Maglor

I wake to the touch of something soft and cool to my face. Fresh fragrance drifts in the air. Opening my eyes no longer feels like an impossible effort.

“Kingsfoil.” A silver-haired lady withdraws her hand with the infusion-soaked cloth. “It will strengthen you.”

Still in the haze of sleep, I look around. I know the place, the white-walled room in the house among the cherry trees. But something is missing. No, not something. Someone. I sit up, a knot of worry building in my chest. Where…

The lady must have perceived my distress, for she now lays a comforting hand on my shoulder.

“Worry not, he is resting. I am Celebrían, Elrond’s wife. Are you feeling better?”

I nod. I am still weak and dazed, but the terrifying sensation of fading into nothingness is gone. I rest against the cushions lady Celebrían has piled behind me and watch her arranging blankets, pouring water in a cup. When she has done that, she sits still for a moment and regards me closely. Then she smiles.

“You do look better.” Lady Celebrían puts the cup in my hands and rises. “I must leave you for a while now, but I will send my son to see how you fare, and Elrond will come as soon as he is able.”

I should thank her, but the thought of frightening the lady with my voice seals my lips, so I merely nod again. She smiles once more, a warm, kind smile, and I follow her with my eyes as she leaves. I am still gripping the cup; the metal feels cool and slightly damp…

With a gasp I sit up. The cup falls from my hand and rolls clattering over the floor; the water spills. And I stare at the smooth skin on my palms creased only by thin lines, I flex my trembling fingers, now straight again, then trace them over my wrist, over the blood vessels, and I feel them pulsing beneath my fingertips… The burns are gone, and I can feel again. Tears rise to my eyes. I can feel. The Lady of Stars held my hands, she—

The door opens.

 “Are you unwell?”

I brush away tears. The Elf must be Celebrían and Elrond’s son, for he bears likeness to them both. In a few swift steps he crosses the room.

“Do you feel unwell?” he repeats.

I shake my head and vaguely point towards the cup on the floor. He picks it up and sets on the table, then sits down on a chair beside the bed.  

“My name is Elrohir. We found you a short distance from Mithlond, my brother Elladan and I. We could not delay our departure, so we took you aboard the ship to Valinor. I am sorry for the uncomfortable journey, but we saw no other way than to deliver you to father’s care.” When I do not reply, he looks at me intently. “Please, tell me if something hurts you. If I can help you in any way, I will. I am a healer too.”

I draw a shuddering breath. Elrohir has tended me, he has already seen the worst of my injuries. What difference will a ruined voice make? While I hesitate, he leans forward and lays his hand on my arm. “Why are you so upset?”

“I am not upset, I…”

For the second time today the world around me seems to freeze, and for a while I hear only the pounding of my own heart, the rushing of my own blood.

Elrohir’s hold on my arm tightens. “Uncle Maglor, please, speak to me.”

The acknowledged kinship, the unfeigned worry in his eyes and tone break the stillness.

“I am not upset. But… my hands… You saw the burns, you remember… And… my voice… My voice… Lady Varda, she…”

Elrohir breathes in relief and smiles. “Oh, that is what this is about. I had heard of the wonders the Great Ones can do, but to see them with my own eyes…”

“I do not understand why. Why would they…” Overwhelmed, I am not able to put together a full sentence, and my voice is quiet and weak, as after a long illness… but it is my voice again. My voice.

“Father would say that the full purpose of events oft remains hidden for a time.” A faint shadow of worry passes his face, then fades. “I would see your injuries now if you would allow me.”

At least half an hour later, after Elrohir has removed the last bandages and made me move my wrist and shoulder in all possible directions asking countless questions how this or that movement feels, he smiles.

“You have almost recovered. You may rise tomorrow and even go outside, if you do not tire yourself. Fresh air and sunlight will do you good. Today, though, I would advise that you stay in bed and rest a bit more. I will be back with some food after a while.”

He turns to leave, but I restrain him. “Your father… Is anything wrong with him?”

Elrohir looks back with another reassuring smile. “He will be well. Do not worry.”

But as the door clicks shut behind him, I cannot banish the squirming unease. Something is not right. Both Elrohir and his mother are troubled, even though they hide it well. I could go to seek Elrond; after all, Elrohir merely advised me to stay abed… but after a shaky attempt to rise I abandon the thought. It would do little good to collapse somewhere in the hallway.

When Elrohir returns with a tray of meal, I am no longer able to keep my anxiety at bay.

“Elrohir, please, tell me where your father is. I know something is not right. Before, he came to see me often, but now…”

Elrohir watches me in silence with a slight frown. “How much do you remember?” he asks at length.

“I… I remember leaving the house. Going to the stables.” My face burns with embarrassment, but he deserves an honest answer. “I remember taking the horse and riding throughout the night. I remember the sunrise over the mountains. The Ring of Doom. The... trial.” I shudder. Despite the forgiveness and blessing I have received from the Valar, the memory of the dark stone seats fills me with dread.

“And after that?”

“Very little.” I strain my memory but recall only the awful sensation of everything falling to pieces. Of myself falling to pieces. “I felt like… fading.”

“You were fading.”

And at his quiet words, I remember more. A voice. A song. And that glowing thread, tying fast the unravelling strands of my spirit. Now I know why Elrond is not here. I have seen what pulling one away from the brink of death in this way does to a healer.

“He should not have done that!” I grip handfuls of the blanket to keep my hands steady. “He should have known, it is most perilous to interfere that way!”

“I believe there was simply nothing else that could be done.”

“I am sorry,” I whisper and avert my eyes. “I am so very sorry.”

“Do not lash at yourself, uncle. We came back in time. And father is past any peril. I can say it with certainty now. He is just sleeping, and you, too, should rest.”

But despite his kind, reassuring words, I find no rest. Whatever happened later, after leaving the Ring of Doom I made a deliberate choice. I stepped on that path to nothingness by my own volition. And doing so, I brought a peril of death upon… yes, I might as well face it, upon my son, in heart, if not in blood. I nearly killed my son.