Regret by vaoni

Chapter 1

His Obsession

Summary: Maglor stills wanders upon the shores, searching for his lost obsession. His feet, once again, bring him to the cliff that he cast the Silmaril's off from.

AN: Enjoy this small fic and please review....

Read Chapter 1

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"And 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 upon the shores, singing in pain and regret beside the waves." - The Silmarillion, J.R.R Tolkien.

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Maglor felt the cool liquid splash against his uncovered feet, the sand soft under his weary but restless feet. The wind swept the ends of his robe above his ankles, flowing behind him as he continued to walk towards his endless obsession. A hood covered his head, protecting his face from the years of harsh wind and sand. His hair, unrestrained, flowed over one shoulder.

Before him, the sand stretched as far as his eyes could see, a hill loomed in the distance and the gulls cried as always, piercing his ears with their mournful cries and hurting his heart with their unceasing longing.

The rising sun cast her delicate rays across the water, making it shimmer and reminding him painfully of his greatest regret and obsession. Airen, undisturbed by the changes of the world sailed ever yet, warming the world with her comfort and watchful gaze.

As he walked towards the approaching hill, Maglor looked upon its height and sighed. Centuries ago, he had stood upon that sharp height and thrown the last of the Silmarils into the ocean to be forever lost. Not even Ulmo, with all of his command could retrieve the precious jewel. He had wandered ever since then across the world and its shores in the hope of finding that which he regretfully threw into the deeps. Always his feet led him down this same beach and to the same hill to mournfully watch the water and sing his sorrows.

As Arien approached the mid sky, he felt the sand change to rock under his feet and he started the slow walk to the crest of the hill. Strange to his ears, the sound of laughter filled them and he paused for a moment in thought. However, his body, eager to look upon that same sight again, led him ever towards the top.

Rounding the crest of the hill he looked down upon the land upon the other side and was shocked and dismayed at what entered his sight. Men, hundreds of them, a whole village of them, had settled beneath his beloved hill that caused him so much anguish. Tables of wood were among the trees of the hill and the mortals and their families were upon the beach, lying in naught but their skin as they frolicked among the clear waters.

However, what tore at him in the most profound manner was that the very patch of land that he once stood, to cast off in a fit of remorse and anguish the very obsession of his father and his brothers, were families of mortals. Laughter was upon their faces as they held up instruments to the horizon that emitted a sharp light. Their language was strange and modified from the small amount of westron that he knew. Unlike the garbs he was used to seeing them wear, they were dressed in odd clothes of colours he had not seen before in clothing and decorated with many items that he had not beheld before.

With them was a young boy that he had not noticed until now that was staring at him in an unceasingly and unbroken manner. He knew that the mortal could not see his face, for it was covered by the shadows of his cloak. However, the child still looked at him, one fist curled in the leggings of a woman and the other holding an item filled with liquid close.

The boy tugged at the loose leggings of the woman and she turned to him and rubbed his head in an affectionate gesture. Noticing that he was not responding to her, she looked in the direction that he was and her eyes widened as he beheld Maglor. From the woman's perspective, the man looked like something from myth. His skin, from what she could she of his feet, was alabaster white, his body, outlined by his robe, which was swept behind him from the winds showed a slender and lean body. Within his hands that were tainted black, the stranger gripped a luminescent harp; it's strings glowing as if made from strands of silver and its frame carved from a tree of diamonds. Across his chest, dark, thick and long hair flowed with the wind, framing a face hidden from her by a deep hood.

Maglor could see that she was bewildered by his appearance but he payed her stares no mind. The call of the sea grew strong within him and suddenly his feet moved towards the edge of the cliff. His finger flowed of the harps strings, not strumming them but feeling their familiarity beneath his musician's fingers.

Coming beside the family, he could feel their stares on him as he stood at the edge of the cliff. His sighed as he viewed the unbroken horizon, glittering underneath Arien's rays and commanded by Ulmo's directions. The shadows of his hood obstructed his view and he gently pushed it from his face. His hair, now unburdened by the hood, flowed behind him. He closed his eyes for a moment and listened.

Feeling inspiration draw nigh, he let his fingers drift over the harp in a tune of great sorrow and regret. He let his mind cast back into the days of old as he sang, the days of happiness, of sorrow, of torment, of obligation, of terror and of defeat. He felt his soul cry anew for the lost jewels that he sought, the ones that had bred hatred and anger in his heart. He sang for his father, the man that he had sworn an oath to in order to gain his respect. He sang for his life that he forfeited upon the lands of old were he had slain his own and done so for the love of his father.

The cool wind caressed his face as he finished and he felt the pain of his hands anew as they groaned from long ago wounds. His eyes swept the great length of the ocean and he pierced their depths with his long eyes in order to find his most treasured desire.

A tug as his robe made him turn his head and he saw the child from before staring up at him, "You look sad."

Casting his eyes back to the ocean he sighed once more as he responded, "Tis through only my own doings that I am."

The woman, now having recovered from her shock at his singing, pulled the boy from him and pushed him down with her from the cliff edge.

Turning from the vast and open seas, he pulled up his cloak and began to walk back down the hill. For now, he had eased the pain of his heart and he had seen that though he walked in shadows, men still prospered.

Feeling the sand within his feet once more, Maglor searched ever more for his treasure, his harp still clutched in his hands.

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Chapter End Notes

AN Hope you enjoyed that, I know it is not much but it's just a little something I have been thinking of for a while. I really love Maglor, I think he is an amazing character.

Please review!