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b2mem2016-03-14 08:53 pm
mysterious-jedi.livejournal.com) wrote in b2mem2016-03-14 08:53 pm
The Beginning of the Fall by Mysterious Jedi
B2MeM Challenge: 2016 Memories
Format:short story
Genre: Angst
Rating:M
Warnings:violence
Characters:Maglor, Elros, Elrond, Olwë, Fëanor
Pairings: n/a
Summary: Maglor tells the young Peredhil about how he came to Middle Earth.
"Thus at last the Teleri were overcome, and a great part of their mariners that dwelt in Alqualondë were wickedly slain."
"Tell us a story, Maglor." Elrond said.
"What would you have me tell you about?" Maglor asked.
"What was it like when you first came to Middle Earth?” Elros asked, bouncing in his seat. “How long did it take to cross the sea? How did you know which direction to sail in?"
"One question at a time, Elros." Maglor sighed. "That tale is not one fit for young ellyn such as yourselves. It was a very dark time in my life."
"But the Sea! Did you meet Ossë and Uinen? That was before the sun and moon, right? Did you follow the stars?"
Maglor rubbed his neck. What to tell these young ones? They were so innocent. And yet---perhaps if they learned from his failures, they could grow to be wise.
"I am not a good person. Many foul deeds weigh upon my fëa. You know this. Or have you forgotten how you came to be with me?"
Elrond and Elros looked at each other, and then to Maglor. It was Elrond who spoke.
"We know that you have made many poor choices, but surely there is forgiveness."
"Not for me. I do not deserve it. That accursed Oath has set me against the Valar, with Ilúvatar himself as a witness against me."
"But Ilúvatar can forgive you, Maglor. No one deserves forgiveness. If they did, they wouldn't need it. Anyway, we just want to hear about your journey over the sea. We are not asking for an account of all your wrongdoings. It is not our place to judge you."
"Ah, but I cannot speak of the Sea without speaking of other matters. 'Tis a dark tale indeed, and you may well loathe my presence by the end of it. Are you sure you want me to tell it to you?"
"Yes!" The young half elves answered.
"So be it. But if it becomes too much, tell me and I will stop."
Maglor thought back to that long-ago day when he first set out upon the Sea.
***
"Sail with us, or lend us thy ships, Teleri!" Fëanaró said. "Lest thou side ever with Morgoth, the slayer of the Trees and the thief of my own life's work. Come with us to Endor, and we shall be kings together! Even the Enemy himself will not stand in our path."
"Nay, Fëanáro." Olwë said. "Ulmo has brought us to this place, and here we shall remain. If thou wouldst go to Endor, thou must take up the art of shipbuilding among thine own people. Thou shalt not have our ships, for the Swans of the Havens are as dear unto us as thy Silmarilli are unto thee and thy kin."
Fëanaró drew his sword, and his sons did likewise. "Because of my oath and my quest, I cannot delay, Olwë. My people have no desire to harm you, but with Ilúvatar as our witness we shall keep our oath. Any who would say us nay shall perish. I shall leave thee to consult with thy advisers, but choose swiftly, or thy doom shall come upon thee!"
Makalaurë swallowed. Was there no other way? He had no desire for strife with the Teleri. Already, he began to question his decision in taking the Oath. His father said it was right, though, and was not Fëanaró the head of the family? Even Finwë himself had oft ceded to his son’s judgment, for he was both wise and skilled. The Silmarilli must be retrieved. If only the Teleri would go with them, or at the least give the loan of their ships!
Hours passed, and Fëanaró's patience eroded. "Come, ye captains of the Teleri. Hearken not to the foolish pride of thy king. Give us thy ships, and we shall remain as friends and kindred. There need be no strife this day."
"Never!" The sailors cried.
"Noldor, charge!" Fëanaró cried.
Never before had such screams been heard in Aman. Swords whistled through the air, leaving bodies to crash to the ground.The Teleri had no arms with which to defend themselves, and so they took up their kitchen knives, and their oars, and whatever else was at hand. Soon the streets of Alqualondë were strewn with bodies, both Noldor and Teleri. Nolofinwë arrived with the rest of the Noldor, and the Teleri were swiftly overcome.
As he sailed across the Sea, Makalaurë looked not to the East, but to the West. Amidst the rocking and thrashing of the ocean, he sang a lament for his kin, both the slain and the slayers. Mingled the salty sea air, he tasted the salt of his own tears. What madness had come upon his family? He began composing a song. All who heard it were still, and wept. It was the Fall of the Noldor. He could only hope that he would never again see such a battle, that pitted elf against elf.
Ossë seemed to sense his unease, for the waves were never still, and the storms tossed the stolen ships hither and thither until Makalaurë could no longer stand on the decks. In the cabin below, he sang and wept.
It was not his choice to burn the ships. After going to such lengths to attain them, why destroy their dearly bought prize? His father would see no reason, however, steadfast in his belief that Nolofinwë wanted the Silmarilli for his own. Makalaurë began to wish his father had never made those accursed jewels.
At least he had his brothers, for the moment. His heart missed a beat when Ambarto was found to be in the ships while they were burning, but Maitimo retrieved him just before the worst could occur. Was this what it meant to be Noldor? Doomed always to cause harm to one's kin?
He should never have joined with his father’s fell oath. The pride and jealousy of his people had become their undoing. In his heart Makalaurë feared that this was only the beginning of the Noldolantë.
***
“And I was right to fear such a fate.” Maglor said. “Two more Kinslayings, and who can say what the future holds? I and my family are cursed unto the ending of the world. We brought it upon ourselves.”
Elrond and Elros clung to each other. Their soft hearts shattered the remaining fragments of Maglor’s heart. “I am sorry. I should not have told you such a tale, ask though you might. You need not remain here forever. I am certain that Círdan or Gil-galad would accept you as kin.”
“We don’t want to leave you.”Elros said.
“We want to help you be happy again. That was the saddest story I’ve ever heard!” Elrond said.
Maglor embraced his wards. “You have great compassion on an evil-doer like me. But do not be afraid to change your minds. If I cannot have the forgiveness of the Valar and Ilúvatar himself, I should not expect it from you.”
Elrond’s earnest silver eyes met Maglor’s and held firm. “You can be forgiven. I pray to Ilúvatar that you will understand that some day.”
Format:short story
Genre: Angst
Rating:M
Warnings:violence
Characters:Maglor, Elros, Elrond, Olwë, Fëanor
Pairings: n/a
Summary: Maglor tells the young Peredhil about how he came to Middle Earth.
"Thus at last the Teleri were overcome, and a great part of their mariners that dwelt in Alqualondë were wickedly slain."
"Tell us a story, Maglor." Elrond said.
"What would you have me tell you about?" Maglor asked.
"What was it like when you first came to Middle Earth?” Elros asked, bouncing in his seat. “How long did it take to cross the sea? How did you know which direction to sail in?"
"One question at a time, Elros." Maglor sighed. "That tale is not one fit for young ellyn such as yourselves. It was a very dark time in my life."
"But the Sea! Did you meet Ossë and Uinen? That was before the sun and moon, right? Did you follow the stars?"
Maglor rubbed his neck. What to tell these young ones? They were so innocent. And yet---perhaps if they learned from his failures, they could grow to be wise.
"I am not a good person. Many foul deeds weigh upon my fëa. You know this. Or have you forgotten how you came to be with me?"
Elrond and Elros looked at each other, and then to Maglor. It was Elrond who spoke.
"We know that you have made many poor choices, but surely there is forgiveness."
"Not for me. I do not deserve it. That accursed Oath has set me against the Valar, with Ilúvatar himself as a witness against me."
"But Ilúvatar can forgive you, Maglor. No one deserves forgiveness. If they did, they wouldn't need it. Anyway, we just want to hear about your journey over the sea. We are not asking for an account of all your wrongdoings. It is not our place to judge you."
"Ah, but I cannot speak of the Sea without speaking of other matters. 'Tis a dark tale indeed, and you may well loathe my presence by the end of it. Are you sure you want me to tell it to you?"
"Yes!" The young half elves answered.
"So be it. But if it becomes too much, tell me and I will stop."
Maglor thought back to that long-ago day when he first set out upon the Sea.
***
"Sail with us, or lend us thy ships, Teleri!" Fëanaró said. "Lest thou side ever with Morgoth, the slayer of the Trees and the thief of my own life's work. Come with us to Endor, and we shall be kings together! Even the Enemy himself will not stand in our path."
"Nay, Fëanáro." Olwë said. "Ulmo has brought us to this place, and here we shall remain. If thou wouldst go to Endor, thou must take up the art of shipbuilding among thine own people. Thou shalt not have our ships, for the Swans of the Havens are as dear unto us as thy Silmarilli are unto thee and thy kin."
Fëanaró drew his sword, and his sons did likewise. "Because of my oath and my quest, I cannot delay, Olwë. My people have no desire to harm you, but with Ilúvatar as our witness we shall keep our oath. Any who would say us nay shall perish. I shall leave thee to consult with thy advisers, but choose swiftly, or thy doom shall come upon thee!"
Makalaurë swallowed. Was there no other way? He had no desire for strife with the Teleri. Already, he began to question his decision in taking the Oath. His father said it was right, though, and was not Fëanaró the head of the family? Even Finwë himself had oft ceded to his son’s judgment, for he was both wise and skilled. The Silmarilli must be retrieved. If only the Teleri would go with them, or at the least give the loan of their ships!
Hours passed, and Fëanaró's patience eroded. "Come, ye captains of the Teleri. Hearken not to the foolish pride of thy king. Give us thy ships, and we shall remain as friends and kindred. There need be no strife this day."
"Never!" The sailors cried.
"Noldor, charge!" Fëanaró cried.
Never before had such screams been heard in Aman. Swords whistled through the air, leaving bodies to crash to the ground.The Teleri had no arms with which to defend themselves, and so they took up their kitchen knives, and their oars, and whatever else was at hand. Soon the streets of Alqualondë were strewn with bodies, both Noldor and Teleri. Nolofinwë arrived with the rest of the Noldor, and the Teleri were swiftly overcome.
As he sailed across the Sea, Makalaurë looked not to the East, but to the West. Amidst the rocking and thrashing of the ocean, he sang a lament for his kin, both the slain and the slayers. Mingled the salty sea air, he tasted the salt of his own tears. What madness had come upon his family? He began composing a song. All who heard it were still, and wept. It was the Fall of the Noldor. He could only hope that he would never again see such a battle, that pitted elf against elf.
Ossë seemed to sense his unease, for the waves were never still, and the storms tossed the stolen ships hither and thither until Makalaurë could no longer stand on the decks. In the cabin below, he sang and wept.
It was not his choice to burn the ships. After going to such lengths to attain them, why destroy their dearly bought prize? His father would see no reason, however, steadfast in his belief that Nolofinwë wanted the Silmarilli for his own. Makalaurë began to wish his father had never made those accursed jewels.
At least he had his brothers, for the moment. His heart missed a beat when Ambarto was found to be in the ships while they were burning, but Maitimo retrieved him just before the worst could occur. Was this what it meant to be Noldor? Doomed always to cause harm to one's kin?
He should never have joined with his father’s fell oath. The pride and jealousy of his people had become their undoing. In his heart Makalaurë feared that this was only the beginning of the Noldolantë.
***
“And I was right to fear such a fate.” Maglor said. “Two more Kinslayings, and who can say what the future holds? I and my family are cursed unto the ending of the world. We brought it upon ourselves.”
Elrond and Elros clung to each other. Their soft hearts shattered the remaining fragments of Maglor’s heart. “I am sorry. I should not have told you such a tale, ask though you might. You need not remain here forever. I am certain that Círdan or Gil-galad would accept you as kin.”
“We don’t want to leave you.”Elros said.
“We want to help you be happy again. That was the saddest story I’ve ever heard!” Elrond said.
Maglor embraced his wards. “You have great compassion on an evil-doer like me. But do not be afraid to change your minds. If I cannot have the forgiveness of the Valar and Ilúvatar himself, I should not expect it from you.”
Elrond’s earnest silver eyes met Maglor’s and held firm. “You can be forgiven. I pray to Ilúvatar that you will understand that some day.”
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What a sweet, compassionate thing to say.
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Kaylee
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