Just Deserts by Lingwiloke

Chapter 1

Late crosspost for B2MeM 2017. Prompt and Path: “Lost & Found” - Green Path, Square Four.

This is a remix of idahlart’s wonderful comic “What now?” Which you can find here:

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Specifically, the second part of it (Maglor POV) was written as an answer to her question what we wanted to happen after part 2 of said comic. She kindly permitted me to turn it into an actual fic and post it :3 

Beta by Goldilocks, who deserves a medal for putting up with all my last-minute writing shortly before the deadline!

I had been so sure I would never see him again. That last message - I am sorry - and then the news: The sons of Fëanor --what was left of them, and it would have been almost funny if it wasn't so tragic - had invaded the camp, killed the soldiers guarding the Silmarils, and stolen the jewels. They had not only left us behind, they had betrayed us, had proved - once again, and you should have known better than to trust them in the first place - that they could not be trusted. That they were murderers, kinslayers four times over now. I had been certain I would never see them again - had been even more certain I never wished to see them again, ever. I had sworn to myself - no, promised, never swear an oath, never - that, should either of them ever turn up on my doorstep in days to come, I would turn them away without a second thought.

And yet...

And yet here I am, watching Maglor sip hot soup from a cup I have offered him, wrapped in a royal blanket from my personal stash of blankets-not-fit-for-a-king-but-I-will-keep-them-anyway-thankyouverymuch, and looking nothing like the proud and haughty elven lord the songs make him out to be. He does not even look like the world-weary yet still imposing Elda I remember from my childhood days, but rather like a common vagabond. He is far too thin, and positively filthy. His hair was so matted when we found him on the beach, half-starved and freezing, that we had to cut off most of it. He doesn't seem to care much either way, which is entirely unlike him.

I sit, and watch him, and wait for the anger to resurface, to feel the sting of betrayal again, the disappointment - but it doesn't come. In its place, there is mostly pity. And, I am surprised to discover, a nagging worry that the moment I turn my back on him, he will vanish into thin air. Whatever strange fate brought us both here on this windy autumn day (for he never intended or expected to meet me here, of that much I am certain), I find that, now that I have found him, I do not want to lose him again.

Only then, briefly, a flare of defiance within me - I am not a child anymore, I do not need him, I should - but it fades quickly. I am indeed no child anymore. I have made my peace with the past for the most part, if no thanks to him. I have found a home for myself; I am a husband, a father. I have a family.

And I find myself wishing to share that with this man who was a father to me for a time, and who loved me and whom I loved, despite everything.
So it is almost without thinking that I invite him to my home, to meet my family, my children - his grandchildren.

He is silent for a long while. When at last he speaks up, it is hesitantly, almost as if he fears to insult me. “Elros... I..."

***

“…I do not think that would be a good idea.” I avoid your gaze, staring into my cup.

“Why not?” You lean forward to put a hand on my shoulder. Your fingers are warm against my chilled flesh. “Maglor, no-one will recognize you here. The children will love to meet you!”

Seeing you again, at the beach, I could see the traces of mortality – the changes in your face, wrinkles in your skin, streaks of grey in your hair. I wonder now if I look as different to you – my lips chapped from the salty spray, my hair an unkempt mess even after you cut it, my face gaunt and worn. Still, I cannot help but smile. For the longer I look at you, the more obvious it is to me - you are still the same. Passionate, rash, fierce in love and anger, loving and lovable… and a fool.

A fool to think that the years have changed anything; that I am any less a kinslayer, a murderer, a traitor, doomed for all of eternity – have I not caused you pain enough, that you still think me deserving of your love?

I feel an irrational anger stir deep in my gut, a burning hatred directed not at you but at myself, and I straighten and raise my head, ready to tell you again just why you should stay away from me-

You smile at me, your eyes so full of hope. So glad to see me.

Have I not hurt you enough already…?

Your hand is warm on my shoulder.

Maybe, for once, this is not about the Oath. Not about my father, not even truly about me. Maybe it is not about what I deserve, but about what you deserve.

We took your family from you – twice, I realize in sudden understanding – maybe, maybe it is time that I gave something back.

You must have sensed my hesitation – you take my arm, make to help me to my feet. There is that look again, that smile of old when you knew you had convinced me to play just one more song.

A Grandfather, huh?

Sit by the fire, spoil the brats with sweets, sing just one more song?

I think I can do that.