Recipient's name: Indy1776
Title: Love and Comfort
Request: I’d love something where Maglor overwinters in Imladris by Elrond’s invitation. Involving the Solstice would be welcome but is not required. Bonus points for emotional hurt/comfort.
Author's notes: This is an amateur effort and does not intend to infringe on the rights of J.R.R. Tolkien. No profit is made and no harm is intended. In CC’s verse, Glorfindel is Findis’ son, which means he is Maglor’s cousin.
Summary: A storm is coming, and Maglor agrees to stay in Imladris
Maglor stood alone near the Anduin, still far from the Eastern flank of the Hithaeglir. He had traveled into the southern lands, looking for Daeron, but his friend and lover had disappeared again. Maglor was concerned, for Daeron was no warrior and Arda was dangerous once again. Maglor had then traveled to the eastern lands, wondering if there would be any trace of Daeron there, but it was as if Arda had swallowed him. Maglor only hoped that nothing bad had happened, and that Daeron would show up one day asking if he’d missed him.
I worry too much for that Sinda…
Maglor resumed his way, heading west to the meeting point with Glorfindel. As he approached the mountain flank, he could feel hidden eyes watching him, eyes from creatures not brave enough to confront him. They might believe that Maglor was a ghost from times past, or remember who he really was: a kinslayer who would not stay his hand if attacked by anyone. Were these creatures such cowards, now that their master was too weak to guide them?
Or maybe they had also sensed that something was stirring in the southern woods. The Necromancer, a man who dealt with dark magic had made his lair there. Or so they said, but Maglor believed that it was not a man but someone more dangerous. The darkness had slowly spread through the Greenwoods since the Necromancer came to them, and Thranduil and his people had been forced to move their dwellings to the northern part of the forest. Mirkwood was the name that Elves and Men gave to it now, a place of darkness, and death.
Yet Men still live in its borders, resisting the darkness as their forefathers did once.
The trip to the eastern lands had brought back memories of that last battle, when Fingon fell and Maglor and his brothers lost it all. There was a different kind of unrest in the area now, and Maglor had found both descendants of Bór, who were loyal to the Elves, and those who would have followed Ulfang had they been alive back then. He had found no trace of Morinehtar and Rómestámo, the two Maia who came from the West as part of the Istari. They were called Alatar and Pallando now, in the Sindarin tongue, but apparently they had disappeared farther into the eastern lands.
Maglor sighed. The Second Age had been kinder to him, and he had traveled alone, and with Daeron at times, always at the edge of the great events, intervening only when absolutely necessary. They had always been there, mostly unnoticed by their kind. Maglor had seen Elrond more than once, and talked to him. They had met again after the battle where Sauron was defeated. Maglor had chosen not to fight, still sick at heart after the First Age’s bloodshed. Elrond had invited him to Imladris then, but Maglor had declined the invitation.
Years had passed, and Maglor had visited Elrod many times, never staying for long, as it had to be. He had continued to help those of Elrond’s household, like Glorfindel and Lindir. Omar had been there too, always worried for Maglor, always a friend. Maglor had even helped the twins once, fighting at their side when they had been nearly overwhelmed by the number of Orcs. Pain and loss drove Elrond’s sons to take risks, a pain that Maglor understood only too well.
A storm was coming. If the Necromancer was Sauron, even if still weak, he would rise again and threaten the world of Elves and Men. This was the main reason why Maglor had accepted Elrond’s invitation to spend the worst of the winter in Imladris. He wanted to tell his adoptive son about this. He also hoped that Elrond might know something about Daeron’s whereabouts.
I should stay away from Daeron, but I can’t…
Maglor shivered and wrapped his cloak around his body tightly as he steered his horse through the narrow path. He could hear the sound of horses’ hooves and soon he saw the dust on the road ahead. A moment later, Glorfindel came into view, Elrond’s eldest son at his side. They led a small patrol of Elves.
Glorfindel dismounted and smiled. “Well met, Káno, it’s been a while.” They embraced, and after exchanging a few words, Maglor turned to Elladan.
“Well met, Elladan Elrondion,” he said. “I hope your father and siblings are well.”
“They are well, cousin. Father is anxious to see you. He expects you to stay for a few weeks in the vale.”
A few weeks mean a few months for Elrond, Maglor mused.
“I promised your father that I would stay for a few days in Imladris, and I intend to fulfill my promise. There are things we need to speak about.”
Glorfindel’s expression changed. “So you have sensed it too.”
“I have. Something is coming, and it will be as terrible as the battle that ended the Second Age, maybe worse.”
“Elrohir has noticed too,” Elladan said.
“So your brother has Elrond’s gift of foresight?”
“He does, to an extent.”
“We’d better leave now,” Glorfindel said. Maglor nodded. They were not safe on the eastern flank of the Hithaeglir. Soon they were climbing the mountains through a pass unknown to Maglor himself. Elladan led the way along with a brown-haired Elf, while Glorfindel rode beside Maglor. The rest of the patrol covered the rear. They traveled until it was night, and rested for a few hours before starting the descent into the vale.
Elrond was waiting for them in the courtyard. He was alone, and that was good. Maglor had met most of his household, but he cherished his time with Elrond, and being alone during these first moments was part of it. Once Glorfindel and Elladan left, Elrond guided Maglor to his study. A tray with hot herbal tea and pastries was waiting for them.
“Sit down, Father. You look tired.”
Maglor sat in one of the armchairs. “I am more concerned than tired. I suppose you already know that the darkness is rising again.”
“I know, but I would have you rest before speaking about it.”
Maglor nodded and proceeded to taste the pastries. “These are very good, Elrond.”
“I remember you liked them when you last stayed here. Celebrían used to make them, so I’m relieved the Cook was able to replicate them for you.”
“Have you received any news…?”
Elrond nodded. “I know she is well, but I wish I had been able to heal her spirit. When she decided to leave, I feared that she might leave her body as Queen Míriel did…”
“Míriel was different,” Maglor said. “Grandfather used to say that her will was so strong that only someone whose spirit burned as brightly as Father’s could drain her of her strength. That took her will to leave, because Míriel was too strong to live with a weakened spirit.”
“I am relieved that Celebrían found healing in the Blessed Lands, and I hope that Queen Míriel finds peace. I am concerned about my children, Father. Arwen spends almost all the time in Lothlórien, and the twins… You know they risk their lives every day.”
Maglor nodded. “Where is Elrohir now?”
“He is with Erestor on a diplomatic mission at Thranduil’s Court.”
Maglor could not help but smile, “Problems?”
Elrond smiled too. “Not quite, but you know how complicated things can be between Sindar and Noldor. I have worked to rebuild our relationship, but one can never be too careful.”
“You are right.” Maglor sipped his tea and put the cup on the tray.
“What is wrong, Father?”
“What do you mean?”
“You are concerned about something else. Would you not tell me?”
Maglor sighed. “A friend is lost. It is Daeron, you have met him.”
Elrond set his own cup on the tray. “I remember him. What do you mean, he is lost?”
“I cannot find him, and he is no warrior. I fear he might be in danger.”
“I could ask Mithrandir,” Elrond said. “He will be here for the Yule Festival. Maybe he knows…”
Maglor nodded. “Thank you,” he said. “Maybe Mithrandir will know, or at least we could ask him about Alatar and Pallando.”
Elrond looked at him. “You do not trust the Istari, do you?”
Maglor sighed. “I know who they were, but I don’t know who they are now. I know they came here to help you.” He paused, and looked into Elrond’s eyes. “I do not trust the Valar to do the right thing, not because they mean us harm. I just… I have seen their mistakes and misjudgments. Maybe the likes of me shouldn’t be saying this, but that is how I feel.”
Elrond took his hands. “You have suffered enough, and it was the weight of the Oath that determined your path.”
“It was my decision too, Elrond. I killed in the name of that Oath. I destroyed your home.”
“I know, but you gave Elros and me another home, and I love you for that. Rest now, Father. I will do whatever is in my power to find Daeron. I promise.”
Maglor closed his eyes and nodded. “My beloved son, your love dispels the darkness inside me. I am grateful for your help. I love you.”