Uinen meets the last of the Great Princes of the Noldor. A Maglor's fate story, now revised for spell-checking.
The Lonely Singer
The breeze from the west tangled his dark hair. His only belonging - a harp - lay beside him. Once he had had more but all of it was gone. He sat on the slippery cliffs. It was an unfertile part of the lands; the winds suffered few plants to grow there. But he had found something. A tiny, weak stray grass competed against the storms and the salty water from the sea that encircled the tiny peninsula. His scarred fingers stroke gently the stalk and he noticed a miniature bud in the end of it.
His throat needed rest from lamenting and he had found another pastime. His grey eyes gazed over the waves as he counted them. Was every seventh one really bigger? This time it was true. And the next time too. And the one after that... apparently the saying was correct. But then there was a change. A bigger wave than any of the previous rolled on the shore. But instead of diminishing and breaking on the rocks the water gathered into a pillar and the elf stood up mistrustfully.
Uinen the Maia had created herself a watery form of a likeness of those of the Children of Ilúvatar. She was tall and beautiful. As she stepped on the stones on the shores her immeasurably long hair left a trail on the ground behind her.
The elf took his harp and turned to walk away but for the first time in ages he heard any of his many names being uttered:
"Maglor Kànofinwë Macalaurë Fëanorion! Do not go!"
Sighing he closed his eyes but obeyed.
"Lady Uinen," he whispered. "Why do the Kings and the Queens of the West seek contact with the cursed son of Fëanor?" He turned around and saw that Uinen had followed him and stood now before him. She smiled.
"It is not the Lords nor the Ladies of the Blessed Realm who seek you out. It is but me, Uinen, maiden of the Seas."
"They did not send you to hunt me down?"
"No. I came by myself by my own counsel," the Maia said her voice rippling like the waters. "And I did not come to punish you. I came to talk with you and hear you sing."
A still suspicious Maglor contemplated her words. Last time he had had any contact with any Ainu was when he had taken back the Silmarils that were no longer his to possess. He believed that his shameful deeds had made him hated and condemned by all. But while walking the shores of the Sea Lady Uinen had of course always been near him and - as he suddenly realized - she was the one who now had the Silmaril with her in the depths of the ocean.
Now that she stood there with him, seeing her honesty and kindness he realized how lonely he was. He sighed and sat down and Uinen followed him.
"I have sung and played my harp so much," Maglor said.
Uinen nodded. "I have heard you. Your singing is most beautiful. I love listening to it."
"But currently my throat is too sore to sing and my hands too burnt to play," the elf excused himself. But Uinen reached to take his hand and to his own surprise Maglor didn't resist. The Maia let her cool hands streak the blackened palm of his hand much in the same fashion as Maglor had stroken the small flower earlier.
"I have seen that you are not a bad person," Uinen remarked as she stroke Maglor's hands.
"But Lady, my deeds have been more wicked than -" Maglor sought for an object of comparison. "- those of most others," he concluded clumsily.
"Not all of your deeds have been bad, and you have repented," Uinen replied and let go of his hands. To the elf's great surprise they were healed and the pain was gone. His eyes widened.
"Thank you!" he gasped. "But why?"
"You have repented," Uinen repeated. "I have heard your songs. They tell of sorrow and remorse."
Maglor looked down at his hands now as good as new. He didn't find the words.
"You have been forgiven, Macalaurë," Uinen said quietly. "You have been forgiven by the High King for a long time, yet you have not answered the summons. I am moved by your songs and if I interpret them correctly you wish to go back to live in peace in Valinor as you used to."
"Who forces me to go, your holiness?" Maglor said sullenly.
"No yourself wish to do so," Uinen answered unaffected by his rudeness. "But it grieves me that you wander lonely here even when you could go."
Maglor didn't reply and Uinen said no more. Instead she started to sing.
Sorrowful minstrel, a lost talent
A friend lost to the lands afar
Hear! your deeds are forgiven
But your music not forgotten
O, come back beloved singer
Sing by the elves once more!
Maglor glanced at the Maia. "You think I should go back, then?"
"I among others," she replied. "That song was not made up my me. It is sung by the elves of Valinor. Would you happen to go there, you would be loved and welcomed back with open arms."
The wind had turned and came now from the East. Uinen stood up, her slender form dissolved into drops that rushed down the hard rocks back into the sea. "Farewell for now, Macalaurë," her voice called ere it was lost. "If you change your mind just call for me and I will help you."
Macalaurë bit his lip. He looked at his healed hands again. They were cleaned from his deeds of evil and were now as they had been before everything - as they had been in Aman. Had he indeed been forgiven - even missed? There was a fierce struggle in his mind.
ooo
From afar Uinen heard a lonely melodic voice calling her name. She smiled to herself. It was time.