Maglor in the 1848 French Revolution by Aprilertuile

1847, in January, Maglor decided to give up living alone and join civilization again. He had lived in isolation for long enough this time around and felt the need for conversation again, for mingling and company and… the inevitable heartbreak that follows.

Because the situation would lead to heartbreak. Either he’d need to leave the people he would grow to know and love, or they’d die on him. Time and time again, it happened. Always it led him to swear “never again”, and always he came back. He was a social creature after all.

Maglor entered Paris more or less by accident after a couple of weeks of travel.

Well, accident wasn’t quite the right word.

He didn’t plan it, but it was surprisingly hard to find a steady job in the small cities he usually visited.

Also, everywhere had protests of some sort going on. Maglor didn’t want to be singled out as a foreign person intruding where he wasn’t welcome.

Paris tempted him; in such a large city he would find it easier to find a job, and to stay anonymous. Large cities were usually the best places to stay an unknown figure, forever in shadow and never remembered.

Maglor always found himself surprised when he entered a human city. Humans had an interesting dynamic with the world surrounding them, and Paris was no exception:

It was… An impressive city.

Impressive, but disturbing.

You could walk through narrow streets with poor people of little education; easy victims of illnesses, famines, and abuse from higher ranking people…

Only to cross a corner street to find yourself walking next to impressive buildings owned by rich people, who enjoyed all the advantages money could offer.

It was a study in contrasts.

Poor and rich.

Ill and healthy.

Harassed and powerful.

At the mercy of criminals and walking around fearlessly.

Children working desperately for the chance to get a bit of bread, and children who had never known a moment of work or privation in their lives.

And as usual, as if to prove that money and power meant nothing in the end, the most generous people Maglor found were not among the rich.

For yes, not even a day in Paris and he had managed to find a job at a tavern. He’d tend tables and play music for the patrons of the tavern in exchange for food, and a place to sleep in the kitchen.

The owner of the place had pitied him, clearly.

She was a plump woman with a tired face, wearing dark dresses of simple design. She looked tired, and yet when she found him, he was in the process of deciding whether or not to risk sleeping in the street that night and whether or not to go play his music in a richer part of the city to earn something to eat… And she had taken a look at him, and put a piece of bread in his hand.

The bread was clearly a bit stale, and yet it tasted better than the banquets of his youth did.  Admittedly that was the first meal he had in… Far too long probably.

“You wouldn’t happen to be looking for help in your establishment?” Maglor had asked, just in case.

“I can’t pay you lad. Can’t pay anyone these days.”

“I’d take work against food and shelter.”

That had the woman take a good look at him.

“Only shelter I can promise is a mattress of sort in the kitchen. Rooms are all taken for me and the paying guests,” she grumbled.

“I don’t mind.”

“I suppose the kitchen is a damn sight better than the streets, isn’t it?”

“Indeed.”

She snorted at that. She could only offer terrible work with impossible hours, and a place to fall asleep in exhaustion in the evening. Only promise she could make, he wouldn’t be in the cold in the streets.

“That sounds good, right about now.”

“Alright, you’re hired then. Start by cleaning those tables here.”

Maglor chuckled but caught the rag she threw at him and went to work. He wondered briefly if it was actually cleaning or just pushing the same grease and alcohol around, but decided it wasn’t really his problem.

Seeing him working diligently, the woman went back to the kitchen to cook. Maglor found it curious that she was alone to do everything. Women in these time tended to be heavily dependent on their parents and husbands, for some reason.

By the end of the evening, an evening filled with grumbling patrons, drunken arguments, and cleaning, the woman led Maglor toward the kitchen.

“What’s your name, Mr Mystery Worker?”

“Ah… Max. You can call me Max.” Maglor answered, caught by surprise.

“Short for something?”

“Of course.”

“Are you on the run from something?” She asked with suspicion

“Sort of.”

From a few millennia of lives ago, from memories, from murders, and the loss of his family, and of all the people he had come to know and love over time.

“Did you do something illegal?”

“Hm… No I haven’t.”

In recent memory, that was.

“My name is Ismérie. You’re welcome to work here. I want no fighting, and no problems. When you want to leave, leave, but tell me before you go.”

Maglor nodded.

“On Thursdays there will be students coming in. Don’t let them order anything expensive, they can’t pay for it.”

“Noted.”

“And if you see a soldier coming, come and tell me.”

Maglor raised an eyebrow and wondered briefly if he shouldn’t be the one asking if she was doing something illegal.

He nevertheless agreed, and she left him in the kitchen with a bare mattress on the floor in a corner.

Maglor sat down on it heavily, wondering for a moment what he got himself into. But he knew himself well enough to know he had always liked seeing and listening to so many people, and so many stories. He will probably enjoy his time working in this tavern.

Maglor worked for Ismérie for several days.  He liked her, and he liked working with her. She had a tired sort of humour that came through hard experience, and he saw enough to be able to tell she took no crap from anyone, drunk violent idiots included.

Good for her.

The first Thursday he worked in the tavern, he did indeed see a group of students come in, all looking more or less like they could afford to buy a drink, except for one who just seemed to sit with his friends, talking about lessons and classes and teachers…

That student, a rather cute young man with dark messy hair, and curious brown eyes was also the last one left in the tavern when the rest had gone.

“Louis, you know the rule. Either you can pay or you leave,” Ismérie said sharply.

“I… Can’t I work? Do something? I’ll… I’ll clean the room in exchange for leftover bread or. Or even whatever you’re going to throw out. Please?!”

Considering that whatever thrown out wasn’t fit for human consumption, Maglor could see the kid was desperate. Well kid… He was an 18 or so year-old human.

Was he still a kid in this day and age?

Maglor shook himself, it was not the time to wonder about that. He went to the kitchen briefly and came back to put in front of the young man a left-over plate he would have prepared for himself in a few more minutes: just simple bread tossed in a plate, with the uneaten rest of food prepared for the patrons. This day it was gruel, with some beans thrown in, and some of the leftover meat from the day before.

It was a poor meal compared to what Maglor had once known, but a feast compared to some other, more recent days.

“Here.”

“That’s your meal, Max. I’m not going to give you anything else.” Ismérie warned him.

Maglor shrugged. He didn’t need much food compared to a human anyway. He was sort of used to it, and the student looked like he was getting desperate.

And sure if Maedhros was there he’d tell him not to adopt strays like this but it didn’t count as adoption if he just fed them and didn’t take them in.

Or at least Maglor was pretty sure it didn’t count.

Besides Maedhros was dead for millennia, he didn’t get a vote here.

Said student, Louis apparently, looked at Maglor in shock:

“Come on, lad, eat while it’s still hot.”

“You… You’re sure?”

“Sure, go on.”

“I can’t pay…”

“Tell you what, tell me of your studies and I’ll consider it payment enough. Agreed?”

“What?”

“Stories against a meal. You get to eat, I get to assuage my curiosity.”

The young man looked at the plate and bit his lips before taking a bite hesitantly… And then fell on the food like a starved dog on a bone.

“Careful not to choke.” Maglor warned quietly, putting a glass of the near vinegar that passed for wine in there in front of the kid and keeping one glass for himself.

Ismérie didn’t limit his access to wine or beer. Not that he abused it: He’d probably kill his taste buds if not his liver if he did abuse it, quite frankly.

Louis was almost done with the food, when he looked back up at Maglor, and slowed down.

“So, uh. God, sorry about…”

“It’s fine. I get it.”

“I… Right. My name is Louis. I’m a student. I’m working to become a doctor, well, health officer, really, but…”

“A beautiful vocation.”

“Yeah… If one succeeds. I’m… less good than I hoped at some school subjects.”

“Oh? What do your parents think of your situation?”

“My parents are dead. I sold everything; not that we had much you know but… And I figured, I could go to school and become a doctor. Turns out I can’t, ‘cause doctor studies are far too expensive, but health officer I can. It’s not the same but good enough, y’know?”

Maglor nodded encouragingly, despite a lack of answer he could give. Honestly he didn’t know the difference.

“Would you explain? What difference is there between doctor and health officer?”

“In simple terms, a doctor went to school for a long time, got a nice diploma and will offer their services mainly to those who can pay them well. Health officers are the people a bit less schooled who assisted a doctor long enough to still know a lot, or who went to school on an accelerated and lighter course and will work well enough for most people, even those who can’t really pay a doctor. Only a health officer can’t operate on people and can’t decide to become a travelling health officer because of legal restrictions, but most people out there don’t really care about it.”

“I see. Thank you.”

“Thing is… I barely have enough money for the classes. I found. I mean… One of the classmates? If I write his essays for him, he lets me live with him. He’s living nearby and studying to be a doctor. I mean, he’s not that bad for a rich di… I mean… For a rich guy.”

Maglor snorted a laugh at that.

“I think you meant for an entitled ass unaware that he’s lucky for being able to afford more than basic living, and blaming others for not being as lucky as he is?”

“I… Yeah.”

“We’re all in the same boat here, kid. I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m not exactly rolling in riches either.”

Louis chuckled at that. Maglor’s manners put him at ease.

Which was the height of irony to Maglor, as he was a former prince of the Noldor, though the key word here was former, not to mention dispossessed and in exile.

Really he could probably be worse than that “entitled privileged person”. Though at least he never bribed someone less fortunate to do his work for himself.

Not the least because his father would have killed him if he had tried.

Also having someone else study the harp didn’t help YOU to learn to master your harp, funnily enough, and Maglor was about sure it was the same for healer studies.

Oh well, old history. Water under the bridge and all that. Well the history was so old by now that the bridge had been rebuilt twice over probably.

Staying away from people really was bad for his reminiscing habits. Maglor shook himself and turned his attention back to the young man who was talking to him.

“I don’t even know how it’s supposed to work. I do the work for him, but he’ll learn somehow? I don’t get his logic, but then I’m not about to point it out for him that his ideas are terrible for his own sake. There are several exams that require oral explanations in front of a jury. If he can’t do the work by then, he won’t be able to pass no matter what I do.”

Maglor nodded. And cramming all the lessons possible at the last moment, when it was worth years of studies, was pretty much impossible, no matter the race.

“But uh, yeah, that’s what I do. I go to class, do my work and add the work of that guy so that I have somewhere to sleep and… uh, I do small tasks here and there for money or food but… This week was… rough. Thank you for, you know… The meal. I… I shouldn’t have… I mean… You don’t… Well, I don’t mean to insult but you don’t…”

“I’m fine, don’t worry. I may not look like it, but I’ve been here for several days now and I got two meals twice a day during that time. Missing this evening won’t hurt me, hm?”

“Oh that’s. That’s nice. I’m… Perhaps a bit jealous there.”

“Should have let school be a dream and taken over the family business then! Ismérie called from the counter, where she was counting the day’s expenses and wages.”

“Which would have perhaps worked if it wasn’t what killed my parents in the first place.”

Louis turned toward Maglor then:

“A rich asshole wanted the place to build a bakery, you see. Apparently my parents’ business was at the perfect place for it, and bread always sells well. And you know how it is. Either you’re rich enough to be protected or you’re too poor to be noticed even if you’re being killed in front of the guards. Well my parents tried to resist and keep their business, you know, but someone came and killed them.”

Louis' voice broke with barely suppressed emotions on these words.

“The. The guards claimed it was a simple case of robbery gone wrong but nothing at all was missing. So I got whatever of value we had, accepted the payment and left.”

“Understandable. Why not come to an agreement with the man in question? He’d get the place if he paid for your full schooling?”

“Because he killed my parents and I didn’t want to owe that murderer anything. How could I ever face anyone if I enjoyed advantages offered by the one who killed my own parents?”

“That’s… Debatable.”

That was one of the differences between this kid and himself. Maglor was disabused of the notion of honour, and had been for too long now to turn back. He’d have used the rich one who wanted whatever he had, as much as was possible without getting killed for it.

Honour was well and good, but honour didn’t often help one to survive. Honor didn’t feed you, or your kids. Honor didn’t save you from hardship. Money could however, if you had it. That or powerful friends.

Maglor had neither and never would have either again probably, but people not in his situation could very well have that.

Honouring the dead was well enough. But the dead were gone, and unable to help the living. He’d know.

Soon enough Louis left, and Ismérie closed the place, letting Maglor feed the fire again and take his place in the kitchen. Morning would be back soon enough.

Maglor quickly found a sort of routine in his life in Paris, waking up in the morning to the sound of the first people opening their doors, most shouting at something: It could be the start of a bad day, mud in the streets of the city due to bad weather, children crying…

He usually got up and got dressed quickly, opening the windows to let the air come in. He was used by now to the heavy scent of the city. That smell was one of the many reasons why Maglor would have usually avoided Paris. To speak plainly, Paris stank. Like most big cities of this era, if Maglor was honest.

He would then help with breakfast for the patrons, mainly bread and milk, bread and the evening leftovers or bread and some sort of alcohol for those very few alcoholic patrons.

Cleaning the rooms came of course second, and then he was free for a little while in the afternoon, until he had to be back to the tavern for the very crowded evening.

Since his banishment, he has enjoyed working in taverns and inns. It allowed him human contact; it allowed him to hear a lot of information… And yet, it kept him living on the edge, basically ignored by the patrons.

Most people didn’t know or didn’t care about his name or history, so long he brought their orders in a timely fashion.

During the afternoons, he often went to play music in crowded places. He’d try to stay discreet enough not to earn the ire of the local police forces. Or at least, he’d try to be gone before the police could notice him. The police and city guards were often too quick to threaten people with jail for crimes like playing music in the street, which they considered just a step above begging for money.

It was always good to have funds, just in case.

The second time Maglor met Louis, the young man looked a bit less like he was a single missed meal away from fading away. Maglor took it to mean that he had managed to get by a bit better that week.

It was good to see.

Again, the young man stayed behind when his friends left.

“Pay or leave!” Ismérie warned him again, barely looking toward them.

“May I have something very cheap please?” Louis asked, showing the few coins he had on him.

For the price, it’d be the same leftover that Maglor would have later: black bread mixed with bits of pork pies from the previous day, and potatoes with their heavy sauce.

But food was food, and leftovers weren’t bad thankfully. Maglor served him a somewhat generous plate that had Ismérie snort in amusement.

“Pushover.” She whispered.

“Just a tad.” He answered the same way coming back to the lad with the plate, bread and a glass of the same old cheap wine.

One of these days Maglor would check that it was really wine and not just vinegar.

“Will you sit with me, please? I’m sorry I can’t pay you back for the meal of last time. I will. I’ll try at least, I promise, but… Would you… Eat with me? So we can chat?”

Maglor looked around, and Ismérie shrugged. Apart from a couple who would sleep here that night, an almost asleep drunkard in a corner and the young man, the tavern was empty anyway. He could do whatever he wanted.

Maglor nodded at Louis and went to make himself a plate, coming back with a piece of slightly hard bread. It was all that was left in the kitchen, and Ismérie would need to see how to arrange things tomorrow for her patrons. If she could.

The young man smiled with open relief.

“So, Max right?”

“Hm, indeed.”

“Nice to meet you properly. Thank you again for last time. I was… Really unlucky that week, and really out of sort that evening so…”

“It happens. I’m glad I could help a bit. I’m also relieved to know this week was better.”

“Ah, yes, it really was. And really I needed to come and thank you. Not everyone is willing to give up their food to feed perfect strangers.”

“And yet how much better would the world be with a little bit more kindness?”

Silence fell between them for a short moment, both tasting their meal carefully.

“Victor said… uh well, did you see the group I was with?”

“Yes.”

“The blond one with the atrocious moustache?”

Maglor almost told him that everyone with a moustache had an atrocious one in his not so humble opinion. He managed to keep his opinion to himself by some miracle, and nodded at the lad instead. For one, no matter which of the two blonds with a moustache Victor was, chances are that Maglor never would have to meet him and use his name anyway.

“Well, that blond was Victor. He said he saw you play music in the street one afternoon.”

“That happens. It’s not exactly like I hide it.” Maglor nodded.

“So you really play? The harp really?”

“Yes, I really play, and yes I really play the harp.”

“Why?”

“Because it earns me some coins and I like playing music. I’m good enough I can get by, so why not?”

Oh how the mighty have fallen.

Makalaurë, Kanafinwë, Maglor, once one of the best minstrels of the Noldor… could “get by” playing the harp.

He was reduced to carefully controlling his level of skills and power to seem good but not that memorable…

“Yes, but no, I meant… Well. Isn’t it very difficult to play? Not to mention expensive?”

Well his silver harp had been expensive; his father had not cheated him on the material, certainly. But then again it was built when he was a prince, by the crown prince even, so… And that harp was long gone from this world.

Standard harps were of course expensive in this day and age, but far less so when one knew how to make one, or repair one almost endlessly. Well taken care of, a harp could last for centuries. With a bit of elvish help, it could last even longer. Not eternally, but to be fair, nothing lasted forever. Not even elves who were made to last…

But how to explain that without giving the wrong impression… ?

“It’s difficult to play but worth it. And it was an heirloom, so not really expensive for me…”

Well the harp was old at least. Not an heirloom granted but full of memories nonetheless. It was a good excuse too.

“Oh.”

“I wasn’t always wandering, you know. I had a good education that included playing music.”

If by “good education” one meant an education that included unhealthy focus on craft to the detriment of everything else, health and sanity included.

Not that Maglor quite wanted to admit that out loud.

“Also I know how to repair it mostly. And admittedly most of the money I earn with it goes into harp care anyway.”

“Will I ever hear you play? What can you play? Why the harp specifically? Just because it’s an heirloom?”

“I’m not hiding so if you find me during the day, you’ll hear me. You and everyone on the street. As for what I can play… Well, a lot of different music. I have a few originals too. Classical. And a few regional and popular melodies. And why the harp… Because I love the harp. I can also play other instruments but I don’t own any other instruments, so…”

“Can you tell me more?”

Maglor raised an eyebrow but considering what they talked about last time, it was fair enough. Maglor told him a couple of stories of what he got into while playing the harp:

The first story he told was of the time he was crossing a small village and stopped for a rest. He had played on the village square, only to end up surrounded by sheep and two pigs, while the people were just eyeing him oddly or outright ignoring him. That had been so flattering…

The second story was of being employed to play music for a local harvest feast. The mayor had promised shelter and a reward for his playing; the shelter had been a place in the village barn, and the reward had been a sack of grains.

Maglor had come face to face with a couple of surprised sheep when he went to rest after the celebration.

A sack of grain was a heavy, impractical thing that Maglor would really have done without, but the mayor had insisted. So then Maglor had tried to barter with people to exchange it with sheep gut and horse hair to make strings for his harp.

He heard as he left the village that he had proved beyond any doubt that musicians were an odd sort: really, exchanging good grain for guts and horse hair…

His ego might have suffered a hit or two during his travels.

Louis had a good laugh at his expense over this, until Ismérie told them clearly she ran out of patience, it was late, and time to close.

As Louis left, and Ismérie closed behind him, she turned toward Maglor and looked at him firmly:

“Louis is a good kid. Don’t do something he’ll regret, Max.”

Maglor looked at her in surprise, wondering what he was supposed to be doing to the kid that was so terrible.

Somehow it appeared that eating with Louis every Thursday became a thing. Louis was openly curious about Maglor for some reason. And every time he left again, Ismérie looked at Maglor with clear warning.

Why were humans so complicated at times?

That little mystery apart, he deeply appreciated the companionship. For all Louis was young, he was also fun, and insightful… When he wanted to be.

One day, a few months into the year, Maglor frowned when he saw Louis arrive with his friends. If the others were as loud as usual, Louis seemed more reserved, paler and somewhat tired looking.

Maglor looked at Ismérie who was frowning in the direction of the group. She probably noticed too.

However, the young man acted as if nothing was wrong. He looked tired, and like he wanted nothing more than to find a bed and stay in it for the next few weeks, but he laughed as usual at Maglor’s stories.

The only thing that bothered Maglor was that he barely touched his food at all.

All on its own it could be anything and not really a reason to worry.

However the following week, Louis came back again, this time looking like he was wasting away, like a light breeze would be enough to knock him down.

Louis didn’t even react when his friends left. Maglor went to him immediately, a hand on his wrist checking Louis’ pulse. As soon as Maglor touched him, he noticed his skin was absolutely burning to the touch.

Ismérie found a good excuse to hover nearby despite the last few patrons.

“He can’t afford a doctor, and I can’t afford a doctor for him,” she said as Maglor was trying to pull Louis out of his chair.

“I can. Call for one.”

She nodded sharply, and left the tavern a few minutes to ask a neighbour to get a doctor there as soon as possible.

By the time she came back, Maglor had taken Louis to the kitchen, and helped him to drink a glass of water. It wasn’t much, but the fever was high enough and Louis looked bad enough that Maglor had no doubt that any little thing helped. 

The more worrisome thing though wasn’t the fever, but the way he had started to cough… And to cough blood at that.

Ismérie looked pale as soon as she saw.

“That must be…”

“That could be anything.”

“Don’t be a fool, Max. It doesn’t suit you.”

“He’s a kid.”

“Illness doesn’t spare anyone. Young, old, it doesn’t matter. Your friend is coughing blood and looking like he’s wasting away. His fever is through the roof! His chances to survive this are slim, and you know it!”

Maglor frowned. If it came down to it, he’d take the risk to try and heal the young man. He’d rather not if an actual competent doctor could diagnose him properly and find it was a harsh but temporary illness that would do no harm in the end, but if it came to that he wouldn’t let the young man die without trying his best.

Not that he was good at healing people, but he couldn’t not try.

Thankfully the doctor arrived swiftly.

The doctor, an older man that looked grumpy, stayed with Louis for a while, Ismérie and Maglor taking care of the tavern in the meantime, until the doctor signalled them he was done.

“I’m afraid it’s tuberculosis. The lad is coughing blood, has a high fever, looks like he’s wasting away, admitted to a shortness of breath, and pain in the chest… It’s both deadly and…”

“And highly contagious.” Ismérie completed for him, looking like she was living a nightmare.

Maglor thanked the doctor, paid him and no less than escorted him out leaving him no choice but to leave.

“Louis needs to leave.”

“And go where? In the streets?”

“I will not put myself at risk Max. You can have pity for the lad as much as you want but NOT at the risk of all our lives.”

“Fine, then rent me a room, and I’ll take care of him away from your patrons and you.”

“You already paid a doctor, you think you can pay me as well?”

“I think I can promise you steady work, and that half the tavern is empty, and has been for a while anyway. You’ll lose nothing by letting me take care of Louis in one of the unused rooms, and he’ll be away from people this way.”

And if Maglor infused just a bit of power in his voice it was no one’s business but his own. He’d have time to feel guilty about it later. Much later. Perhaps. One day.

If he also silently promised to burn the place down if she threw Louis out anyway, that was also no one’s problem but his own. And he wouldn’t feel guilty about it at all.

Whether Ismérie agreed to Maglor’s argument, or was influenced by him, or felt the untold threat, she gave him the key to an old servant’s room. Usually the room was only rented to the local drunkards when they were unable to go back home and could pay for it.

Maglor picked up Louis, and brought him to the room in question. The young man was far too light. Maglor installed him on the bed while Ismérie was fretting at a reasonable distance until he closed the door, leaving her behind.

He may like her somewhat, but he certainly didn’t want any witnesses. Once the door was closed, Maglor sat at Louis’ bedside and placed a hand on his wrist, checking his pulse, and started to sing.

It wouldn’t be miraculous instant healing, but he was actively encouraging the body to heal and the illness to disappear.

Tuberculosis was terrible.

Maglor spent the whole night singing, if only to make sure that Louis would survive the night.

In the morning, Maglor was tired but ready to work, while Louis looked a bit more solid, less like he was going to drop dead any moment.

Louis' face showed some colour and he was shivering in his sleep. Sadly his breathing still sounded hard.

When he got to work, Ismérie looked at Maglor with suspicion.

“How is Louis?”

“Alive, and he slept all night.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

Maglor didn’t answer her, but thought for himself that the damage was already done: Louis had come to the tavern twice while carrying this disease. If his presence was enough, then other patrons would start to show symptoms soon, whether or not Louis was thrown out now.

It was better for everyone involved if Louis stayed in one of the rooms out of the way, and Maglor kept working. He’d play music later in the hope to encourage people’s body defences just in case, to avoid a worst kind of scenario.

Despite Ismérie’s misgivings, Maglor kept returning to the room to check that Louis wasn’t getting worse without him.

Her loudly-voiced concerns became annoying but as Maglor reminded himself several times, he could hardly tell her that he was an elf, would not get sick and could even encourage people to heal if he concentrated a bit. Or a lot.

Around midday, Louis woke up, parched and disoriented in the unfamiliar bed of a room he didn’t recognize. He felt bad enough, and his chest was painful enough that he didn’t even try to move. He felt like he would throw up, or start coughing up a lung, or lose consciousness again. Or throw up AND fall unconscious at the same time if he moved so much as a finger.

Not the best feeling in the world.

Max soon came by, and left immediately to come back with a broth of a sort. He sat next to him and Louis looked at him tiredly.

“Hey. Where am...?” He started to cough at that, painfully, and Maglor put the broth on the bedside and helped him onto his side, humming something quietly.

It was oddly comforting to hear. Louis let himself be manhandled by Maglor, and pressed himself weakly against him, letting himself find comfort in the stronger man’s presence.

He seemed solid against his body in a way the bed wasn’t.

Really the bed was so squishy and he was so dizzy he felt like he was sort of floating on a scratchy blanket that was both too warm and not warm enough. It was a very terrible blanket. And terribly ugly too. All old and faded.

However Maglor was distinctly there, strong, present and impossible to ignore.

Also he smelled so fresh and felt so warm… How was it even possible when he clearly came from the kitchen? Louis could swear the other man smelled like fresh plants and warm sunlight.

He felt, or heard, or something, Maglor chuckle against him. Did he say that aloud?

“Indeed my dear, indeed. Here, drink this while it’s warm. It’ll help, I promise.”

Louis never noticed how clear and pleasant and slightly low his voice was. Louis must have said something again, for Maglor chuckled and helped him drink, keeping him against him. Max started to speak, telling a story of playing the harp in a garden once.

It was a lovely story.

The voice was warm and calm;  hypnotic, and inviting, like the call of a lovely summer evening, when all one wanted to do was to stop and sit somewhere, to enjoy the arrival of a fresh breeze, while the last rays of sun of the day were caressing one’s skin, a sort of lazy warmth that encouraged people to rest.

Louis didn’t realise it but Maglor coaxed him to drink his broth, most of it at least, before he fell right back to sleep.

Maglor tucked him back properly under the covers, part amused, part curious as what Louis had let escape accidentally.

The next time Louis awakened, he found a bowl of broth on the bedside table, alongside a piece of bread, Maglor was in the room, playing soft melodies on the harp.

Louis turned toward him, feeling a bit less like he was going to cough his lungs out, though he felt sore and ready to sleep for a week, and his breathing felt tight enough he didn’t quite want to move.

Maglor really knew how to play the harp, this was beautiful, the sound had a strange soothing quality. Louis hoped that Maglor hadn’t noticed him moving, for he found himself reluctant to disturb the melody.

It was the first time he saw the harp. It was in wood, clear, clearly old but well taken care of. From the bed, Louis could see it was engraved, but couldn’t make out the details.

Maglor also seemed fully focused on his instrument, like nothing else existed in the world.

He found himself dozing in the quiet feelings of the room.

He was pretty sure it was but an effect of his imagination, as he was sick and half-asleep, but he could swear he felt the music resonate somehow. It was a strange feeling, truth be told, but comfortable.

Not entirely dissimilar to the feeling of a cat purring on one’s chest. But also not entirely like that either.

Perhaps the fever was altering his perceptions. That was probably it. The fever.

Soon enough, Maglor turned toward him with a smile, fingers still dancing expertly across the strings of the beautiful instrument.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better, I think.”

Well no, definitely better, Louis thought. Saying that much didn’t send him into a coughing fit hard enough to make him fear he was going to lose a lung so…

Maglor smiled and stopped playing, coming closer and placing his harp near the bed as he sat on the edge of it, and gave Louis the broth and bread.

“Eat if you can.”

Louis actually was famished. Food was just hard to come by, and more expensive than he really could afford most days. He managed, but…

Once he was done, Maglor left to bring the bowl back to the kitchen, and Louis seized his chance to look at the instrument, and noticed the engravings were all names. Or words at least. And some strange symbols.

“Whose’ names are they?” Louis asked with curiosity when Maglor came back.

Maglor's smile turned a bit sad perhaps, but no less warm for it.

“People long dead, I’m afraid.”

“Oh yes, this harp is an heirloom you said.” Louis nodded.

Maglor hummed a vague confirmation sound, and sat down on an available chair near the bed.

“Do you know their story? Why their names were put on a harp of all things?”

“It’s a way to remember people, to immortalise their names somehow. A harp that’s well taken care of can last a long time. And if you’re in the business of playing music or writing songs, then you can ensure future generations you teach will remember something at least.”

“Do you know… Songs about those people?”

Maglor’s eyes turned a bit… Strange, but he never stopped smiling.

“I do.”

“Will I hear them or some of them sometimes?”

Maglor tilted his head to the side, curious.

“Why would you want to?”

“Because I’m curious. I… the way I understand it, harps are rather fancy instruments. Grand harps with golden decorations or something. I never saw a harp like yours.”

“Mine is but a small instrument, made by someone stubborn with the means they had at the time, there’s nothing rich or fancy about it.”

Not to say Maglor had fallen on hard times when he had to rebuild his instrument after a sad incident that destroyed his old one but…

“You play beautifully.”

“Thank you.”

“How come you’re working here and playing on the streets? Someone of your talent…”

“You think I have talent, and while it’s flattering, not everyone likes my music. And some powerful people who claim to like music only like music that comes from important or well-known names, not from an anonymous little upstart brought up straight from the street. Even if I tried, I don’t have a big well-known name to back me up. That wouldn’t work as well as you might think.”

“That I don’t believe. You are too well read, too well spoken to not have a good education, and that doesn’t come with a big family name.”

“True, only a family like one you’re imagining right now wouldn’t have stood for one of their own to live in the street now, would they?”

Louis hesitated a bit at that, biting his lips.

“You…”

“I’m about as stuck at my current social rank as you are, my dear. I can speak well, and write well, but I don’t have anyone’s backing and no good school speaking for me and it’s a major block in social circles, as you well know.”

Louis sighed.

“The entire social system of this damn country is a joke.” 

“Yes, well, let’s not say that too loudly, shall we? I’d hate to have spent the last few days nursing you back to health only to have you under arrest if not arbitrarily executed for hasty words spoken at the wrong time and place.”

Maglor could see the stubbornness of the man rear its ugly head and sighed. He was always attracted to the same type of people: Too nice, involved and stupidly stubborn for their own good.

“Where are we? I don’t recognize the room.”

“We’re still at the tavern. Ismérie agreed to let us use one of the unused cheap rooms.”

Or wasn’t entirely given the choice, but detail, priorities, all that. Not that Louis needed to know that really. 

“And before you asked, it’s been a few days. Today is Sunday.”

“Ismérie’s too nice for her own good. I can’t even repay that, Max.”

“Don’t worry about it. I pull in the work and not enough people came to the tavern asking for a room to put Ismérie out of rightful payment. I’d have found another solution otherwise.” Maglor answered quietly.

Also he was quite annoyed with himself. He had hoped he’d be more efficient in healing the young man but alas, it had taken time and he had almost not managed that at all.

“I need to go to the university. And speak to the guys about the lessons I missed, I…”

“What you need is to rest until you’re recovered, or you’ll risk a relapse that’ll kill you this time.”

Louis tried to get up, but a single hand of Maglor on his shoulder was enough to stop him and that alone convinced him he wasn’t in a state fit to leave even if he wanted to.

Maglor kept an ear out every day he worked among the patrons of the tavern, but there was no talk of a tuberculosis cluster. Most probably, Maglor had managed to boost people’s immune system enough to avoid most of the damage. Good.

There was fear of cholera and warnings that in this or that street there were ill people and one never knew what they had and…

But overall nothing too close to the tavern.

Maglor kept an ear out for anything that was related to epidemics, soldier movements, guard movements, and the current famine. He tended to tune out everything that had to do with social unrest.

There was always social unrest in this country, and quite frankly, everywhere there was a royal family in power or even an imperial one, there were people suffering, unhappy people, full of feelings of spite and bitterness.

Most of the time it didn’t mean a thing.

Granted, the French people seemed more than most ready and willing to push their own royal family out of power forcefully if necessary, but their last active rebellion had been rather recent, so Maglor doubted it’d come to anything big this time around.

Maglor also kept an eye on the press, newspapers came every other day to the tavern, and Maglor always managed to borrow it for a bit.

And oh, Maglor appreciated the invention of newspapers. It made it far easier to keep updated on current events. Or on official stories of current events at least.

News was always grim. Wars news everywhere, protests, lawsuits… one in particular seemed to have stirred quite a bit of talk: a priest was accused and condemned for the rape and murder of 14 year old girl.

Even the people who couldn’t actually read, heard about the case. One more brick in the wave of people’s displeasure with religion.

If Maglor had known the mess the country was in currently, he’d have turned toward another country, possibly Italy. Surely Vesuvius wasn’t going to erupt every time he went near it, and besides the country was large enough…

Though, if he had done that, he would not have met Louis and the poor kid would probably have died of Tuberculosis… That would have been a loss.

One he’d never have known about.

It was Tuesday before Louis insisted on going back to his place to check if anyone from his school had left lessons or things to do on his desk. And to get clean clothing that fit him, instead of counting on Maglor’s own.

Maglor didn’t seem to have a lot of clothing to spare to start with, so Louis felt bad to keep stealing it.

Maglor didn’t trust him to be recovered enough to go alone, so agreed on the condition that Maglor went with him.

Louis accepted, and walked with Maglor at a slower than usual pace to a house about 20 minutes away from the tavern. Louis had a key for the servant’s entrance, which made Maglor tut.

“You ever get to come in by the main door?”

“No. François, my room-mate, you know the rich guy I told you about? He’s rather… Well, he prefers it if I stay discreet.”

“And it’s discreet to use the servant’s entrance?”

“A reminder of my station I suppose. I don’t care much.”

Maglor frowned but let it go. Rich assholes would always be rich assholes.

Maglor ignored the little voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Maedhros and reminded him that once upon a time he had been a “rich asshole”, and only changed himself when their father lost his mind.

Some ghosts were hard to shake off at times.

“So here it is, my room… And… Days worth of work. Well at least I have my missing classes right there, I guess, no need to bother the teachers.”

Maglor took a look at the work abandoned on Louis’ desk and shook his head.

“I wish him luck to learn all that at the last moment.”

Louis shrugged:

“His assholery allows me to study without having to pay rent on top of everything else, so I won’t complain really. It’s just… Tiring.”

Maglor looked at Louis, who kept throwing him looks like he wasn’t sure about where he stood with him, and he took a decision there and then.

“If you want some help with that, I can probably give you a hand. I can’t learn anything for him or for you, but I can at least help you a bit. That would at least allow you to catch up on your own work.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why help me? You’ve done a lot already. A lot more than many people would have done. I’m pretty sure that Ismérie would not have called a doctor for me without you, and neither would she have taken care of me enough for me to recover even if she had stashed me into a room of her tavern. She’s more afraid than most of catching something deadly since her husband died of Cholera in jail last winter. She wouldn’t have gotten close enough to me to help me. I’m aware enough to be able to say I was not going to survive that illness without a lot of help.”

Or not at all, no matter the help, if it hadn’t come from an elf, Maglor corrected in his head.

And even with the help of an elf, Louis was still afflicted with a persistent cough and shortness of breath that Maglor found particularly frustrating and concerning.

His ability to heal always had limits…

“The first time we met, even, you gave me your food. Why?”

“You seemed to need it more than I did. I know what it is to fall on hard times. When I needed help, more often than not, someone gave me a hand. I’m just… Passing along the favour. Why be selfish when it doesn’t cost much at all to be selfless. And since then I’ve discovered I like our talks. I like meeting with you, and I, contrary to Ismérie, don’t fear illnesses. Whatever happens will happen whether or not I do all I can to avoid it.”

And Maglor could hardly tell him that he was so isolated from years living alone in the middle of nowhere that he latched onto the first remotely willing and interesting person in sight. For one he didn’t look old enough for that to be believable on top of everything else.

“I appreciate the help, don’t mistake me, but that sounds like you believe in fate, and fate doesn’t decide if someone dies there or then. Human stupidity and cruelty has far more to do with it.”

“And yet I’m here, I took care of you when you were ill, and I got away with it without falling sick. If I was supposed to fall sick, I would have.”

Or more to the point Maglor knew very well indeed that he wouldn’t fall sick. At the time the plague became a nuisance in Europe, Maglor had been entirely unbothered, but it was a nice way to explain why he wasn’t bothered by the risk of catching something deadly.

“I’d call that luck, not fate.”

“Whatever it is, I’m not sick, and I’m not afraid of falling sick. Or of dying of something. If it happens, it happens, and that’ll be all.”

It was a bit more complicated than that, admittedly, but if he was afraid to die, he’d live as a recluse in a forest, not among quarrelsome, troublesome men.

“Is that why I never heard you rage against your social situation? Something happened, you consider it fate or well deserved and that’s all? Kings are right or they wouldn’t be kings, and poor people deserve to be poor?”

“You know me better than that, Louis. You don’t hear me rage against my social situation because I have no reason to rage against it. I’m alive, I have a job, a roof and somewhat regular food. It’s more than many people can claim, and you know it, you know it because half the time you are in a worse situation than I am yourself. Shall I cry about how unlucky I am to someone even less fortunate than I? Why? And what would be the point?”

“I see.”

“As for kings; they’re not kings by divine right, Louis. They’re just men and as fallible and greedy as any other. I’m afraid you don’t hear me rage against kings because it won’t change a thing. Have a lineage of leaders and down the lines you’ll see someone will have ground for complaints until someone does something for the leadership to jump to another line, and you’ll start again with a perhaps competent leader but that’ll worsen with his descendant until the leadership has to jump again, rinse and repeat. History proved this better than I can explain it, sadly.”

“Oh come on, Max, you’re too young to be that resigned to fate! Everything can change if we work for it!”

Maglor smiled despite himself. Too young indeed.

“So, Louis, will you allow a friend to help you?”

“Does that friend realise I can never repay his kindness?”

“Kindness is never a thing to be repaid or it becomes a banal service my dear.”

“Alright then. If you’re sure… If you want to… And if you can.”

Maglor smiled at him then and nodded. Of course, he’d only help where he could help, that was never in question. He wouldn’t jeopardise his young friend’s studies.

Maglor read through a few assignments to do while Louis got changed into his own clothing. That fit far better, and smelt less like alcohol and food.  One downside of working in a tavern was the endless smell of it.

“I didn’t realise before how tall you are, Max.”

“I learnt early on not to loom over people. It’s never a nice thing to do, and it causes problems.”

Particularly with men who seem to take everything as a challenge, Eru knows why. It was not as if a few centimetres of height more or less made a man more or less worthy, good or strong.

Men…

Maglor kept working in the tavern, and felt more guilt about not feeling guilty about his trick toward Ismérie when Louis was ill, than about the act itself. It was easy to forget he even had to influence Ismérie against her will. He also knew that even if it wasn’t moral, he’d do it again if necessary.

He was joined there more often in the evenings and week-ends by Louis. Maglor couldn’t do much for the young man’s studies, but help him memorise lessons, give hints when he knew something, and give his opinion on various essays.

But at times, the company alone seemed to be enough for Louis. That, and they discovered they had similar tastes in books.

Neither could buy all the books they wanted, but when they could…

That evening however, it was neither a book, nor a lesson that held Louis’ attention, but a newspaper. Maglor hesitated to even check, but curiosity drove him.

“What do you think of this?” Louis asked Maglor showing him the article.

A new scandal had appeared. The scandal of Teste-Cubière: an illegal exploitation of salt had put to light the corruption of the minister Jean-Baptiste Teste. Indeed, the respected Minister had accepted 94000 francs in order to accept the exploitation of the salt… Without following due process.

This from a respected member of the government was casting a shadow on the whole government.

“They pay those sums to do illegal things; meanwhile we’re all dying of hunger here!” another patron grumbled.

Maglor looked at him tiredly.

“Same as usual. Rich assholes take advantage of their money to do illegal things and go unpunished for however long while the rest of the population is dying. Are you surprised? Because I’m not.”

“You are too cynical. They’ll be punished.”

“Perhaps. Most likely not. It’s not like the king really cares.”

“They will be.”

“If you say so.”

Maglor found the young man’s certainty both endearing and sad. Endearing in the hope that Louis had for a better future, but sad for Maglor was pretty sure that sooner or later Louis would become as disabused as everyone else, and would lose that hope.

This started an animated conversation in the tavern with the few patrons present that day.

Maglor stayed out of it, he had his opinion of course, but he didn’t think it was quite his right to say it. It wasn’t like he had any stake in it, or like he’d stay through whatever would happen in the future.

Louis however seemed to have rather passionate opinions on what was wrong with the whole thing. The scandal and the country in general.

And well, Maglor could understand that.

“I don’t get how you can be so laid back and silent about things when you function on one meal a day when you even have one at all. Louis grumbled at the end of one of those days.”

“Louis, you’ve been arguing with people for about a week now, haven’t you?”

“About that, yes.”

“What did it change? Was a date set for an actual trial to happen? What are the accusations even? Paying someone to look the other way? Doing the thing the king’s government forbade? Both?”

“We can’t do nothing or the situation will never get better!”

Maglor rolled his eyes at that and Louis smirked. The young man always found it hilarious when Maglor did something that hinted at his “youth”, even when he acted most of the time like he was too old to bother.

“If we all always let it go because “things will never change”, then indeed things will never change. We need hope, Max. We always need hope. That’s what keeps us alive despite everything. Despite the food shortages, the illnesses, the arbitrary arrest, and everything else life and the king throws at us.”

“Hope is well and good, but I don’t see you surviving on hope alone, Louis.”

“What keeps you alive if you don’t have hope?”

“Protecting those you consider friends and family. Memories to honour. Force of habit also.”

“That… Is extremely sad, you realise, right?”

“And your way is exhausting, you realise right?”

It was Louis’ turn to roll his eyes.Maglor let a smile escape. The student was far too easy to rile up.

To be honest, Maglor had to admit the press was pretty good at keeping the scandal going and keeping people up to date with the whole thing, and nothing the king did or said during that time erased the news from people’s mouths.

Maglor would never admit to being amused by the whole affair. It was entirely too ridiculous: it was as if people only just discovered that their government was corrupt.

What didn’t amuse him however was that the press by focusing on that scandal was allowing other, bigger and yet smaller crimes to go silenced.

Who talked about the poor girl found murdered in a corner street not too far from the tavern?

No one. Not even Louis.

Maglor doubted Louis even knew about that.

But the scandal that only enriched more some rich asshole and uncovered how corrupt and greedy some people in the government were, was all over the news.

Did anyone still need written press confirmation to know about the corruption?

Who would bring justice to this poor girl? Or was the fact she was a homeless girl enough that no one was going to bother?

Maglor shook his head. Of course no one would care. Those who would care (and there Maglor’s eyes found Louis again, who was talking animatedly with other patrons) didn’t know about it. And those who knew didn’t care.

Maglor knew he could tell Louis about the girl. But what would it change? Again, nothing. He himself only knew, because one of the boys who often ran with her to beg for food from him had told him about it. People of the street knew.

People of the street were all afraid to be next.

And the kids told Maglor, they let him know because he was often enough among them, because he shared food when he could.

Priority to Louis, but when he could… It didn’t hurt him after all. Or at least it hurt him less than it did humans. This famine was bad for some people. And the lack of jobs available didn’t help.

For a while, things stayed rather stable. People talked, but very little was actually done.

Until, a month later, at the end of June, the newspaper brought the news that there were protests in Mulhouse. Soldiers had killed several protestors by firing on the crowd.

That fed conversations for a long, long while. Animated, fearful discussions. People filled with spite at the current regime, claiming that “they had a better idea, if only…” People claiming that “they’d have been in the protests, if only…”

Maglor was just tired of it all. France was really not the country he should have chosen this time around. Louis’ company was nice, and Ismérie deserved to be known, and he had a few other people he had learnt to know and appreciate, but even if Maglor didn’t think the protest would be a success, or that the people would believe in their cause to the point of actually picking up weapons for it, The soldiers still made the situation feel very unstable and unsafe.

The protests didn’t achieve anything but more violence and death, and many people had ideas, sure, but… People just didn’t work together enough that anything would come to any kind of good result.

The incident made him think of his father. Fëanor would have probably been at the head of the protests, rallying people to him because he was just that charismatic.

But then again, Fëanor had been great at rallying people to him when he wanted to, but he hadn’t been the best leader ever born. He had been led by his feelings too much to lead efficiently for long: he had been too hot-blooded to manage strategy, too impulsive to be trusted to lead on a battlefield.

And yet he has also been prideful. Too prideful to ask for, or accept, help.

The combination had been a disaster in their exile, and it hadn’t been for nothing that Fëanor had been the first of them to die in battle.

He had taught them to trust each other, and to work efficiently with each other. All of his brothers and himself had known how to work around their respective weaknesses and each other’s strength…

But somehow, the very same elf who had taught them that had failed to learn that exact lesson.

In Paris now? His father would probably be a disaster.

A beautiful, charismatic disaster that he missed as much as he wanted to never see him again at times.

Maglor wouldn’t say no to having some of his brothers with him though. Maedhros for instance would… Probably end up elected king and wondering how it happened. He had been that good at the political games, and loving him had come effortlessly to many until the kinslayings, the oath and Morgoth drove him out of his mind. And even then, his brother’s followers had been the most loyal for a good reason.

Maglor sighed. He should stop dreaming, and stop reminiscing. None of his family would come back before the end of this world, if ever, and if, or when, they would be back, would they even recognise him after so many millennia living without them. Evolving alone in an ever changing world?

Maglor was cleaning tables after the lunch rush, enjoying the fact that the food was starting to be a bit more consistent again, and the price of bread actually lowered for the first time in months, which allowed Ismérie to share more freely with him for his work.

Maglor knew that Louis also appreciated that.

More to share around meant they were less starving and wondering less if they shouldn’t try their luck, or lack of thereof in Maglor’s case, somewhere else than Paris. If nothing else, in the countryside there was always the chance to pick up edible food in nature when necessary. It didn’t mean it was easy, but it was at least possible.

That and the few great houses that had been burnt down in several regions meant that the rich merchants had more problems than to try and control foraging. So long people put in the work…

Of course, those houses burning down meant that the soldiers had been called and there were more than a few people put under arrest, put on trial and executed for rebellion against the state.

Really Maglor had picked the worst time possible to go back to being sociable. He should have waited a dozen years. Or picked… Italy or somewhere. Perhaps he should have tried to cross the ocean.

That thought brought him the idea of stepping into a ship and he snorted: ships and he were not friends, thank you very much. There was enough land to discover on foot. Or not on ship at the very least.

The door of the tavern opened on a woman who looked just that close to crying that Maglor looked around to see if Ismérie was available. He didn’t want to deal with whatever the problem was, he had enough of his own.

The woman’s eyes however found him and she walked straight to him:

“You’re Louis’ friend.”

“I am one of Louis’ friends, yes. Might I know who you are and how you know Louis?”

“My name is Joséphine and I was… I was Louis’ girlfriend 4 months ago.”

That had Maglor wince. He didn’t want to deal with that, whatever that was. Not at all. Ex-relationships, or even current relationships issues were NOT something he had had to bother with in… Quite a while and he liked it that way. Really.

“My name’s Max. What may I do for you, Miss Joséphine?”

“My father… My father put a stop to my relationship with Louis. I… Louis isn’t exactly rich you know, and I… My full name is Joséphine Saleon.”

That had Maglor come to a stop. Even he had heard of the Saleon: they were one very rich family of Paris. How on earth had someone like Louis met the daughter of such a family?

There was nothing wrong with Louis, of course, but they didn’t, couldn’t, run in the same circles… It was impossible. 

Though… Maglor didn’t have the family name of the “rich asshole” who gave a room to Louis in exchange for his work… They might have met there…

“Right. So why are you here Miss Saleon?”

“I’m… Not anymore a Saleon.”

“Beg your pardon?”

“I’m pregnant. I only… I only ever had a single lover. I thought. I wanted to… I had hoped to marry him one day. I thought… I thought my father loved me enough that he’d want me happy…”

That had Maglor snort. Kids. Of course the girl’s father would never have let such a union stand. Families like this one worked only by being known and well known by the rest of the rich and powerful, and one didn’t keep a good reputation in that crowd by allowing their daughters to marry poor students without a name to back them up.

And he wasn’t the one born and raised in this time and place so how could both Louis and this girl have forgotten or ignored this?

“My father threw me out. I bring too much shame to the family. He said I was now dead to them.”

Maglor must have looked particularly alarmed when Joséphine started crying on his shoulder, holding on to him, for Ismérie came to them looking torn between curiosity, alarm and a sort of wicked amusement.

That woman was cruel; there were no other words for it. Instead of taking Joséphine off his hands, she took his arms and placed them around the crying girl. Like he actually wanted to encourage her to cry in his arms!

He could console a crying friend. He could take care of a sick friend. He could even give up his food and shelter and whatnot and give it all to people he loved. BUT HE DIDN’T ACTUALLY KNOW THIS GIRL!

“Right. Hm… Why did you come here? I mean… Shouldn’t you be looking for Louis?”

Saying that, Maglor felt a kind of heartbreak he had known would come one day, just not quite that fast. Or not quite in this fashion.

She nodded pitifully, and her hands held on tighter on the fabric of Maglor’s vest.

“My cousin is the one that gave him the room. He said Louis spends a lot of time here. Most evenings even. He said I couldn’t wait in his house in case dad would learn of it, he doesn’t want to be thrown out as well. But he said I could wait here.”

Wait here? In the tavern? Until evening?

Maglor’s mind seemed to freeze for a moment there. He didn’t want to deal with the crying Joséphine for one second more, let alone hours.

Maglor however took on his most agreeable and harmless wandering minstrel attitude, and offered to give her access to his room, since Ismérie had let him keep the otherwise unused servant room until there would be enough paying customers that she’d have need of the room to rent it to occasional drunk patrons.

Joséphine nodded and let Ismérie who finally, FINALLY, took pity on Maglor, pull her out of his arms, and led her to his room. Maglor would make a point to stay safely out of it for the rest of the day until Louis arrived to take care of his own mess.

Ismérie stayed a long moment in the room with the girl, and when she left it, she had a sombre face, and went straight to Maglor.

“Thank you for your help.”

“I noticed you were useless indeed.”

Crying women hadn’t been something he dealt with easily enough when he was popular; it wasn’t going to be any better now that he spent most of his time avoiding company.

“Are you aware this girl has no chance of a good future?”

One, no, and two, how on earth was it his concern? What did Ismérie want him to do? Marry her? She could find a husband herself. Or why not a job? She could even start an argument for women’s basic right to live by themselves without a husband, father or son to hold their hands if she wanted to.

That’d at least have the merit of shaking a bit that mess that the French culture was when it came to gender rights.

He’d known a few powerful and independent women who’d raze the country to the ground with the limitations those people put on women in this age. It was entirely too ridiculous.

Maglor merely raised an eyebrow.

“All due respect, Ismérie, you are aware that I am in no way concerned by this mess right? I didn’t push Louis and her to have a relationship, I’m not responsible for said relationship breaking, and I can do nothing about the current laws.”

The last point was obviously a good thing or there’d be a whole other kind of messes going around. Been there, done that, Maglor was not in a hurry to do it again.

“Louis should do the right thing by her and marry her.”

“Louis is an adult and well able to make his own decisions. They were both adult enough to have a relationship and end up in this mess, they’ll be adult enough to resolve this situation without my input.”

What did she take him for? If Louis wanted the girl… If Louis wanted the girl of course he’d encourage them to marry. He wasn’t about to try and separate lovers, but he wasn’t about to try and tell Louis how to live his life either.

“They were lovers before.”

“Yes, before the girl’s father, which I’m NOT, stepped in. Since then it’s been 4 months, Ismérie. You know as well as I do that at their age 4 months is a lot, and feelings come and go. It’s their mess and they’ll set it however they want to but I’m NOT responsible for any of it, or for Louis.”

“Just keep in mind that Louis loved her once, and perhaps he’d be more receptive to it if you were to speak to him. Or if at least you point to him that his relationship with Joséphine is more acceptable than… The life of a single man living alone or with another man.”

Maglor had serious doubts about what Ismérie was insinuating. Again, what did she take him for? Actually what did she think his relationship with Louis was?

Sure, he had come to love the little impulsive idiot, but he was pretty sure that Louis was neither aware of it nor interested.

Louis could be rather endearingly clueless at times.

“Ismérie, what do you think I’ll do? Kidnap Louis and keep him locked in my nonexistent castle? If he loves her, hells, even if he doesn’t love her but just wants to do right by her, and they find an agreement, I will not stand in their way.”

For one, Louis didn’t deserve to have his life messed up by an immortal being who will need to move away in a short few years before someone could realise he never aged. And the current period wasn’t kind to people who sought out a relationship that wasn’t purely a man and a woman together.

No matter how many times passed, or the race it was, intolerance and bigotry seemed to be a universal, eternal truth, alas.

Maglor stayed around the Tavern all afternoon, but stayed out of his rooms. The more he thought about it, the less he actually wanted to deal with the tears of Louis’ ex-lover. And considering he started that reflection by wanting to leave far, fast and screaming…

At Louis’ usual time, the student arrived, with what looked like a bag of clothing, and his usual bag of books and class notes. Louis looked tired but he smiled when he saw Maglor. However he lost his smile swiftly as he seemed to be studying the elf carefully.

Maglor was apparently more transparent than he thought when it came to the young man.

“Did something happen?”

“Miss Joséphine came. She’s in my room. You might want to talk to her.” Maglor told him gently.

Louis frowned at that.

“Joséphine? She left me months ago on order of her father. I know she was apparently disowned or some such, apparently because of me, according to her cousin but still…”

“Please, Louis, go and speak to her.”

Louis grimaced but went to the room. Ismérie came to stand beside Maglor, a tray of empty mugs perched on her hand, an empty jug of exceptionally bad wine in her other hand.

And yes, Maglor did check and it was wine and not vinegar. Curiously enough…

“He didn’t seem happy to see her.”

“Neither would you be if the boy you loved left you on order of his parents, and came back 4 months later, intruding in your life without a warning. Maglor pointed out.”

“He loved her.”

“And she chose to leave him once. I’m not saying they won’t get back together, that’s always possible, but he has the right not to be happy to see her depending on how she went about leaving him.”

Ismérie grimaced at that.

“All that nonsense those idiots in power engage in. If the man didn’t want his daughter to stray, he shouldn’t have let her go places alone.” She grouched.

“Since when are women pets to keep on a leash?”

“Society says we barely have any rights at all, as you should know.” Ismérie snorted.

She’d know. Keeping the tavern after her husband’s death had been an exercise in stubbornness and light cheating.

“It’s not a reason to encourage that behaviour.”

Also if he ever started to agree to that very human opinion on women, if he ever got to see his family again, his mother, Aredhel and a good number of others would kill him, period.

Maglor cut the (very much unwanted) conversation by going to serve a couple of patrons in a corner, happy to see there was bread available again that night. Fresh bread at that.

A rare treat that everyone enjoyed. And the price of flour having started to decrease, the price of the bread had also decreased. It meant that Maglor and Louis both could afford to pay for it now.

Later that evening, when Maglor was cleaning glasses in the kitchen, Louis joined him, looking bothered.

“She has nowhere to go.”

“I gathered that much.” Maglor nodded.

“Ismérie says she can’t shelter more than one person even now.”

Maglor raised an eyebrow at that. Was Louis really asking what he thought he was asking? Oh Max, I know we’re friends and all, so could you please go live on the street so my ex-girlfriend that I got pregnant could have a roof over her head and a job, your job that is?

The kid was lucky Maglor liked him or he’d have just laughed at him there.

“Hm… I guess she can’t indeed. If only because if prices stay reasonable she’ll soon be able to rent rooms again, so she’ll need the place.”

No one ever said he absolutely had to help him along. He could be nice, but he wanted at a minimum to hear him ask properly.

“You’re a man.”

“Really?!”

Louis snorted at that, and shook his head.

“Alright, let me start again. I’ve been thrown out of home by Joséphine’s cousin. Apparently I’m too much of a risk and he doesn’t want to risk ending up disowned. So would you agree to try to look for a place to live with me so Joséphine could stay with Ismérie instead since she is a woman and disgraced by her pregnancy and being disowned by her family and hence would be unable to find a place easily?”

Well at least it was honest and straightforward this time.

“I can. I suppose I just lost my job while I was at it?”

Louis winced at that.

“Ismérie said… It depends on you.”

Maglor shook his head.

“You lot I swear… Yes I’ll stop working here and leave the place entirely to your girlfriend.”

“Ex. Ex-lover. Not… Not current. Not again, and never again.”

“Are you sure of that? Because for her sake alone you just asked me to risk ending up in the street without so much as a means to earn money. That seems awfully involved of you to save a woman who is but an ex.”

“She’s in this situation partly because of me. I can’t do nothing to help her.”

“My point was… Are you sure you don’t still have feelings for her?”

“She dumped me because her father said so. She chose to not even try to give us a chance. She made her choice, Max. Not me. If her father comes tomorrow and tells her to abandon her child and go back home, she would do it. I’m not… I refuse to live my life waiting for her to get a message from her family and decide they’re worth more because they make life easier.”

Well, to be fair to him, Maglor could hardly blame him for that.

But neither could he really blame Joséphine for her decision. In a purely patriarchal society it took a strong woman to become independent, and it never went without the kind of sacrifices that not everyone was willing or ready to make.

And at her age… He could hardly think her ready and mature enough to stand her ground in front of a beloved father. Not the way she appeared at least. 

Maglor finished the day’s work, and they all four shared a meal that evening. Joséphine seemed dazed and so painfully shy that Maglor was half afraid to frighten her by accident, even though she cried on his shoulder a few hours before and she clearly wasn’t shy in front of him at that time.

Once the meal was over, Maglor went to gather his belongings, just a bag of clothing, and his instrument. Luckily he was used to travelling light, and moving at a moment’s notice by now. His bag was always ready in a corner.

“Max?”

“Hm?”

“For this evening… Do you know… Do you have an idea of… How to proceed?”

Maglor snorted in amusement.

“Ismérie isn’t renting out most of her rooms for now.”

“And unless you can pay, I won’t let you stay more than one day for free!” Ismérie answered firmly.

“One day is a bit short of time, Ismérie.”

“I can’t just give away rooms, Max. And if I did, why to you and not to the kids outside? And why not the old beggar two streets over? I just can’t.”

Maglor hesitated but nodded.

“Alright, one night,” Maglor agreed. 

“And so for tomorrow night? Because I don’t think I can pay for rent somewhere. I just don’t have the means to do that right now,” Louis asked with uncertainty.

“Then if necessary, we’ll go in the street for a few nights. But we’ll see tomorrow, alright?”

Louis seemed nervous but nodded, and accepted the key Ismérie gave him for a room in the tavern while Maglor was checking he hadn’t inadvertently left something in the room.

In the morning, Maglor picked up his bag and his harp, and left the tavern with Louis at his side. Maglor settled on a place not rich enough for him to get immediate retaliation from the city guards, but good enough to earn a bit of attention from the people, and played. For this crowd, he played the new popular melodies of the middle-class.

One thing Maglor found interesting about the ways of the human population. Wherever they played, be it in front of a king or in a tavern, minstrels often were considered lower than servants on the social scale, which, to him, never made any sense.

Might it be different, perhaps, with those working with the operas and theatres?

He doubted it. They all worked with patrons and those people were generally rich self centered men that delighted in being known for their “generosity”. Those men always wanted something in exchange.

In any case, Maglor played. He played as long as there were people around, and then he stopped.

Some people had been generous. Not enough for a room, but it was a start, and at least enough for some food.

Food that Maglor shared without thinking about it with a kid that was looking a bit too faint, making Louis smile in fond amusement.

However, the young man’s amusement was short-lived, as he stressed about what to do that very night:

“Max, for tonight? Do you know where we can go?”

“We don’t have many choices. We can either break in somewhere, or we can sleep in the street. I don’t know about you, but breaking in has a high chance of ending up with someone in jail, and I’d rather avoid it. Besides, the weather isn’t that bad now.”

“Yeah but… The street is dangerous.”

Maglor shrugged. He couldn’t say the contrary. Gone were the days he could claim with certainty he was the most dangerous thing in the street. Sure there’s a lot of things he could do that humans couldn’t, or forgot how to do, and he was hard to kill… But humans excelled in the art of killing others. He wasn’t sure what it meant for the future, but yes, he too considered the streets dangerous.

“Church street,”  Maglor said.

“What?”

“Find a church, stay discreet and sleep near it. People are generally not in a hurry to commit murder on the front door of a Church.”

“I… Never considered the logistics of the best place to murder others before.”

“You never spoke to people living in the street before then. They have a lot to say on the matter.”

Which is how Maglor knew to avoid sleeping by the bridges. Murders, rapes, thefts, fights or disappearances, happening far too often recently, drove the people living in the street to avoid the area at night whenever possible. He was not going to commit that mistake.

 “I… Not really no. I mean… They live on the street. They’re dangerous.”

“And where do you live now, remind me?”

“That’s… different.”

“How?”

A faintly shocked silence answered him and Maglor smiled tiredly.

“You’re not that high in the social hierarchy, my friend. You think your Joséphine’s cousin would see the difference between you and a street urchin? That he would even care to make such a difference? The only thing you have that’s different from all these people out there, is that you have studies and hope. But imagine you stop your studies there, what will you have?”

Louis bit his lips at that, thinking.

“Or give those people the means to study or a chance to an apprenticeship or the chance to find a job. What do you think they’ll do?”

Louis opened his mouth to answer, but his eyes fell on a little child curled up against a doorway. Dirty as could be and emaciated like… Like far too many people since the famine started.

“I don’t… know.”

“Some people think they’d just squander all their chances on alcohol, that if you give people on the street money to pay for studies it’ll do nothing, and change nothing. That they’re poor because they deserve it, or because they’re too stupid to change their situation, or because they want to be. But the truth is, most of those people out here are people like you and me who fell on hard times and never had anyone to lend a helping hand. They’re no different than you or me. And at the current time? Nothing says we’ll find a place to live in.”

Maglor wished he could reassure Louis. However, he didn’t lie, and wanted Louis to understand that he couldn’t keep making a difference between himself and someone who lost everything, but still they had good chances: with food prices getting lower, some business were sure to reopen soon, and failing that, Maglor still knew how to play music and act as a minstrel.

He was pretty sure that he could, on a more permanent basis in the foreseeable future, walk the fine line between being ignored and being outright noticed.

He really didn’t want to be noticed. Not these days among humans.

Over the years, he learnt that no, even in a fit of pride fit for the prince he hadn’t been in millennia he couldn’t play his best, play the most beautifully he could… Not among humans. They reacted with fear more often than not to things they didn’t understand, and they couldn’t understand Maglor’s music.

And he couldn’t fight a crowd every time he tried, and humans could be damn vicious when they wanted to.

Once upon a time he’d have had a ready answer, and would have claimed he could and would just pick up everyone from the streets and “save” them if necessary to prove he wasn’t someone people needed to fear, and that his music was something good.

But since then he learnt the hard way that there were limits to what he could do. There were always limits, probably, but once upon a time he had simply not seen them.

Now he has learned to pick and choose who he could help and how he could help.

Not that he always wanted to help or be noticed for his skills mind you. Sometimes he just wanted to sit in a dark unused corner, forgotten by the world.

Other times he just wanted to never meet another living being ever again. That generally happened just after he lost someone he let himself love.

And sometimes he just needed to meet the pitiful or begging eyes of a child to react and ensure the child’s future.

In his defence, Maglor had already lived a long time. Several millennia tended to allow for such events to happen far more naturally than during shorter life-spans.

It was entirely logical and natural.

And until Maedhros came back to destroy his argument with a far greater dose of logic that the subject deserved, he could and would stick to this explanation, thank you very much.

In any case, Maglor led a downcast and deep-thinking Louis to a street that should be relatively safe, according to what little rumours he had gathered while being employed by Ismérie. Safe from others in the streets, as well as from malevolent beings, or… from the city guards.

And wasn’t it telling about the current times that the city guards were as much a danger to the homeless as random murderers on the prowl?

The street was… Crowded, there was no other word for it. Grey, grim, the floor was just dirt under their feet. The smell in the street alone was almost enough to make Maglor nauseous: it was a terrible mix of dejections, detritus, sweat, indistinguishable smells of dirty streets.

The walls of the building around them were cracked, and most of all, every doorway was taken by a homeless person. All more grim and dirty than the last, and oh, they were so thin and ragged looking…

Louis looked distinctly out of place, sitting on the floor, and that alone might attract trouble. Maglor would probably not sleep that night just for that reason alone. Not that Maglor was proud of the fact he could and would go unnoticed in the streets as just one more homeless person fit to be ignored.

But there could be safety in staying unnoticed.

About as much as there could be danger in it.

It was all about luck and being at the right place at the right time.

“What if we find nowhere to go? I don’t have that much money at all. Not enough to pay for a room somewhere more than a single night, and eat. And I’ll need to eat. We’ll need to eat.” Louis whispered, trying and probably failing to be discreet.

The others who were nearby probably heard everything and would keep that in mind.

“Then we find somewhere safe to sleep, night by night, during the summer months, and we’ll see how it goes, and how much money the both of us together can raise for when the weather turns dangerous in the street and we absolutely need a shelter for safety’s sake.”

“The weather’s hardly deadly or there wouldn’t be so many people…”

“The weather can be deadly. And so many people survive in the street because there’s always short term solutions to find, and again, and again, night after night until the weather turns less deadly. Be it shelters to find, something warm to wear, hells, even exchanging services with someone who does have a home they could open, as I did with Ismérie, can work.”

He’d know. One particularly nasty winter a bit higher up north some years ago had only seen him survive because some benevolent homeless man had pulled him near a fire they had had going at the entrance of a makeshift shelter they made.

One should never underestimate the ingenuity of one who had nothing, and nothing to lose.

He might have been an elf, but that winter had been a nightmare from start to finish. Starting with the tragic loss of his previous beloved harp and up to the fact that he hadn’t been in great physical or mental state at that time.

“Well… Well, at least we’re not hungry.”

Louis was looking extremely ill at ease, until Maglor moved to sit right against him.

At least they weren’t alone.

Louis ended up falling asleep leaning on Maglor’s shoulder. And Maglor didn’t sleep at all, but kept an ear on the sounds of the street.

At some point, as the others in the street were asleep, or mostly asleep, Maglor found himself humming quietly and wanting to sing.

The night was so quiet…

There was no light in the street but that of the moon.

No sound either but that of quiet breathing and night animals coming and going.

Maglor bit his lips. It was neither the time nor the place.

Besides, all he could think of was highly inappropriate for human company of this day and age. Some songs of times long gone had been… Ah, interesting.

Maglor amused himself for a short while trying to imagine Louis' reaction to some of them. Maglor was… Pretty sure he’d be either amused or entirely too scandalised for no real reason. Louis, like Ismérie, could be so touchy on the strangest subjects…

The most graphic song of human origin he knew must have been a Spartan one. Or perhaps it had been written by an Athenian trying to get a rise from the Spartans. That… Happened far too frequently at that time, admittedly.

Though the Spartans hadn’t been the last to poke at the Athenians in turn so…

In Maglor’s opinion, Spartans had known how to party even if they were as a rule completely insane, and far too war and religion oriented to be sane company for long.

Of course, one could always argue that Maglor wasn’t entirely sane, but even then, Maglor had had to leave Sparta sooner than he had planned.

To be fair, there had been the threat of slavery coming up far too often in conversation, so… Maglor had considered that, lover or no lover, the better part of valour was to go discover some other area of Greece.

Maglor spent the rest of the night distracted, thinking back on one of his travels in Ancient Greece, and then songs, and how shocked Louis might find it to discover all the things Maglor had gotten up to at that time.

The kind of fun he rarely ever let himself feel in all his time among mortals.

Maglor was so distracted actually that the rising of the sun surprised him.

Perhaps he should have gone to Greece, instead of France.

Hm… Next time he needed to move perhaps.

Louis took no time to awaken, stressed as he already was, even in his sleep.

“Well, good morning I guess.”

“It is a good morning indeed. Now, let’s go.”

It was clear enough that Louis wanted to ask where, but Maglor just pulled him up and pulled him with him when he left the street… Alongside a lot of the homeless people.

“Why is everyone leaving?”

“Because we gathered there to sleep so someone will have alerted the city guards. Now that the sun is up, they’ll come soon to disperse everyone, and I have other plans for today than ending up in jail for something like having no roof over my head, thank you.”

Louis looked bothered by the idea.

He followed Maglor to a slightly more rich part of the city: the streets were paved, the buildings looked neater, newer, empty of homeless people. It wasn’t the outrageously rich streets with the beautiful mansions that had flowers on all the windows, but it was clearly not the same streets of dirt and poverty that they had slept in.

“If you want to go to classes, I can keep your bags for now, and I’ll stay around here so you can come back to me for them when you’re done.”

“No, it’s fine. We need to find a place to live anyway.”

“Before that, my dear, we need money.”

Louis nodded, looking tired. If it was that easy to earn money…

Much to the younger man’s despair, they spent several nights in the street. Maglor was sorry to see how easy it was for Louis to give in to misery at the first personal difficulty when the young man was usually very vocal about unfairness and justice, and helping those who needed it.

Maglor guessed it was always easier to act or to stay hopeful when at the end of the day, you got to go back home and forget the problems you had been working to solve. Things were always different when there were problems you had to live with yourselves.

However, as food prices became more affordable, here and there, slowly, over a few days shops started to open again, trying to gain consumers by being first there without losing money by reopening too soon.

So jobs were still pretty scarce, but if one knew how to argue with the shop owners, there were enough menial tasks to do here and there to get a somewhat decent pay day, and so money for a cheap place to rent.

So Maglor encouraged Louis to go back to school. Let him not waste his chance, and he promised to meet him at Ismérie’s tavern that evening. He himself would look for a place to rent for them both.

To say that Louis spent the day fretting wouldn’t be too far from the truth, however he found himself with so much work to catch up on what he had missed that he appreciated that Maglor had pushed him to come back.

By evening, when he got to the tavern, Louis found Maglor already there and waiting for him, looking clean and fresh. Joséphine was there and avoided looking at him, which Louis couldn’t help but note with slight resentment.

“I take it you found something?” Louis said, sitting next to Maglor.

“Indeed.”

Admittedly, it had been pure luck. Louis was either going to love it or hate it, but a room was a room. They shared a drink with Ismérie at the tavern, and then left again, Maglor leading Louis to a building that looked like nothing, where he entered by the front door, and led Louis to the top floor… To a large attic room, fully furnished, with an incredible view:

From their apartment, they could see the rooftops of Paris, and the infinite sky over it. The buildings were all different: mismatched giants with slate roofs rising toward the heavens. The sky overhead was reflected in the glasses of windows in surprising little splashes of colour among the dull dirty grey of slightly cracked walls.

“So, the owner warned me that it can get pretty cold in winter, and pretty hot in summer, but rain never enters it, neither does wind, and it’s not going to be invaded by the city guards, and it’s pretty cheap. Also the only thing I actually found available and didn’t cost half our weight in gold.”

“It’s perfect. Also the view’s nice.”

The view was more than nice in Maglor’s opinion, but fine.

“There’s only one bed but there’s also a couch so we can…”

“We can share, Max. I’m pretty happy with sharing.”

The owner of the building had been right. The attic room in summer could become unbearably hot, but neither Maglor nor Louis minded much. It beat sleeping in the street with all the risks associated with that.

The good side of having a place for themselves was that they could spend evenings reading together on the couch, side by side, enjoying each other’s company without people throwing speculating looks at them. They discovered very quickly that their notion of personal space was non-existent when it came to each other. That was perhaps a bit dangerous for it was a habit they also had outside the safety of their home.

The worst side of this apartment was the neighbours. Maglor had heard two of the building’s women speculating about why two young men would be rooming together in a one-bedroom place, or about why they were never seen with ladies around the neighbourhood.

As if the simple fact that those two were keeping an eye on the street and comparing notes loudly in the hallway wasn’t reason enough to avoid bringing anyone back in the area…

The two were annoying but so fond of discussing their latest theories that Maglor was pretty sure that the two hens wouldn’t dare to make an official complaint about their presence and supposed proclivities.

To be honest, the fact he was pretty sure Louis and his own private life were the subject of fantasies from their neighbours meant that Maglor was still looking around for better solutions.

Sadly for the time being, they were stuck: Louis kept studying regularly, in anticipation of his return to classes, and both Maglor and him kept picking up odd jobs and pooling the money they earnt for rent and food.

As it turned out, Maglor was a more than decent cook, but Louis was hopeless on anything but the very basics.

Maglor had had some flashbacks of some of his own early attempts when Louis tried to cook. Needless to say he was very prompt to take over. Burnt or uncooked food was not really to his tastes, and these days he was loath to waste food.

A harsh lesson he learnt over and over: Periods of abundance were always followed by periods of poverty and scarcity. It was almost scary how circular and universal that truth was.

It would be nice if he could manage to get to a comfortable level of living most of the time instead of managing to get comfortable once in a while only to lose everything again all too soon.

He was tired of looking at himself in a mirror only to see a far too thin figure with hungry eyes.

But here he was again, careful about money, careful about food.

Nothing was permanent, yes, apart from elves. And he was an elf, stuck in an ever changing world… though, truly, elves were hardly left untouched by the passing of times. They were merely…

Maglor was humming mindlessly while cooking that day, thinking on how to phrase his thoughts. “Merely showing the passing of time differently than humans” didn’t quite cut it properly.

Of course it was different. One was a mortal race the other a race of immortals. And yet for all their immortality, elves, apart from Maglor himself, banned from elven lands, were all gone: disappeared from the mortal realms, lands that the men conquered little by little.

And it wasn’t for nothing. He had known elves who absolutely adored these lands and couldn’t imagine leaving… And they all left at some point.

What men gained in physical decline, elves gained in weariness.

Maglor could feel it in himself. The feeling of “yes, that again… Let’s just sit there until the whole era passes or something, anything, kills me first” that took him over far too often to be healthy... Followed by periods of being in awe of the world and human ingenuity.

Somehow he was still there regardless, no doubt because he always found himself somehow distracted by something, be it music, a case of a persistent kid gone wrong or something of the sort. It had been kittens once. Well, a whole adult cat with it, but the whole mom and litter had been somehow dumped in his lap one day, when he was minding his own business, just sitting in a street corner, under the rain, hoping no one would notice him there, but too tired of everything to bother moving.

Moving required energy. Moving required caring. Moving required actually wanting something and that time he just couldn’t.

But someone had dumped those poor things literally on his lap as if he was just a convenient bench, and had left. And he found himself with the terrifying company of a near feral mother cat and four obnoxious kittens in severe need of a climbing post.

The simple selfish mewling company had been a balm to his tired heart, even if cats don’t live all that long in the grand scheme of things, they had been the company he needed at the time.

The door opening threw Maglor nicely out of his thoughts, and he turned to find Louis who looked something like shocked. Or happy. Or something. Not one of his usual looks.

“Louis?”

“I met a doctor.”

“That… Happens?”

“I mean… I met a doctor who wants an assistant and agreed to take me as such.”

Did Maglor want to know how that had come about? Deciding he didn’t unless Louis felt like sharing specifically, he just smiled and told him :

“Congratulations!”

“That comes with a pretty decent salary too. We can. We can find a better place than this, Max.”

Did Louis really mean he wanted Maglor to mooch off of him? Was Louis even aware of how they already looked to others? That was bound to create problems. This era was not kind to perceived “moral offences” even if there was no actual offence going on.

Perhaps it was pity or an unspoken apology for having pulled him into homelessness for a few days over his ex-girlfriend? Or something similar.

But if so Maglor really needed to let him know he didn’t care much in the end. He always knew his arrangement with Ismérie was temporary anyway.

“We?”

“Well, sure. You don’t really want to stay in this place do you? Winter’s going to be a nightmare. Pretty sure there’s a sort of unholy magic in there that makes the outside temperatures worse.”

“Yes, but it’s protected from the wind, it’s dry and it’s safe.”

Also Louis had no way to really judge the temperature as the young fool slept curled up against Maglor every night, and according to those who knew him in the past, it was a fact that Maglor radiated enough heat to keep someone warm in the snow. Alright, he was pretty sure that it had been an exaggeration. Elrond had been a somewhat dramatic teenager at times, but still, it has been said.

“It’s a crappy place, the neighbourhood is horrible, and I’m pretty sure you hit your head on the ceiling at least twice since we moved here. It’s fine to share with you, Max. Please? Let’s just move away with my first pay!”

“Louis, all due respect, and you know I love you well… But have you heard our neighbours talking?”

Louis grimaced at that.

“All the more reason to actually leave this place. Homosexuality has been technically legal since the revolution, but people very clearly still find ground to arrest people for it. I don’t plan on being under arrest for that anytime soon. So?”

Maglor blinked at that. At least the young man was aware enough of the facts.

“So it’d be easier to avoid being under arrest somehow for that if you found your own apartment?”

“So that the old hens we have for neighbours can claim I left you and you’re now a dangerous homosexual out to infect everyone in sight by the power of… I prefer not to know what they think homosexuals can do or how actually but yeah…”

That had Maglor wince.

This was a possibility that he hadn’t thought about, but probably a low one. In theory.

That was the downside of having such babbling, nosey and judgmental old hen for a neighbour.

“If anyone throws accusations at me, I can point fingers at Joséphine and prove that her simple presence does mean I’m not homosexual, and you?”

Not only Maglor had no one to vouch for him on that point, his last lover, a delightful woman with a wicked humour, having been dead for close to one or two hundred years previously, but on top of that he had more tact than to shove a lover under the bus to prove a point, thank you very much. What was wrong with this era?

“Nice of you to involve your previous lover in your personal problems.”

“She involved me first in her problems.”

“Correction. She involved you in something that resulted in a consenting sexual encounter between you that will have lasting effect in her life. She came to you because you chose right alongside her to take the risk to get her pregnant, with all the consequences that would have.”

“She came to me because she was out of other options and, and here I quote her, I “know what it is to be poor and without a future”. Louis corrected bitterly.

Maglor blinked at that. The more he heard about her, the less he understood what Louis had seen in her.

“You’re still both responsible for her current state. It was her right to involve you as the father of her child. On the other hand, our neighbour’s babbling is entirely due to our own behaviour. To have her involved and shamed in a public place for your sake is naught but cruelty and selfishness.”

“I’m not going to jail because an old coot has fantasies about what I get up to behind closed doors!”

“Louis, months ago Ismérie basically warned me off of seducing you. She kept doubts about our relationship for months. Upon us moving in here, our neighbours instantly thought that we’re a couple. There’s a reason why everyone thinks so. That reason is our behaviour.”

“We don’t have a relationship!”

“No, but we live together and we’re close for no reason they can understand, and be honest with me even just this once. Is it really an impossibility?”

Louis looked down at that and Maglor nodded.

“But we did nothing! There’s no reason for people to…”

“People don’t need reason, Louis. Or there would be far fewer problems in this world. We may have done nothing, but people still can’t explain our closeness and just… Jump to easy and inaccurate conclusions. You can’t exactly blame them for making assumptions, we all do it. Besides, if you get your own place, you’ll be spared further rumours from our lovely neighbours.”

Louis looked frustrated to high heaven at that.

Maglor emitted a surprised sound when Louis kissed him.

“There, at least if we’re accused of something, we’ll have actually done something.”

Maglor almost wanted to point out there was more to do than kiss, or that he hadn’t actually asked for it, but he decided that silence was the better, safer, road to take.

Besides, he loved that little impulsive idiot.

One day, he’ll have to try to consider why he almost always fell for the impulsive ones.

Louis let himself fall on the couch, looking distinctly unhappy.

“You know, there’s a difference between asking me to come because you’re “fine with sharing with me because the current house is really crappy”, and asking me to come with you because you actively want me there.”

“Alright then. I want to move to a better place, and I want you to live with me. Will you come?”

Maglor nodded and Louis smiled. He was going to say something, but someone came knocking at the door, startling the both of them.

The elf was faster to reach the door to open it and he stepped back, as Joséphine passed in front of him to get to a distinctly unhappy Louis:

“What do you…?” Louis started to ask.

“Ismérie’s sick, and I don’t know what to do and the doctor won’t come as we can’t pay him and…”

Louis was out of the door before Joséphine was done talking, leaving Maglor to deal with his very pregnant ex-girlfriend.

“Right. I’ll walk you back.”

“What if I go back and catch…” Joséphine asked with tears in her eyes.

“I’ll stop you right there, Miss Joséphine. This is not your home. I left you a place to work and live in once, but I don’t owe you anything. I won’t let you chase me from my home this time around.”

“I didn’t mean to…”

“That’s nevertheless what happened. I understand that you’re afraid, but you need to grow up and become independent. Neither Louis nor I are your father or keeper.”

“I just… I was hoping… Louis loved me and… This child is…”

“The child is the only reason Louis has been as accommodating to you as he’s been. Miss Joséphine, I understand your hopes for Louis, but before you just latch onto someone else for guidance you need to find your own footing. In short, grow up. You’re an adult or near enough. You need to assume the results of your own choices.”

“But… What if I actually fall ill too?! I don’t want to die like that! Ismérie has been sick all day!”

“Look, speak to Louis, not to me. I apologise for it, but I’ll be honest with you: I don’t know you. I don’t owe you. And neither do I care for you. You’re nothing to me. I was nice once. But you can’t keep intruding in my own private life. So see with the one actually concerned by your common child, not the innocent bystander.”

She winced and nodded, looking downcast.

Maglor knew he was harsh, but she was so… Strange: she could be entirely unbothered to cry on his shoulder one moment just to act shy like a dove the next, then she’d push into his personal space to get to Louis, and then act like a terrified mouse. Maglor didn’t know if she was a doubtful actress or doing it naturally and unconsciously, but he found the inconsistent behaviour to be grating.

Joséphine stayed silent most of the way back to the tavern and they found Louis just leaving Ismérie’s room. He looked pale and sort of helpless when he looked up at them:

“It’s Cholera.”

Maglor barely managed to catch Joséphine as she fainted, the news clearly too much for her. Louis looked at her in shock and somewhat pity.

“Louis, come get her will you, also you’ll need to talk to her.”

“I have nothing to tell her.”

“Louis, did you just sleep with her because she was pretty and there or did you like her?”

“Of course I liked her. I’m not that shallow that I’d sleep with a girl just because she looks pretty. Not with all the consequences it’s liable to have. I’m not that rich and powerful that I could afford it.”

“Then you need to speak to her.”

“But…”

“If only for the sake of your child.”

Louis grumbled but came to Maglor to pick up Joséphine and carry her to her room. Maglor watched him go with mixed feelings, and a wry smile. His eyes then hardened with determination, and he went to Ismérie’s room.

She had put limits on what she could afford, which was normal, but she was a generous soul who didn’t deserve to die this way.

He sat next to her bed, and placed a hand on her face and another on her wrist, checking her pulse. And then he focused on encouraging her immune system, as he did a while ago for Louis.

Maglor was so focused on his task that he didn’t realise when the door opened on Louis. The man entered the room with a worried face, ready to pull Maglor outside, for safety sake, as Cholera was highly contagious…

But he froze in the entrance of the room, seeing Maglor at Ismérie’s side:

Maglor was looking like he was faintly glowing, not like a fire was glowing: it could have been a trick of the light on the man’s pale skin… if enough light could ever enter the room.

The man’s hair was as ever a bit of a mess at the end of the day, but picking through the hair was the tip of a pointy ear. Louis wondered faintly how he never noticed that.

The air itself seemed to be buzzing, something very similar to what he had imagined, or perhaps really felt, when he was sick himself. He shivered in response to that strange invasive feeling.

Louis instinctively wanted to stop him, to ask for explanations, to ensure Ismérie was well…

But he was rooted in place, watching.

When Maglor stopped, he finally noticed that Louis was at the room’s door and very much aware he had done something not quite human.

“What are you? No, forget that. What did you do to Ismérie?”

“I did to her the same thing I did to you when you fell ill. Sadly I can’t do miracles, I can only even out your lot’s survival chances. The rest will be only her.”

“You’re not human.” Louis said simply.

“What else could I be?”

Louis bit his lips, and Maglor waited calmly. If Louis was in need of some adjectives to define him, he could help, he’s heard a lot over the years when he accidentally or not revealed his nature.

Depending on Louis’ reaction, Maglor would either stay and take the risk to keep on living as he had been this time around, or he’d leave immediately. He had his harp on his back as always when he left the apartment, he had his spare pouch of money, and everything that was precious to him was always on him so… If necessary he could head straight to the doors of the city and be nothing but a footnote on a renting agreement as far as people in Paris were concerned.

Hopefully, Louis wasn’t the kind of man to get sneaky and cruel once he learned something he disliked. He had been rather straightforward so far, so Maglor had hopes there. But it wouldn’t be the first time he’d be mistaken about someone.

Louis stayed silent and on guard for a while, watching Maglor with wary eyes, studying him in a way that Maglor strongly disliked, until several hours later, when Ismérie decided she felt far better and could go back to work and Louis struggled to make her understand that in fact, no, she couldn’t yet.

That amused Maglor somewhat, despite the feeling of dread he felt at Louis’ strange reaction.  Maglor dearly hoped that Louis would at least give him a chance to explain, or to leave, before he did something drastic.

He couldn’t, and wouldn’t if he could to be fair, cure stubbornness, and the argument would have been pretty hilarious to watch in other circumstances.

In the end, Ismérie agreed to rest for a few days, and Maglor and Louis left the tavern together, walking side by side to their apartment.

“Do I need to leave?” Maglor asked quietly.

“No.”

“Really?”

“Don’t leave, Max. Hells, is Max even your real name?”

Maglor hesitated a bit on that one, and Louis sighed.

“My name has been lost to time. You can call me Maglor if you want, but Max is fine and as real as any other.”

“Maglor.” His name had a foreign feeling on his tongue, and Maglor had the sudden desire to hear him pronounce the name he grew up with: Makalaurë. Just to hear it. Just for once…

But no, Maglor would be good enough as far as “real name” went. He had no wish to go into the whole: well yes I have several names, want their history?

Let the last one who called him Makalaurë be Maedhros. Let the name be buried with his brother.

Maglor stayed careful for a while with the knowledge he wasn’t exactly a standard human in Louis’ hands, but nothing seemed to really change, apart from the fact that Louis spent perhaps more time watching him with open curiosity, clearly wanting to ask questions.

Maglor almost wanted to tell him to speak freely, but was also half afraid that Louis would never run out of questions, and if there was one thing he didn’t actually want to do, it was to go over his life-story.

Louis was impulsive, and probably wouldn’t realise it immediately if his questions were verging on insensitive, and alas, Maglor history was full of sensitive details he didn’t want to share with someone who wouldn’t and couldn’t understand.

But on the other hand, Louis was also considerate enough that if he did ask uncomfortable questions, if Maglor showed he was uncomfortable, he’d back off.

Probably.

However, Maglor felt he owed him some answers. Louis was legitimately wondering about Maglor as he realised that he was something… Different. Could he really get away with saying nothing? It wouldn’t be quite fair for the young man, would it?

“So, in the end you never really answered. What are you exactly?”

Maglor couldn’t hold a smile back. Looks like Louis finally found the courage to ask his questions. Now would Maglor himself find the courage to answer him honestly…

“An elf. I’m an elf, Louis.”

“I thought elves were all females and bloodthirsty creatures?”

“That’s not… Elves aren’t all female creatures wanting to kill the humans who venture near them, and who live hidden in woods and hills or in an alternate dimension of this world.”

Well... Maglor stopped himself at that. Technically… 

The world is round and there’s been no trace of Valinor found anywhere, even though ships have often sailed the seas to discover other lands or for commercial exchanges or whatnot.

“Alright, let me amend that. Elves aren’t female creatures wanting to kill the humans who venture near them, and who live hidden in woods and hills.”

“So I see… Does that mean that there is an alternate dimension of this world for elves and whatnot?”

“There’s… You know, I actually have no idea.”

“… Would you… care to explain? Perhaps?”

“Hm… Once upon a time, millennia and millennia ago, some race of elves decided we needed to leave our island and come to the big wild world to fight a big bad being with far more power than us all put together, which was a supremely bad idea, but saved some lives here and there at the price of almost all of ours. There were conflicts, mass murder, grief, loss... In any case, among those survivors of those early years of the world, my people decided to take ships back to the island in question until I was the last one left on this interestingly trouble-creating earth, and I have strictly no idea how Valinor works nowadays. Before, when we left it, it was just another island on the other side of the sea, but now…”

“Now on the other side of the sea, it’s well known that other men live. So it changed and you have no idea of how, or if it just disappeared altogether.”

“… Chilling thought, but I’m pretty sure it’s still there somehow. Just… carefully unavailable to this mortal decaying world.”

“Charming way of phrasing it.”

“Should I apologise?”

“… No. I suppose it’s what it is. You’re immortal after all.”

“Pretty much.”

“Do you… Do you even like me? Or am I just… Something of a child to coddle to you?”

“You’re very much not a child. It’s not about age, Louis. It’s about behaviour. I see you as an adult. You act like an adult, most of the time. And I do like you.”

“Am I… Reminding you of someone you once knew?”

“Yes and no. You share the brashness of some people who were dear to me, but that’s about all and not a unique trait by any means.”

“I see. So you… Like me then.”

“I said so, yes.”

“One could wonder upon learning their love interest is that much older than them.”

“I wouldn’t know, would I?”

Louis rolled his eyes at Maglor who laughed quietly.

“I did what you suggested. I spoke to Joséphine.”

“Hm… And? Do I need to move again?”

“What? No!”

“Good, at least. So? What did you think of that conversation?”

“She wants me to marry her to regularise her situation.”

“Hm… And what do you think of that?”

“I think that I don’t want to deal with this mess. She’s unreliable, she misses badly her previous social rank and resents everything that’s different from it and she’s… She’s just… I don’t know. She’s not the person I used to like.”

“Hm… I feel a “but” in that.”

“But you’re right, and the child is my child. I don’t know how else to acknowledge the child. I don’t want to condemn a poor kid to the kind of fate kids without a known father have. It’s not the child’s fault if the mother is… What she is. I don’t even have words to describe her anymore at this point.”

Maglor nodded. “Perhaps you should try spending more time with her? See if…”

“At this point, I’m pretty sure that if I spend any more time with her, I’ll just decide that no, I don’t want to chain myself to that absolute ball of a woman.”

“Are you just comparing that girl to the ball and chain of prisoners?”

“Spending time with her feels as much like punishment as being in jail.” Louis answered snappishly.

Maglor snorted in amusement at that. Louis could be so dramatic when he wanted to... He may not like Joséphine, but even her company wasn’t as much of a threat to one’s health as jail.

“When you reach a decision, tell me please.”

Louis nodded, he would not have much of a choice seeing they lived together anyway.

Days came and went, following a sort of routine. Louis spent his days shadowing the doctor who took him as an assistant, and Maglor spent his days playing music in public places, or picking up tasks here and there for coins. It didn’t pay much, but it did pay and that was enough for him.

However on the 31^st of August, they all saw or heard of the protests on Saint-Horoné’s street. Maglor was thanking Eru or whatever deity or power was listening that Louis was actually kept busy by the doctor because nothing good would come out of those protests.

Nothing good for the protestors at least.

And Maglor could only watch Louis raging every night the protestations were going on.

It was heartbreaking to witness in a way:

People were tired. People were hungry. People only saw the government enrich themselves, cheat, and live a high life of banquet, opera, and gold digging, while they were hungry, working to the bones, wondering from day to day if it would be the day they’d lose everything to hunger, or illness.

So people were right there in the street, shouting to be heard:

They wanted the conservative minister Guizot gone for good.

They wanted food.

They wanted to be able to afford living.

Why were people even working for, if they couldn’t afford food for their spouse or children?

Maglor had been a few streets over and even from there he could hear the protests. The shouts of anger, of determination. The calls to end Guizot. To call the king to listen.

But along the protests, the soldiers of the king were there, keeping an eye on the situation, weapons at the ready… Ready to turn against the people.

Whenever the soldiers were called in, chances were that people were caught and sent to jail for so much as being around the wrong street at the wrong time…

The soldiers were there to protect the Monarchy. The king, the government. The people were there to protect their rights to live.

The soldiers were a clear threat.

Maglor became convinced that Louis wasn’t in the thick of the protests only because he knew his situation was already precarious. The doctor and Maglor both were encouraging him to keep working instead of going to the protests.

“Do you even know how many scandals there are now? Those people are just trying to live in riches while we all die of poverty at their feet! They cheat, they murder, they have fun, they have banquets! They pay people to do their dirty deeds and the king just… Let it happen like it’s something that should be normal and expected. Who cares if the poor population suffers so long the rich keep their gold, hm? And if the king doesn’t care, who will care for us? The Republicans are right. The government does nothing for the people, so it’s time for change! We are also more numerous and they can’t shut all of us down!” Louis had said all this many times in one version or another.

But after a few days, the main protestors were jailed and the people just… Dwindled in their number and the protests stopped.

Maglor thought the whole thing was but the start of something terrible, but he had too much to lose by being known and recognized so he refused to meddle.

Besides, even replacing this monarchy by another would only last for so long until the same issue appeared again. Or worst. Worst was always possible strangely enough. There was never any end to the level of suffering that those in power managed to throw at their people when they wanted to.

That it never failed to cause bloodshed in the end never seemed to stop them or make them think somehow.

And some days after that, it was announced that Guizot was named president of the council.

Louis was livid at that. The man was known to be inflexible, and against the changes desired by those who were muttering about what was now needed in the government.

Words like: “Work for everyone”, “equality”, “end to the corruption”, “better life for the working class”,  “interdiction for anyone to accumulate several functions in the government” or even the dreamed “universal suffrage for men” could be heard. Sadly those same words, so desired by the middle class and working class in general were ignored by the government, and actively opposed by Guizot.

To say that the man wasn’t popular was an understatement, even if he was working to ensure there would be more schools in the country. That, Maglor granted him freely, was a very good thing.

Maglor could understand Louis’ anger. The government always showed that they didn’t care about people’s opinion: that was just one more proof. But he hadn’t lived this long without realising that no change of politics ever lasted, and that the victims of politics were always the people, whatever the kind of politics it was, it always, always, without fault, took a turn at some point for the worst.

So seeking change like Louis wanted, like many people were whispering…

Bloodshed without true result.

The people wouldn’t get what they wanted this way.

The people would suffer.

The people would die.

Poor people would stay poor.

The government would probably never stop using soldiers to threaten their opponents…

But people were hoping for changes, without seeing the lessons of history…

And Maglor, who dealt in songs and music and words… Didn’t have the words to tell Louis that his hopes for a better future if the government changed… Would be met only with disappointment.

With Louis being an apprentice to a medical doctor, finding an apartment was far easier. Maglor and Louis didn’t have much to move either, their previous apartment having been on the small side.

Maglor was long used to travelling light: he lived out of a backpack most of the time and changed his clothing for newer ones when the old ones weren’t fitting to the climates or were becoming odd to see on someone. Fashion tended to shift fast among mortals, much to his annoyance at times. When he could he sold his still usable but out of fashion clothing, or repurposed it. He had lost long ago any attachment to any material possession outside of his harp and a finely crafted dagger.

Louis himself had been left with only a couple of bags worth of belongings before Maglor and him shared a living space. Clothing mainly, and school books and notes. He had more clothing than Maglor, and kept a few things of his parents: his father’s bible, and his mother’s ring.

So moving had been easy and fast. The new apartment was again just under the roof, but it had more space: two bedrooms and a real kitchen space, and it was at least better insulated. It was the advantage of a newer building.

Living with Louis was however becoming an exercise in patience:

For one, since they moved, Joséphine was there so often that Maglor was starting to wonder whether or not to ask her to pay rent. Alas the girl didn’t become more stable emotionally as her pregnancy advanced. To the contrary, she seemed to get worse.

And for a second, Louis seemed to alternate between flirting with Maglor, raging about something while ignoring Maglor, and speaking of Joséphine in a way that made Maglor think he should probably expect a wedding invitation sooner or later for duty’s sake.

He could understand duty. Particularly if it was for the sake of a child.

That’s the reason why he never pressed Louis, and never tried to tell Joséphine to take a hike, even in the uncomfortable moments when Maglor was alone at home with his harp and the pregnant and moody girl.

Maglor was playing music in public less and less, trying to fill most of his working hours doing tasks here and there for various shops and other businesses.

The people out there were grumbling louder and louder and Maglor feared seeing a protest movement start under his nose. He’d feel guilty at the result whatever happened. At least working for someone else took him away from the streets most of the time.

Not that washing tables, or cutting wood, or working on a construction site, or bearing messages was fun, but at least it gave him a chance to avoid being accidentally caught in a protest.

But that, in turn, made him crankier than he usually was, which amused Louis to no end. As the young man said, Maglor was “living a love story with his harp, but leaving it a few hours every day wouldn’t kill him, honest”.

And while Maglor didn’t mind Louis’ teasing, the whole situation felt like he was just waiting for disaster to strike. Any other time, he’d have already left the city for safety’s sake because he wasn’t, contrary to some people’s claims, insane, and he wanted no part in what was coming.

Alas, this time he found himself attached to someone who very much wanted to stay, and wanted even more to get involved.

At least he wasn’t alone in his efforts to stop him.

Louis was out working, and Maglor was in the house, coming back from work when he found Joséphine crying on their couch.

Maglor was starting to seriously resent Louis’ guilty conscience that made him give Joséphine a key to their apartment. He knew that if he raised the subject, he could probably ensure the girl would never step foot in there again, so he carefully said nothing at all on the matter, but the last thing he wanted was to see her or talk to her.

“Did you hear?” She asked before he could consider leaving again.

“Hear what?” Maglor sighed coming in fully and closing the door behind him.

“The city will stop the bread distribution.”

“Bread is more readily available these days. Maglor shrugged.

“But what if…”

“Look, you can’t fail to have noticed that bread is more easily available from many bakeries and taverns and we can find what we need again in shops and markets to make our own. There’s no point for the city council to keep the distribution going.”

“But what if it disappears again?”

“Then we’ll do what we need to survive.”

“You don’t understand.”

“Then talk to Louis or Ismérie.”

“Louis doesn’t care and Ismérie thinks that more people will buy from her if the government stops the distribution, so she doesn’t understand either why I’m worried.”

Maglor rolled his eyes at that. Poor misunderstood innocent victim of a girl. He’ll pity her. When he’ll have time. One day. Perhaps.

“Did you want something apart from that, Miss Joséphine?”

“Could you do that thing you did with eggs last time? I… I really crave that. Please? Or perhaps you’d agree to share the recipe?”

Maglor’s eye twitched at that. What was he? Her servant?

He sighed and hesitated but seeing that it’d give him a respite from the still crying girl, he went to the kitchen. She was really too thin to say she was pregnant, it couldn’t really be healthy for her or the baby so if his omelette recipe encouraged her to eat… Louis would probably appreciate it.

He checked what they had and sighed. That was bad luck:

“I’m afraid I can’t. We don’t have the ingredients, and not the means to get more before next week.”

Joséphine started to cry harder:

“YOU SEE?! YOU SEE?! That’s why I’m worried! We don’t have the means to get food as we want, and the government will stop helping with the most basic food!”

Maglor looked at her with the vague will to jump out a window there. No he didn’t actually see, nor did he understand her tears. The government helped with bread but bread was now more readily available. As for the eggs, the government never helped with that, and it’s not like his cooking was that good that she couldn’t do better on her own, and she lived and worked in a tavern…

“Why did you come today, miss Joséphine?”

“I… I was sick. I felt weak and everything was swimming, and I felt like everything was so distant, I almost fainted serving the tables so Ismérie sent me here.”

Maglor frowned and took her wrist in hand, making her gasp in shock, not that he cared. He felt her pulse was erratic even now when she was sitting and… There was something… Abnormal that he couldn’t put a finger on.

“When Louis comes, ask him to check your health.”

“What is it?”

“I’m not sure. Speak to Louis.”

“Speak to Louis, speak to Louis, can you say anything else to me than “speak to Louis”?” She snarled, clearly annoyed, tears still falling on her face.

“Well, considering I’m not your friend, nor your parent, that I tolerate you in my home, even in the absence of the one you’re really trying to seduce, that I’ve passed you a good number of things until now, one would think that propriety if nothing else, would push you to at least make an effort to stay courteous.”

She lowered her head like a berated child.

“I just… You always do that. It’s like you don’t care.”

“That’s because I actually don’t.”

The deadpan delivery had her sniffle and cry. Again.

Maglor sighed.

“Look, I’m not a doctor. I know some things, but that’s no replacement for actual medical studies. You want a diagnostic, you speak to Louis.”

“Why did you touch my wrist then?”

“Because even my poor skills could detect if you were being a comedian or if something was really going on.”

“I’m not lying.”

“I noticed that much, yes. Which is why I told you to speak to Louis.”

She looked like she didn’t know how to react to that.

“Do you think… That I’m really sick? Perhaps it’s the child. It must be it. That child has been like a bad luck charm. Since it got in my belly my life has been gotten from bad to worse. If I get rid of it…”

“I would suggest strongly that you measure your words and reassess the situation.”

“What do you mean?”

“The child isn’t responsible for your misfortunes. Your own behaviour was. What, you thought your father, a well known wealthy man who needs his good reputation to continue his business and so his fortune, would allow you to tarnish said reputation by being an unmarried mother? One who fell pregnant from a poor orphan without a good name at that? Are you really, honestly that dense? Anyone with half a brain could have told you that if your father learnt you slept with Louis he’d either disown you or marry you to someone whether or not you liked it! The moment you fell pregnant your fate was sealed!”

“It wasn’t supposed to happen! I could do everything before! He always, always protected me!” She cried.

“So you were a spoiled irresponsible child put in front of your responsibilities for the first time, congratulation on seeing the meaning of consequences finally.”

“You’re cruel.”

“Yes, I can be.”

The “so don’t push me” that Maglor held back was nevertheless understood for Joséphine fell silent, watching Maglor get busy in the room.

When Louis was late coming home, Maglor offered to make food for Joséphine, and Louis when he’d come back. She looked at him with distrust but nodded.

Maglor was in the middle of making stew when the front door opened on Louis who looked tired when he saw Joséphine, and went straight to the kitchen, without actually talking to her past a rather hurried greeting.

“Mag… Max, what is she doing here?”

“You need to check her health.”

“What? She looks fine.”

“No, Louis. Seriously, there’s something wrong going on. Check her health. It’s important, trust me.” Maglor whispered to him.

Louis bit his lips at that:

“Something you could do nothing for I guess, since you’re asking me?”

“I can’t even diagnose what it is. All I know is that her song is wrong. I’m not a healer and you know that.”

“Her song?”

“Her… How to explain… Everyone has a presence. I work with songs, Louis, that’s why I’m a minstrel in the first place. What I perceive of this presence, it’s like a song, a song unique to every person. And hers has gotten… Twisted. Wrong. It’s not… I don’t heal people, Louis. I just encourage people’s body to fight harder against their illnesses, people’s song to strengthen. And I’m not actually sure I can do that for your girl.”

Louis bit his lips but stole a quick kiss from Maglor and left the kitchen again.

Maglor touched his lips with a small smile. Today was a good day for Louis then.

Maglor stayed in the kitchen until the food was ready, almost an hour later. He put three bowls on a tray and filled the bowls with stew, added a piece of bread for each of them and went to the living-room where Joséphine was crying, still or again perhaps, and Louis looked sombre.

“Come and eat, lady and gentleman.”

“I have a heart problem.” Joséphine cried at him.

Maglor just looked at her with a raised eyebrow. He was supposed to care because…?

“Right. Care to elaborate?”

“My mother had a heart problem, and she died. And Louis said I have the same heart problem!”

“I said it sounded like you might have the same.” Louis corrected.

“I’m going to die!” Joséphine cried, hiding her face in her hands.

“Louis?”

“That’s… Very probable yes. The pregnancy didn’t help to be fair. It’s a strain on her body and…”

“See? I told you! That child is a bad luck charm! Without it I’d have been fine. It’s all its fault. And without it…”

“Without it your father would have married you to the first man with power who offered him a good price for you, and you’d have been forced to carry a child for a man you may or may not have loved at all, hence ending in the exact same situation.” Maglor corrected coldly, making her freeze in shock and shake her head.

“No. No, father wouldn’t have…”

“Oh? Did your father teach you how to take care of his business?”

“Of course not, I’m his daughter, not his son.”

“Yes, precisely. His daughter. Meaning someone he was going to marry off in exchange for all the advantages he could get out of it for his own social good. You were a tool, and the proof of that is that when it became clear that he would never find you a good match due to your very much undesirable pregnancy, he just got rid of you. So yes, your father would have.”

Joséphine was sobbing at that and Louis looked like he was developing a headache.

“You’re such a cruel man. I. I don’t know why Louis likes you.” She cried.

“I’m only cruel because you place the blame for your own stupidity on your unborn child. Learn to be at least a good mother and I’ll stop being cruel. Keep talking of blaming the child or getting rid of it, and you’ll see I can become even worse. Am I clear?”

“Why didn’t you bear it if you want that idiot child that much?”

“Are you that ignorant that you don’t know how biology works? Perhaps you should keep money to go back to school at some point to get up to date on some basic life knowledge. It’ll probably save you another unwanted pregnancy the next time you decide to take a lover.”

“I hate you.”

Maglor’s answering smile said it was more than a little mutual there.

“Max, can you please, please, just ignore her? Please. For me.”

Maglor sighed at that and put the food on the table between them.

“Food’s ready and available. And I suggest that the pregnant woman who was so afraid of shortage just an hour ago eats her food.”

“You’re heartless. How can I eat?”

Maglor looked pointedly at Louis, but didn’t answer the girl. He had better to do with his time. Louis coaxed Joséphine to eat, and Maglor let her steal his own piece of bread. He didn’t care much. He still had his bowl of stew, and he was busy thinking of options.

He couldn’t straight up heal her, it wasn’t something out of her body that attacked her, but something from inside that went wrong, so bolstering her body might also aggravate the issue. He needed to think on that. He was pretty sure there was something he could help so she’d have at least a few years with her child despite her own belief of her impending doom.

Halfway through his bowl of stew, Maglor started humming tentatively; he might have an idea, and went to take up his harp. He needed the support of his music for that kind of work. It required a delicate touch that… might be more the alley of a healer than his own.

Elrond would have been the perfect person to send her to for help if he hadn’t sailed so long ago.

In any case, he tried a few notes before playing a melody. He was careful to keep his attention on Joséphine’s presence, just to make sure he wasn’t going to kill her accidentally.

He didn’t exactly notice when Joséphine asked Louis what Maglor was doing, but he did hear the answer: “Oh you know he’s a minstrel, they’re like that when inspiration strikes.”

Maglor resisted the will to play a wrong note or two to teach them a lesson, but as he was busy trying to give strength to Joséphine if he did he might not control the result so…

Besides, he was playing the harp, it was very hard to make ear piercing sounds at the harp. It really wasn’t worth it.

Finally he stopped playing, and went to get a notebook to jot his idea down there.

What he did was lay a foundation, give her a bit of strength so she would feel less faint in the next few hours, but he’d need to work more on his tentative idea in order to perhaps get a more permanent or at least a longer lasting effect.

It’s only when he went to pick up his glass of wine that he noticed he hadn’t actually finished eating. Louis, seeing his attention was back with them, smirked at him:

“You know, I’m pretty sure children these days learn to not leave the table so long their plates aren’t empty.”

“It’s stew, it won’t be spoiled.” Maglor shrugged.

“Is there… Is there any left-over I could have please? I’m… Still hungry.”

“Hm… Not much left in the kitchen I’m afraid.”

“I’m just hungry. I’m always hungry these days. I’m eating for two.”

Maglor rolled his eyes but refused to answer. She would do whatever she wanted unless Louis put a stop to her behaviour anyway, and he was tired of being the villain of her personal story. He must have heard about his cruelty more often from her lips than during the entire First Age at this point!

Talk about ridiculous.

“Do you mind if I…?”

She pointed at Maglor’s abandoned plate and he snorted.

“I’m not about to get back to the table so do whatever you want.”

She stole the bowl he abandoned and she finished it, while Maglor went back to his notes.

“There’s also a bit more bread in the kitchen if you want.”

Louis raised an eyebrow at Maglor at that. But really, he wasn’t about to prevent a pregnant woman from eating, more so a sick pregnant woman. She needed her strength, and he wasn’t that much of a monster yet, no matter how aggravating he found the girl.

And she really was aggravating.

Louis invited Joséphine to stay the night, just in case she felt faint later, and Maglor glared at him for that. When she retired for the night, Louis turned toward Maglor:

“We can hardly throw her out of the door. She’s heavily pregnant and sick.”

“She’s your problem.”

“You left her your food.”

“I’m not quite as much at risk of fainting for lack of sustenance as she could be, it doesn’t mean I want to babysit her. When I left her that place at Ismérie’s tavern, it was with the understanding that she became Ismérie’s problem, not mine.”

“… Consider she’s my problem?” Louis offered tentatively.

“Which would be perfect, if we didn’t live together so your problems are my problems and vice-versa.”

Louis smiled a bit sheepishly at that.

“It’ll get better. When she delivers her baby and all is fine, she’ll be back to her usual self, you’ll see.”

Maglor raised an eyebrow at that. That was all well and good, but it was supposing that Maglor liked the girl when she was her “usual self” in the first place.

Louis pulled Maglor to the elf’s own room, as Joséphine had borrowed Louis’ room, and they both got ready for the night and got in the bed.

“If she bothers me in the morning, I’m blaming you. For the record.” Maglor warned Louis.

“Of course.”

Once upon a time, Maglor claiming he’d blame someone for something had an actual effect. He was starting to miss this. It was fear of him and his deeds, sure, but still… He wasn’t outright dismissed!

It was still night outside when Maglor woke, startled with the distinct feeling that something was going to happen. Not something that should happen at this time of the night.

He sat up, waking Louis who turned toward him with the expression of someone who didn’t understand why he was even awake and who’d rather be asleep for the next, oh, three days.

“Mags?”

Maglor rose out of the bed:

“Go back to sleep, I’ll stay awake for a moment I think.”

“Ok, what’s wrong?”

“… I’m not sure. I’m not even sure something is wrong. Go back to sleep, you have a long day tomorrow.”

“I have long days every day, and you wouldn’t be up like that if there was nothing.”

“Just a persistent feeling, nothing more. Go to sleep. Until we know what it is or if there’s even something at all, there’s no point in the both of us staying up.”

Louis turned over to go back to sleep. Maglor smiled seeing him, and left the room. Bad feelings were too insistent for him to rest, and he would disturb Louis if he stayed there.

Maglor went to settle in the living room alone with his harp and notebook, and started playing mindlessly, just enjoying the quiet of the night, waiting.

He was pretty sure nothing bad would happen… in theory.

He hoped.

Last time something bothered him like that, Rome caught on fire. It had been a fun few days where he’d had to leave in a hurry and did the stupid thing to help evacuate those he could somehow. That was one of the times he’s had to rebuild a harp.

His own had been a poor victim of the fire. Like about everything else he had owned at the time, but that was true for most of the city so…

Now Maglor hoped it didn’t mean that Paris was about to catch fire.

Just the idea of having to deal with a pregnant Joséphine if they had to evacuate Paris was enough to make him want to stay and burn…

It was nearer dawn when Joséphine came out of the room in clothing that he was pretty sure would be considered indecent by the current time and sense of morals.

She looked panicked and fell on Maglor like misery fell on the world.

“I’m having the baby!”

“Yes?”

“My water broke, I’m having the baby now!”

Maglor went to his room to wake Louis up. That was HIS problem to deal with. Maglor may know how to take care of a baby, but he certainly didn’t know enough of delivering a baby to do it safely with someone who had a heart issue.

“The problem appeared?”

“Your girl’s delivering your kid in the living-room. You’re the healer, please deal with it.”

That had Louis leave the bed with force swearing and put on something vaguely presentable to run to the next room, finding Joséphine breathing heavily on the couch, looking terrified.

“YOU COULD HAVE AT LEAST REASSURED HER!” Louis shouted at Maglor while running to Joséphine.

“I’m a cruel man, remember?”

And his family must have written the first handbook on pettiness. One could have thought Maglor would have changed through the years, and he did…

When he wanted to make an actual effort.

That happened sometimes.

Not here though. She was a bit too much in his face for that.

Besides, what did Louis wanted him to say? “All will be well, you’ll be fine”? Like Joséphine would believe anything he said…

He however was right there when Louis asked him to bring whatever he needed during the delivery, and it was not a quick process. It never really was to be fair.

Dawn had long passed when someone came knocking at their door forcefully, and Maglor went to open it even as Joséphine was screaming during a contraction.

“What is happening here?”

“A birth.”

The newcomer, Louis’ employer, the doctor, entered the room fully, taking in the scene.

“Well… Who is that young woman?”

“A ward of the woman who helped both Louis and I when we found ourselves in trouble during the famine at the beginning of the year.”

“I see. Well, tell Louis he can stay here today, but he’ll have a day of salary less.”

“I’ll tell him.”

“Also he must be here tomorrow at first light, no excuses.”

Maglor nodded, he’d pass the message to Louis, and closed the door behind the man when he left without even checking on Joséphine. 

What a doctor…

This era…

Maglor was pretty sure every healer he’s known would have repudiated that man. That or they’d have suffered from stroke from rage alone at that kind of behaviour.

Healing only the rich should have limits!

By midday the baby was born, cleaned, clothed and fed and Joséphine was back in bed, cleaned up and tired and pretending the child wasn’t here at all, and Louis was busy cleaning up the place very intentionally, and so the new-born had ended up in Maglor’s arms.

Joséphine rested in peace and quiet for a few hours while Maglor was babysitting, Louis finding apparently a sudden need to deep clean the whole apartment.

Strange how the presence of a baby gave Louis the sudden need to be too busy to hold said baby.

Maglor felt it was very natural to be holding a baby, but also he also felt very annoyed at holding a baby.

However he said nothing for the afternoon, until Joséphine emerged from the room, looking a bit better, if still probably sore.

“So, Louis, miss Joséphine, where do I put your daughter?”

Louis looked at him in alarm.

“Not in my arms.”

“Ismérie kept me a bassinet at her tavern. It’s an ugly little thing for an ugly wrinkly baby.” Joséphine answered Maglor.

“I don’t suppose you thought you’d need to take the bassinet here when you decided to come?”

“Of course not. But you can take it to Ismérie. It’ll be taken care of there, if you’re worried.”

Maglor glared at the girl for a moment.

“First, that’s not an “it”, that’s your daughter. Second…”

“Well, I don’t want it. I was actually hoping it wouldn’t be born at all.”

“If that was true, you’d have either been more careful when you decided to have sex like an idiot, or you’d have taken herbs to stop the pregnancy. If you didn’t that’s entirely on you, little miss, and I’m tired of your behaviour. If you have nothing better to say, I suggest you learn to shut up in the future.”

“You can’t say that! I’m the mother of Louis’ daughter. I’m here at home as much as you! I am in my rights.”

“The fact your daughter is born means that the only reason I’d have to stay tolerant with you is gone. Also no, you’re not here at home as much as I am. For one Louis isn’t married to you, hasn’t yet officially recognized your daughter as his, and isn’t the only one living here to start with. You’re nothing but an invasive, unnecessary, and unwanted guest to me.”

Maglor had reached the limits of his patience a while ago. Joséphine looked shocked at his answer.

“So, what’s the name of your child?”

“A name?”

Maglor looked vaguely tired for a moment there. Who ever let those children procreate? They were clearly not mature enough for that. 

“Louis…”

“I’m… Thinking about it. About a name. For the baby. My daughter that is.”

Maglor glared at the young man a moment before turning back to the infant in his arms.

“Somehow I was sure that my days of babysitting an actual newborn infant were over and gone with the rest of my family, but it would appear your parents are either incompetent or terrified of you for some reason, which is strange because I never heard of an infant devouring their parents in the dark of night, but who knows…”

Joséphine huffed at that even as Louis found himself busy in another room. The kitchen if Maglor heard right.

“It’s not like it really matter right away. I was told by my father long ago that it served nothing to give names to babies born into poor families before their 3rd months because many of them died anyway.”

“The city registry will need the name of your child regardless of what your father may or may not think. And in the case your child dies, there will need a name for her grave. Or do you want to be known as the only mother so unable to act like a mother that she can’t even think of a single name for her daughter in the 9 months she bore her?”

“I’m not alone in that, Louis is the same!”

“Actually I beg to differ! Children are the problem of the mother, not the father!” Louis called from the kitchen.

Maglor wanted so much to say something about that, but that… Was actually true in this day and age…

This era had gone so wrong in so, so, so many ways that Maglor would believe it was somehow the influence of Morgoth and the end of the world would come soon if he didn’t actually know better.

“Right, so think of a name now, otherwise I’ll call your child Louisa and I’ll have her birth recorded in the city registry as such.”

“Louisa. Great, I’ll take it.” Louis answered from the entrance of the room coming in with fruits for Joséphine who nodded.

“That’s a good name, Louisa.”

Maglor looked at them and sighed.

“Louis…”

“I’m sorry, but I just… I guess I thought… I guess I thought that Joséphine would… You know. Be a typical mother or something and that she’d… take care of that kind of things without our input.”

Maglor’s extremely unimpressed face expressed his thoughts clearly on the matter.

“Oh come on, I’m a man, what do I know of babies or names or… Things like that?”

“And what am I? Chopped liver?” Maglor reacted immediately.

“Apparently you’re someone who lived long enough to know more than me about babies! And. And besides we don’t even know if the child will survive long. For all we know she’ll be dead by this evening anyway.”

“You both wish so much good for your daughter, I’m impressed. Not.”

Louis winced at that.

“Yes, well, sorry but I’m a health officer. I can’t tell you how many things could go wrong spontaneously in an infant so…”

“Statistically speaking, you have good chances for that child to reach adulthood regardless. Seeing that, you know, the whole human race keeps growing in number, I think it’s safe to say that a majority of babies actually grow up without much problems.”

“Well… I mean, yes, but… sometimes it goes wrong.” Louis answered uneasily, barely looking at the child.

“And so you will not even bother to look after your daughter because “it might go wrong”?”

“It’s not like we wanted this child!” Joséphine claimed, annoyed.

“The moment you decided you could have your fun and didn’t try to get rid of the child when it was still possible, and I’m pretty sure Ismérie knew the herbs you could have used if you really wanted to, you lost the right to complain about Louisa’s birth.”

Joséphine blushed darkly, clearly angry, and Louis just looked between Maglor and her, looking somewhat shocked.

“That coming from a man reduced to begging in the streets.”

“Reduced to playing in the streets for money, thank you. I’m not yet a beggar, but that’s rich coming from you. I also fail to see the relation between my current employment status and your child’s birth, but do tell, it promises to be interesting.”

Joséphine looked at him in shock, unused, and perhaps a bit afraid, of the chill in his voice.

“Once again, Miss Joséphine, I’m not your friend, and you’re invading my life far more than strictly decent of you. So your judgement on my life, you will keep it for yourself. Otherwise you can take your daughter, and the door while you’re at it.”

“It’s also Louis’ daughter.”

“Prove it.”

“… What?”

“To speak crudely, you claim to have slept only with Louis because you “loved” him, and hoped that your father would accept him.”

“I did!”

“Max please don’t…” Louis started with a wince.

“Anyone with half a brain could have told you that your father would never allow for your indiscretion to remain unpunished. So I think that you slept with Louis because you wanted to on the spur of the moment, without considering the results of your actions, which would mean you could have slept with anyone else the exact same way or you could have “fallen in love” with anyone else the exact same way.”

“I didn’t!”

“Again. Prove it.”

Joséphine looked near tears at that.

“Max…” Louis tried again uneasily.

“You know the saying, Louis. “Mother is sure, father is maybe”. She wants to be pitied and coddled because she fell pregnant “accidentally”, if one can call sleeping around an accident, and I have tolerated far more than enough already. If the miss wants to criticise my life, she’s welcome to also take my criticism of her life.”

“You just want to keep Louis for yourself! You’re one of those freaks who like men.”

“Joséphine!” Louis spluttered, face paling at the accusation.

“He has no girl! Never had any since I met him!”

“He’s also a street musician, or according to you, a beggar. No woman is going to fall for his charms. That doesn’t mean he’s one of those people. And I thought you were better educated than to cast accusations like that!” Louis said, defending Maglor.

At least Louis had the good idea to keep their relationship secret there. Maglor approved whole-heartedly.

“He… He never even looked at me twice. Louis, you must see it, he…” Joséphine tried again, pleading toward Louis.

“You came to me because you were pregnant with the child of another man, and on top of that you’re acting like you don’t know whether to act like a woman or like a 5 years old. Who, apart from Louis, would want to touch that?” Maglor answered pointedly, making her blush.

“I AM an adult!” she claimed sharply.

“Funnily enough, I prefer adult women who know they’re actual adults and act like it. Strange, I know.”

“Louis!”

“I will not take your defence, Joséphine. Not on that point. Not after your accusations.”

“You… You can’t agree with…”

“Ismérie too agrees with Max. You’re just… Tiring. But if you don’t want to participate in your daughter’s life, you can go, no one is holding you back here. If you want to actually be a mother, then stop saying Louisa is responsible for your problems or that you’re innocent or that Max is cruel to you or that he’s an homosexual just because you don’t like him.”

“But… Louis, we were lovers.” She gasped, crying like a seasoned actress.

“I said what I said, Joséphine. We both know that being lovers means nothing to you. I already told you that I didn’t care to compete with your desire to get back to a better social standing.”

“You really allowed me to stay just for your child.” Joséphine realised with shock.

“You already knew that.”

“But… Louis he… He looks at you…”

“If you must know, Joséphine, I’m the one who kissed him.”

That had her gasping in shock, looking at Louis with horror. Neither realised that Maglor’s look mirrored Joséphine’s look of horror.

He hadn’t wanted to let her in on the secret. Not at all.

“See? Being with you too often made sure I’d fall head over heels in love with anyone not female. Are you done now trying to point at MY lover for homosexuality?”

Maglor started to frown at that, he had been perfectly happy to have Joséphine unaware of the nature of their relationship, but now that she was, telling her that sort of things before assessing how she’ll take the knowledge in the long run might prove more dangerous than it was worth.

“So, where do you want me to put your daughter?” Maglor interrupted calmly.

“Keep her. And I want to rest. I’d rather be alone if you please.”

“Before you go, can you at least feed your child?”

Joséphine glared at him but took Louisa from his arms and left the room for a moment, before she came back, gave him the infant back, and left again.

Maglor’s lips tilted downward as he reinstalled the child in his arms, but he let her go back to Louis’ room without further interruption. Maglor went to his own room to find a scarf to arrange a sort of baby carrier to have his hands free despite carrying the newborn child.

Louis entered the room behind him.

“You’re unhappy with me.”

“I’m unhappy at a lot of things that happened today, and at a lot of things that happened since Joséphine came into my life. You’ve lived well with the knowledge until now, I think you’ll continue to live well enough with it even now.” Maglor said simply.

“She won’t talk.”

“Don’t underestimate the wrath of a scorned woman.”

“She’s an idiot, Maglor, but not that bad. She won’t talk. Not if she doesn’t want to have to deal with her own set of troubles with justice.”

“Don’t underestimate idiots either, and don’t overestimate the power of justice. She’s a woman with an infant child. Many people won’t want to touch that with a ten foot pole, while others wouldn’t care and would have your daughter abandoned and all of us jailed if necessary. Is that what you want?”

“You’re always so cheerful…” Louis muttered letting himself fall on the bed.

“And you’re always so careless. This being said, your doctor came by earlier. He wants you back tomorrow at first light.”

“I’ll be there.”

“And we need to warn Ismérie that your daughter’s born and that your Joséphine survived the birth but is ill and will probably not survive to a normal old age.”

“Do we need to?”

“Ismérie is employing the girl, she needs to know if she’s liable to drop dead in the middle of a working day.” Maglor pointed out wryly.

“Could you not talk of Joséphine dying while you carry our daughter please? It’s too strange.”

“Your daughter is a newborn not yet of age to remember a thing of this conversation. But fine. It’s still a reality though.”

“Could you go see Ismérie tomorrow while Joséphine recuperate? I’m pretty sure she’ll be sore for days, and…”

“The birth wasn’t the most difficult I’ve had the displeasure to witness, and your Joséphine might be tired and sore, but she’s also mostly a…”

“Please.”

Maglor huffed but let it go.

“If you’re jealous of Joséphine, you should know you don’t need to.”

“Jeal… Louis, did you miss the fact that your girl just tried to use the suspicion of homosexuality as a reason for you to kick me out? Do you need me to make you an alphabetical list of all the reasons I’m starting to have enough of that girl’s irruptions in my life?”

“I think I would, yes, because I don’t understand why you dislike her so much.”

Maglor looked annoyed for a short moment.

“You keep saying that this girl is innocent, but what you fail to see is that she’s a desperate woman backed into a corner who will do anything she can to get what she thinks she needs. And what she thinks she needs is you as a husband and me gone.”

“You’re exaggerating, no?”

“Really? Think Louis, what will happen if Ismérie disappears for any reason, and you withdraw your support from Joséphine?”

Louis was going to answer but winced: Joséphine was alone, had a good name, but no money, and now had a child with her. Lone women with a child but no father were generally not even welcomed to work in the factories… Many others have ended up as beggars in the street or prostitutes just to survive.

Women had really too few rights and without the support of a man…

“I… can see it, but she…”

“Before you tell me that she’s just invasive and annoying but not dangerous, I feel the need to tell you that your innocent little friend told the city police at least twice where they could find me playing music in the streets during the day. The first time there was a group nearby who were doing something shady and incidentally made enough of a mess that I could leave without being noticed, the second time the police officer gave me a warning and let me go.”

Louis looked disturbed at that.

“But how do you know that it’s her doing?”

“Because I have eyes, and I saw her surprise when I came back those two days. And I have ears to hear her various threats and promises to involve the police or the soldiers. The miss believes that if I leave you two alone you’ll rekindle your relationship.”

Louis grimaced in distaste:

“That is not going to happen, whatever she believes.”

“Maybe, maybe not. The point is that she believes it, and she wants it desperately. If the anti-homosexuality laws had still been in place, I’d have been in jail for months already, because of her. And the only reason she hadn’t denounced me with a crime of that sort is that, considering the current laws, she’d have to incriminate you as well and that’d be counterproductive. She admitted it herself at least once.”

“I never heard…”

“You’re not always with us, Louis. And I noticed that you tend to be oblivious when something doesn’t fit what you think of a person.”

“Alright so she tried, and she failed? I mean, you’re not a criminal, so whatever she does, she’ll need to invent something, so you’re… Pretty safe?”

“Louis… I’m not about to let her try to throw the police at me until she manages to find an accusation that sticks. I haven’t lived so long as a free being by being reckless.”

Louis grimaced at that.

“So adding that to the fact she’s an absolutely terrible mother, you’ll excuse me, or not, but I feel no need to actually be nice to her.”

“That… I mean, many mothers have a… Somewhat tense relationship with their baby, and you have to admit that due to this pregnancy, her life took a rather bad turn. I’ve heard of mothers downright refusing to acknowledge their child or feed them. And the fact that she grew up in a house where the nurse probably took care of children instead of the parents must not have helped. She’s not actually the worst mother I’ve heard of.”

“I’ve only seen that in women raped or who suffered from the death of an infant and refused to hope this child would survive. Actually I’ve seen a few of those women over the years use herbs to lose their child before birth.”

“Hence why you know about abortive plants. But sometimes there’s no real reason. It just… Happens. There’s a lack of… Connexion between mother and child.”

“How did your species manage to grow so much? Mothers who don’t care for their babies, child mortality, your own general incredible recklessness?!”

“A natural talent.”

Maglor muttered something along the lines of “a natural something at least”, making Louis chuckle tiredly. The situation had been particularly tense, and he admitted freely he was tired.

“Louis, while we’re on that subject… I have a question for you. Do you remember the day you came back home after you found this apprenticeship with your doctor?”

“Yes.”

“Did you ever tell Joséphine, or give her reasons to think perhaps, that I made you uneasy? That you didn’t want to admit it aloud, or to me, but that I unnerved you?”

Louis shook his head.

“No. I didn’t feel uneasy. I was watching you at some point when I just discovered who you really were, or weren’t as the case may be, but I was never uneasy around you. And when I had something to say, I said it. And it’s not to Joséphine I’d have confided in if by chance it wasn’t the case.”

Maglor nodded. That had come to his mind too.

“And yet, can you not imagine it being true? Me making you uneasy? You being stubborn because you like or love me? Did it never come to your mind? At all?”

“No. Not a single time. But she told you that, or something along those lines before I found this job didn’t she? That’s why you tried so hard to have me move alone. She made you doubt.”

Maglor looked tired for a moment, not physically tired, more emotionally wrung out.

“Dare to tell it could not happen?”

Louis hesitated a moment and Maglor smiled sadly.

“Your girl, however aggravating, obstinate, bigoted and wrong she can be, also can be quite right at times. More so when I don’t want her to be right.”

“And so that’s the problem really. She made you doubt. She accidentally managed to find a very good argument and that’s the problem. Because you know she’s right, but you want her to be wrong, and she brings it up too often because she can see it bothers you and it’s the only thing that really does.” Louis realised with clear shock.

“I’ll speak to her. She’ll drop the threats and will stop trying to find a reason for you to be under arrest. And whatever she says, I’m not about to run from you. You make my life fun and bearable. I love you, and I’m not about to accept living a life of socially acceptable lies with Joséphine instead of being happy with you just because she said so,” Louis said again.

Maglor huffed at that. He knew. And he only truly doubted before Louis invited him to move into this second apartment with him. But… That didn’t stop him from acknowledging that Joséphine was right too: his very presence in Louis’ life would make things significantly harder for the young man later on, when Maglor would need to leave Paris before someone realised he never aged. And that knowledge hurt as much as it ever did… And she just carelessly and accidentally threw it in his face so often when Louis wasn’t there to look that he generally just snapped at her whenever she came by now, almost like a reflex…

He couldn’t just not answer her. And he knew he could be cruel, that he could give as good as he got, even if she was really clueless as to why her bigotry really bothered him.

Somehow, since little Louisa’s birth, Maglor had ended up her primary caretaker, Joséphine happy to just have to feed her, and Louis preferring to see the baby from afar when he was actually available.

Because babies are actually ogres.

Or something.

And much to Maglor’s annoyance, Joséphine had just… Stayed living with them, using what had been Louis’ room on a more permanent basis.

Ismérie, at the tavern, had taken the room back to rent for her patrons… And the only one this arrangement seemed to bother was Maglor, much to his annoyance.

However, somehow Joséphine seemed to have gotten the message that she was on thin ice for she was, it seemed, very careful not to cross him.

It wasn’t enough for Maglor to take an active role with helping her get a chance at a better future life, as he did once in a while when he liked someone. But it was at least enough that he had stopped fantasising about poisoning her.

He was however pretty sure that this living arrangement would have never been possible in a less… hm… Poor and destitute position in society. Maglor was pretty sure it had been the talk of the neighbours for a while anyway.

Alas, what also was the talk of the neighbours was that Joséphine was barely ever seen with her child…

Something about the fact that she didn’t feel she should take care of her child, because where she was raised a nanny did it all, and yes, she’s destitute, but it didn’t mean she learnt how to take care of a child, or wanted to take care of one at all.

Meanwhile Louis had argued that it was the woman’s duty to take care of a child anyway, not the duty of the father, and she should at the very least ensure the child was well.

So as a result Maglor was still days later the primary caretaker of little Louisa, and wondering how on earth he could have fallen for a complete CHILD of a man, who came along with his aggravatingly and childish ex.

But as Joséphine refused to stop her life for the sake of the child, and refused to take Louisa with her to work, Maglor took to playing minstrel less than 5 minutes away, for him, from where Joséphine spent her days, be it the apartment or Ismérie’s tavern when she resumed work.

Sadly, that also meant he was in an excellent position to see the social situation degrading more and more.

The poor getting poorer and the rich richer was not a new situation by any means, but the people arbitrarily thrown in jail?

Granted, on humanity’s scale, that was nothing new either, but considering the French people had already overthrown at least one government in recent history, and made more protests besides, one could have thought that the current government would be more careful about throwing in jail, or silencing forcefully anyone they didn’t want to hear.

But no apparently, the government didn’t care, and used their soldiers to silence the voices of the common people, but that meant more and more people were actually joining the ranks of the discontents.

And Maglor could see it go one of two ways: First, the government would turn into a cruel monarchy where the king’s power was feared by everyone and no one dared to breathe even so much as a whisper of protest, or second, the people would throw the government off.

There was a small chance the government would assess the situation and decide to listen to the people but… That happened so rarely in history…

People in power were all the same. None wanted to give up that power.

Hells, according to what Maglor heard in the street, even the Banquets that first were clearly royalist in nature had turned into a republican gathering calling for reforms really quickly. The banquets were organised by a few opportunists who wanted to organise the “real” people into following their movement. They were barely hiding that they were trying to force the government to change into what they wanted. To gain their own power over the situation.  

Sadly, Louis was a mule and refused to leave Paris, and Joséphine was a sheep and agreed with Louis on every subject possible.

Neither had his experience and both were too inexperienced and believed that good changes would come if the protests continued.

And Maglor could give them that, change was coming. But not necessarily change that one wanted to see coming.

Maglor wanted to leave Paris before it burnt, been there, done that. Burning cities were never fun, but he didn’t want to abandon Louis or little Louisa, no matter his misgivings about the situation.

“To evil end shall all things turn that they begin well”. Indeed. Sadly, Maglor knew well enough by now that most of the time life itself was just that cruel.

That day, Maglor was walking Joséphine to Ismérie’s tavern when they met a group of people brawling at the entrance of the establishment.

Maglor stopped Joséphine from trying to separate the men. One of them at least had a knife and there was nothing more idiotic than to die on the altar of a drunken idiot waving a sharp tool mindlessly in a fit of alcohol induced rage.

To ensure Joséphine wouldn’t actually try to bypass him, Maglor put little Louisa in her arms. The way she tensed and instantly gravitated within Maglor’s personal space guaranteeing that she’d stay put until the city guards came in or the brawlers would tire themselves out.

They had no need to get involved with the whole disaster.

Or at least that was his opinion until one of the men noticed Joséphine, remembered her as the cute waitress, and tried to get to her, saying something nearly unintelligible about a “pretty girl” and “some fun anyway”.

Maglor had no difficulties keeping the man away from Joséphine who was clutching her daughter to her chest in horror at being targeted this way, but alas, Maglor did so just as the soldiers arrived.

Not the city guards. The soldiers.

Maglor winced seeing the uniforms. He’d have preferred the city guards.

The soldiers invaded the place, and put everyone in the street under arrest, including a shocked Ismérie and Maglor.

The only exceptions were a woman at the far side of the street who was surrounded by 5 children, and Joséphine with her baby.

Children were apparently a soldier repellent. Who knew…?

Or perhaps the paperwork involved with putting in a remand prison, even temporarily, a child’s mother was more than anyone was willing to deal with for a brawl…

Maglor hoped that at least, Joséphine would take care of her child properly for the time being without giving herself excuses to ignore the baby.

Maglor hesitated to try to influence people to get out sooner, but the risks associated if someone was strong-willed enough…

He decided to wait when he learnt that Ismérie had been freed the next morning. He himself could tolerate the cells until or unless something forced his hands.

With Ismérie out of the remand prison, he knew that Louisa wouldn’t be conveniently put aside by both her parents who each had their good reason, so he had no real reason to take the dangerous road this time around.

Maglor already had a few… experiences of being hunted by men in the past, he’d rather not risk it again for a question of comfort.

Nights were cold in the cells, and he could see others being treated like dogs by the wardens. Food was an impossible to identify slop, and Maglor could see the men who had been fighting in the street become more than a bit anxious as they realised the kind of trouble they were in once the alcohol started to leave their system.

It was like the judge was reluctant to judge their respective cases, for other cells around the one Maglor was in with three others emptied quickly, while they stayed in the cell for a solid week waiting for judgement.

Wasn’t there a law somewhere that said someone put in jail had to have their case studied quickly?

Probably, but why bother respecting it. Who was going to check… ?

But finally, Maglor’s turn came and he was handed his condemnation before he could even speak in his defence. Or even in a polite greeting.

The man behind the desk didn’t even bother to look at him and if there had been a few less guards around, Maglor might have had the will to force the issue.

He was given a month of jail time^[1]. Maglor hesitated to ask why, in case it was taken for rebellion or something similar but finally figured he didn’t care enough to ask and risk additional punishment.

A month would already be long enough for him, thank you very much. He’d already be at risk the whole time for if he slipped he may end up revealing his nature. He more than likely would need to set the jail on fire to escape the result that THIS revelation would have.

No thank you.

If he had known beforehand how it’d end, he’d have led Joséphine away from the street in the first place but oh well…

There was no point crying over spilled milk.

Maglor was transferred to jail, actual jail this time, where he’d stay and work for a month. Joy…

He was put in a common room, with about a dozen other people. His instrument had been taken from him, he hoped he could get it back upon leaving… Well he could always steal it back if nothing else.

The walls were a dirty grey, the smell in there was that of sweat and too many people in a single room. Maglor picked a place… On the floor sitting against the wall. He had no wish to fight for a place on what passed for beds in there. He was honestly better off on the floor.

Maglor didn’t relish at all the idea of sharing such close quarters with so many people. He was aware that most of those men were just victims of poor circumstances, doing something a bit shady to live. Like begging in the streets. Or perhaps some of them were even victims of a case of “wrong time wrong place”. That happened too.

He made himself discreet, and kept his head down mostly. He didn’t escape a beating on principle alone from the warden, who seemed to think Maglor was highly suspicious for some reason. Maglor thought that perhaps the man perceived more of him than most people. However, that inconsequential instance apart, he was otherwise left mostly alone, led from his cell to his work station and then back to the cell at precise time.

Work wasn’t bad. As he wasn’t a long term prisoner or there for a grave crime, he was assigned to a weaving work station instead of one of the back breaking work of a labour camp prisoner.

Weaving was annoying, but not really an issue to him. And at least it was something to do outside of staying around far too many people forced into a single room. 

However, Maglor was neither blind nor deaf. Many others, when caught by the city guards, were given a warning and left alone after a brawl in the street. The government had started to send the soldiers to reinforce the application of the law to the detriment of the people.

It was making Maglor wonder if Ismérie’s tavern wasn’t starting to be known as a place where opponents to the current regime were spending their time. That’d explain the soldiers, and the blind application of the law.

Maglor wondered briefly if one of the men who were caught had been actual known political opponents to the regime.

Until the third week of his stay, when one of the men who had been taken prisoner along with Maglor tried to escape.  When he was caught, he promised that the king and his ministers would “get what’s coming to them for doing that to poor people like him”.

Due to the risk of escape and threats against the crown, the man was executed summarily by the prison warden.

Maglor’s curiosity was satisfied… But he had never wanted the answer that badly.

A traitor to the crown indeed.

Probably just a poor fool unable to bear the burden of his life, who had turned to the bottle as a result and had paid a price far too high for his supposed crimes.

Sadly the execution started the prisoners talking, and growling and…

Oh how Maglor hoped that the prisoners wouldn’t revolt while he was there.

He wanted nothing to do with a revolt. Those things were failures more often than not, and bloody ones at that. He had enough blood on his hands from fighting his own battles, he had no need and no will to fight the endless revolts and wars of mortal men.

And of mortal women. Though, Sappho’s own brand of revolt had been the “make love, not war and disappear in the night without a trace” kind of revolt against society.

And she hadn’t needed help besides. Admittedly, this in particular had been half the fun of knowing her.

Nothing came of the prisoner’s discontent this time. And finally, Maglor was free to leave, not without a threat or a promise of meeting him again, from the warden.

Men… Flexing whatever little power they thought they had to make themselves feel important. How asinine.

Maglor had to work to keep a straight face at the “threat” and not terrify the man witless: As it stood, it was empty threats, empty words, but if he gave the man a good reason…

Yes, let’s not go there. He really didn’t want to revisit being endlessly hounded by a mortal who thought him a demon he needed to burn at the pyre.

Once had been enough, and only a happy accident, in Maglor’s favour, had settled the issue the last time; however Maglor preferred to err on the side of caution and avoid provoking another man to this end.

It was less and less easy to disappear potentially dangerous people after all.

^[1] « Lorsque les blessures ou les coups n'auront occasionné aucune maladie ni incapacité de travail personnel de l'espèce mentionnée en l'article 309, le coupable sera puni d'un emprisonnement d'un mois à deux ans, et d'une amende de seize francs à deux cents francs. » French law of 1810

translation: "when the injuries or blows have not caused any illnesses or personnal incapacity for work of the kind mentioned in article 309, the culprit will be punished by imprisonment of one month to two years, and a fine of 16 francs to 200 francs."

As soon as he was released, Maglor went back home, finding Joséphine there with Louisa sleeping peacefully in her crib.

“Welcome back Max.”

Maglor raised an eyebrow at that. She had sounded so honest despite the fact he knew she had wished him gone for quite some time.

He hesitated but decided he was too tired to care and wanted to get cleaned first of all.

When Louis came back home, long hours after the sun had set, he found Joséphine in the kitchen and Maglor sleeping on the couch, little Louisa in his arms. Seeing that even asleep Maglor looked exhausted, Louis resisted the urge to kiss him awake.

“He came back a few hours ago.” Joséphine said quietly from the kitchen door.

“How is he?” Louis asked.

“Fine? I guess. He didn’t say anything and he seems fine.”

“Because I’m fine. For the record.” Maglor said, opening just an eye, unwilling to move more than that.

He was clean, he was warm, he was safe, and he was too damn tired to care about anything else. He’d move for food or for Louisa, and nothing else.

Well a fire to the building might possibly motivate him too…

“It’s the first time I’ve seen you that tired.” Louis said to Maglor who nodded.

“It’s been known to happen. But no, indeed, you’ve never seen it. Jail’s not exactly a happy, healthy place to be.”

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I’m perfectly fine. I just need rest.”

“And food,” Louis interjected.

“And that yes. But other than that, I’m healthy as can be.”

“If you’re sure…”

Neither Louis nor Joséphine seemed really convinced.

Maglor sighed. This era was terrible; a simple month in jail for a minor offence was as feared by people as a death sentence would be.

Someone needed to put a leash on the government before the whole thing came crashing down.

If it was still possible.

Jail wasn’t synonymous with death. Not at it was in the laws.

Maglor found himself daydreaming of going to the palace to get rid of the useless and greedy current royal family, but he knew the probable outcome would be utter political instability and more people suffering as a result.

So not desirable at all.

When Joséphine served the meal at the table of the living-room, Maglor finally rose to his feet, going to the table to eat, half awake, but the prospect of warm, actually tasteful and identifiable food drove him.

“How do you even do that? Louisa cries if I so much as move a finger when I hold her.” Louis asked, slightly jealous.

Maglor looked at him with a sort of absent polite curiosity at that.

“How do you manage to distress her enough to cry just by moving a finger? Little Louisa is a delight, and cries little with me. I’ve known twin brothers who’d scream their heads off if you only moved one without moving the other, even just moving your arm slightly to get into a better position would start the screaming. Great fun.”

Thinking of his brothers this time brought a grimace to Maglor’s face. As babies Amrod and Amras had been utter nightmares.

Celegorm had even been absolutely gleeful at throwing in his face the fact he was a hunter and couldn’t keep an eye on babies safely enough to escape babysitting the twin terrors. So Maglor had gotten his revenge later by dumping them on him when they were teenagers.

Maglor was pretty sure that Maedhros let it all happen in fear of being named babysitter again if he so much as breathed a protest.

For indeed, the twins had managed to wear even Maedhros down, and he was the most patient of them at the time when kids were concerned.

Maglor still claimed that his brother’s sudden interest for politics was a strange sort of defence mechanism on his eldest brother’s part as he couldn’t decently be seen killing his own baby brothers…

In any case, at that time Nelyo had found his passion for politics and even he couldn’t both read a proposed text of laws, or trade agreement or other official text AND look after two touchy, screaming babies at the same time.

So Maedhros hadn’t been available to babysit when their parents were unavailable, and it had fallen to Maglor. He had been so annoyed at playing babysitter, that he’d had great fun writing a few catchy little songs regarding a mysterious red-head’s ambiguous story with a mysterious cousin with black hair, and the epic courage of said ellon in defying his uncle’s rage for the sake of his relation to his beloved cousin.

That had annoyed everyone in the family, Maedhros and Fingon first, their parents, and siblings of course, Finrod, who was pouting at having missed that golden opportunity himself, and Galadriel who had found the whole thing ridiculous.

To be fair, it had been ridiculous.

The rumours of their supposed relationship had lasted until Fingon’s death, and then people had been too afraid of Maedhros to dare mention it.

It was beautiful.

He may have been a bit of a troll at the time.

Just a bit.

“… ax! Max!”

Maglor jumped, startled out of his memories by Louis’ voice calling him.

“Ah, apologies, I wasn’t paying attention. You were saying?”

“You should eat while it’s hot, and go to sleep. And stay in and rest tomorrow.”

Maglor nodded. He was clearly in need of some rest if he let himself daydream like that.

“That’s the plan, yes.”

“I’m impressed you haven’t dropped Louisa yet.”

Maglor looked at him sharply.

“Are you saying that you thought it possible and yet let me keep your daughter?”

“No, I’m saying I’m impressed that you kept a good hold of her and that you can do that without even paying attention.”

Maglor debated the merits of dumping Louisa on Louis’ lap in retaliation for that, but decided that Louisa was sleeping too well and he was too hungry and tired to deal with a crying baby.

After supper, Maglor gave Louisa back to Joséphine, and went to sleep in his own bed, in his own bedroom. Heaven.

He only fully relaxed when Louis joined him and laid on the bed next to him. He fell deep into reverie with Louis’ hand checking his pulse.

Maglor awoke in the morning when Louis got up to go to work. He was feeling a bit more awake and less like he was going to get lost in his memories.

To his defence, it was a lot of memories.

“How are you feeling?”

“Awake and less faint.”

“What happened?”

“Jail happened. I’m not a man Louis. I always need to be careful. Doubly so in jail where there’s no privacy. I stayed on edge longer than I should have but I’m fine, I promise. It’s nothing that rest won’t cure in a day.”

“Alright. Rest then, and take the time you need.”

“Of course. And don’t worry about me, I’m fine.”

“Obviously you’re fine,” Louis answered, clearly sceptical.

“I’m not dying, I can’t catch the illnesses men can., All I need is a bit of rest and I’ll be good as new. So yes, obviously, I’m fine.”

“You know what happened, the soldiers, the jail… Everything was wrong right? It shouldn’t have been handled like that.”

“Of course it was.”

“People are right when they say we need no king but a republic. Royalty’s the worst and their nobles all abuse their power and rank.”

“Good luck with that,” Maglor muttered.

“You should think about it seriously.”

“Louis…”

“I’m serious, Maglor.”

“Then answer me this: how many people do you want to sacrifice on the altar of your dream republic? More so knowing it’ll never last because someone will always come up to pervert the system in the end.”

“You can’t know that. Our monarchy is hardly better or less bloody.”

“Easy to say from the safety of home. Will you go in the streets and kill those who disagree?” Maglor asked pointedly.

“That’s not…”

“If you oppose the king and his ministry by just walking in the street when you face people who use weapons, it’ll be a blood bath. And if you do go with a weapon in your hand, you’ll have to use it. So, Louis, my dearest idealist friend, who will you sacrifice for your Republic? On whose blood and bones will you build the basis of your Republic?”

“On those who are willing! There’s too many of us. The king and the ministers will have to listen to us. They can’t ignore us or kill us all! It’s impossible.”

“Look, just… Think about it, ok? Don’t throw your future and that of your daughter away recklessly.”

“I can promise that much.”

As promised, Maglor stayed in the apartment when Louis left.

He took the couch hostage in the living room, and was given Louisa when Joséphine awoke in the morning.

“Do you want breakfast Max?”

“No thank you, but go eat.”

Joséphine shook her head with a sad smile.

“We can’t really afford 3 meals a day. It’d have been fine if you needed it because, well, jail can’t have been good, but still…”

“I see. You’re strangely friendly now. Why?”

“Max, you were gone for a month… A month and Louis barely ever looked at me. I thought maybe with you gone… But I barely rated a look when he came to me about Louisa. Not a look, not a word. He doesn’t care for me anymore and… I guess Ismérie was right; I shouldn’t have tried so hard to keep him. So at least when you’re here there’s someone who’ll talk to me.”

“I see… Ismérie doesn’t talk to you now?”

“She said I can’t work at the tavern as I am, after I fainted at work the other day. Ismérie and Louis both say my condition is degrading and I need to rest or I’ll die soon. She won’t say no if I come by and talk to her, probably, but not on her working hours, and… You know her.”

Maglor frowned at that and looked at Joséphine, truly looked… And her presence, her song, was all out of tune and so incredibly faint… Had she managed to convince herself she would die soon, and in the process accidentally dissolved his own work that strengthened her until a month ago, hence worsening her health exponentially?

Maglor was impressed. With such strength of spirit, once upon a time, with a better upbringing, she’d have been a force to reckon with. It was sad that here and now it would be her death if he didn’t step in again.

“I see. You stopped resenting me then?”

“You are cold and cruel at times. You don’t care when you talk to me. But… I didn’t either care about you, to be honest. I just wanted Louis to see me. I wanted you gone and it didn’t matter how. I was just… Too afraid to use poison. I wanted my happy ending.”

“Yes, well, Pyramus and Thisbe got their happy ending in death, if you see what I mean,” Maglor pointed out simply.

“… That was morbid, thank you very much.”

Maglor shrugged at that. Morbid perhaps but so true… Love rarely lasted and young couples that married purely for love in this time tended to end messed up. Best case scenario, they were friends who stayed friends, worst case scenario…

“So, let’s… Talk of something else, shall we? What happened while I was in jail, miss Joséphine? What happened to push Louis to think that a Republic would be brilliant?”

“Several things. The king refused any idea of electoral reform, it was announced last month, and the classes of Pr Michelet have been suspended. Students are all unhappy about it. And they planned, the pro-republicans I mean, they planned a banquet in Paris, but Guizot forbade the gathering.”

“So generally speaking the king and his government don’t listen to the people who are less and less happy about being ignored.”

Maglor thought to himself it was a bold and thoughtless move on the government’s part to cancel the classes of Jules Michelet. The man was a known Republican, sure, and his ideas might not be the best for the government, but to be so open about that was a sure way to get people unhappy about it.

It had also proved beyond a doubt that the government wouldn’t care to respect people’s right to live and work, not matter how good their situation was. People wouldn’t feel safe if the government showed they could and would deprive someone of their work because they didn’t like that person’s ideas.

That was not going to end well.

“That’s about it. And you weren’t the only one put in jail recently. It happens more and more often. Soldiers just come instead of the city guards or the police, and just a whisper against the king is ground for months in jail.”

“I see.”

And Maglor was indeed seeing many things. He understood what she was saying of course, but he also saw her as she was now: calm. Almost at peace. He wondered what had really happened between Ismérie and her, or Louis and her… But if she didn’t want to share, it was her right.

“Oh and prices grew again for some reason. I mean, it’s still liveable. If we don’t spend on other things, and we only eat maximum two meals a day we can still pay rent and eat almost every day. It could be worse.”

Maglor snorted at that. This coming from the girl who had difficulties to understand that daddy wasn’t there anymore to help her.

Joséphine grimaced. She understood his meaning well enough.

“Don’t blame me, it’s just so hard to stay cheerful, I just…”

“I don’t blame you. Not for that.”

As days passed, Maglor played for Joséphine once or twice a day, making her stronger, though he couldn’t heal her from her illness. He could at least ensure that death wouldn’t happen too soon, mainly by influencing her spirit, nudging her toward a more hopeful and cheerful outlook on life. Her own spirit did the rest. 

He didn’t think he’d ever learn to like Joséphine. She had tried too hard to get Louis back, and had managed too well to find his weakness without knowing what she did for Maglor to be at ease around her.

However, she was careful of her words now around him now, and he could acknowledge and even appreciate that. So Maglor made an effort himself, curbing his tongue around her.

One thing that didn’t seem to change however was her detachment to her child. If she lacked the support she would step up and be a mother, albeit a very reluctant one, that Maglor could appreciate too, but now that he was back, she visibly enjoyed having a caretaker for her daughter.

However, despite his relative success managing Joséphine’s poor health, and their newfound tentative peace, Maglor found himself more and more on edge: Louis was being... shifty.

Oh he still was the same idealist, loving and lovable man Maglor knew but… He tended to come home later and later these days. Maglor had his doubts about the reason for this. He didn’t like it at all.

He’d heard about the failed petition, sent to the king, asking that the classes of one Jules Michelet would start again.

Anyone could have told them that something like a petition would never work on the current king and his government. They wanted the man silenced, just not enough for outright exile.

But the existence of the petition did mean that someone out there was charismatic enough to organise others and encourage them on a dangerous path…

There was always a leader.

Maglor was out working, helping Ismérie by bringing a message and the ordered bread to another shop, when he heard about the students of the Latin quarter gathering with the workers to protest in the streets.

Maglor barely managed his delivery before he ran out of the shop, going after the protest.

Louis was a fool and was going to get himself killed!

And oh, he found the protests, alright, and it was big. Bigger than he’s had the displeasure of meeting in a long, long while.

In front of him, there was a sea of people shouting their protests: “We want Guizot gone!”, “Work!”, “money to live!”, “Fire Guizot!” The people encouraged one another, pushing for a chance at a better life.

And in that crowd… He trusted his instinct and he found Louis. The young man was among other students, calling for the return of Pr Michelet, for a better chance at life, for work, for food. Everything.

Maglor caught him by the wrist and only then did the young man notice him:

“Come to join us finally?” Louis asked with a brilliant smile.

“You know I’m not.”

“Then leave.”

“Louis! Think of Louisa, of Joséphine!”

“I do! It’s precisely because I do think of them, of everyone, that I’m here!”

“Think of me!” Maglor’s voice turned begging on those last words.

Louis looked regretful just for a moment.

“Mag. Max, I’m sorry. I have to do this. For the future. For OUR future.”

“There’s no way, no how this can end well!” Maglor hissed.

“That’s… I’m sorry. Go back home. When it’s over and we’ve reached our goal, you can thank me.”

Louis looked a brief moment like he was going to kiss Maglor, but he just gripped his wrist briefly before leaving.

Leaving Maglor alone in the middle of a crowd that was out for blood.

Alone full of doubts, and dread in the middle of a people moved by a conviction that Maglor had learnt over time to both appreciate in individual people, and fear in a crowd.

Maglor went back home, looking pale. He had the house to himself and he sat at his harp, praying, hoping desperately his fool of a lover wouldn’t do something stupid.

Maglor cursed the fact he couldn’t have stayed.

Or… He could have technically, but...

Staying there was too dangerous for him. It was a stupid risk to take:

Every time his nature had been glimpsed by someone dangerous, it had been because, for some reason, people stopped letting him distract them from perceiving his nature, that he was just more than human.

It was a simple trick to elves, one he had learnt rather easily early on in Beleriand...

But going among such a crowd, with such a strong presence and dedication to a specific goal was an almost sure way for someone to start noticing him. The stubbornness of people in a crowd wouldn’t allow him to hide his nature from them for long. Not in this kind of setting.

Maglor tried to convince himself he didn’t need to return.

What would his freedom mean if he left Louis behind to die in the end?

But surely not.

Maglor opened the windows so he could hear the sound of the streets below.

And soon enough, he heard that some people had died. Had been killed, more specifically. No name was named, but Maglor could tell Louis wasn’t among the dead.

Louis spent the night, Maglor didn’t know where. In the morning, Maglor tried to leave the house to find some work, but after an hour walking with nothing to show for it was clear that he had failed.

Paris was covered in barricades, people were everywhere calling for reforms, national guards were clearly torn and some, more and more, joined the people, meaning that the people were supplied with weapons, if only in the presence of the guards.

And then later in the afternoon, long after Maglor had gone back home to avoid a stubborn crowd that might well end up seeing his nature accidentally, the news began to spread that Guizot had quit his post, giving in to the protestors.

And yet, Louis still didn’t come home.

Maglor left the house, unable not to, and went back toward the people still in the streets, only this time they were manifesting their joy at having been heard.

It didn’t escape his notice that they were going toward the foreign affair ministry where Guizot was currently staying. A street that was heavily guarded, hidden behind barricades, even as night was falling.

And there, in the crowd of the people still going strong in their protests, Louis was standing surrounded by his friends.

Maglor’s heart leaped in his throat and he wondered if, in their time, the Vanyar or even Finarfin or Cirdan had seen disasters coming just as he did now.

It wasn’t the first time that this idea had come to his mind.

Maglor forced himself to move, even as he saw one protester trying to get through the barricades.

The soldiers raised their weapons.

Maglor shouted in warning, startling people into moving…

The shots rang in the street like so many death bells… And Maglor just ran to Louis, managing barely to catch his body as he fell to a bullet in the back.

Maglor screamed in rage and anguish even as Louis smiled at him, and raised a hand toward him, seeing Maglor as he really was for the first time as death, cold, unfeeling, uncaring death, came for Louis, leaving his body a broken, soulless shell in Maglor’s frantic hands.

He knew it was too late.

He knew there was nothing left.

He could feel Louis’ blood seep through his clothing, and he froze, eyes wild, as he heard a weapon being armed again near him.

Maglor raised his head and saw a man in soldier’s uniform, young, about Louis’ age or so, shaking as he held his carbine up.

His eyes held the shocked disbelief of one who had killed for the first time.

He could have been Louis, had Louis been desperate enough to abandon his dreams and gone for the army for the sake of having enough money and food to live at least. Perhaps they could even have been friends. Or perhaps they were always destined to kill one another.

It didn’t matter.

No.

Nothing here mattered anymore.

They wanted to bring death? Fine by him.

Let death visit them, then.

The kid in soldier uniform was dead before he could point that weapon at Maglor.

Maglor was humming under his breath, his last thread of consciousness, of doubtful sanity, reminding him not to be too careless about it, but he discarded the thought and sang a bit louder, until he managed to bolster the courage of Louis’ people.

He knew they’d end up with somewhat muddled memories of what happened. He went in too strong.

He was pretty sure that the morality of his actions right now was particularly iffy. He was also pretty sure he didn’t care, and wouldn’t care much later either.

The situation was a mess, and the soldiers retreated enough that someone could come to pick up the bodies with a cart.

Those men wanted to parade the bodies through the streets, using them as martyrs to the cause to rally the people.

The men could take the other bodies, but Louis would come home one last time. He needed to. He needed to arrange his funerals. To say goodbye.

Maglor had no idea what stopped the men from even trying to take Louis’ body, but he ended up walking through the streets, with the oh-too light and lifeless body of the young man who stole his heart.

Joséphine was back home, with Ismérie. Both having decided that they didn’t want to risk being lone women outside right now.

When Maglor entered the house, clothing caked with dried blood, carrying Louis…

Ismérie looked about as torn up as Maglor felt, and Joséphine… grabbed her breast. And fainted.

Maglor left her in Ismérie’s careful hands, and went to lay Louis down on the bed one last time.

He was methodic in cleaning the blood from himself, and then Louis.

Only to come back to the living-room, finding Ismérie crying softly with a sobbing Joséphine in her arms.

Maglor didn’t cry. He was too far gone for that. Too tired. Too out of it.

Until he heard baby Louisa start to cry in her crib.

He picked her up, cradling her to his chest… And fell apart, tears escaping his eyes, his breathing coming sharp, tight, hard, until sobs blocked his throat and he felt his skin burn, feeling too tight and…

Soon, or perhaps later, Ismérie and Maglor pulled one another out of this. Neither of them was a stranger to grief, and they had things they needed to do, for the sake of the living. Ismérie helped Joséphine back to her room, promising her that she’d help with the funeral, and to live, and that she wasn’t alone. Then she came back to Maglor in the living-room.

They needed a doctor to validate the time of death, in order to organise the funeral. Louis’ funeral.

“I’ll get a doctor I trust. He won’t implicate Louis in the fighting, so Louisa won’t lose everything.”

“Louisa has already lost everything that mattered on her father’s side.”

Ismérie’s breath came as a sob, but she pulled herself together and left.

She left Maglor alone with a baby, a sleeping Joséphine and a house full of death.

She came back to Maglor who was trying to juggle goat milk, the sort that Joséphine used a time or two a day on her child when she was tired and didn’t feel like she could feed her properly, a baby bottle, and the baby.

Ismérie led the doctor to the body, and he examined him and gave them a death certificate. Organising the funeral would be on them. Joséphine would help with that.

Ismérie put a white sheet over Louis' body, though Maglor didn’t care whether or not he was covered. The sight had burnt itself in his mind already, and Louisa was too young to remember anything while Joséphine didn’t dare enter this room.

“What will we do now?”

“I’ll win that fight for Louis, and you’ll take care of Joséphine, who’ll take care of Louisa.”

“Don’t do something stupid, Max. And… And money will be harder now that Louis is gone.”

“Don’t worry about money. Someone owes Louisa already, and I intend to collect for her.”

“You’re a street rat, Max. You play music in the streets for money and… And you pick up random tasks to do. What power do you think you have to ensure anything at all as you claim?!” Ismérie asked sharply, trying desperately to believe she wasn’t about to lose him too for this stupid, helpless endeavour.

That pulled a sharp ugly laugh out of him.

“I can give Louisa and Joséphine a chance you never would be able to.”

“You were struggling more than us!”

Maglor looked more and more fey, making Ismérie fear him greatly for no reason she could comprehend. She could swear his eyes were lit with a strange light from within, and that madness lurked in them.

“I was, but the girls won’t. They’ll never have to again.”

“Don’t do something you’ll regret.”

“I already did something I’ll regret until the day I die, but I’ll never regret insuring Louisa’s future.”

Ismérie bit her lips at that.

“Do you really, honestly, intend to fight me for this? What will you have them do? Have Joséphine work for you until you grow too old to keep going with the tavern? Have Louisa grow up a tavern hand?”

Maglor snorted at that, dismissive.

“Let’s… Bury Louis first, and we’ll settle this question after.”

Maglor nodded at that, and he followed Ismérie’s lead on what to do to organise this.

Which was made particularly difficult due to the protests that were still going on, and Joséphine’s inability to react after seeing Louis’ body.

But Maglor forced Joséphine to react, putting Louisa in her hands, and giving her no choice in the matter. Her daughter needed her. The last thing of Louis that she had left needed her, and so help him, she’d act as a mother for once in her life!

Once he was sure she’d be here for her daughter and spend her grief by taking care of her living memory of Louis, Maglor left for the day and walked from street to street, making people bolder, more assertive, more aggressive, more loud by the moment.

He spent the morning doing that; walking, encouraging people without even being noticed, killing the occasional soldier who tried to go after him.

Soon enough, he’d go call in a debt.

Louisa and her mother would be set for life, but in the meantime… the king would pay dearly for what he drove his people to do.

By midday, the palace was attacked by the people. The king Louis-Philippe gave up the crown, leaving it to his 9 years old grand-son.

But no. Louis didn’t want royalty. He wanted a Republic didn’t he?

The song changed. Maglor didn’t care how it would end. But Louis’ dream would be given a chance, whatever happened.

And oh, that was beautiful. The people were receptive. The people didn’t want the crown. The people didn’t want another king. They rallied behind those who wanted a Republic, his songs speaking to their spirits. They wanted freedom from an unreliable monarchy.

Maglor kept going in the streets, touching people’s hearts, determination, giving them just the push they needed to stay strong.

And he laughed like a madman when words came to him that the royal family had fled under the pressure of the people, and that a Republic would be officially declared soon.

And who cared who saw him anyway…

Maglor was an unnoticeable figure, clad in his usual unremarkable clothing, and as hidden as ever by his trick that encouraged people to not notice him despite him being very noticeable, as all the members of his family had been.

He was here for Louisa’s wedding. As a last goodbye. He hadn’t been invited, because he never told Louisa or anyone how to get a hold of him, and he preferred it that way.

He had met with Joséphine’s father soon after the revolution, and had strongly encouraged the old inflexible man to see his daughter and grand-daughter.

The man possibly thought he was a demon or a terrible spirit of revenge. Maglor may not have been at his sanest or the most diplomatic when he found the man.

He barely remembered that day at all. The 24th of February was hazy in his mind. He had been so caught up in his grief and rage. He would be unable to even retrace his steps that day. He didn’t know who might have noticed a wandering singing elf…

He remembered after the announcement of a soon-to-be Republic he walked toward the richest streets of the city, with their beautiful buildings, that looked imposing and well protected. He remembered forcing his way in the house of Joséphine’s father.

He remembered the terror of the man when he saw Maglor. He remembered killing a servant. Or not killing perhaps? Maglor wasn’t too clear on the details. The man had attacked him with a knife, trying to protect his employer no doubt, and Maglor had just pushed him with enough force that the man hit a wall, and fell unconscious.

Louisa’s grand-father and Maglor had reached an agreement quickly after that. Joséphine and Louisa would be welcomed within the family and protected.

Maglor had stayed with Joséphine, helping her, ostensibly as one of her staff, until Louisa’s 10^th birthday.

Joséphine had reached a tentative peace with her father and her step-mother, a delightful woman with good sense. She still lived away from the family home, refusing to bring too much attention to herself, but they had a story for why she had left, and why she had a child with her now, and it was one that her father found acceptable.

One that he could and had used to his profit.

Maglor had, at times, wanted nothing more than to destroy the man’s card castle, but for the sake of Joséphine and Louisa, he held himself back.

As a result of his machinations, Louisa grew up knowing she was rich and could marry safely for love.

She grew up with tales of her father’s bravery and gentleness, both from her mother, and from Maglor.

Indeed, Maglor stayed as long as he dared until it became apparent that Joséphine was starting to realise he never really changed.

He hadn’t dared go far, Joséphine’s father being too unstable a figure for Maglor to leave too far for now, so he had remained around unnoticed; an anonymous figure in Paris’ streets, and he watched how it’d go.

And it went well for 5 years, until sadly Joséphine died, her heart failing finally.

Joséphine’s father was old and grey and afraid, and he took Louisa in without issue.

It was good. The family could take care of Louisa better than Maglor could at this junction of her life though if it had been needed, he’d have taken the girl back.

At fifteen the young girl had enjoyed life like only a teenager could, but more responsibly than her mother had in her time. It was good to see. She had the good sense of her father, his stubbornness also. His kindness…

She was well on the way to becoming a fantastic musician, though it seemed she wasn’t going to play professionally.

Maglor hated to say it for music was his life, but he was glad of it, as was, no doubt, the girl’s grand-father. The life of a musician in this time was the life of one without money and little in the way of a future or stability.

No, she wouldn’t play as a professional, though her music made her rather popular among a certain population.

According to the rumours, that’s how she met her would-be husband.

Maglor himself had become just… a mostly mysterious figure of the past for Louisa. Perhaps she herself couldn’t even remember his face. Though children’s memories were always a strange, surprising thing at times, so he wouldn’t swear it.

The wedding was beautiful.

The day was warm, there wasn’t a single cloud in sight, the sky was a clear pure blue that could only inspire happiness.

Louisa was a radiant bride, and Ismérie who had been invited as a friend of her late mother…

Ismérie had grown old in the years since he last saw her, but she was smiling as much as ever on this day.

The groom, Maglor barely paid any attention to him. He had unremarkable features. The only thing is that he paid enough attention to his new wife, looked at her with enough love, that Maglor knew it wasn’t faked.

That the couple was marrying for love was all that Maglor had hoped for the little girl born of Louis.

Soon the people would go back inside and the banquet would start. Maglor refused to intrude further. 

Maglor turned to leave, but couldn’t resist looking back, only this time he found Louisa looking straight at him with something like shock, and a mix of sadness and happiness on her face.

He smiled at her and bowed to her as he would have bowed to a queen once upon a time. She smiled sadly at him and nodded with tears in her eyes.

To her he had been a strange uncle, Max, someone odd, who loved her father dearly enough to take care of his family long after his death.

This, she understood, would be the last time their path would cross. It was time.

Maglor left, happy despite the bittersweet feeling of a page that was definitely turning.

He stopped at a florist and bought a bouquet for a few coins. Once done, he went straight to the cemetery, and walked quietly among the graves, until he stopped in front of the one he came for.

Without a care in the world for propriety, Maglor sat on the floor in front of the grave, his harp as ever at his side.

“I miss you dear friend. And you missed a beautiful day. Your daughter found a love match, and she married him today. You’d be proud of her. She’s clever, honest, and generous to a fault. Stubborn too. She’s fully grown now, and physically, she’s a perfect blend of you and your Joséphine.”

Maglor fell silent a short moment, starting to braid the flowers into a crown.

“I regret I was too late for you. You should have been here to see her grow and marry. You were so young… Too young, my dear friend. And you died for a republic that became an empire far too soon, a republic that betrayed the very meaning of the idea.”

Maglor sighed, looking at the graves all around, before turning back to the flowers in his laps.

“You once asked me about the names engraved upon my harp. Well, my so very young friend, now your name too is on this harp, as is the name of every human I ever loved. None of those stories ever ended well, which is why I tried so hard but… Well… I also learnt to appreciate and celebrate the happy times we get when we get them. I never stopped loving you in all these years. Neither did I stop loving any of the people those names you noticed.”

Maglor took a quick look at the harp displayed next to him.

“You know, these past few years a new song became very popular, a lament to a lover that was lost to life for he went to defend his ideals. Your name at least has been immortalised in a song. And as we all know sometimes songs last even longer than buildings. I guess we’ll see.”

Silence fell for a while, while Maglor finished the flower crown.

“Louis Berger, my beloved friend, you’ll be forever in my mind, blessed, or cursed perhaps, with a good memory as I am… But my dear, it’s the last time I’ll come here. Your daughter doesn’t need me anymore, and I need to move on. It’s time, before I cross paths again with someone who’ll manage to remember unremarkable Max and realise I never age.”

Maglor rose to his feet and placed the flower crown gently on the grave.

“I love you my friend. I loved you then, and I love you now still. Your untimely death will forever stay one of my regrets.”

He picked his harp, and finally left with a last regretful look behind.