Indy's B2MeM Stories by Independence1776

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2014

A Change in the Wind: A slice-of-life of Maglor on market day in an Avarin community. Rated General. (Written for the prompt Under the High Sky by MirachRavaia.)

Many thanks to Elleth for both the Avarin names and the idea that Maglor has Avarin relatives on Mahtan’s side of the family. My thanks also to LadyLunas for looking this over.

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A Change in the Wind

The wind howled through the oak, beech, maple, and pine trees surrounding his cabin. Maglor looked up from his seat on his bed, leaning against the house’s wooden wall. He’d closed the shutters already, but even so, he wouldn’t be able to see much in the dark. Not that he would open them in this wind and certainly not with the rain pattering on the roof. His cabin contained everything he owned and he didn’t want to ruin it. And Varnë didn’t appreciate being wet any more than Maglor appreciated the smell of wet dog.

The wind howled again, shaking the shutters and whistling around the corners, and Varnë lifted her head from where she curled up on the rag rug in front of the fireplace, a large brown splotch against the multicolored rug. Maglor dropped his notebook on his bed and went to sit next to her. She nudged his right hand with her nose and he obediently began petting her.

She curled back up, shifting a little so she leaned against him, and went back to sleep. Maglor stayed there, repetitively running a hand down her side, listening to the rain and the wind whistling through the trees, creaking their limbs. He hoped none fell on his house. That would be an unmitigated disaster and-- if he survived the collapse-- he’d have to move into town until the cabin was either repaired or rebuilt.

Despite the Kinn-lai’s acceptance of him in spite of everything he’d done, he had little desire to live among other Elves. He satisfied both his relatives’ desire to have him nearby and his desire for solitude by living in the forest near the border of the tribe’s lands, closer to the nearest border town than the town where his second cousin and his wife lived. It was something he appreciated for both the variety of mortal and Elvish goods and the ability to leave if he wished-- or had to. (Among other things, it allowed for a greater trade in reading material.)

He only owned a handful of books now-- one of poetry that he’d trade at the market in the morning, one of fiction, one of local myths (including those of the mortals), and the rest were poetry he’d bought before he’d arrived in the area fifteen years ago.

That had been an eye-opener. When he’d run into several Kinn-lai in the nearest mortal town, he’d expected to be run out of said town when they spotted him. Instead, they’d invited him to visit. During the welcoming feast, Asmal, his second cousin on Mother’s side of the family, found him and his wife Lillinn persuaded him to stay despite everything.

When the fire died, Maglor nudged Varnë awake and let her outside to do her business. When she scurried inside, sopping wet with muddy paws, he dried her as best as he could with a rag and changed into his nightclothes. Varnë settled on his feet after he lay down on the bed, furs pulled up to his shoulders. Despite it being summer, the cabin was chilly. Due to the trees surrounding it, it never got direct sunlight save near noon-- and the clouds and rain didn’t help. The lack of glass in the windows let in the damp.

* * * * *

The morning dawned clear and Maglor let Varnë out to run. She wouldn’t go far. Maglor washed with a rag and pulled on some clothes. Tomorrow, he needed to do laundry. Today was market day.

It was a walk of about three hours to the border town, and he’d arrive shortly after midmorning if he left now. He ate the last of his cheese and bread and whistled for Varnë when he stepped out of the cabin.

She came charging through the brush and began prancing in front of him, a stick in her mouth. Maglor tugged it from her and tossed it. She took off running and Maglor started down the wet, two-mile-long path leading to the main road. Varnë caught up to him and he tossed the stick again. After a few more throws, she grew bored with the game and stayed near him for the rest of the trek, only occasionally running off into the underbrush.

Trek it was. There were several fallen oak and beech trees and large limbs they had to maneuver around, and he moved them when he could. He may be the only one living out here, but the path was wide enough for a wagon and it needed to remain so if the border was overrun. Maglor thought that unlikely; the ravine that marked it was deep and well-patrolled to the point that any mortal attackers would prefer to cross the wooden bridge at the border town.

When he stepped out of the forest onto the stone main road, Maglor took a moment to appreciate the view of the fields on the other side of the road appearing to stretch to the mountains and then tied a thin rope he took from his pack’s front pocket around Varnë’s neck. He didn’t want to risk her darting off at the wrong moment and getting hurt.

Despite the cool wind coming off the mountains, the walk in the sunshine was pleasant. As he grew closer to the town, more people joined him, many with packs or pushing handcarts. Several of the farmers recognized him and they waved at each other as their wagons rolled by. By the time he reached the town, the market was in full swing.

He made his first stop the bookseller and greeted Tarasin. She grinned at him. “Finished already? I’m going to run out of books for you to read sooner or later.”

Maglor laughed and traded his book for another poetry book. “Any news?”

She shook her head and tilted it slightly toward a group of mortals standing nearby. “There’s talk of tighter border control, and that doesn’t surprise me. The new king’s less than thrilled with some of our queen’s rulings.” She shrugged. “I don’t think much will come of it. We’re too valuable a trade partner.”

He thanked Tarasin and left the stall. He wandered the market, listening to the gossip. Most of it was of little concern, generally about the storm and the border, and he’d heard over and over again that the Rider had taken no one. That was a superstition he’d been sick to his stomach to hear, and despite knowing that Morgoth was imprisoned in the Void, it still sent a shiver of fear down his spine. He didn’t trust that the Valar had found every servant of Morgoth’s. They hadn’t before. And one of Morgoth’s servants would well know and continue the history of fear of dark riders in the night snatching away the vulnerable.

He finally grew tired of the gossip, finished his errands, and bought lunch to eat on the long walk home. About halfway there, Maglor sat down on his pack in the grass on the right side of the road, next to a stray patch of wheat and daisies, positioning himself so he could see the mountains rising in the distance over the fields, and gave Varnë a link of cooked sausage, saving the second for himself. Just when Maglor finished his lunch, the sound of bells jingling and hooves clopping on the road caught his attention. He looked up, waved, and Asmal’s horse cart drew to a halt.

His auburn hair shone in the sun and his grin lit up his face. “Afternoon, Maglor! The guards told me you’d visited the market today. Kept me from worrying you’d disappeared in the storm.”

“I didn’t know you were dropping off supplies for your daughter. I would have stayed longer.” He shrugged. “Mind giving me and Varnë a ride home?”

Asmal said, “Not at all. Hop in.”

Maglor gestured for Varnë to jump into the back of the empty cart and sat down next to Asmal on the seat, his pack at his feet so Varnë wouldn’t get into it. “Anything new in town?”

Asmal shook his head with an exasperated look. “Council politics. One of the guild leader’s complaining about too many of his people being called up and sent to the border.” He shrugged. “Nothing wrong with that, I see. He’s lost three people; the carpenters have lost four.”

Maglor looked at him, more than a bit unnerved. If the reserves had begun mustering… But he hadn’t been told to either evacuate or arm himself yet. “I think it’s for a show of force.”

Asmal gave him an odd look and eventually said, “Lill’s birthday is next week, and she said she’d have your hair if you don’t show up.”

Maglor winced. “I’ll be there.” His hair had barely reached his shoulders since the last time he’d insulted someone badly enough for him to demand Maglor cut it. And that apart from the fact that it was Lill who convinced him to stay fifteen years ago, found him a place to build his cabin near the border to give him the privacy he desired, and then given him a pup from the litter she hadn’t planned on breeding three years ago.

“Good.” Neither one said anything for a little while, and then Asmal said with a sly grin, “Daissir will be there.”

Maglor groaned. “Will you leave us be? I’m not looking to court anyone; she’s not looking to court anyone. We’re just friends!”

Asmal chuckled. “But it is so easy to get a reaction out of you.”

Maglor wrinkled his nose. There had been… less than pleasant responses to such provocations-- some greater, some lesser-- in the past. The Oath being the result of one of them. “There are some subjects you should just leave alone.”

He shrugged. “Maybe. But a bit of gentle teasing never hurt anyone.”

Maglor rolled his eyes. “If everyone stopped bringing it up, it would be gentle. As it is, I am tired of it. So is she.”

“Are you two working on something?”

“A duet,” Maglor said and looked over the fields slowly rolling by, grains ripening in the summer sun. “If all goes well, we’ll be ready to perform at the turn of the season.”

“I look forward to hearing it.”

They spent the next few minutes in comfortable silence. Maglor paid little attention to the horse’s hooves clopping on the road, the birds singing, or the other myriad noises of the countryside and forest. He’d struck up an unexpectedly fast friendship with Daissir, but they’d also known from the first that neither of them wanted a romance. Daissir simply wasn’t interested and Maglor… His betrothed had fallen in Alqualondë with a bloody sword in her hand and a Telerin arrow through her throat. While he knew that the likelihood of ever seeing her again was slim, he still loved her.

“You can stop here,” Maglor said when they reached the path. “There’s a lot of limbs down and I need time to clear them before you’ll be able to make it down there.”

“All right. I’ll pick you up in six days.”

Maglor smiled and got out of the cart. Varnë jumped out and stood in the middle of the path, her tail wagging gently. Asmal handed Maglor his pack and Maglor slung it on his back. “Tell Lill I said hello.”

“I will,” Asmal said, flicking the reins. Maglor waited until the road was clear and crossed it. Varnë barked, went into a play bow, and dashed into the woods. She returned carrying a stick in her mouth and generally made a nuisance of herself the rest of the way home.

After he’d opened the shutters so he would have light, he put away his supplies and then dragged his outdoor chair back outside. He went back in, shooed Varnë out, grabbed his new book, and came outside to read, firmly shutting the door behind him. He settled in his chair and Varnë lay down at his feet, panting happily.