It had snowed last night. Maglor shook the snow off as he awoke and shivered violently. "At least the human children will be happy." He mused aloud as he brushed the light blanket of snow off of his few belongings. As if called by his thoughts, a group of small children rushed into the park where he had spent his night, trailed by a bored-looking teenage girl. Maglor sighed and gathered his harp and the small bag of food and pulled them closer to his body as he wrapped his tattered cloak around his shoulders. He turned to leave, then changed his mind and plopped back onto the cold, wet and unforgiving ground. He leaned against the tree trunk and glared up at it. "Some shelter you gave me, Moringothonna(1)." He muttered sarcastically and shivered again, feeling the cold seep through his thin and worn clothing. The teenager looked up, obviously having heard his frustrated comment. Her eyes met his and he didn't look away. She shuddered and turned away from him. Without having to ask or even wonder for more then a few moments, he knew that it was whatever she had seen - be it sadness, anger, hopelessness, guilt or madness - that terrified her, not his presence itself. He sighed and stood up, pulling his cloak tighter around his freezing body and turned to walk away. He glanced back and stared at the children; happily playing in the snow, innocence still not lost. Maglor left the park, dragging his heels, stubbornly refusing the let the tears come out. He had held them back for centuries. They would not come out now. Not now, not ever.

A/N 1: Roughly translates into 'Brood of Morgoth.' Obviously an insult.