It was not supposed to be this way.

I was never meant to become High King of the Noldor.

I was meant to remain in Valinor, composing music, listening to the wind, walking beside the sea, singing with Eärlinel till the end of the world. But now I had no time to compose music, the wind was fell, the sea mourned in hundreds of voices (they fell by the sea, long ago), and Eärlinel, my queen, told me one night as we lay beside the waters of Mithrim: "I have not the heart for singing, Maka."

(Later, she would sing, though more sorrows drowned us; sing, until she, too, fell by the sea, long ago.)

Now I sat upon a makeshift throne of Curufinwë's devising, Eärlinel beside me, wan and silent. My brothers watched me, silent as well, only their smoldering eyes betraying their displeasure. Displeasure at what – I could not say. Perhaps they did not think me fit to rule the Noldor. I knew Tyelkormo and Curufinwë especially resented being so far from the line of kingship (though I thanked Ilúvatar quite often for it).

Grief hung in the air all around us. Too many things had happened too close together – the darkening of the Trees, grandfather's death, the Oath, Alqualondë, Losgar, the death of Ambarto (Umbarto, always), the death of father, and now the capture of Maitimo.

(Maitimo, who must have been dead; part of me knew that Morgoth was capable of so much more, but I pretended not to know.)

"Let us go seek him out, Kano!" Tyelko cried as he burst into my tent one evening, his eyes flashing.

I turned from my desk and gave him a warning look with a significant nod in Eärlinel's direction. She already lay asleep on the narrow cot. Tyelko lowered his voice, but his face remained fierce. "We cannot abandon Nelyo!" he hissed.

I sighed, weary. Our uncle and his host had recently arrived in Hithlum, and they were all of them bristling with revenge. I was attempting to keep relations between our Houses as peaceful as possible. Never could I have foreseen the day when I would be trying to keep my brothers and cousins from killing each other. It took all of my strength and what little cunning I had inherited from my father. I felt I could not now argue with my little brother. I leaned back in my chair. "What would you have me do, Tyelkormo?" He opened his mouth, but I answered for him. "Gather an army and assail Morgoth? Agree to his terms and give up our quest, our Oath, and be damned to the Everlasting Darkness forever?"

Tyelkormo twitched. "Or I might go with Curvo and come upon him secretly –"

"And what if you are discovered? What then?" My voice rose without my consent, and I lowered it again. "We cannot risk it."

"But he is our brother!" Tyelko clenched his fists so hard the knuckles turned white.

I forgot about keeping quiet. "I am well aware of that. But in case you haven't noticed, Turkafinwë Tyelkormo, we are in the middle of a war! Maitimo is gone! He's dead! We can no longer afford to worry about him! Ñolofinwë is on our doorstep and I must deal with him and keep our Houses from tearing each other apart while you sit around pouting about Írrisë and wanting to show off on some hopeless quest!"

I had stood, strode across length of the tent, and faced my brother, our noses inches from touching. My face felt hot and I felt my pounding heart crush a little at my own desperate words. Tyelkormo's sharp gray eyes reflected the fire, the tears, the anguish in mine. Unspoken words hung between us, but so real and stark my spirit trembled at them: "And our quest for the Silmarils is no less hopeless?"

(We became the Dispossessed long before Maitimo gave the crown to our uncle.)

"Maka?" came Eärlinel's faint voice.

My fire cooled (for the moment), and I turned toward her. "I'm sorry for waking you, love."

Tyelko bowed and left the tent, the flaps flying behind him.

I sank down on the cot beside her, my face in my hands. I felt her lay a cold hand on my shoulder. Grief wracked through my body, but also anger, bitter, burning anger resurfaced. I wanted to clench something between my fingers and twist it, break it, listen to it snap. The heat of this desire throbbed in my chest, pounded in my ears, bled through my tears. Having nothing else to do, I turned where I sat and pulled Eärlinel toward me, crushed her between my arms, and kissed her hard on the lips. She made a sound like a hurt kitten, and I let her go.

"Sorry," I mumbled.

"Makalaurë?" she whispered. I could feel her trembling beside me. "What is the matter?"

"I abandoned my brother," I said under my breath, raking my hand through my tangled black hair. "And now I am the fool High King of the Noldor."

"Maka! You are no fool. But . . . you said so yourself. There is nothing you can do."

My fingers caught on a knot, but I yanked them through, ripping several hairs out. (Gold-cleaver, Ammë called me. I could not cleave gold, only the bodies of my kin). "And that is what grieves me. If we were but a little stronger . . . if my uncle and cousins did not abhor us, we could join forces and assail Morgoth together."

Eärlinel took my hand and gently unraveled the hair from my fingers. She spoke so softly, I barely caught her words, but our spirits twined close together, and I understood her to her fullest intent: "Can even the Noldor withstand the might of Morgoth?"

A shred of my anger resurfaced once more. "You have doubt in our abilities?"

She wound her arms around my chest and leaned into me, her chin resting on my shoulder. "I do not doubt you, Maka . . . but I fear for you. You have much of your father's fire and pride, and that I do admire and love (and it is that which made me fall in love with you), but it can also well overcome you. I pray you would not let it ruin you."

I laughed, bitter, but sorrowful. "'Tis not the fire or pride of Fëanáro that will ruin his cursed offspring, but their Oath."

(In the end, we both proved right, though she would never know.)

(We were dispossessed – from the time our swords and our hearts burned in our words, till the breaking of the world.)

So I went around today wishing everyone a "Happy Maglor Day." A lot of confused people. :p

Please tell me what you think!

Much love,

Unicadia