Blinding Sight

Disclaimers: Middle-earth, Aman and all their inhabitants belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and his estate. I am making no money by this and intend no infringement of copyright.

Rating: PG.

Summary: Maglor, as the world ends.

A/N: The title comes from a poem by Dylan Thomas.

Feedback: Yes please.

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He is blind now, and he knows that this will be his last song.

The melody, sweeter than any he has ever before created, rises above the din of battle, even above the howling of the dread things which have crawled out of the dark places of the world to follow their fell master at the last.

He sits on the pitted plain, his shirt drenched with sweat and blood, clutching the hand of him whom he called son. He had never thought that he would crouch over this body, for such fire burnt in those eyes that it seemed it could never be quenched.

But then he has never thought to fight again – not after the day when he lost ever everything in a mire of pain, when he cast the bane of his life from himself, forsaking kin and home in the endless, fruitless quest for salvation.

He has seen kingdoms rise and fall, great Men pass into the darkness and their sons sink into oblivion. He watched as all that was mighty was brought low and all that was good was sullied. Yet in the night he has always looked to the stars, and his voice has taught Men to remember that which they never knew. And there has been hope in that frail light…

But the dread fire that claimed his son's life stole his vision and there are no more stars. He wonders if Varda herself has passed beyond the world, or if this absence of all hope is for him alone…

The pitch of battle rages higher now, but still he sings on, lamenting the passing of the world that he loved with such tormented passion … there is a terrible roar and then only silence, apart from the fading notes of his song.

All is lost. All is vanquished.

He feels a hand on his shoulder, and turns sightless eyes to the stranger, waiting for the blow to fall.

"It is over, Maglor." And suddenly he can see again, although he is dazzled by a radiant brightness. "Arda is remade."

Only then does he recognise the mightiest of the Valar, and, behind him, his own son, once more tall and strong, his twin by his side.

And a new tune springs to his lips, and he laughs aloud in joy.

"And we are remade with it."

FINIS

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