Author's Note
This is an idea that's been bouncing around in my head for a while. Years, really. Out of all the genres in Tolkienverse fanfiction, Modernday Elves is probably my favorite. I first encountered it back in high school, when I read Mirrordance's For Every Evil trilogy and Neige's A Friday - both excellent stories that I highly recommend, if you haven't read them already. They were different as can be - FEE dealt with reincarnated heroes and world-saving plots, while A Friday focused more on everyday life - but both stories were well-done and got me interested in the idea of elves quietly living among us.
The nice thing about the Modernday Elves genre is that it comes in all flavors - funny, sad, bittersweet - and there's so much you can do with it. After all, you can play with the entire history of the planet while using the same characters. The possibilities are endless.
So a few years ago I started thinking about writing my own Modernday Elves stories, and now I've got my own little series of stories that are waiting to be told. I call it This Day and Age. I've kept it as canon as possible - except for the fact that, well, there are still elves around and they haven't faded yet; that'd kind of defeat the point. I got my cast of characters figured out - it includes the usual suspects, a number of canon elves who I hardly ever see in modernday settings, plus some OCs (don't worry, they're nice OCs).
The This Day and Age series is meant to be fun and sometimes bittersweet. As it stands, I have no plans for Morgoth's second coming, Dagor Dagorath, stopping evil madmen from world domination, or even a reincarnated Fellowship. For now, TDaA is meant to focus on the not-exactly-ordinary, everyday lives of those immortals who never left.
I've been fiddling with this first story for a while now, and finally decided to post the first chapter. I hope it's enjoyable.
Pizza Night in Imladris is set sometime in the mid-2000s (by which I mean the mid-00s). Possibly 2005. I've put it in the Silmarillion section because, while Elladan and Elrohir are important, Maglor really is the main character.
And if you're looking for more Modernday Elves stories, please feel free to check out my C2, Modern Middle-Earth. I've collected every modernday story I could find and put it in there. There's quite a lot, and they're all very good.
Cell Phones Are The Root Of All Evil
In which Elladan and Elrohir call Maglor and demand he come to Pizza Night.
As days went, Maglor Fëanorion supposed he was having a rather good one. This was generally due to the fact that the day had not been horrifyingly, soul-crushingly bad. He'd had those days. They weren't very fun.
But today had not been one of those days, and thus Maglor decided that it must have been a good day. It certainly wasn't a greatday, but then, Maglor hadn't had a great day since the Fifth Age.
He couldn't even remember the last time he'd had an outright-fantastic, no-strings-attached wonderful day. He suspected it was sometime before Curufin had been born, the manipulative little schemer. There had been no such thing as unconditional peace in Maglor's life since Curufin's birth, even before they'd all left Valinor. Maglor was pretty sure that the only thing that could possibly be worse than Curufin was if Fëanor had had a twin. Though, seeing as Curufin had looked exactly like Fëanor and Mother had even named him "Little Father", Fëanor might as well havehad a twin.
Curufin the Crafty had just had a way of turning everything and anyone to his advantage. If something - good or bad - was going on, you could bet Curufin would find a way to profit off of it. Father wouldn't display his Silmarils in public? Curufin brought out his own gems to show off. Maedhros might be dead? Curufin wrote a lengthy dissertation listing all the ways Celegorm would be a better king than Maglor. Maglor and Maedhros started arguing with Celegorm over ascension rights and responsibilities? Curufin took the opportunity while they were distracted to rearrange a few borderlines on the maps to give himself and Celegorm a few hundred more square miles. A lost Sindarin princess was found wandering alone? Curufin tried to get her married to Celegorm.
In fact, the only person Curufin hadn'tmercilessly attempted to scam was Celegorm. It was safe to say that Celegorm had even benefited from Curufin's schemes. Curufin and Celegorm, the dynamic duo. Brains and brawn. Thick as thieves, the two of them had been. Maglor supposed it had been a good survival strategy for them, as he was privately convinced that without Curufin's smarts Celegorm would have gotten himself killed in childhood, and without Celegorm's strength Curufin would have been eaten by trolls the minute they stepped off the boats into Beleriand.
The two brothers had bonded from an early age, leaving poor Caranthir the Underrated in the dust as the lonely middle child. Now and then Celegorm and Curufin would let him tag along, but usually it was just Caranthir all by his lonesome. No one had thought it was a problem; at least not until Caranthir had met that Haleth girl. That had been an eye-opener. The poor guy had been so desperate he'd asked a mortal woman to be his sidekick. Curufin, of course, had mercilessly teased and possibly blackmailed Caranthir about it for the rest of their lives.
The only thing Curufin had never managed to profit off of was Huan. Maglor was pretty sure the real reason Oromë had only granted the dog three instances of speech had nothing to do with temperance and patience and all those other generic virtues. It was probably to keep Curufin from turning the hound into a sideshow.
But strange reminiscences of dead brothers aside, today had been a pretty good day. There was the sand, there was the sea, there was the sky, and there was the silence broken only by his occasional song.
There were some tourists too, but they were staying far, far away from him. One or two had tried to approach, but they'd stopped after about five steps when the mysterious, beautiful, otherworldly music had made them start thinking about pain and death and seas of blood. People usually stayed away from him after that. Not that Maglor was complaining.
He idly plucked a few of his harp's strings, watching the waves. A seagull flew overhead, and he grimaced. Stupid seagulls. Rats with wings, that's all they were. So bold, and daring, and perfectly willing to snatch sandwiches out of unsuspecting tourists' hands. Not to mention their obsession with all things shiny. Seagulls were always snatching up shiny things and flying away with them...
He had the briefest memory of a young woman, her long dark hair blowing dramatically as she stood before an open window, glowing gem in hand.
Maglor grimaced and firmly shoved the image from his mind, instead focusing on the here and now. He stood at the edge of the surf, and felt his feet sink further into the sand with every receding wave, and tried out silly little ditties on his harp.
So there he was, walking along the stretch of beach, freaking out tourists, singing to the sea, and generally enjoying his pretty good day. As much as he was capable of enjoying anything, at least.
It was strangely peaceful, even with the sea's constant taunting and the stupid seagulls shrieking overhead.
And then he heard it - Beethoven's Für Elise erupting from his pocket in squeaky, electronic tones.
Maglor stared at the horizon for a moment in resigned silence before reaching into his pocket and pulling out his cell phone. He glanced at the caller ID before answering. "...Hello?"
"Maglor," Elladan said, in a clipped tone that reminded the Fëanorion far too much of Elrond. "Where in Arda are you?"
"...The beach," Maglor answered, and braced himself for the next question.
"Whichbeach?"
"Somewhere in the Mediterranean, I think," Maglor sighed, looking at the tourists scattered along the shoreline. After listening to their chatter for a moment, he added, "Everyone's speaking Italian."
"Well, at least we've narrowed it down to a country," Elladan said. "Elrohir? A little help?"
"Thank the Valar for this modern Age with its cell phones and triangulation," Maglor heard the other twin in the background. "Otherwise we'd never find him!"
"Might I ask why you want to find me?" Maglor asked, though he knew it was a stupid question. For some reason, Elladan and Elrohir had alwayswanted to find him, ever since they'd first met back in the Fifth Age. Maglor had been pleased to meet them - even if he was a bit irritated that they hadn't sailed yet, the ungrateful privileged brats - and had also been pleased to go on his not-so-merry way. But the twins had latched on like leeches, deciding that he needed to spend time with them, with other elves, with other people and no, Maglor, the illusions that pop up when you're singing do not count as people and even if they did they're all dead or dying anyway so you really need some better company.
"Because we haven't heard from you in over a year," Elladan answered, sounding absolutely miffed.
"That's hardly any time at all..."
"We were getting worried."
"I do believe the twenty-first century has ruined your patience, Elladan," Maglor said dryly. "We used to go for decades without hearing from each other. Centuries, even."
"Yeah, thank Ilúvatar that's over," he heard Elrohir say. "I don't know how we ever managed without cell phones."
Maglor spared a moment to glare at the treacherous piece of technology in his hand.
"They're like palantíri," Elrohir continued. "Only far more available to the general public."
"Elrohir!" Maglor exclaimed. Elrond's secondborn might as well have compared the Silmarils to fluorescent lighting.
"Just as easily lost, too," Elladan said, and Maglor could hear the smile in his voice.
"Whatever am I going to do with you two?" he sighed.
"It's not just us," Elladan said, voice turning stern. "Jacelyn hasn't heard from you in months. She's getting worried."
Maglor blinked. "Jacelyn's a grown woman now. She doesn't need me; she can take care of herself."
"We know that," Elrohir snorted. "It's youshe's worried about!"
"..."
"Did you ever think maybe your daughter would like you to stay involved in her life? Even aftershe grew up?"
"Well..."
"Because that's what normal people do, Maggie - "
"Don't call me that!"
" - they keep in touch with their family."
Maglor sighed. "What am I going to do with you?" he said again, because he had nothing else tosay.
"Well...you couldcome visit us in Imladris for a bit..."
Maglor hadn't been to Imladris for decades; not since World War Two. It wasn't that he disliked the twins - quite the opposite, actually - it was just that most people didn't like him. "I...am not so sure that would be wise, Elladan."
"Oh, come on Maglor, you've visited here before! And everyone was fine with you."
Maglor gritted his teeth. "Elladan..."
"Please? For our sakes? We'd like to see you again."
"Pleeeeeease?" Elrohir added, and Maglor could all-too-well envision the puppy-dog eyes. Elrond had been a master at them.
Maglor sighed. Truth be told, he wanted to see the twins, too. Just...maybe not in Imladris. No matter how many times he went there, he always felt uncomfortable. The elves who'd lived with Elrond had mostly come from Sirion, and half the elves from Sirion had come from Doriath. Not a good combination, even if they all claimed it was water under the bridge. "Why don't you come see me?"
"Because weactually have a house to play host in," Elladan answered. "Also, we wanted you to come for Pizza Night."
Maglor thought he must have heard wrong. "Pizza Night?"
"Yeah. We're inviting you to Pizza Night; that's why we want you to come see us. Besides, you don't even know where you are- "
"Got it!" Elrohir said suddenly. "He's in Viareggio."
"Am I?" Maglor asked. Come to think of it, he hadseen that name on a few signs, though he hadn't paid much attention to them. There was a beach, he'd been walking along it for miles, and that was all that mattered.
"Perfect," Elladan said, sounding far too satisfied. "We'll have Mith and Nim pick you up."
Maglor felt his heart stop. "Mith and Nim?" he repeated weakly.
"Yes, Maggie, Mith and Nim."
"Why them?" he asked, voice rising in panic. "Can't you send someone else? What about Glorfindel?"
"Glorfindel's already here," Elladan explained patiently. "Mith and Nim are in Florence. We'll have them pick you up. It's more practical that way."
"You expect me to spend ten hours in a car with Mith and Nim?"
"More like twelve," Elrohir said. "Hey, Mithrellas?" he went on, and Maglor realized he must have dialed the elleth on his own phone. "Yeah, we found him. He's in Viareggio. Think you could drop by and pick him up tomorrow morning?"
Maglor groaned.
"Now, Maglor," Elladan chided, "you've gone up against orcs and dragons and Balrogs and Morgoth himself. I'm quite certain you can deal with a pair of petulant Silvan maidens." A beat. "I mean, Mith doesn't mind you so much, anyway. It's Nim who you need to worry about."
"Great!" Elrohir said. "Fantastic. Thanks Mith. See you ladies soon. Bye." A moment's pause, and then he said to Elladan's phone, "Hey, Maglor, they're gonna pick you up at the Palace Hotel tomorrow at eight AM. It's on the corner of Viale Giosue Carducci and Via Flavio Gioia."
"Wonderful," Maglor deadpanned.
"Indeed," Elladan agreed. "Now go call Jacelyn."
Something started beeping, and Maglor sighed in relief at his salvation. "I can't - my phone's nearly out of battery."
"Then you'll call her once you get here."
Maglor sighed again. "If you insist."
"I do. See you soon. Navaer."
"Namárië," Maglor said, and Elladan hung up.
Maglor stared at the phone for a second before looking back up at the sun setting at the edge of the sea. He contemplated hurling the chunk of plastic and circuits into the water, but he'd already tossed a Silmaril to Lord Ulmo. No point in giving him his cell phone, too. Knowing the Vala, Ulmo would probably decide to share it with Aulë, which would lead to the great smith replicating and distributing the technology for kicks. And then the peace of Valinor would be forever ruined with horrid techno ringtones of The Lay of Leithian and Eärendil was a Mariner.
...Actually, put like that, it sounded totally worth it.
Maglor stared at the little battery image blinking in the corner of his display screen. He glanced back up at the sunset, and wondered how hysterically Arien was laughing at him.
Oh, screw it.
He didn't throw it with nearly so much contempt as he'd thrown the blasted jewel, and the phone certainly didn't look like a shooting star as it streaked towards the water. But the little splash it made as it hit the waves was entirely satisfactory and had Maglor grinning like an idiot to himself.
Then he saw a pair of tourists who'd crept up to within ten feet of him. Well-off, judging from their dress, and probably hoping to ask about his music or something. Though the cell phone display seemed to be giving them second thoughts. The man looked uncertain, and the woman was staring at him with skewed eyebrows from under her large, floppy white beach hat. Probably thought he was crazy.
Maglor could have laughed. They had no idea.
He hefted his harp and began singing loudly about how much blood was on the floor when Celegorm killed and was killed by the son of the woman he'd almost married, and the tourists beat a hasty retreat.
Next Chapter: Maglor enjoys an awkward road trip with Mithrellas and Nimrodel.
Hope you enjoyed! Reviews are, of course, appreciated.