Silly idea from my head, sorry..
It was probably connected to one of my random fics about the personification of Nan Elmoth. This time, it took a vacation to Gondolin :D ahahaha. Probably in a more serious sense, this fic turns from horror to humour to hurt and comfort to tragedy really quickly. It was supposed to be a short fic but then... around 4k words happened and I decided to cut it short. Anyway, enjoy~
disclaimer: Characters are from The Silmarillion. I only made fics out of it because I am a hopeless little avarin elf who likes The Forest of Dubious Consent a bit too much for bringing unexpected couples together.
(...maybe it should be a thing. Put 2 random unlucky victims together for a few months and they will end up a couple)
It was the night after his father's execution. Gondolin which was once white in his head was tainted by blood. His father's blood. He thought of how could this thing happen. It was too quick. Everything was too quick for him. He was too used to the slow haze of Nan Elmoth or the constant pace of the forge. Never would he thought it would end like this. In a place where night was too bright, lost, alone. If only he inherited some of his mother's uncaring personality or even his father's ability to shove away emotions, he might be able to survive another day but no. He got the worse of both. Rashness and the sudden burst of emotional flame. No, he refused to let himself be emotional. He refused to cry as he knew both his parents will laugh at him. Aredhel will laugh at his son for being a crybaby while Eöl will laugh at the irony of Aredhel being a crybaby as well. The Nan Elmoth family was notorious for their ability to hide their feelings towards each other. No words of love ever heard amongst Lord and Lady of Nan Elmoth. Never ever.
Maeglin tried sleeping with happier thoughts. His first good sword, presented to his father, sweet lullabies of the white city from his mother, the feeling of escaping home for the first time. It was not working as it backfires on him. He tried another way. To hate. To imagine all the hatred towards his confining father , hatred of that forces him and his mother to shun the sunlight, hatred of the servants, hatred of the way they parents look at each other without emotions. Hating tires him. He dislikes to hate. He is bitter, but no more torn of losing that he already was. He do not hate, he was just lost.
He did not self pity. It was an odd thing for him. All he knew was he was alone. That thought alone send his mind blank. Not out of sadness or pity but more of logic. 'What now?' ,'What was left for him?'. Ever since he was little, he was trained to keep his mind going. Partly for his own sanity. The quietness in Nan Elmoth is too suffocating. Sometimes, it seems it was alive, but when it was alive, the rest of the house is dead. The tree sometimes shakes and creeps, making an enchanting sound which his father told it were a lullaby. A very scary one, Maeglin thought. When it does creates the lullabies, the entire household shut themselves of noises. No work at the forge, no sounds of footsteps, and his father were not seen. These times he spends curling in the arms of his mother under the fur blanket. When his father came to their room, the noises ceased, and life became as usual.
Maeglin start hearing these noises now. It sounded hoarse but much more alluring that his mother's lullabies. It scares him. The sound of Nan Elmoth was heard in Gondolin.
Maeglin can't sleep. The noise was murdering his sleep. He woke every few seconds. At last, he gave in. He has to find out what causes this sound or he will go mad.
He went down, down below Carag Dur where his father fell. He has to make sure his hated father was indeed, dead. He went down the stairs, avoids sharp jagged rocks but no...
There was not even a speck of blood.
He sensed something odd was there. A smell of enchantments and dark woods. He felt something was alive. Something, not someone. It smelled like one of those quiet days. It was suffocating. Maeglin do not fear, but the rapid beating of his heart stated otherwise. He felt a shadow walked past him. Cold. Very cold.
He felt a soul, or maybe just a hint of them. Luring him to another place. His heartbeat was felt to his ears, beating like an ancient drum. It brought him towards a place. A place he did not want to go. His mother's grave.
Maeglin was reluctant to enter. His soul was screaming of fear and danger. Too fast too fast too fast. It reminds him. He shoved the feeling away and opened the door.
Nothing.
He sighed in relief. He looked at the cold statue of his mother above her beautiful stone grave and nodded. As if he was given strength from her mother to go on and not fall to this decided to went back to his chambers. His body was tired now. He thought he could rest at last.
No. You should be dead!
The dark figure in his window tilted his head. He crept slowly and was tangled in dark branches. He made no sound, the intruder. His feet creeps into the floor and Maeglin realized, they were not flesh. Something dark, something with branches and creeps like the shadow. Something very ancient and very odd. Not elven, but elvenlike. The creature had a face. Face similar to his father.
"Son...o..f...Eö..l.."It spoke. His voice,like father's.
"What are you ?" Maeglin tried keeping his emotions hidden. Whatever that thing is, he must have self control if he wanted to get rid of it.
"I..a..m...fle..sh." again, with his father's voice. The thing reached out to him. Branches came out of the flesh, black branches like the ones in Nan Elmoth. It scares him.
"No... it's a dream. It must be a dream. It must be." Maeglin finds himself chanting.
"Where.. is... my.. son ?"
NonononoNO! It can't be happening. Not like this.
"Son of Eöl." The other voice regained balance and composure. "Do not fear." Maeglin realised the voice has power infused to it. It was not his father's voice. Similar, but worse. His fears are diminished by the command of the creature's voice.
The creature cleared his throat. " I'll ask you once more, son of Eöl. Where is my son?"
Maeglin was clueless. His son? Who? Was the creature a lost soul or a wraith? He took a step closer to the wraith creature. His hair was messy and unkempt, black as the night with hints of kisses by the moonlight. He shoved the creature's hair which covers its face. A dark piercing eyes, just like his own.
He thought of the worse, the creature is going to kill him. He sensed unrest and dark air from the creature, but it was still unmoving. The creature's breath was harsh and ragged. It was cold.
"Who is your son?" He finds himself asking.
The creature was silent.
It moved to a corner of Maeglin's room. The only corner where moonlight does not touch. It spreads its roots and branches amongst the corners. It appears asleep afterwards.
He tried prodding the tree-like thing with his sword but it won't move. It appears to be rigidly rooted towards his wall.
Maeglin shook his head. It must be a dream, he thought. His mind must been toying with him after a lot of events. He decided to forget everything and focus on rest. He cleared his mind off the tree. Pretending it did not exist at all. He went to bed afterwards, not facing the odd tree on the other side. Hoping beyond hope that it will be gone by tomorrow.