I love the way you incorporate sounds in the visual descriptors in the first paragraph particularly.

"Daeron remained still as if turned to stone, his bloodless fingers clutching his flute," was another particularly powerful imagery, (I have no specific idea of Daeron's looks, but the white-knuckled grip on the wooden flute was beautifully poignant)

I enjoyed the last line very much, the echoed grief caught in music never replayed, a lost masterpiece or perhaps just a small harmony - no one shall know save Daeron and the drowned lands of Doriath...