Maglor in the 1848 French Revolution by Aprilertuile

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May and june 1847

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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?