𝗟𝘂́𝗺𝗲̈,𝗜𝗻𝗱𝘂𝗶𝗻𝗲𝗻 𝗮𝗿 𝗔𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗼 | LOTR & Marvel Crossover [PART3]✓

2 | Half-Aini in A Shack

2 | Half-Aini in a Shack

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Maglor Feanorion | The Wanderer of Worlds

Location: Maglor's Safehouse, Norway, Earth

Time: August 2027

Throughout his long life, he learned to control his worrying.

But all that control seemed to crack when a day passed by and Illyria Strange had not woken up.

His brother moved him into the bedroom when evening fell, tucking her into the small single-sized bed. The hours before had been a mix of silence, contemplation, and somewhat eagerness to be alone for the both of them. Maedhros still didn't talk to him, not after their tea-drinking session the moment they arrive and decided to begin with setting some tasks to not get himself bored. Maglor watched him head out of the cabin, following him out before his brother told him that he would get some wood.

He wasn't sure what to think or how to react to his sudden silence, maybe bringing the guilt wallowing back up into him perhaps. Even then, it was just surprising that Maedhros let him with Illyria Strange. Because it was either two things.

One: that he trusted him with her.

Or two: he knew if he tried to do anything, Illyria would wake up and kill/bind him no matter what.

The latter seemed more accurate by the time Maedhros returned, his heavy breathing still evident by his rising shoulders as he brought back a stack of firewood. All the fire and anger pent up in his brother made Maglor remain calm, his stubborn part of himself to openly ask if he was alright.

Which was also a stupid question for himself because they both know he wasn't alright.

None of them was.

The entire time Maglor had been healing himself, meditating to replenish his body and mind from the intensity of his predicament. 

For five years he had been undercover, chosen to easily be captured so he could understand what Saruman's part had been in this timeline. In truth he knew eventually about Baron Mordo and his alliance with the White Wizard; he knew about the knowledge that was passed between them. But he needed to make sure things needed to fall into place. Even if he had to waste five years watching the horror unfold before him.

There wasn't a choice for Maglor. It was either expose who he was and who he tied himself with...or watch Saruman reign a small portion of the world under his strict rule.

That was perhaps one of the things he hated having to choose. To choose to save a small number or to risk exposure to all.

He still replayed it. The fight up in Orthanc. Grabbing what he could collect of what belonged to him. The sling ring, his weapons, harp, and the Gem. Maglor cared less about how rugged and dirty he felt and appeared; to him, survival was better than appearance nowadays.

During that time he made sure to get them food, catching some fish from the lake and beginning to cook it under the fire once Maedhros arrived. They ate in silence, his brother sitting in the armchair whilst he sat on the sofa. Sometimes his brother would disappear into the bedroom, checking up on Illyria if he heard a shuffle or a sound. Sometimes he would ask questions, vague ones that didn't seem to go anywhere into a full conversation.

He was perhaps waiting for the moment Illyria would wake up and then there wouldn't be a repeat of the same questions fired back at him.

Maglor didn't feel either way to answer them. The exhaustion of sudden action as well as finally revealing who he was to them had taken an emotional toll that all he felt was wanting to drift off into another plane and sleep it off. In the back of his head, he could hear Isolde scolding him – calling him lazy and putting a lack of effort into his work.