Exploring Westernesse [ Lord of the Rings x Silmarillion ]

Lament by Moonlight

Míril woke to gentle singing and the sound of small waves. She gradually came to consciousness, first not able to do anything. Then she wriggled her toes, and flexed her fingers. She opened her mouth to take a deep breath, eyes still closed.

"...Through Evernight he back was borne
on black and roaring waves that ran
o'er leagues unlit and foundered shores
that drowned before the Days began..."

Maglor. She instantly recognized his voice. No other song had such power as one of his. But... she recognized the lyrics as Bilbo's.

"...until he heard on strands of pearl
where ends the world the music long,
where ever-foaming billows roll
the yellow gold and jewels wan."

Slowly she opened her eyes and sighed. Maglor's voice stopped. She couldn't see him, yet she knew he was close. But… where was her husband?

"Elrohir," she murmured like one drunk on wine, trying to sit up but failing and becoming all the more distressed.

"Quiet, child," came a low, smooth voice. She recalled it belonged to Artuilion as he soon stooped into view, kneeling beside her. "Lie still. He is being tended to by others here."

Míril lay back down and drifted back off to sleep as Artuilion wiped her brow with cool, refreshing waters from Estë's pools. The silver-haired Maia laid a hand on her chest and continued to strive with the darkness in her mind. For in their tendings to Míril, Estë had found traces of the Nazgûl's blackness deep within her that had never left. It was possible this contributed to her trauma.

The next time she woke, her head was much clearer. It was night once more, and she dared open her eyes, hearing quiet talking to her right. Míril turned her head slowly and found herself watching Fingon and Maglor together. Maglor held his miniature harp, though now it leaned against his leg, not in use. Maglor's back was to a Willow tree, while Fingon reclined on his side.

Miril opened her mouth slowly and murmured, "What time is it?"

Both elves stopped their quiet talking and turned to her. Fingon looked slightly concerned, while Maglor flashed a small smile her way.

"The night is half spent," said the minstrel softly, "and you have been here three days now."

"Three days?" She sat up in concern immediately, rubbing her eyes. "How has it been that long? I do not remember even falling asleep."

"Such is the beauty of Lorien," Fingon smiled to her. "The hurts of Arda Marred are far away here, and one gets unnatural, though certainly not unpleasant, rest."

"And my husband? Where is he?" She looked around for him quickly.

"He is receiving his own healing, on the other side of the island. He refused to been seen to until two days ago, when Lady Melian dragged him to Estë." Maglor chuckled. "He truly loves you, you know that."

Míril smiled to herself. Oh, she knew alright. "I do remember one thing," she murmured suddenly, after several moments of silent contemplation. "Maglor, I heard you sing a song of Bilbo's."

"Oh did you now?" He gave a small laugh. "Indeed, I am caught. I was indeed singing his Song of Eärendil."

"How did you learn it?" She eagerly sat cross legged, facing the two elves.

Maglor and Fingon exchanged glances.

Maglor spoke again. "We haven't told you yet, for fear it would trigger your trauma. But the hobbits are here, Frodo and Bilbo, the ring bearers."

"Really?" She was surprised. "Where?"

"Frodo comes often here, to Lórellin. But now the two live on Tol Eressëa, near the water." He replied softly. "They are interesting folk, and Bilbo a wonderful minstrel."

"I should like to visit them," she mumbled to herself. Then she looked at Maglor. "But first, I should like a song. One of yours this time!"

Fingon grinned and patted Maglor's knee from where he lay on his side beside him. "Yes. Do as the maiden says!"

Maglor rolled his eyes at Fingon before nodding to Míril. "Very well. How about the Lamemt of Findekáno?"

Fingon blushed suddenly and lay back so his face was hidden. He muttered something that Míril couldn't quite catch. She, on the other hand, nodded eagerly. Maglor, picking up his harp, began to play and sing in a slow, steady voice.

"Of old they called him valiant,
An elf steadfast as adamant.
His favorite place to walk and play
Was on Ezellohar every day.
Until at last when it went dark
He left Aman to seek lands stark.

"In those far lands beyond the ice
He found his cousin, calling thrice.
A streak of red,
A distant head,
Russandol freed with hand as price.

"Upon the death of father bold,
King he was, with ribbons gold.
No power, glory sought his own,
But to power, glory he was prone.
Then one day the call did come.
He rode to battle with all Elvendom.

"At battle tears ran like a flood,
And so too did elven blood,
Too many foes,
They ripped his clothes.
They smashed his body to the mud.

"But still a cry went up that day
A cry for men and elves to stay
Aura entuluva!
Aura entuluva!
For though the great king passed away,
His spirit went on to lead the way."

Míril was mesmerized the entire time. In her mind, great images of Fingon, the Valiant High King of the Noldor flashed before her eyes. She realized now that the golden ribbons he always wore were a sign to all of who he was, and not just a fashion choice. He was Findekáno, eldest son of Fingolfin and Anairë. He was the unifier of the Noldorin houses. A hero among all the greats.

Fingon himself was quiet for several moments after the song. But finally he spoke, softly and with tears in his eyes. "You do me great honor, my friend."

"No greater honor than you did for us all those years." Maglor laid his harp down and placed a hand on Fingon's arm. "Without you, our quest would've failed before it had even begun."

Míril watched quietly the solemn moment between the two elves. She realized in that moment just how much these cousins meant to each other. The friendship of Fingon and Maedhros was one oft told of, but with the red head still in the Halls, Fingon and Maglor had grown even closer.