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b2memTitle: A Change in the Wind
Author Name: Independence1776
Prompt: Under the High Sky by MirachRavaia
Summary: A slice-of-life of Maglor on market day in an Avarin community.
Rating: General
Warnings: None
Author's Notes: Many thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ladyelleth for both the Avarin names and the idea that Maglor has Avarin relatives on Mahtan’s side of the family. My thanks also to ladylunas for looking this over.
Change in the Wind
The wind howled through the oak, beech, maple, and pine trees surrounding his cabin. Maglor looked up from his seat on his bed, leaning against the house’s wooden wall. He’d closed the shutters already, but even so, he wouldn’t be able to see much in the dark. Not that he would open them in this wind and certainly not with the rain pattering on the roof. His cabin contained everything he owned and he didn’t want to ruin it. And Varnë didn’t appreciate being wet any more than Maglor appreciated the smell of wet dog.
The wind howled again, shaking the shutters and whistling around the corners, and Varnë lifted her head from where she curled up on the rag rug in front of the fireplace, a large brown splotch against the multicolored rug. Maglor dropped his notebook on his bed and went to sit next to her. She nudged his right hand with her nose and he obediently began petting her.
She curled back up, shifting a little so she leaned against him, and went back to sleep. Maglor stayed there, repetitively running a hand down her side, listening to the rain and the wind whistling through the trees, creaking their limbs. He hoped none fell on his house. That would be an unmitigated disaster and-- if he survived the collapse-- he’d have to move into town until the cabin was either repaired or rebuilt.
Despite the Kinn-lai’s acceptance of him in spite of everything he’d done, he had little desire to live among other Elves. He satisfied both his relatives’ desire to have him nearby and his desire for solitude by living in the forest near the border of the tribe’s lands, closer to the nearest border town than the town where his second cousin and his wife lived. It was something he appreciated for both the variety of mortal and Elvish goods and the ability to leave if he wished-- or had to. (Among other things, it allowed for a greater trade in reading material.)
He only owned a handful of books now-- one of poetry that he’d trade at the market in the morning, one of fiction, one of local myths (including those of the mortals), and the rest were poetry he’d bought before he’d arrived in the area fifteen years ago.
That had been an eye-opener. When he’d run into several Kinn-lai in the nearest mortal town, he’d expected to be run out of said town when they spotted him. Instead, they’d invited him to visit. During the welcoming feast, Asmal, his second cousin on Mother’s side of the family, found him and his wife Lillinn persuaded him to stay despite everything.
When the fire died, Maglor nudged Varnë awake and let her outside to do her business. When she scurried inside, sopping wet with muddy paws, he dried her as best as he could with a rag and changed into his nightclothes. Varnë settled on his feet after he lay down on the bed, furs pulled up to his shoulders. Despite it being summer, the cabin was chilly. Due to the trees surrounding it, it never got direct sunlight save near noon-- and the clouds and rain didn’t help. The lack of glass in the windows let in the damp.
* * * * *
The morning dawned clear and Maglor let Varnë out to run. She wouldn’t go far. Maglor washed with a rag and pulled on some clothes. Tomorrow, he needed to do laundry. Today was market day.
It was a walk of about three hours to the border town, and he’d arrive shortly after midmorning if he left now. He ate the last of his cheese and bread and whistled for Varnë when he stepped out of the cabin.
She came charging through the brush and began prancing in front of him, a stick in her mouth. Maglor tugged it from her and tossed it. She took off running and Maglor started down the wet, two-mile-long path leading to the main road. Varnë caught up to him and he tossed the stick again. After a few more throws, she grew bored with the game and stayed near him for the rest of the trek, only occasionally running off into the underbrush.
Trek it was. There were several fallen oak and beech trees and large limbs they had to maneuver around, and he moved them when he could. He may be the only one living out here, but the path was wide enough for a wagon and it needed to remain so if the border was overrun. Maglor thought that unlikely; the ravine that marked it was deep and well-patrolled to the point that any mortal attackers would prefer to cross the wooden bridge at the border town.
When he stepped out of the forest onto the stone main road, Maglor took a moment to appreciate the view of the fields on the other side of the road appearing to stretch to the mountains and then tied a thin rope he took from his pack’s front pocket around Varnë’s neck. He didn’t want to risk her darting off at the wrong moment and getting hurt.
Despite the cool wind coming off the mountains, the walk in the sunshine was pleasant. As he grew closer to the town, more people joined him, many with packs or pushing handcarts. Several of the farmers recognized him and they waved at each other as their wagons rolled by. By the time he reached the town, the market was in full swing.
He made his first stop the bookseller and greeted Tarasin. She grinned at him. “Finished already? I’m going to run out of books for you to read sooner or later.”
Maglor laughed and traded his book for another poetry book. “Any news?”
She shook her head and tilted it slightly toward a group of mortals standing nearby. “There’s talk of tighter border control, and that doesn’t surprise me. The new king’s less than thrilled with some of our queen’s rulings.” She shrugged. “I don’t think much will come of it. We’re too valuable a trade partner.”
He thanked Tarasin and left the stall. He wandered the market, listening to the gossip. Most of it was of little concern, generally about the storm and the border, and he’d heard over and over again that the Rider had taken no one. That was a superstition he’d been sick to his stomach to hear, and despite knowing that Morgoth was imprisoned in the Void, it still sent a shiver of fear down his spine. He didn’t trust that the Valar had found every servant of Morgoth’s. They hadn’t before. And one of Morgoth’s servants would well know and continue the history of fear of dark riders in the night snatching away the vulnerable.
He finally grew tired of the gossip, finished his errands, and bought lunch to eat on the long walk home. About halfway there, Maglor sat down on his pack in the grass on the right side of the road, next to a stray patch of wheat and daisies, positioning himself so he could see the mountains rising in the distance over the fields, and gave Varnë a link of cooked sausage, saving the second for himself. Just when Maglor finished his lunch, the sound of bells jingling and hooves clopping on the road caught his attention. He looked up, waved, and Asmal’s horse cart drew to a halt.
His auburn hair shone in the sun and his grin lit up his face. “Afternoon, Maglor! The guards told me you’d visited the market today. Kept me from worrying you’d disappeared in the storm.”
“I didn’t know you were dropping off supplies for your daughter. I would have stayed longer.” He shrugged. “Mind giving me and Varnë a ride home?”
Asmal said, “Not at all. Hop in.”
Maglor gestured for Varnë to jump into the back of the empty cart and sat down next to Asmal on the seat, his pack at his feet so Varnë wouldn’t get into it. “Anything new in town?”
Asmal shook his head with an exasperated look. “Council politics. One of the guild leader’s complaining about too many of his people being called up and sent to the border.” He shrugged. “Nothing wrong with that, I see. He’s lost three people; the carpenters have lost four.”
Maglor looked at him, more than a bit unnerved. If the reserves had begun mustering… But he hadn’t been told to either evacuate or arm himself yet. “I think it’s for a show of force.”
Asmal gave him an odd look and eventually said, “Lill’s birthday is next week, and she said she’d have your hair if you don’t show up.”
Maglor winced. “I’ll be there.” His hair had barely reached his shoulders since the last time he’d insulted someone badly enough for him to demand Maglor cut it. And that apart from the fact that it was Lill who convinced him to stay fifteen years ago, found him a place to build his cabin near the border to give him the privacy he desired, and then given him a pup from the litter she hadn’t planned on breeding three years ago.
“Good.” Neither one said anything for a little while, and then Asmal said with a sly grin, “Daissir will be there.”
Maglor groaned. “Will you leave us be? I’m not looking to court anyone; she’s not looking to court anyone. We’re just friends!”
Asmal chuckled. “But it is so easy to get a reaction out of you.”
Maglor wrinkled his nose. There had been… less than pleasant responses to such provocations-- some greater, some lesser-- in the past. The Oath being the result of one of them. “There are some subjects you should just leave alone.”
He shrugged. “Maybe. But a bit of gentle teasing never hurt anyone.”
Maglor rolled his eyes. “If everyone stopped bringing it up, it would be gentle. As it is, I am tired of it. So is she.”
“Are you two working on something?”
“A duet,” Maglor said and looked over the fields slowly rolling by, grains ripening in the summer sun. “If all goes well, we’ll be ready to perform at the turn of the season.”
“I look forward to hearing it.”
They spent the next few minutes in comfortable silence. Maglor paid little attention to the horse’s hooves clopping on the road, the birds singing, or the other myriad noises of the countryside and forest. He’d struck up an unexpectedly fast friendship with Daissir, but they’d also known from the first that neither of them wanted a romance. Daissir simply wasn’t interested and Maglor… His betrothed had fallen in Alqualondë with a bloody sword in her hand and a Telerin arrow through her throat. While he knew that the likelihood of ever seeing her again was slim, he still loved her.
“You can stop here,” Maglor said when they reached the path. “There’s a lot of limbs down and I need time to clear them before you’ll be able to make it down there.”
“All right. I’ll pick you up in six days.”
Maglor smiled and got out of the cart. Varnë jumped out and stood in the middle of the path, her tail wagging gently. Asmal handed Maglor his pack and Maglor slung it on his back. “Tell Lill I said hello.”
“I will,” Asmal said, flicking the reins. Maglor waited until the road was clear and crossed it. Varnë barked, went into a play bow, and dashed into the woods. She returned carrying a stick in her mouth and generally made a nuisance of herself the rest of the way home.
After he’d opened the shutters so he would have light, he put away his supplies and then dragged his outdoor chair back outside. He went back in, shooed Varnë out, grabbed his new book, and came outside to read, firmly shutting the door behind him. He settled in his chair and Varnë lay down at his feet, panting happily.
Author Name: Independence1776
Prompt: Under the High Sky by MirachRavaia
Summary: A slice-of-life of Maglor on market day in an Avarin community.
Rating: General
Warnings: None
Author's Notes: Many thanks to
ladyelleth for both the Avarin names and the idea that Maglor has Avarin relatives on Mahtan’s side of the family. My thanks also to ladylunas for looking this over.The wind howled through the oak, beech, maple, and pine trees surrounding his cabin. Maglor looked up from his seat on his bed, leaning against the house’s wooden wall. He’d closed the shutters already, but even so, he wouldn’t be able to see much in the dark. Not that he would open them in this wind and certainly not with the rain pattering on the roof. His cabin contained everything he owned and he didn’t want to ruin it. And Varnë didn’t appreciate being wet any more than Maglor appreciated the smell of wet dog.
The wind howled again, shaking the shutters and whistling around the corners, and Varnë lifted her head from where she curled up on the rag rug in front of the fireplace, a large brown splotch against the multicolored rug. Maglor dropped his notebook on his bed and went to sit next to her. She nudged his right hand with her nose and he obediently began petting her.
She curled back up, shifting a little so she leaned against him, and went back to sleep. Maglor stayed there, repetitively running a hand down her side, listening to the rain and the wind whistling through the trees, creaking their limbs. He hoped none fell on his house. That would be an unmitigated disaster and-- if he survived the collapse-- he’d have to move into town until the cabin was either repaired or rebuilt.
Despite the Kinn-lai’s acceptance of him in spite of everything he’d done, he had little desire to live among other Elves. He satisfied both his relatives’ desire to have him nearby and his desire for solitude by living in the forest near the border of the tribe’s lands, closer to the nearest border town than the town where his second cousin and his wife lived. It was something he appreciated for both the variety of mortal and Elvish goods and the ability to leave if he wished-- or had to. (Among other things, it allowed for a greater trade in reading material.)
He only owned a handful of books now-- one of poetry that he’d trade at the market in the morning, one of fiction, one of local myths (including those of the mortals), and the rest were poetry he’d bought before he’d arrived in the area fifteen years ago.
That had been an eye-opener. When he’d run into several Kinn-lai in the nearest mortal town, he’d expected to be run out of said town when they spotted him. Instead, they’d invited him to visit. During the welcoming feast, Asmal, his second cousin on Mother’s side of the family, found him and his wife Lillinn persuaded him to stay despite everything.
When the fire died, Maglor nudged Varnë awake and let her outside to do her business. When she scurried inside, sopping wet with muddy paws, he dried her as best as he could with a rag and changed into his nightclothes. Varnë settled on his feet after he lay down on the bed, furs pulled up to his shoulders. Despite it being summer, the cabin was chilly. Due to the trees surrounding it, it never got direct sunlight save near noon-- and the clouds and rain didn’t help. The lack of glass in the windows let in the damp.
The morning dawned clear and Maglor let Varnë out to run. She wouldn’t go far. Maglor washed with a rag and pulled on some clothes. Tomorrow, he needed to do laundry. Today was market day.
It was a walk of about three hours to the border town, and he’d arrive shortly after midmorning if he left now. He ate the last of his cheese and bread and whistled for Varnë when he stepped out of the cabin.
She came charging through the brush and began prancing in front of him, a stick in her mouth. Maglor tugged it from her and tossed it. She took off running and Maglor started down the wet, two-mile-long path leading to the main road. Varnë caught up to him and he tossed the stick again. After a few more throws, she grew bored with the game and stayed near him for the rest of the trek, only occasionally running off into the underbrush.
Trek it was. There were several fallen oak and beech trees and large limbs they had to maneuver around, and he moved them when he could. He may be the only one living out here, but the path was wide enough for a wagon and it needed to remain so if the border was overrun. Maglor thought that unlikely; the ravine that marked it was deep and well-patrolled to the point that any mortal attackers would prefer to cross the wooden bridge at the border town.
When he stepped out of the forest onto the stone main road, Maglor took a moment to appreciate the view of the fields on the other side of the road appearing to stretch to the mountains and then tied a thin rope he took from his pack’s front pocket around Varnë’s neck. He didn’t want to risk her darting off at the wrong moment and getting hurt.
Despite the cool wind coming off the mountains, the walk in the sunshine was pleasant. As he grew closer to the town, more people joined him, many with packs or pushing handcarts. Several of the farmers recognized him and they waved at each other as their wagons rolled by. By the time he reached the town, the market was in full swing.
He made his first stop the bookseller and greeted Tarasin. She grinned at him. “Finished already? I’m going to run out of books for you to read sooner or later.”
Maglor laughed and traded his book for another poetry book. “Any news?”
She shook her head and tilted it slightly toward a group of mortals standing nearby. “There’s talk of tighter border control, and that doesn’t surprise me. The new king’s less than thrilled with some of our queen’s rulings.” She shrugged. “I don’t think much will come of it. We’re too valuable a trade partner.”
He thanked Tarasin and left the stall. He wandered the market, listening to the gossip. Most of it was of little concern, generally about the storm and the border, and he’d heard over and over again that the Rider had taken no one. That was a superstition he’d been sick to his stomach to hear, and despite knowing that Morgoth was imprisoned in the Void, it still sent a shiver of fear down his spine. He didn’t trust that the Valar had found every servant of Morgoth’s. They hadn’t before. And one of Morgoth’s servants would well know and continue the history of fear of dark riders in the night snatching away the vulnerable.
He finally grew tired of the gossip, finished his errands, and bought lunch to eat on the long walk home. About halfway there, Maglor sat down on his pack in the grass on the right side of the road, next to a stray patch of wheat and daisies, positioning himself so he could see the mountains rising in the distance over the fields, and gave Varnë a link of cooked sausage, saving the second for himself. Just when Maglor finished his lunch, the sound of bells jingling and hooves clopping on the road caught his attention. He looked up, waved, and Asmal’s horse cart drew to a halt.
His auburn hair shone in the sun and his grin lit up his face. “Afternoon, Maglor! The guards told me you’d visited the market today. Kept me from worrying you’d disappeared in the storm.”
“I didn’t know you were dropping off supplies for your daughter. I would have stayed longer.” He shrugged. “Mind giving me and Varnë a ride home?”
Asmal said, “Not at all. Hop in.”
Maglor gestured for Varnë to jump into the back of the empty cart and sat down next to Asmal on the seat, his pack at his feet so Varnë wouldn’t get into it. “Anything new in town?”
Asmal shook his head with an exasperated look. “Council politics. One of the guild leader’s complaining about too many of his people being called up and sent to the border.” He shrugged. “Nothing wrong with that, I see. He’s lost three people; the carpenters have lost four.”
Maglor looked at him, more than a bit unnerved. If the reserves had begun mustering… But he hadn’t been told to either evacuate or arm himself yet. “I think it’s for a show of force.”
Asmal gave him an odd look and eventually said, “Lill’s birthday is next week, and she said she’d have your hair if you don’t show up.”
Maglor winced. “I’ll be there.” His hair had barely reached his shoulders since the last time he’d insulted someone badly enough for him to demand Maglor cut it. And that apart from the fact that it was Lill who convinced him to stay fifteen years ago, found him a place to build his cabin near the border to give him the privacy he desired, and then given him a pup from the litter she hadn’t planned on breeding three years ago.
“Good.” Neither one said anything for a little while, and then Asmal said with a sly grin, “Daissir will be there.”
Maglor groaned. “Will you leave us be? I’m not looking to court anyone; she’s not looking to court anyone. We’re just friends!”
Asmal chuckled. “But it is so easy to get a reaction out of you.”
Maglor wrinkled his nose. There had been… less than pleasant responses to such provocations-- some greater, some lesser-- in the past. The Oath being the result of one of them. “There are some subjects you should just leave alone.”
He shrugged. “Maybe. But a bit of gentle teasing never hurt anyone.”
Maglor rolled his eyes. “If everyone stopped bringing it up, it would be gentle. As it is, I am tired of it. So is she.”
“Are you two working on something?”
“A duet,” Maglor said and looked over the fields slowly rolling by, grains ripening in the summer sun. “If all goes well, we’ll be ready to perform at the turn of the season.”
“I look forward to hearing it.”
They spent the next few minutes in comfortable silence. Maglor paid little attention to the horse’s hooves clopping on the road, the birds singing, or the other myriad noises of the countryside and forest. He’d struck up an unexpectedly fast friendship with Daissir, but they’d also known from the first that neither of them wanted a romance. Daissir simply wasn’t interested and Maglor… His betrothed had fallen in Alqualondë with a bloody sword in her hand and a Telerin arrow through her throat. While he knew that the likelihood of ever seeing her again was slim, he still loved her.
“You can stop here,” Maglor said when they reached the path. “There’s a lot of limbs down and I need time to clear them before you’ll be able to make it down there.”
“All right. I’ll pick you up in six days.”
Maglor smiled and got out of the cart. Varnë jumped out and stood in the middle of the path, her tail wagging gently. Asmal handed Maglor his pack and Maglor slung it on his back. “Tell Lill I said hello.”
“I will,” Asmal said, flicking the reins. Maglor waited until the road was clear and crossed it. Varnë barked, went into a play bow, and dashed into the woods. She returned carrying a stick in her mouth and generally made a nuisance of herself the rest of the way home.
After he’d opened the shutters so he would have light, he put away his supplies and then dragged his outdoor chair back outside. He went back in, shooed Varnë out, grabbed his new book, and came outside to read, firmly shutting the door behind him. He settled in his chair and Varnë lay down at his feet, panting happily.
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no subject
Date: 2014-03-03 11:48 pm (UTC)You've painted his solitude here with such poignant brush strokes, you actually made me feel glad that he at least has a dog so he is not completely alone. I liked too, that without spelling it out, you also showed us that with a dog and a book of poetry, even a cursed elf can be semi-content.
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Date: 2014-03-05 12:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-03-04 12:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-03-05 12:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-03-05 08:17 am (UTC)I'm keen to read more of this Maglor; and having sampled this, I really must give RAFA a try.
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Date: 2014-03-05 04:35 pm (UTC)I'm glad to hear that! But I have a couple of major projects that I want to write before I come back to this 'verse. I hope you enjoy RAFA!
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Date: 2014-03-04 04:11 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-03-05 01:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-03-04 04:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-03-05 01:06 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-03-04 08:21 am (UTC)Is this outside RAFA-'verse, though? Just asking because I can't recall Narmincë dying in Alqualondë, but that might be the fault of my brain only being half-awake at the moment. It's a fantastic story either way. :)
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Date: 2014-03-05 01:11 am (UTC)No, it's not part of the RAFA'verse (which really is complete). RAFA!Maglor tended to avoid the Avari and Narmincë remained in Tirion after the Darkening.
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Date: 2014-03-04 09:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-03-05 01:14 am (UTC)As for the undertones: *evil grin*
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Date: 2014-03-04 09:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-03-05 01:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-03-04 04:20 pm (UTC)I'm glad he has an exhuberant dog to help pass the time though, and also someone to share music with.
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Date: 2014-03-05 01:20 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-03-04 08:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-03-05 01:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-03-05 09:19 pm (UTC)The relationship Maglor has with his dog is probably my favorite, though :D
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Date: 2014-03-05 10:58 pm (UTC)His dog is actually the reason I wrote this! I couldn't decide between a darkfic and a "Maglor and dog" story, started writing the darkfic, and swiftly discovered I couldn't both finish and edit it by the due date. So I turned to the dog one. :)
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Date: 2014-03-05 11:22 pm (UTC)And I'm glad you did, because dogs are wonderful, and this one was especially so.
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Date: 2014-03-05 11:33 pm (UTC)Dogs are absolutely wonderful. This isn't the first time I've given him one, and I doubt it'll be the last. :D
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Date: 2014-03-05 11:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-03-05 11:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-03-09 03:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-03-09 01:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-03-09 04:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-03-09 06:14 pm (UTC)Me, too! It's by far my favorite thing to read in the fandom.
I love this one because I like to see him with a little hope, and his wonderful dog and relationship with the Avari seems so good for him.
Thank you! I wanted to give him a bit of hope and a place where he feels welcome.
Is it part of a bigger 'world' that you've written for Maglor? It seems like it and if so, if you could point me in the direction of other pieces, I'd be thrilled.
I'm glad it seems it's part of a bigger world (I hoped it would!), but at this point in time, it isn't. I do want to get back to this 'verse eventually. (A significant portion of my writing is post-First Age Maglor, so if you want to poke around my backlist… :) )
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Date: 2014-03-11 09:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-03-12 08:22 pm (UTC)(I added a link to it into its description)
Wow, thank you! I hadn't expected that.
The land around that place is where I grew up, and now you made me imagine it as an Avarin kingdom at the border of human territory, and it's really a charming image
That is wonderful to hear! (My maternal grandma emigrated from Slovakia in the 1930s; I'd originally thought to write a more modern day story because of that, but I know nothing about the country and I can't ask her due to dementia.)
In your view into Maglor's everyday life, there is loneliness, but also peace - much more peace than the original impression I had from the Silmarillion,
I like giving him a bit more to do than wandering the shorelines in regret; I can't imagine him living forever like that. But this is a bit more peaceful than my norm. I like it, though, and I'm glad you do, too. :)
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Date: 2014-03-15 11:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-03-16 11:27 pm (UTC)Maglor's life was what he would have needed after everything that happened […] It's a good place to start over.
Exactly. I don't think of him wandering in regret for more than a few years because he's proud and strong. (Wandering in perpetuity because he's an Elf among mortals, yes. But not wasting away in grief on the shore.) And I wanted to explore him having a happier life.
Loved the world building, I just wish there'd been more. You do it the very best way - little hints dropped into conversation naturally, so it feels big and full and solid.
Thank you so much! I wasn't sure about some of the details, or if it was plausible, so I'm glad to know it works for you.
If you ever find time to revisit this 'verse, I would love to read more.
I do hope to, though I can't put a timeframe as to when.
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Date: 2014-03-23 02:21 pm (UTC)Your Maglor's character is nicely drawn here and solidly connected to the Maglor with whom I am quite familiar, namely Maglor of RAFA (loved the nod to the darker backstory to Narmincë - would love to see that developed into a fic). I like his propensity of seeking out an affectionate canine companion.
Even though this is a quiet slice of life during Maglor's exile, there's much more churning beneath the surface - the hints of interpersonal tension, that the borders could be overrun, the machinations of the Council among them - and I find the glimpses of these on the horizon to be intriguing.
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Date: 2014-03-25 12:37 am (UTC)Elleth actually came up with the idea in a fic she wrote for me for fandom_stocking; I just asked if I could use it.
Thanks. RAFA does tend to be the basis for my Maglor across the board. (But his betrothed isn't Narmincë with a darker backstory; neither one of them will tell me her name right now. It's not a priority, so I'm not pushing.)
I like his propensity of seeking out an affectionate canine companion.
Varnë was sort-of-but-not-quite forced on him. And I fully admit that that propensity exists solely because I'm a dog person.
Even though this is a quiet slice of life during Maglor's exile, there's much more churning beneath the surface […] and I find the glimpses of these on the horizon to be intriguing.
I'm glad to hear that!
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Date: 2014-03-25 11:44 am (UTC)Ah, my mistake in assuming then. So his betrothed per the text below is a different woman? A departure from the RAFAverse? Or another part of the latter?
His betrothed had fallen in Alqualondë with a bloody sword in her hand and a Telerin arrow through her throat.
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Date: 2014-03-25 12:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-03-28 01:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2014-03-29 12:45 am (UTC)