Warning: No happy ending!!

"Love is the sweetest of dreams, and the worst of nightmares."

A Midsummer Night's Dream, William Shakespeare

Part II: Becoming Foams

Where am I?

Oh yes, the most beautiful moment of my life.

As romantic as it sounds, I think it is better if I had never experienced such intimacy at all. It hurts, because it turned out that he didn't love me the way I did. I don't even think he was capable of loving someone…or something, at all. He was too - hmm… how can I tell you in your language- preoccupied? Oh well, he was too preoccupied with his guilt. And his dear damn Jewel!

I had deluded myself from the beginning, blinded by my fiery passion. I did not notice the darkness that consumed his soul each passing time, causing him to fade from existence, leaving only the shadow of his former self wrapped in his immortal body. I did not know that his mourning that captivated my heart was but the echo of his old lamentations, for a shadow could not lament. I did not understand that his longing for the Jewel was stronger than anything he had ever felt: his loyalty to the Valar, his conscience, even his love for his godchildren. He was incapable of loving, of dreaming, of anything but lamenting and wishing for the impossible. His Self was reduced to empty hope of regaining the Jewel. His Vow had come true; he was living in eternal darkness.

I, who should have been wiser, could not see the obvious, while he, who supposed to be a wretched, foolish murderer, could see me beyond my fleshly disguise.

From the moment he saw me, he knew I was an Ainu clad in flesh, though he did not know my name. As all Firstborn who were born in the Blessed Realm, and with his family background, he knew who we really were just by looking us in the eye. He thought I was a messenger from the West, telling him that he was pardoned.

You should have seen his despair when I said that I wasn't a messenger, and no, he had not been pardoned.

With tears streaming down my cheeks, I assured him that I would never leave him, that I would accompany him in his exile no matter what. I told him I expected nothing (though I didn't know by then that I was lying to him and to myself); I was merely a spirit wishing to ease the wounds of Arda, and that included his pain. I never told him that I loved him as a lover, not as a Child of Iluvatar in need. I suspected that he never knew (I never pry into his mind; I don't think it's appropriate). He did not ask many questions, not even my name, for he humbly accepted that the Ainur's ways were inscrutable to him. Pretty much different from his father, I must say.

True to my word, I never left him. We never left each other's side, save when we needed to fulfill our bare necessities as fleshly beings. When we were together, mostly he sang and I danced, or sang along with him. His song was the echo of his soul, so that I always knew what was in his thought and heart at the moment.

The songs were mostly about the Kinslayings or about his guilt, his obsessions, his longing for his sons, his Oath, and his punishments. Sometimes he would sing about the Blessed Realms, and his childhood. Sometimes he would sing about the Silmaril. And when he did that, he would stare longingly to the Sea where he had cast his Jewel after it burned his hands. He would stop his song and lose himself in thought for a very long time, sometimes days. I could never awaken him when he was in his trance. He usually fainted out from hunger and thirst because of it. He would wake up, and I would feed him a bowl of broth. And the routine would go on.

************

I should have known that he would worsen. There is no stagnation in this world, you either progress or regress. In his case, to my utter dismay, it was the second. As Arda waned, so did he. His skin became more and more translucent everyday, his natural glow dimmed, his body became weaker. The fading was slow at first, so subtle that we didn't notice it. Then, as the Ages grew shorter and shorter, the changes became more visible to my eyes. At that time, he didn't notice anything anymore. He was mad by then, absorbed into his own world, oblivious to his surroundings, and to me. He would walk along the edges of the cliff, ignoring me who tugged his sleeve in fear that he would fall. His reactions to outer stimulations slowed. At first, I must call him several times before he would blink and realize that someone had called him. Gradually, he would stop responding to my calling completely, and it was only by inflicting pain that I could get a response from him. Finally, his reflexes stopped working altogether, and he didn't seem to feel any fleshly pain. Everyday he just stared into the Sea with hollow eyes and sorrowful expression. He sat on the highest, most dangerous cliff and sang his lamentations until he fainted in fatigue. I would carry his limp body away from that spot and force-feed him once he was awake. And then, he would repeat the same ritual, walking to the cliff where he sat, mourned, cried, and collapsed.

My attempts to cure him were completely futile. He didn't even know I existed by then! Even when I used my Ainu power, he didn't respond. And thus, with a bleeding heart, I treated him as best as I could, praying to whoever heard to help him. To help me.

And the tragedy happened.

He was practically a ghost by then, invisible to the eyes of the Secondborn. I knew that because when I followed him to the cliff, a well-meaning lad stopped me. He told me that there was a ghost singing lamentations there and it wasn't safe for me to go there. I smiled to him sweetly, despite my shock to know that his fading had reached such state, and said that I didn't believe in ghosts. The voice was probably caused by winds or something. He shrugged and walked away, and I continued my journey.

Suddenly, I felt an irrational dread in my stomach and ran to the cliff, but it was too late.

From afar I saw him screaming like a madman and pointing his finger to the sea.

"The Silmaril! The Silmaril! I finally found it! Look, it's there!"

I was extremely terrified by his mad expression. And his dangerous position on the cliff.

"Maglor, be careful! You'll fall!" I panicked and ran as fast as I could to him.

"There! Oh, I found it! It's mine now. I won't be cursed anymore."

And with the words, he jumped from the cliff.

I tried to catch him, but I was too late.

I was numb with shock for Eru knew how long. It probably took hours before I moved and looked down the cliff from where he had thrown himself. I could see his unmoving corpse on a rock before it was carried away by the waves. Then I lifted my head, looking into the direction he pointed before, which was in the middle of the sea, wanting to see the accursed Jewel that had stolen his life. But I saw nothing that resembled a jewel, save some glistening foam, caused by reflections of moonlight on the waves.

I cursed the full moon forever. I cursed the damned man that talked to me earlier. I cursed myself for failing him. I cursed Feanor for creating the Silmarils. I cursed the Valar for punishing him. I practically cursed everything and everyone, save him and Ilúvatar. I mourned and cried and screamed like a banshee, unleashing all my power, causing the rocks to tremble like an earthquake, while the Sea raged. But it didn't help to ease my misery: the fire consumed my heart, the thousands of knives stabbed my soul, and mountains of desolation crushed my hope. Pain raged in every core of my being.

Not knowing what else to do, I jumped into the raging sea, following his lead.

************

I do not know what happened after I jumped. Perhaps I hit the rock and died right away, perhaps I drowned, I just don't know. And I didn't care. What I know is that I found my spirit roaming this beach again. I don't know how. Or why.

It was strange that I was abandoned on this shore and not summoned to the Hall of Mandos. Perhaps they were disappointed at my actions. Maybe because I fell in love with a damned Firstborn. Maybe because I failed to help him. Maybe because I killed my fana on purpose. I do not know. Or perhaps they want to teach me a lesson. What lesson I don't know.

I just know that I am now like Maglor: wandering this mortal shore, mourning for a lost love without hope of ever possessing it, haunting this shore with my invisible body and lamentations, sitting on this cliff, staring longingly at the sea, rotting slowly into madness.

Hopeless. Simply hopeless.

But unlike him, I can return to the Blessed Realm if I so choose. I can go to Lórien or Mandos to rest. I can go to Nienna, who will teach me wisdom. I can ask for the gift of oblivion from Manwe, pretending as if this tragedy has never happened. Or I can find others who will give me true love and mend my broken heart. But I do not want it.

I want him and only him.

He can never let go, and neither can I.

Never.

(The End)

***********

*bows to Finch* Thank you for beta reading.

For once, I just want to write a terrible sad ending tragedy. Besides, I feel compelled to write the worst possible scenario that can happened to our dear minstrel.

Guess my sadistic muse strikes!

Answer to some questions:

Why didn't she go to Mandos to search for Maglor? Well, the tragedy has finally opened her eyes that Maglor never love her and will never do. He only cared for his Silmaril. He practically didn't realise that she was existed when he was mad. She always thought that she could cure his lunacy, but after his death, she knew that her hope was futile. She couldn't make him love her.

And no, this is NOT Disney's Little Mermaid. This is Anderson's Little Mermaid adaptation, though more tragic than the real one. Anderson's mermaid became foams after the prince fell in love with other princess.