The Tombless Sea by bunn

[bunn]

B2MeM Prompt and Category:
"The wind began to blow steadily out of the West and pour the water of the distant seas on the dark heads of the hills in fine drenching rain" &  "I have passed through fire and deep water, since we parted."
initial prompt & daily prompt
Format: short story (379 words)
Genre: angst
Rating: PG 
Warnings: none
Characters: Maglor
Pairings: none
Creator’s Notes (optional):
Summary: Maglor threw the Silmaril into the Sea, but that wasn't the end of it.

The sky was a dark leaden grey in the distance, and the sea echoed its darkness, lacy white foam moving endlessly across the grey waves washing on black rocks that were sharp and newly-fractured at the edges. A thin rain was falling, almost more mist than rain, blowing in the seawind and making faint grey shapes against the black ocean: riders, horses, ships, banners showed themselves for a brief moment, then faded again into the wind.

Maglor sat on a wet black rock and shivered, staring at the waves as at an enemy. They were calling him. Silmaril, they whispered, endlessly, hushing on the rocks and the black sharp-edged gravel of the shoreline. Silmaril, silmaril.

He could not see it from where he sat. There was no light that shone out of a kinder past glowing from the waves, for he had learned by now that if it was hidden in the leather bag before he threw it into the sea, it was easier to ignore it, sometimes for days on end.

The ocean was an enemy. If the ocean were a friend, it would have drowned him by now, but it would not. He knew why, too. Uinen Lady of the Seas would not show herself, but her long hair ran through the waves. She had not forgotten Alqualondë, for all that her rage had turned cold now, and very bitter.

He could hear another voice too, plucking at the very edge of his mind from far away, `calling him by name. For a brief, shameful moment, he let it pull at him, let himself think, would it be so terrible if he answered? What could Elrond possibly say to him that would be worse than this?

But that was not, after all, the point. Whatever Elrond had to say, Maglor could certainly not speak with him. If there were two people above all that he must not allow himself to come near, they were Eärendil’s children. He pulled his mind more firmly closed with a great effort, and set barriers across it like walls of granite.

Silmaril, silmaril, silmaril, cried the waves, and Maglor dug his nails into the red flesh of his burned right hand, and sang, so that he could not hear them.

Comments

[zdenka]

Congrats on posting the first work to the new comm!

I like this! It's so very tragic. The image of Maglor constantly throwing the Silmaril into the sea and then being compelled to fish it out again is nicely chilling.

I especially liked these bits: A thin rain was falling, almost more mist than rain, blowing in the seawind and making faint grey shapes against the black ocean: riders, horses, ships, banners showed themselves for a brief moment, then faded again into the wind. and She had not forgotten Alqualondë, for all that her rage had turned cold now, and very bitter.

[bunn]

Poor old Maglor.
"to endless lamentation passed
and in the tombless sea was cast."

I felt the first was only possible if he got out of the tombless sea to resume lamenting, but the result was terribly sad!

[elwendell]

Wow! Your image of the sea was wonderful. I could see it clearly, and you did it so economically. Bravo.

[bunn]

Thanks! I feel slightly guilty that I made Maglor's sad situation rather worse!

[independence1776]

Eee! This is fantastically chilling.

[bunn]

A chilly sea!

[narya_flame]

This is so atmospheric. I could feel the wind chill and hear the whisper of the Silmaril. I loved this detail especially:

Maglor dug his nails into the red flesh of his burned right hand, and sang, so that he could not hear them.

[bunn]

I feel so sorry for poor Maglor :-(

[kayleearafinwiel]

Fantastic and shiversome!!

[bunn]

Yes indeed, and only thin mussel soup to warm up to!

[kayleearafinwiel]

Donut: Mussels mine? Fish??

I think my seagull muse approves of the soup! But he wishes there was more fish in it. ;) I told Donut next time, he should make the soup for Maglor!

[hhimring]

"he had learned by now that if it was hidden in the leather bag before he threw it into the sea, it was easier to ignore it, sometimes for days on end"

Oh, ouch--no gentle melancholy here! Poor Maglor, what a reason for him to sing.

[bunn]

I'm a little worried I overdid the angst in this one. I hope to give it a rather brighter ending.

[dawn_felagund]

This is atmospheric and beautifully written. I love your use of sound imagery. This line in particular: they whispered, endlessly, hushing on the rocks and the black sharp-edged gravel of the shoreline.

That makes the writers-craft-geek in my sigh with satisfaction. :)

Uinen's cruelty in withholding death, the undernote of Elrond's voice mixed with the noise of the sea, all the tones of grays and blue ending with "the red flesh of his burned right hand"--there's much going on in few words here, like reading a painting.

[bunn]

I feel a great sense of achievement at having kept it short! :-D

[shirebound]

What a tragic, tortured life. You really bring us into his torment.

[bunn]

Poor old Maglor. I feel guilty that I made his sad even worse!

[mybluerose]

Wonderful imagery! Haunting and something that rings true.

[bunn]

I'm glad you felt it sounded true!

[ex_mithrial116]

I loved the gloomy rain-swept darkness in description and mood.
Also Maglor's hallucinations/imaginings of the passing shapes thrown up by the waves.

A sad and vivid description of torment.