b2mem | Surrounded by Ghosts by Erulisse (one L) (Reply)

Author: Erulisse (one L)
Title: Surrounded by Ghosts
Rating: G with hints of PG
Theme: B2MeM 2015
Elements: Maglor and the Doors of Khazad-dûm
Author's Notes: Disclaimer: Tolkien built the sandbox, I only play with the bucket and shovel that he left for me. No money, profit or non, is made from the publication of this story.
Summary: During his wanderings in the Second Age or later, Maglor passes by the Doors of Khazad-dum (it could be before or after the fall or Eregion). What are his thoughts on seeing the Star of Feanor on the side of a mountain? Posted on 2-26-15 by

lignota
Word Count: 491

Surrounded by Ghosts

Maglor crept quietly along the ridge. Glancing over toward the back doors of Khazad-dûm, he saw the doors were closed and guards had been well-hidden in the rocky crevices nearby. It was a mark of the rising danger that the dwarves had closed that which had, until now, always been kept open.

He had been visiting his niece and nephew in Ost-in-Edhil, collecting strings that Helyanwë had made for his harp and tanbur. During this trip Celebrimbor had been working in his forge, closed in with his primary apprentice. He had left strict instructions not to be disturbed, so Maglor had missed the opportunity to speak with him, but he preferred the light-hearted mischievous attitude of his niece over the overly serious nature of her brother in any case. He had held off leaving as long as possible, but finally had to continue on his journey. Although it had been long since he had cast the stone into the ocean, elven memories were longer and he was still labeled as a kinslayer. Staying in a populated place for long could endanger him and those he loved.

The clouds parted for a moment, allowing moonlight to illuminate the tracery upon the dwarven doorway. He stopped, transfixed, as his eyes scanned the doorway's imagery. His eyes fell upon the sigil of his house - the Fëanorean eight-pointed star, and an unexpected stab of grief struck him. He sank down onto the ground, his head on his knees and his arms wrapped around his legs.

I haven't seen the symbol of our house displayed with pride for long years, he thought. When did I last see it? Ah! I remember seeing it on our shields, splashed with blood when we attempted to wrest Lúthien's silmaril from Elwing at the Havens of Sirion. Nothing good came from that day, only more death and more destruction. We slew our fellow elves in pursuit of something that had never been ours to possess.

There was a small benefit - two of them; Elrond and Elros. We took them from the fallen tower and raised them as if they were our own. They grew to love us; Elrond still does. Their love pulled my brother away from his single-minded pursuit for a few years and allowed us to live a more normal life. It was temporary, of course, but those memories have been my lifeline through these empty years.

Drawing a shuddering breath, he stood once again, casting another glance at the cliff-face. The moon was occluded, its light diffused, and the tracery had faded again into the camouflaging rocks. He could not waste time, he was due at Oropher's court by the end of the season. Kinslayer or not, he still needed shelter for the winter and the Woodland Realm's king had consented to his residing near the court for a few months. He began to walk away from the dwarven city, solitary but surrounded by ghosts.