An Unexpected Visitor
Mar. 22nd, 2017 07:44 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
engarian.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
b2memB2MeM Prompt and Path:Remembering, Red
Format:Ficlet
Genre:Mystery
Rating:PG
Warnings:None
Characters:Maglor, Daeron
Pairings:None
Creator’s Notes:Tolkien provided the sandbox, I merely play with the bucket and shovel he left behind. No profit of any kind is made from my fanworks.
Summary:After seeing a strange sight at the far end of a stormy sea, Maglor admits his unease.
An Unexpected Visitor
It was on days like this that he was most restless. The storm was blowing in from the West, the waves crashing against the cliffs, wearing them away little by little. He would wander, sometimes for days, just following the shoreline from above, hoping to hear familiar voices in the winds or waters. It never happened, but he never stopped listening.
This night, as the sun moved behind the storm clouds, he thought he saw something in the far distance, but it was there and gone so quickly that he discounted his vision. He stood for a moment longer, then threw his catch basket over his shoulder and headed to the small hut he shared with his friend.
"Daeron, I found crabs for dinner," he said as he entered the one-room shack they called home.
"I thought you might. The water is almost at a boil. Pass them over, I'll get them cleaned." The other Master Musician of Middle Earth reached out for the basket. "It's sounding windy out there. Storm coming?"
"Yeah, it looks like a big one. I hope you got that one corner of the roof fixed or we're going to have a wet bed by morning." Maglor walked over to one of the two stools placed by the side of the hearth. As Daeron cleaned the crabs, layering them with fresh herbs and spices inside foil wrap, he reached over to his harp.
Daeron cast a sharp glance toward his friend, but kept silent as Maglor's long fingers began to explore the strings of the lap harp. The tune he was composing was melancholic, with an undertone of rebellion and a phrase here and there that he recognized from earlier works of the harpist. "Bad day for memories?" he asked.
"No worse than normal," Maglor replied, "which isn't really saying much. I saw the oddest thing, though, as I was turning to come home."
"Mmmmm?"
"It was just as the sun was sinking below the shelf cloud and I could have sworn I suddenly saw a spear of brilliant light where no light should have been. But it was so fast, and when I looked again, there was nothing."
"You're not given to flights of imagination. What do you think it might have been?"
"I'm almost afraid to say - but truthfully, it reminded me of the glint of a Silmaril as held in an uplifted hand. I remember my father holding them in that manner when I was young. The light was so intense; it bounced back from the sky as if the light itself was an arrow shot from the strongest crossbow."
"But they are destroyed, except for that carried by Eärendil. You must have imagined it after all."
"It's almost making me sick, that light far away in the ocean like that. My stomach won't stop rolling and my heart is … frightened. I'm frightened, Daeron."
Daeron placed the foil packets on a grate over the coals and walked over, sitting next to Maglor. "Do you think there's reason for fright? Are we in danger? For long years, we've walked these lands hiding in plain sight. It is time for us to move again?"
"I don't know. I don't think so, but I just don't know."
"Well, let's eat and we'll talk things over." A crash of thunder sounded almost over their heads, accompanied by a flash of lightning so close that the smell of ozone permeated the air. The knock on the door was almost anti-climactic.
Format:Ficlet
Genre:Mystery
Rating:PG
Warnings:None
Characters:Maglor, Daeron
Pairings:None
Creator’s Notes:Tolkien provided the sandbox, I merely play with the bucket and shovel he left behind. No profit of any kind is made from my fanworks.
Summary:After seeing a strange sight at the far end of a stormy sea, Maglor admits his unease.
An Unexpected Visitor
It was on days like this that he was most restless. The storm was blowing in from the West, the waves crashing against the cliffs, wearing them away little by little. He would wander, sometimes for days, just following the shoreline from above, hoping to hear familiar voices in the winds or waters. It never happened, but he never stopped listening.
This night, as the sun moved behind the storm clouds, he thought he saw something in the far distance, but it was there and gone so quickly that he discounted his vision. He stood for a moment longer, then threw his catch basket over his shoulder and headed to the small hut he shared with his friend.
"Daeron, I found crabs for dinner," he said as he entered the one-room shack they called home.
"I thought you might. The water is almost at a boil. Pass them over, I'll get them cleaned." The other Master Musician of Middle Earth reached out for the basket. "It's sounding windy out there. Storm coming?"
"Yeah, it looks like a big one. I hope you got that one corner of the roof fixed or we're going to have a wet bed by morning." Maglor walked over to one of the two stools placed by the side of the hearth. As Daeron cleaned the crabs, layering them with fresh herbs and spices inside foil wrap, he reached over to his harp.
Daeron cast a sharp glance toward his friend, but kept silent as Maglor's long fingers began to explore the strings of the lap harp. The tune he was composing was melancholic, with an undertone of rebellion and a phrase here and there that he recognized from earlier works of the harpist. "Bad day for memories?" he asked.
"No worse than normal," Maglor replied, "which isn't really saying much. I saw the oddest thing, though, as I was turning to come home."
"Mmmmm?"
"It was just as the sun was sinking below the shelf cloud and I could have sworn I suddenly saw a spear of brilliant light where no light should have been. But it was so fast, and when I looked again, there was nothing."
"You're not given to flights of imagination. What do you think it might have been?"
"I'm almost afraid to say - but truthfully, it reminded me of the glint of a Silmaril as held in an uplifted hand. I remember my father holding them in that manner when I was young. The light was so intense; it bounced back from the sky as if the light itself was an arrow shot from the strongest crossbow."
"But they are destroyed, except for that carried by Eärendil. You must have imagined it after all."
"It's almost making me sick, that light far away in the ocean like that. My stomach won't stop rolling and my heart is … frightened. I'm frightened, Daeron."
Daeron placed the foil packets on a grate over the coals and walked over, sitting next to Maglor. "Do you think there's reason for fright? Are we in danger? For long years, we've walked these lands hiding in plain sight. It is time for us to move again?"
"I don't know. I don't think so, but I just don't know."
"Well, let's eat and we'll talk things over." A crash of thunder sounded almost over their heads, accompanied by a flash of lightning so close that the smell of ozone permeated the air. The knock on the door was almost anti-climactic.
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