Trinkets by Independence1776

Lament

For Silm40. Maglor and the Noldolantë.

Maglor ignored the bustle of the camp hidden behind the hide walls of his tent, staring down at the rag paper on his travel desk, a quill in hand ready to dip into the black ink. How to tell of the glories and the exile, the Darkness and the light? Not just of the Sun and Moon, but the stars and the Silmarils and the people? What could be told of those days long in the bright days of Valinor under the Two Trees and short in the overshadowed days of the Outer Lands? What could be told of the disasters and the battles and the Kinslayings?

How could one lament contain those multitudes?

He did not yet know, though he knew it would be his greatest work. The fall of the Noldor deserved no less.