Tales of Thanksgiving: A Drabble Collection by Dawn Felagund

Lore

One of several possible versions of Maglor's fate, for Sirielle.

Lore

He closed the book with a snap. "That is it," he said. "The history of the Eldar."

The girl glanced up at her tutor. Disappointment gleamed in her eyes. "But I do believe that you've forgotten a bit," she said. She was a smart girl with straight shoulders and a forward way about her, but she was used to getting what she wanted. Mystique, romance: she was at the age for fairy stories, for frozen princesses and wicked queens.

And lost princes.

But her tutor only smiled. "I have not forgotten a single word. The texts you have read are secret, granted not even to kings. Yet I have found them for you. They contain all that is known."

The girl thought about this. She stared out the window. It was winter, and the light off the snow made her face look graven, aged.

"But what about Maglor?" she blurted out finally. Eyes widened, smile youthful and naïve, the illusion was ruined.

"There is nothing to know," he gathered the book into his arms, "and so I do not teach it." He strode from the room before she looked too deeply into his face. Before his own illusion was ruined.