Renewing The Song by Naltariel

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Comfort

The words said in thoughts are in italics.

 

Chapter 7: Comfort

 

 

Pain. Loneliness. Guilt.

 

Maglor could find no respite, no hope from his inner turmoil. He wished to end it all, to die, but death would not bring relief. His demons would always haunt him wherever he went. He knew that his lament would never pass the barrier the Valar had set, but did not care. Songs were his only faithful companions. Singing was the only way to keep him sane, to help him endure the pain when it started to overwhelm him, such as in the moment when he would loose another friend and the last piece of his hope. Sing he must, or else he would loose the last piece of himself. And thus the sea wind winged his lament to the air:

 

I have cried to the wind

and heard the wind's reply:

"I did not choose the way,

the way chose me."

I have felt the fire on my hands

till they are swollen black

with a prophetic joy:

"Burn with me!

The only music is time,

the only dance is love."

If the heart were pure enough,

but it is not pure,

I would admit

that nothing compels me

any more, nothing

at all abides,

but nostalgia and desire,

the two-way ladder

between darkness and light.

On the threshold

of the last mystery,

at the brute absolute hour,

I have looked into the eyes

of my creature self,

which are glazed with madness,

and I say

he is not broken but endures,

limber and firm

in the state of his shining,

forever inheriting his salt kingdom,

from which he is banished

forever.

 

Daeron listened to the song, feeling his heart broken by its sadness and beauty. He wished fervently that he could ease Maglor’s pain, promising him a brighter future. Sadly, he could not. Never did he resent a sense of helplessness so much. He did not know what else to do, so he whispered nonsensical words to Maglor in a futile attempt to ease his pain. Hush, everything will be all right. Everything will be all right.

 

It will not, replied Maglor. Nothing will be all right, and you know it.

 

It will be! Do you really believe all hope has gone? He gripped Maglor’s shoulder more tightly.

 

Yes.

 

A tear escaped Daeron’s eye.  Maglor’s hopelessness was even more difficult to bear than his loneliness and remorse. Elves could die from grief. When they thought they had naught to live for, they would grow weary and discard their flesh, like Miriel. Most Eldar survived, however, because they had hope. When they lost their loved one, they would take comfort that one day, their beloved would be reembodied and they would eventually reunite. Of course, the Eldar who loved mortals did not have such comfort. Neither did someone who was grieving for his eternal expulsion such as Maglor. The Son of Feanor believed that he could never return to Aman again, whether he died or lived. Perhaps he would be united again with his brothers and father if he chose to die and go to Mandos’ Hall.

 

Daeron did not want him to die. He refused to believe all doors had been closed for the once-kinslayer. He knew he was denying reality, just like when he refused to believe Luthíen did not love him, but now he did not care. What kind of world was this, where redemption was forever out of reach, even when one sincerely strived for it? There must be a way. Maglor had certainly given up, but he had not, he would not. He would not give up and run away in shame like he used to do, which would end up in eternal remorse.

 

We will sail to West together.

 

Maglor freed himself from Daeron’s embrace ere he looked him in the eye, surprised by the words he had just heard. We? Together?

 

Yes, why not? After all, you are the one who built the ship. Without your help, I wouldn’t be able to do it.

 

But…

 

We will sail away together. Should we perish together, so be it, Daeron said determinedly. His voice clearly showed he would accept no further argument. This was the only thing he could do to help Maglor. He did not care if the Valar would not allow them to find the Straight Road, or even drown their humble ship just because Maglor was with him. No one awaited him in the Blessed Land anyway. He had never done something which was purely altruistic, and this was his only chance to help someone in need. He would not fail Maglor.

 

Thank you, answered the Noldo. He did not know what to say. Daeron really surprised him. How could someone who used to despise him so much would end up helping him? Did the Sinda pity him? Nay, Maglor would not accept pity. It is better to be tortured and mocked than being pitied.

 

I do not pity you, Daeron said. Maglor had forgotten that their minds were still connected. Though Daeron could read Maglor’s unprotected mind as easy as an open book, Maglor could not do the same with him.

 

Then why?

 

A long silent followed the question. Daeron could not answer, because his motivation was inexplicable, even to him. Perhaps, it was true that he only pitied Maglor. After all, what’s the difference between compassion and pity?

 

But he was certain of one thing. Gently, he embraced Maglor again and kissed his forehead. I  love you.

 

 

 

*************

 

 

 

 “Why?” Maglor asked, surprised. Had Daeron said that he wanted to kill Maglor, he would certainly understand. But loving him? This kinslayer? Had he misheard the word? Had Daeron lost his mind during his lonesome pilgrimage?

 

The Sinda minstrel did not answer.  Instead, he kept lavishing Maglor’s face with chaste kisses: his forehead, his nose, his cheeks, his lips.

 

“Why, Daeron? Why love a kinslayer like me?” He could barely recognize his voice which was unusually reedy, almost like a squeak of a gull. He did not really expect an answer, for fear his heart would be torn apart once again. He was not sure if he could endure another pain. He chided himself for being so vulnerable, but he could not help it. How long had he wished to love and to be loved, and now as the chance finally came to him, he could not reassure himself that he was worthy of it. Much less when it came from a person whose people he had slain thrice. 

                                                                                                           

“Does love need a reason?” Daeron tightened his embrace, but still maintained the gentleness. Maglor could break free from his touch if he were willing, for he would never force him. Of course, the Noldo Prince had no such intention at all. Why would he? What was left of his defense was completely destroyed by the unexpected gentleness from Daeron. Maglor was now content in basking in the comfort of Daeron’s embrace, feeling his thirsty soul satiated by the Sinda’s selfless love. His chest was comforting; the soft thud of his heart was reassuring.   

 

They stayed like that for a long time. No words were spoken and none were needed. Comfort. Love. Peace. Even slight joy. Such welcoming feelings were now surrounded them, drowning them, expelling the cold reality that was awaiting them once they awoke from their conscious dream. They did not know how long this joy would last. An hour or maybe two, and if they were lucky, a day. Perhaps this fragment of time would pass away like a tear dried by the wind. But the memory would last. As the pain of the past would forever remain, this fleeting moment too, would be remembered until the end of Arda.  

 

Ithil had risen and stars were visible again. A day was but a blink of the eye for Immortals who had spent their entire life waiting. The sound of waves grew louder as they came nearer and nearer to the place where the last of the Undying on the mortal shore embraced each other. There would be a time when the waves would force them to break apart. And not until then one could tell whether the intimacy they had just shared would grow or fade.   

 

*************

 

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter End Notes

The song Maglor sang is taken from the poem King of the River by Stanley Kunitz. I changed the word “you” into “I” and “your” into “my” so that it fits the singer more. Also the 5th line is supposed to be “you have tasted the fire on your tongue”. I changed this into “I have felt the fire on my hands”. I changed “between heaven and hell” into “between darkness and light”. I hope Mr. Kunitz will not be angry at me.

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