The thrumming flowed from the string, filling the air with a quiet vibrato as it coursed through his fingers. The note, like a bright summer star, hung suspended, quivering with emotion before fading to a gentle whisper. He smiled, and more notes sprang from the harp as they raced to join their brothers in the cool night wind.
A haunting melody arose, woven with the skill and passion of the talented bard. Maglor exhaled, letting his hands traverse the paths of song that no longer needed his mind to guide them. Despite everything that had happened, within his world of music the son of Fëanor could find peace.