Happiness Found by anriondrakonion

Happiness Found

Things are better now, Maglor thinks. 

Daeron sits barely an arms length opposite him, rested against a tree with an elegant silver pipe at his lips. He, at least, had managed to keep hold of his instrument. 

He can't remember when he lost his harp. 

It is hard to sing. 

But things are better, though that is not hard. 

He has Daeron to hold him when the nights grow too dark, Daeron to shelter him and Daeron to shelter. It softens life. 

Theirs is not a love to shatter continents. 

Theirs is a quieter love, gentle touches and quiet embraces, soft moments of domesticity snatched and hoarded. 

Theirs is a love simply for its own sake, and though it does defy elders, and tradition, and many things besides, there is no one left to keep them apart. 

They would not need each other so much if there were. 

But Daeron, Daeron who sometimes laughs now, Daeron who flittingly flutes a darting melody at the trees, Daeron who is the sharp sunlight made soft as it filters through leaves, the gentle glow of moss in the light of Anor, and all that is green and growing and beautiful, Daeron makes him happy. 

Slowly, very slowly, muscles shift as his face tries out a path long forsaken. He didn't think that he would ever want to do this again, but-

Maglor smiles. 

And Daeron, Daeron simply lowers his pipe, joy flitting in those green-brown-blue-amber-grey eyes, and kisses him, before the corners of his mouth dartingly trace a similar route as the music continues, not a note skipped. 

And Maglor smiles again.