Swan Song by Ithilwen

Thunderstruck

Swan Song

"And so it is told of Maglor that he could not endure the pain with which the Silmaril tormented him; and he cast it at last into the Sea, and thereafter he wandered ever… he never came back among the people of the Elves." (The Silmarillion)

"Not all those who wander are lost" (The Lord of the Rings)

Chapter 1 – Thunderstruck

Maglor only knew he was in real trouble when he saw the straps on the table.

True, over the passage of time the mortal world had become increasingly difficult for him to comprehend. Was there no end to the rate at which Men could embrace change? The accelerating tempo had long since surpassed his own limits of tolerance, and he'd retreated more and more to the fringes of their world – fringes that had become ever more difficult to find, as human numbers relentlessly expanded and crowded out the wild places of the land. Despite his best efforts at avoidance, he was increasingly forced to deal with mortals on their terms rather than his, and not surprisingly he'd made his share of mistakes in the process. This had not been the first time he'd been locked up; it was never a pleasant experience to endure, but he'd learned that provided he was quiet and patient, they always released him eventually. He'd learn from the experience and try to avoid whatever mistake had led to his imprisonment (hard to do, as what constituted such a mistake seemed to change as quickly and arbitrarily as everything else in the mortal realm). But that at least had seemed to be one rule which remained a constant over the long, long years of his exile: be quiet, cause no trouble, and the mortals will eventually relent and let you go.

Apparently that rule had now changed as well.

He fought, but he was outnumbered, and he no longer wielded the strength which once allowed him to contest with Balrogs. Fading had its disadvantages. It was not long before he was pinned down and helpless. "Please let me go!" he shouted, but to no avail; judging from the looks on the mortals' faces, they hadn't even understood his plea. Had he used the wrong language? He opened his mouth to try again. A tactical mistake; before he could say another word one of the mortals shoved a firm piece of rubber between his teeth and held it there so he could not spit it out. Cold metal was suddenly pressed tight against the sides of his head.

Then the lightning struck, and he knew no more.

*******

"Is this the last patient of the day?"

"Yes."

"Good. It took long enough to get him ready; we're way behind schedule. If there was another case to do after this one, I might not make it home in time tonight. My wife's upset with the hours I work already; being late for our anniversary dinner just might prove the unforgivable sin in her book." The psychiatrist down at his patient; the frantic jerking of the limbs was finally starting to subside. Time to go to work.

He pulled the unconscious young man's right eyelid up, noting in passing what an unusually handsome individual this particular patient was. The tragedy of mental illness, the psychiatrist thought sadly as he quickly positioned the leucotome. So often it's the most promising who are struck down. But thanks to modern science, for the first time we have actual hope to offer. Two quick taps, and he'll have a bright new future ahead of him.

He reached for his mallet. Swinging the small hammer firmly, the psychiatrist drove the leucotome home.

Chapter End Notes

This scene is probably taking place sometime between 1945 and 1955, which was the heyday of transorbital lobotomy. The description of the procedure is medically accurate. ECT was often used rather than general anesthesia to render the patient unconscious because it was cheaper, easier to administer, and safer than general anesthesia.