![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
independence1776 posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
b2memB2MeM Prompt, Card and Number: G48: Maglor Through History, the death of Gil-galad; N42: Four Words 2, early, skyline, almost, mask
Format: Triple drabble
Genre: Gen
Rating: General
Warnings: Grief
Characters: Maglor, Elrond
Pairings: None
Summary: Maglor visits Elrond after Gil-galad dies.
The Death of Gil-galad
Maglor crept through the Elven camp, doing his best to keep out of the skyline of the brightening dawn. The patrols would not take kindly to him being here, though they may look the other way this morning of all mornings. He slipped through the flap of Elrond’s tent and found his foster son sitting on his cot, head in his hands.
“Elrond,” Maglor whispered.
Elrond’s head jerked up and he all but jumped off his cot, almost bumping his head on the low canvas roof. Maglor embraced Elrond. “I am sorry. I am so sorry.”
“There was nothing anyone could have done. Once Sauron… Once Sauron--”
“I know what happened,” Maglor said. “Círdan told me when he met me earlier entering camp to report in. He also told me which tent was yours and when the patrols would be farthest from.”
“People want me to take Gil-galad’s crown,” Elrond said, voice muffled in Maglor’s shoulder.
Maglor couldn’t help but snort. “Do we truly need a king?”
Elrond stepped back, though he kept his hands on Maglor’s forearms. “No,” he said softly. “That is a role I have never wanted and feel unnecessary now. The Noldor have all but vanished. What do we have left apart from remnants in Lindon and Imladris?” He shook his head. “I will refuse it and will honor Gil-galad’s memory in a different way.”
“How?”
Elrond sighed. “I don’t yet know. There are so many details and decisions to make concerning the armies… Isildur kept the One Ring…” A blank mask settled over his face. “I fear nothing good will come of that, but we cannot coerce him.” He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Take breakfast with me, Maglor. Please.”
He could not leave his foster son to grieve alone. “I will.”
Format: Triple drabble
Genre: Gen
Rating: General
Warnings: Grief
Characters: Maglor, Elrond
Pairings: None
Summary: Maglor visits Elrond after Gil-galad dies.
Maglor crept through the Elven camp, doing his best to keep out of the skyline of the brightening dawn. The patrols would not take kindly to him being here, though they may look the other way this morning of all mornings. He slipped through the flap of Elrond’s tent and found his foster son sitting on his cot, head in his hands.
“Elrond,” Maglor whispered.
Elrond’s head jerked up and he all but jumped off his cot, almost bumping his head on the low canvas roof. Maglor embraced Elrond. “I am sorry. I am so sorry.”
“There was nothing anyone could have done. Once Sauron… Once Sauron--”
“I know what happened,” Maglor said. “Círdan told me when he met me earlier entering camp to report in. He also told me which tent was yours and when the patrols would be farthest from.”
“People want me to take Gil-galad’s crown,” Elrond said, voice muffled in Maglor’s shoulder.
Maglor couldn’t help but snort. “Do we truly need a king?”
Elrond stepped back, though he kept his hands on Maglor’s forearms. “No,” he said softly. “That is a role I have never wanted and feel unnecessary now. The Noldor have all but vanished. What do we have left apart from remnants in Lindon and Imladris?” He shook his head. “I will refuse it and will honor Gil-galad’s memory in a different way.”
“How?”
Elrond sighed. “I don’t yet know. There are so many details and decisions to make concerning the armies… Isildur kept the One Ring…” A blank mask settled over his face. “I fear nothing good will come of that, but we cannot coerce him.” He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Take breakfast with me, Maglor. Please.”
He could not leave his foster son to grieve alone. “I will.”
