held steady. It felt good, after so much time alone, to be singing with someone. With… Maglor gasped and pulled back suddenly, a look of terror on his face. 

 

Iluvatar laughed. “I won’t let you unravel the fabric of creation just yet, Love. Although some creative input would certainly be welcome.” When Maglor simply gaped at Him, he continued.  “It is a work in progress, of course.” He gestured towards the horizon. “Arda unmarred.  I’ve no desire for it to be my own work alone. Some of my Atani, those who have been closest to me, are already putting their love into the work.”

 

“That’s where we are then?” 

 

“Indeed. It will be difficult for you, to be sundered from your kin. It is….not what I would have wished for you, under other circumstances. But you certainly need not be alone here.”

 

Maglor shrugged. “I’ve lived among mortals long enough already. Perhaps I could return to the Eastern tribes for a little while - do any of them wander here? They are the closest I’ve had to family in an Age.

 

“They do.  In fact Ravi will be along herself soon enough, as an Elf measures time, and others that you know as well. But I had thought, at least in the beginning, that it would be best if you stayed with you son.

 

“My…” Maglor’s breath caught in his throat. “Elros is here?!

 

“Well, I certainly don’t keep him in my back pocket.” Illuvatar laughed as joy spread across Maglor’s face. “I haven’t told him that you’re coming.  We’ll give him a nice surprise at breakfast.” 

 

The Elf jumped up and looked about to run down the hillside. 

 

Illuvatar laughed again and pulled Maglor gently back down with a hand on his arm.  “Not far, Love, but sit a moment yet. We will see the sun rise.”

 

 

 

 

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Chapter End Notes

“To die is different from what anyone supposed, and luckier”

-Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass