The fire is warm when he reaches it.
The Silmarils flame in his hands, screaming and screaming and screaming. He hears Feanor's fire burning through his creations, his fury, his passion.
Trapped in his head like a cruel ghost.
The him-that-was-Maedhros hears Maglor's once glorious voice utter a broken shriek, slicing through fire and guilt, and he feels the shattered bits of guilt pierce the skin.
Then a monster rises- a behemoth of flame- Maedhros says live, and dies.
(Maglor doesn't hear.)
This is set when Maedhros kills himself, so is a bit miserable. Next chapter will be Maglor, still falling. Seriously, these Feanorions tend to make me cry. (I might be now.)
Laurefindel.
(do I need to say it? Comment, please?)
YOU ARE READING
Of fallen and the falling.
FanfictionMaglor and Maedhros. One fallen, one still falling.
