I'm actually writing a LOTR fic, and Maglor's in it, and so, he's sorta takin' up a lot of space in my brain. This is a one-shot, and mayhaps my only Silm story.
Maglor could only watch in horror. His hand burned with agonizing pain, but he did not perceive this. His senses that allowed him to feel and to hear failed to do their task for these few awful moments. All he was aware of was his own heart beating against his chest, like a caged animal fighting to escape. He only saw his brother, the Silmaril, and the gap. He had seen the odd look on Maedhros' face when they neared this forbidding chasm. He had not been able to read it. Until now.
He tried to cry out, to move towards Maedhros, but everything failed him. His eyes seemed to mock and torment him, forcing him to meet his brother's eyes. Maedhros was looking back. The Silmaril was clutched to his chest. The pain was overwhelming. Both the physical and emotional. His intent was clear. He was only looking back to say a final farewell to Maglor.
Maglor could feel a great cry build up. But nothing came. If it did, he was not aware of it. Maedhros had flung himself down into the earth. Maglor could do nothing. The last remnants of light from that accursed stone disappeared as it fell deeper. His breath caught in his throat. Then he was able to make a noise.
The noise that passed through his lips was not a melodic sound. It was harsh, loud, despairing. A great cry that could only come from one who knew immense pain and sorrow. A great cry that could only come from one who suddenly lost everything. A cry with no words, yet it spoke everything. Anger came of this cry.
He whirled around to face the sea. The pain came back to his conscience. He took one last look at the beautiful stone he held. It was a look of contempt. He could not destroy it, he knew this. With sudden action, he drew back his arm and through it into the sea. The splash it made was faint. The light was still barely detectable after moments of watching.
Finally, with eyes filled with every emotion within him, he said in a low voice, "Be gone. I need you no longer. The oath is filled. And only I remain. I, who am cursed forever, ashamed of all deeds, scarred for the rest of my long life. I can no longer be among my own kin, distant as they may be. All because of you. You took my father's love from me. From my brother's. From his own family. You who caused death and destruction in this first age of Arda. Arda which is still so young, is marred because of you. Marred forever."
He closed his eyes, tears falling down. He knelt. He sang. He sang of silmarils. Of the kinslaying. Of his father. Of his brothers. Of victories. Of losses. Of sorrow. The sea answered in its own song, a song that kept him by it. The only comfort out of these dark things that he sang of. For nothing in his songs were happy. Only sadness was in them. Only death and destruction. Only his legacy that he was disgraced of.
Then, he made a decision to stay with the sea. The sea, his only friend. The sea, who did not mock him. The sea who shared his sorrow. The sea, the only place that he could reach, that did not take one of his brother's lives. Every year he came back to the chasm. Every year he sang a song for his brother's. Every year he sang a song for sorrow. Every year, he came back to Maedhros' grave to weep and to reflect. Every year he avoided the inland. And so he stays. Every year.
Well, there ya go. Review, if you have a mind to. -Jimmy Candlestick