Memories anew by firstamazon
Fanwork Notes
Written for the SWG Postcards from Middle-earth challenge, based on this image. The prompt I got from the postcard was: "the water so loud we could not hear the"
Also written for the instadrabbling session on the SWG Discord server with the prompts: together, wood, rustling, water.
- Fanwork Information
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Summary:
After the third kinslaying, Maglor realizes he has new priorities.
Major Characters: Maedhros, Maglor
Major Relationships:
Artwork Type: No artwork type listed
Genre: General
Challenges: Postcards from Middle-earth
Rating: General
Warnings: Creator Chooses Not to Warn
This fanwork belongs to the series
Chapters: 1 Word Count: 265 Posted on 30 December 2020 Updated on 30 December 2020 This fanwork is complete.
Memories anew
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Maglor and Maedhros huddled closer together around the fire to chase off the bitter bite of winter. The twins laid closer to the pile of woods they had gathered that afternoon, their little bodies the same size of the bigger logs. Maglor frowned, doubting – not for the tenth time – the logic of what they’d done. Would they really attempt human trafficking now? The children for a Silmaril? He exhaled loudly, hot breath misting before his eyes. That was not even a choice.
From a pocket inside his worn cloak, he retrieved a journal – scattered pieces of paper barely glued together – and a tiny piece of charcoal that he could barely hold between his fingers. With nothing but the rustling of the trees and the gurgling of the river, loud even from the cliff they stood, Maglor felt it was the right time to finish what he had begun.
Sirion, it read. The ocean waves crashed against the rocks, the water so loud we could not hear the
Maedhros head suddenly snapped up, and Maglor tensed. His brother rose, unsheathing his sword soundlessly, and glared darkly at the woods behind them. A terrible place for an ambush, with nothing to protect them aside from the roaring water beneath. An arrow swooshed past Maglor’s cheek and stuck at the pile of wood, so close to one of the boy’s head that his heart stopped. He rose and snarled as he too drew his sword. Journal and charcoal fell from his lap, utterly forgotten.
There were things more precious now to protect than his memories.
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