A Sense of History: Straight Road
The next in a series of articles about ships passing to and from the West, Simon uses "The Fall of Númenor" to attempt to arrive at Tolkien's reading of the exordium to "Beowulf."
Maglor on the modern shore. Double drabble. Rated General.
Written for Elleth for Fandom_Stocking 2012.
The Sea swelled and crashed on the white sand, sending salt spray into the air. Maglor stared at the tangled brown seaweed floating in the surf near his ankles. He turned away.
It was nothing he hadn’t seen before.
Though he much preferred the time when the shore was deserted and lined with trees, brush, and animals aplenty. He glanced at the tall towers of condos and hotels, windows gleaming in the bright summer sunlight, and then at the sand covered by people and towels, the water crowded by shrieking and playing children. Maglor dodged a plastic beach ball thrown by a teenager with poor aim as he trudged up the sand and grimaced. He would return around sunset, when the beach would be far less crowded.
It would give him time to change out of his swim trunks and eat dinner at the local pizza restaurant the woman running the bed and breakfast recommended when he’d asked about a non-seafood restaurant that morning.
He didn’t expect to find the Silmaril. He never did. It had been Ages, and the world turned on, uncaring. But he would always look, even if was just for a week or two every year.