voidtreckerexpress | (no subject)

WHO: Maglor and OTA!
WHERE: Coach B
WHEN: Bassoon Day 3, early morning
WHAT: Maglor's singing a rather painful song because certain arrivals have gotten him mopey again.
WARNINGS: See above? Probable mentions of torture, murder, dismemberment, etc...

One of the resident musicians has been having his usual trouble sleeping and has tucked himself away in one of the couches with his harp. Much as he does most mornings before the majority of people are up and about.

Maedhros is here. Alive. Full of regret for not thinking of him when it mattered most.

Curufin is here too, just as full of life as they'd all once been. He's discovered he's not angry with that little brother, but the memories of blood and war still pelt his mind just as fresh as if it had happened yesterday.

Maybe he should keep his silence, but the song he'd composed so his family's dark deeds wouldn't be forgotten East of the Sea begs to be sung again. They'd done too much evil for it to be forgotten or passed off as fantasy.

So his fingers strum over the strings of his harp and he raises his voice in an odd, almost sorrowful, almost light tone.

"Seven sons there were, fell and fair
Bright the light in their grey eyes
Swift their rage against the night
But where now the swift arrow, the bright sword?
Where have they gone, the brave warriors?
They are lost, lost, fallen to shadow
Fallen to flame and madness

"Oh, the blood on the sands, the tears on the ground
Fallen, fallen are they, lost forever
Oh! Fingolfin the mighty, puissant and great,
And Fingon the brave, slain at the gate
Gondolin's walls are broken and Turgon lies slain
Felagund lies silent, his death not in vain
And where are they now, Feanor's sons?
Hands stained forever, oathsworn?" *lyrics come from

bookwormfaith

There is more he sings, but it continues on that vein. Those who hear it will hear the rest as an impression of great grief and sorrow. Of regret.

Maglor won't- can't forget. So why should his family be so spared? He's not angry with his father. Not anymore. Now he's just grateful to see his father (and now younger brother, Curufin) alive and much as they used to be, rather than mad with the terrible Oath they'd sworn.

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No matter how much his pride is wounded by the fact that he's remembered for his madness rather than his genius, he'd say nothing about it. It's meaningless, irrelevant in face of what should have always been important to him. But he was too blind to see. Too self-absorbed, too concentrated only on his own pain to listen to voice of love or even reason. No amount of regret can turn back time or undo what he has done. Nothing can't change the past. It would break his spirit if his son hated him but he wouldn't, couldn't blame him even if he did. It's a relief beyond words that Maglor does not, in the end, hate him. He has all the right to. Feanor knows he had wronged all of them greatly. He comes to sit next to Maglor and takes the hand he was offered.

"I'm sorry," he says, his voice shaking, the words barely coming out. There is nothing in the tongues of elves or men that could express what he wants to say but he has to try. "I'm so sorry, son. I should have never made you do it."

All he ever wanted was for his family to be happy but it was he who ruined it all. His anger, his foolish pride.

The bad had, sadly, eclipsed the good. And the good that remained, few East of the Sea even knew of the connection to Feanor. Only those who'd known him, or known of him.

Maglor shudders a little at the apology. His father doesn't say those words lightly, and never without meaning them from the very bottom of his being. He shifts to lean against Feanor, harp coming to rest on his lap.

"Love binds us now just as before. I will not see those bonds severed. I only..." he hisses out a quiet breath, fingers tightening around Feanor's hand to hold on.

"The wording should have been worked out before we all swore that Oath." The slight twitch at even the mention of it hints that even now it has its claws in Maglor. Buried. Hummed to quiet.

But still there.

Waiting for Maglor to drop his guard.

Feanor doesn't say such words lightly. Nor very often. Maybe not as often as he should. When he does they don't even seem to be enough. That's both his curse and a blessing, always taking everything one step farther. When he starts he's unable to stop and more often than not that one step end being one too far.

"I don't think the problem lied with the wording. I do, it did with the idea."

There are many things he did that can be explained - even if not justified - by the circumstances, by what happened before, what others did or did not do, but not this. If anything has ever been his one step too far, it was the Oath.

He can just hope that now he's more skilled in recognizing what he's doing earlier than in hindsight.