Maglor Feanoreon

Maglor was the second son of Fëanor and Nerdanel. He was the greatest poet and minstrel of the Ñoldor.

Canon character
You can find more here: https://lotr.fandom.com/wiki/Maglor

Chapter 1 – Many meetings, 794 S.A.
The small group of avari elves was gathered at the campfire. Few words were exchanged in the cold. It was early winter and the weather was more harsh. Probably it would  have been the last gather of the year.

"I heard the noldor are prospering in their new realm. Some of their wealth came even there: beautiful jewels, mithril-trimmed necklaces and more."

"I heard some of them came even there, not only their art."

"Nonsense." Replied another elf, "they won't ever leave their precious realm."

A voice fell in the discussion like snow in the winter, or rain in the spring. Strong and gentle, fleeble and hard:

"Three were the jewels, many their claimants,

Nobody reached his goal without pain

Not the black haired, heir of the rampants

Finwe and Feanor, kings beond the veil

of the world, at Valinor, most fair

their gravestones lay in the rain."

A dark haired figure entered in the circle of the campfire. One of the elves, probably the wisest and the oldest, welcomed him:

"Sit with us, kinsman. Sit with us. It's a pleasure so see one of your kin here."

The stranger's hand, covered by a glove, trembled. "Thanks, may the light of the Valar be upon you."

"Can we have the pleasure to know your name?" "My name?" Replied melanchonic the stranger, "My name is Erebethen."

Chapter 2 - Two is company, 795 S.A
"Are you 'Erebethen'?" Erebethen turned and saw a young elven maiden, dressed in padded clothes.

"I am." Confirmed the noldo. "And you are?"

"Your guide." She smiled back. "I'm Awethen."

The couple sat at the fire, Awethen assaulted Erebethen with questions about him, his kin and his voyages.

"I have to say I didn't see much of the world. I was born around the last years of the first age. My family was killed in the war against Morgoth." Erebethen interrupted himself, then took the harp with his gloved hand. "I'm alone with my songs, now."

Awethen didn't notice really too much the sorrow in his words, but other things switched on his attention: "Even I was born during the last years of the first age! My parents fled from the devastation made by Morgoth's armies. I didn't see beleriand." Said a little bit sad.

Erebethen caressed the harp, evoking distant notes. "I remember Beleriand. My second home.

Three were the jewels, many died searching

''them. Only Morgoth Bauglir had benefits''

''from them. Not the elves, at his fortress dying,''

Not the men, their champions had to desist.

In the ruins of Utumno his foul laughs last,

The men and the elves, did barely resist."

Awethen listened to the poem, then asked: "Did you know this so well? It doesn't seem to be composed by anyone else than you." Erebethen stopped suddenly, and laid down.

"I don't know if you need to sleep, but I'm an old elf. I need to sleep and dream." Awethen asked herself how could he be such an old elf if he was born in the same period as her. Nevertheless, Erebethen fell asleep. Awethen, thoughtful, stared at the dying campfire.

Chapter 3 - The old forest, 821 S.A.
The hills, covered by snow, were amazing. Awethen looked at the snowy trees, dancing on the white floor the snow created.

"It's so beautiful! These woods are ancient and were left undisturbed for ages!"

"I don't like snow." Grumbled Erebethen. "Let's move, the place we are searching shouldn't be so far."

"Oh, I see. The old, grumpy elf doesn't want to play." She gathered a small ball of snow in her hand and threw it at him. With the gloved hand, without even turning, he grabbed the snowball mid air, then he threw it back, hitting her on the shoulder.

"Ah! So you do want play!" She laughted; Awethen gathered another snowball, but was preceded by Erebethen, who crouched and sent her another ball. When they got tired of the game, Awethen closed the distance with Erebethen.

"It was the first time i heard you laugh." Erebethen smiled and replied: "I'm an old, grumpy elf."

"I'm serius: it's strange that you are always closed, moaning and filled with pain. I know veterans of the War of Wrath that are more happy than you."

Maglor didn't reply.

Chapter 4 – Many partings, 1350 S.A.
The elf greeted in his house, as the custom asked to do, Erebethen and Awethen stepped in, thanking him.

"Thanks for your hospitality. We are both grateful." Erebethen bowed to the silvan elf.

"I'm delighted to make your aquaintance. We are travelling to the misty mountains, to see the city of Durin." The elf entertained them while they were eating, telling them the most recents news: "Celeborn and Galadriel went in the woods of Lorien. Now Celebrimbor rules the realm of Eregion." Erebethen almost chocked himself, Awethen looked at him worried.

After dinner, Erebethen sang, the pohem was on Beren and Luthien, and their search of the Silmaril. Both the elves were, not without proudness from Erebethen, totally enchanted by the poem.

"Ah, you should go to the court of king Oropher! He would certainly appreciate you!" Erebethen thanked him, but he replied they had to reach some distant relatives in Lindon. They departed the same evening. The journey was quiet, until they reached the woods of Lothlorien.

"The lady ask to every Noldo to reach Caras Galadhon." Informed them the guard at the gates of Lorien.

"Mh, unfortunately our journey takes us elsewhere. Tell her that I apologize for my wrongdoins." The guard nod,

"She only asked to go to her, it's not an order. But if you don't know, the realm of Eregion has a new king: Celebrimbor, descendant of Feanor." Erebethen informed the guard they would probably go elsewhere, but thanked him for the information. Awethen didn't seem to be surprised. Else she was hiding it well, or she was suspecting something. After some miles in silence, it was clear that the latter was the correct one.

"Why didn't you want to go to Caras Galadhon?" Asked.

"Maybe another day. I thought we could do it when we go back to your home." Answered Erebethen.

"Or simply, you don't want to meet your cousin. Or your nephew." Awethenen looked at him in a strange way.

"I've no idea of what you are talking, I've no relatives there."

"Show me your hand." Asked her. "The one you keep always glovered."

"Nosy little elf." Grumbled him. "How did you managed to understand it?"

"You said you lost all your family in the wars against Morgoth, you are a minstrel, your hand is burned, probably. It doesn't take a genius to understand it, Maglor."

Chapter 5 - The tavern of Khazad dum, 1350 S.A.
The snow littered the mountains as Maglor and Awethen were travelling to the gates of Khazad Dum, the great home of the Dwarves. The trade was still going during winter, as the riches of dwarves and elves were unending. Sometimes they stopped to talk with other travellers and Maglor sang for them. They reached the doors of Khazad dum and passed through, stopping only to taste some dwarven beer.

Maglor drank in one sip and Awethen tried to mimic him, but managed only to throttle herself with the beer.

"Ohw, it's so strong!" She complained. The innkeeper laughted, followed by the other dwarves.

"It's not for light weight." Maglor smiled.

"Then it's perfect for you." Awethen, looking at the belly of the dwarf, giggled, but the innkeeper didn't notice the cutting remark, or didn't pay attention to it. Eventually Awethen managed to finish the beer and they sit at a table, waiting for the food to come.

"So, are you settling in Eregion?" Maglor shaked the head. "Then why are you going there?"

"I've a friend there. Even if it looks strange for someone to befriend me." Awethen didn't reply and let the rumors of the tavern to fill the gap left by her silence.

"Maybe this is not the place or the time to talk of this, but why did you do that?"

"I'm afraid you should be more specific." Answered Maglor, the voice was grieved by memories.

"I'm talking when you and your brothers invaded the Doriath. My grandfather was one of the warriors that fell during the attack." Awethen waited for the answer, but when Maglor opened his lips, she felt sleepy, and fell asleep.

"Lady Lightweight, m'lady." A bearded face welcomed Awethen, now awoken. "Your companion left for you a letter. He told me not to disturb you, but it has been gone since some time and I'm worried. He had such a fiery eye that could have melthed the rock." Awethen, now fully awake and aware of what happened, frantically pulled up.

"Where's gone?" She looked left and right. "Where's Ma...my companion?" The dwarf raised the shoulders.

"I don't know." He pointed at the letter and went away. Awethen opened it, and read:

"It appears I'm hunted by the past even thousands of years later and even in far lands. I'm sorry for your family, but I can't do anything for who is gone. Believe me. I wish I could.

''If your idea was to see how a member of your race could be so wicked, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but you won't be able to know. I wish you a happy journey back to your home.''

Erebethen."

Chapter 6 - When the wolf dark howls, 1696 S.A.
Awethen marched through the forest with her small band of followers. Total war was open only since two years, yet she managed to convince his people they needed to send help to their western kin only few months ago. The elves were swift on the road, but while traversing the southern part of Eregion, they slowed, seeing the first signs of the presence of orcs.

The fifth day of march, they heard the gloomy sound of wolves. They did not rest that night, trying to reach Ost-In-Edhil before they could meet a merciless death. After a week they met the first sign of friendly life.

"Ohi, if it's not lady Lightweight." A bearded dwarf, alongside many of his kin, clad in steel and mithril, were accompanying a strong host of elves.

"Lady Lightweight?" Asked the captain of the elves, smiling to Awethen. "I might have lost something, Borin."

"He's talking about a time I stopped to his tavern." The dwarf nod.

"My father's inn. He talked many times about you. It was not easy for him to forget that day. You also came back many times." The dwarf carressed his beard. "Have you found your companion?" Awethen couldn't but blush and shaked her head. She adressed the elven captain:

"I'm sorry for my rudeness; I'm Awethen, I'm here to help you against the great threat."

"You're truly welcome, Awethen." Said, much pleased, the captain. "I'm Celegolf, captain of Eregion. Your presence here is really a breath of fresh air, considering the smell of orcs and the stench of the breath of this dwarf. I swear to the Valar I saw him knocking out a warg just breathing on him." Borin laughted hard.

"All credit to your cooking, they are using it to scare orcs off from our land."

Celegolf and Borin sit with Awethen, updating her on the current situation:

"Bands of orcs are all over the countryside. We've only a bunch of warriors, even if we can slaughter a thousand of them, they seem without an end."

"Aye." Said the dwarf. "I had to ask a replacement of my axe twice and our ranks are thinner day after day." Celegolf nodded.

"If you and your warriors could join us, we could defend the borders of Eregion for at least for half a year." Awethen thought about it; she went there to defend the land of the elves, sure, but in her idea she would have gone directly to Celebrimbor, meeting with him with the excuse of foreign help and would have asked him about his uncle.

"All right. We're joining you."

Chapter 7 - ...The grim orc crawls, 1697 S.A
After only few months, the atmosphere completely changed: ofter the night was lightened by wild fires, trees burning, ambushes in the shadow and the heads of the orcs impaled. The fallen companions were buried in secret, to avoid having their spoils desecrated. Awethen was scarred by the first war she ever experienced first hands. Celegolf was the only one within their group to mantain a light heart, while Borin steamed with rage at every fallen, dwarf or elf.

They had to retreat a long way since Eregion borders, and now their line of defense was behind Ost-In-Edhil. They were less than four hundreds, so secrecy was the best weapon for them. They rested often separed, in small groups along the road between the capital and Khazad dum. One day They recieved a flock of defeated dwarves, that brought them grim news.

"Our king has been defeated at the doors of Khazad dum. I think we're the last dwarves that will help you, lady Lightweight." Commented Borin. "Damn those orcs. Ohi, Celegolf, any news from the capital?" The elf approaced, the face was grey, as the red fire couldn't light him up.

"Ost-In-Edhil is no more." He sit disheartened. The usual good humor was gone. "Celebrimbor is dead, alongside many of the noldor."

"Then what can we do?" Asked Awethen. Celegolf didn't answer and stared at the fire. "What can we do?" Borin stood up and took his axe.

"My king has been defeated, your king has been killed. I say let's kill some orcs, bring them as many as we can. I'm sure we can kill more than they can breed, at some point." The soldiers around the campfires suddenly were alarmed by something. A clear voice stopped their weapons:

"Post caun, hîn, ùtrasta tolthal o lachenn." A tall figure came to the campfire where the three were discussing. Awethen gulped when he saw who he was.

The glove, often on the strings of a harp, now held a sword ancient as steel itself. The head, so many times free to breathe the hair of the dying sun, now was closed in a fearful helm, with a long tail on the top. The armor was one with the elf, that moved as he weared it as a second skin, not a layer of impenetrable valinorean steel.

"Hi, Awethen. It's nice to see you again."

Borin looked suspiciously at Maglor, while Celegolf dropped to his knees.

"My lord Maglor. So you are alive." Awethen had still the jaw wide open.

"Celegolf, I remember you. It has been a long time since we departed Valinor." The elf just nodded. Borin still looked at him suspiciously.

"How did you manage to get unnoticed between the sentinels?"

"I've my ways, master dwarf. I have to say I can't but admire your will to fight, but it would be as useful as trying to eradicate a mountain with a shovel. There are many refugees that are fleeing. We have to escort them to Rivendell, I offered my wisdom to everyone that I met alongside the road... except orcs. They recieved a cold death." He smiled, but there was no joy in his words.

"So we should retreat." Borin shaked his head. "I can't believe I'm listening to a pointy eared coward." Celegolf stopped Borin with a swift gesture.

"He has spoken."

"I noticed it, but I couldn't give a rotten head of an orc to what he said, I'm not retreating."

"You can die as a brave and dumb dwarven warrior, or you can live, and be of an actual help. Your decision. We're departing at dawn. The destination is Eden Cuil. It's a small city, the enemy won't notice it for some time. I told the refugees to go there and gather, they will start the journey to Rivendell in two days if we don't come before." Awethen and Celegolf nooded, Borin grumbled a little bit, then agreed.

The next day, they were in Eden Cuil. New destination: Rivendell.