One Last Song by Harnatano - Lithenna

Chapter 1

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We have gone too far and fought too long. It can’t be… That can’t be our fate, right Nelyo?

Bare feet sinking into the sand, dust staining his dark blue robe and his face, eyes shut and his fist clenched about the burning jewel, Macalaurë was desperately trying to reach his brother’s mind.

Nelyo?
Nelyo, where are you?

Feeling a weak brush against his own mind, the second son of Fëanor tried to catch it, to hold onto it, but the other one was already slipping away. 

Maedhros had been gone for three days, he had ran away soon after they had finally fulfilled the Oath (if one could say it was fulfilled) and taken the jewels from the Maia. He had left without a word, leaving his brother alone and in pain, with a curse and a torturing jewel for only support. Desperatly Maglor had called him, again and again, vainly hoping that his endless prayers would make him come back.

But deep inside, he knew it was pointless.

Except the slight jolts of will Maitimo sent from time to time, Maglor had received no reply. He could still feel it, this once strong fëa which had endured Moringotto’s worst tortures, which had carried him and his brothers during all this age in the vain attempt to protect them and to fulfill something that could never be fulfilled. But now, Maitimo’s Fëa was only the ghost of what it used to be, nothing more than a frail silhouette lost in the shadows of his own torments.

Black dirty strands flowing over his face, flying in the wind which was violently blowing on this lonely beach, Macalaurë abandonned his dignity, his pride and called out for his brother. He cried his name aloud, he screamed it to the sky and to the sea with the foolish hope that the wind would carry his voice to Maitimo.

“We can face it Nelyo, together we can do it!”

But the wind wasn’t carrying his voice, it was swallowing it, sending it to the void where no one would ever hear him, no one but the ghosts if his past.

Despair was upon them, the doom was swallowing them, Macalaurë knew it, but hadn’t expected what followed.

First, it felt like a crack.
A last caress against his mind.
A sudden tearing.
And then nothing.

Nelyo…?

Panic filling him, Maglor searched in vain the presence of his brother’s thoughts.

Nelyo? Nelyo!

Was he thinking? Whas he speaking aloud? At this point Macalaurë didn’t know, he didn’t care. The usual support of Maedhros’ mind, this constant soft touch beside his thoughts, wasn’t here anymore.

Of course he understood. Maglor instantly understood what had happened.

But it couldn’t be. He couldn’t let it be. 
And he cried and he fought against his thoughts, chasing away the aching truth, unable to accept it, to let it become his reality.

For how long did he fight, scream, struggle against the shadows that were now filling his mind? 

When he fell on his knees, exhausted and voiceless, blind and deaf, Macalaurë felt his own mind slip away. Blackened fingers clasped about the sparkling, incandescent light, he allowed the painful tears to roll along his cheeks, washing away the dirt while shame and pain remained, anchored on his face, in his soul.

Silent sobs falling from his lips, uncounsciously following the slow ryhthm of the waves, he gazed upon the horizon, blurred with his tears. The sun was going down, its light turning red, giving the waves the colors of the blood spread in Alqualondë, in Doriath and in the Havens. The blood of his kin, the blood of his brothers.  

The sight was unbrearable, it was a macabre display of his sins, and slowly, Maglor let his eyes fall on the burnt, melted flesh of his hands. Father… why?

Again, he called for his older brother, silently, the threat of his own fall hanging upon him and threatening to swallow him as well.

The sun was now leaving, and for a second Maglor wondered if he would ever see it again. the mad, desperate thought of a soul that could hope no more. 

Black clouds gathering above the ocean, the wind blowing harder than ever, wiping the tears off his face, the Noldo stood up, hesitantly.

Nelyo…
You left me.

Anger and pain and frustration overwhelming him, Maglor held the jewel, clinging to the oath, to his family, craddling it against his chest, against his heart. His voice resounded one last time in a lament of agony, a painful, hoarse voice which wasn’t totally his anymore.

Let them hear me one last time.
Let them see the light one last time.
And then,
Let me forget.

And he sang, he sang for the last time, pain and terror and madness turning the notes into a harrowing cry.

“May the light fall upon me again
May the fierce souls of my kin chase the shadows away
For we shall fight 
For freedom
For peace
For our blood.

Brothers, wake up,
And stand proudly on the edge of the world
Watch it burn
Watch it dance 
Hear it cry
Hear it sing.

May our souls find peace
May our love survive
Our faith.
For I will show no weakness.
Until the end of the world
I will carry the mark of our Oath.

And then, I will cry no more.

Come with me, brothers
And let us drink to salvation
Come with me brothers,
And fight and sing and feast.

We shall walk together again.”