The Book of Short Tales by Lyra

B2MeM '12 - I22 - The Sorrows of Young Daeron

Written for the "Maglor in History" prompt, Sturm und Drang.

Daeron is not happy with Maglor's response to the latest literary fad. Warning: Potential spoilers for Goethe's The Sorrows of Young Werther. Hey, fair is fair.

With a deep sigh, Maglor shut the book. "Very well. That's done."
"And? What do you think?" said Daeron, leaning forward with eager excitement in his eyes.
Maglor looked at his friend's face and said, almost apologetically, "I'm afraid I didn't enjoy it as much as you did."
"Nobody can enjoy this book as much as I did," Daeron said emphatically. "It speaks to my very soul. But you liked it?"
Maglor grimaced. "I'm afraid I find it a little overrated."
The excitement bled out of Daeron's eyes, making way for indignation. "Overrated? Overrated? How can you say that? It is the most beautiful thing I ever read! Surely you appreciate the power of the language – the passion! The poetry! This Goethe fellow is a genius! How can you join the ranks of the haters?"
Maglor stood up from the couch. "My dear Daeron, I did not say I hated it. I merely said I find it overrated – by haters and lovers alike, to be honest. You are right: The language is beautiful. The descriptions of nature in particular are indeed poetic and wonderfully vivid. Unfortunately, they are drowned in pages over pages of lovesick rambling. And the end – well, I just cannot sympathise with a man who kills himself over unrequited love. Even you didn't go quite so far."
"Yes, it's so much better to get yourself killed over a couple of jewels," Daeron snapped, and got up likewise. He snatched his coat and hat from the hatstand by the door, and was out of the door before Maglor could say another word. The door slammed shut behind him. Angry footsteps echoed on the stairwell.
Maglor looked down at the slender volume. "Passion and poetry," he said. "I'll give you that. " He set a pot of water on the stove to prepare coffee. Daeron would have walked off his rage in an hour at the latest. Passion or no, Lotte was after all no Lúthien.