Trinkets by Independence1776

Trick or Treat Ficlets

Five ficlets written for the Trick or Treat meme on LJ: four Maglor, one Elrond. Rated General.

For Makalaurë, young Maglor in Valinor:

Makalaurë stared across the field at his brother. He waved at Maitimo, who turned his bay horse toward him. When Maitimo reined to a halt on the other side of the fence, Makalaurë said, “Father wants you. And given the amount of time I’ve spent here waiting for you, he’s not going to be happy.”

Maitimo sighed and dismounted. Makalaurë opened the gate and his brother led his horse through. As they walked to the stable, Maitimo said, “Did he tell you what he wanted?”

Makalaurë shook his head. “A letter from Uncle Arafinwë arrived shortly beforehand, so I guess it has something to do with that.”

“Politics, then.” Maitimo sighed. “At least he wants my opinion this time.”

“You’re his heir,” Makalaurë said as Maitimo handed over his horse to a groom. “He--”

“I know what he’s training me for, Káno.” He smirked. “You’ll get roped into it soon enough. You’re also a Prince of the Noldor.”

Makalaurë pulled the house’s back door open as he said, “Maybe I’ll run away to Alqualondë.”

“Sure you will.”

Makalaurë stuck his tongue out at him and went into the kitchen for a glass of water.

For Huinare, Elrond and astronomy:

Elrond sat down on a low rock on the boulder-strewn beach. This late at night, the only sound was the waves crashing onto shore. It made him wonder just how often Ulmo looked in on the Elves, or more specifically, Eärendil’s remaining child. It was an unsettling thought, that he was still so important despite having done pretty much nothing. Or maybe the Valar didn’t care anymore. He didn’t know which was worse.

In order to get his mind off those thoughts and back to the reason he came out here in the first place, he looked up at the stars. Maglor had taken Elros and him out numerous times, anytime of the year and night, in order to teach them how to navigate by them, but also to tell them lore, how Varda made them Ages ago, both the thousands they could see and the billions they could not. But he also made up stories: about the swordsman, the butterfly, the horse, the ship, and so many more.

The one thing he had nothing to say about was Remmirath-- Elros had interrupted when Maglor began speaking about it to tell him they already know the story of the Netted Stars. Elrond had remained quiet; talking about it would only have brought tears.

Hearing Mother talk about Remmirath, how they were fish escaping from a mighty fisher, and how it was one of the myths passed on from Cuiviénen was one of the few clear memories he had of her.

For Samtyr, no prompt:

Maglor walked down the country lane, the reds and golds of autumn spread out on either side of him. It was a season that never failed to remind him of always-green Valinor. He wondered now if it remained that way or if it too now had seasons-- or if the weather drove a dry season that would bring a similar effect to the leaves.

He honestly ws not sure which he preferred. He enjoyed the colors of autumn, but Valinor’s stasis was in some ways more pleasant than the ever-changing world. For him, a chance to rest for years at a time without worrying what mortals would think of him or needing to keep track of time would be a blessing. But it was one he wouldn’t ever have: Valinor was a home he could never return to.

The next two stories take place in the same world as A Change in the Wind, my B2MeM 2014 fic.

For Keiliss, Maglor and his dog:

Varnë stared up at him, a stick in her mouth. Maglor rolled over in bed with a groan. He heard the stick drop onto the floor and then Varnë barked. He sighed and sat up, the blanket falling off his shoulders. “Normally you leave the kindling pile alone. Why, why did you suddenly change your mind this morning?”

Varnë picked up the stick, her tail wagging madly. Maglor padded barefoot over to the door and opened it. Varnë darted out, stick still firmly in her mouth. Maglor left the door open behind her and turned to the banked fire. First he would make tea and then he would think of some way to make sure his adolescent dog wouldn’t get into the kindling bucket again.

For Elleth, my Kinn-lai Avari and Maglor:

Asmal studied his second cousin. He was worn, weather-beaten, and while there was clearly steel in him, he acted as if anything he did would cause him to be kicked out. He knew full well why Maglor did not trust other Elves, but he had already been punished for his crimes by his permanent exile from the land in the West. There was no reason he could not make a home here.

Maglor lifted the cup of lavender tea to his lips, his strange, light-filled eyes flicking to Lillin in thanks. She sat down at the table with her own cup. “Maglor, when was the last time you spoke Quenya?”

He looked fully at her. “About two centuries ago. I don’t--”

“Would you like us to learn?” Asmal said.

He stared at them. “I’m not even sure I’m staying.”

“That doesn’t matter,” she said. “You can teach us as we teach you our language, no matter how little that ends up being.”

“But--”

“I know you miss it,” Asmal said. “What will it hurt?”

“It won’t,” Maglor said. He took another sip of his tea. “Thank you.”

Lillin rested a hand on his own. “What else is family for?”

He looked as if he hadn't let that sink into his head yet. With a twisted smile, he said, “Yes, what else is it for?”