Maedhros: (Walks slowly and sadly on stage. He stares
at the Silmaril on his palm, and does not look at the audience. His
hand looks dead, and is in the same position as it was when Maglor pried
it open. When he speaks, his voice is dead, too, but also full of
sadness.) Even now, back at home, I am not at peace. I am in
constant torment by the Silmaril I bear. Maglor, it seems, is not
pained as badly by his jewel. (Only now does he look at the audience;
his voice also gains more feeling.) But I will not get rid of this
precious jewel. I will not! (His voice rises, then becomes
soft.) It burns my hand. (He kneels on the floor, facing SR, not
looking at the audience.) A hand I can ill afford to lose. (Shifts so he sits facing the audience. Starts to croon to his jewel.)
But I love my jewel, my precious Silmaril. (His voice grows hard
again.) I cannot bear the pain any longer! (Soft again.) I will never get rid of it, though. (Hard.) On the other hand...
(he cuts off with a cry.) Ah! It burns ever hotter. I am done
with this foul thing. If it makes me unable to hold a sword now,
I will make it so I shall never hold a sword again! (He stands up.) I leave now! (Walks briskly off SL. Fire comes out and stands
in the area between the stage and the audience. Maedhros comes out
SR, slowly.) Finally, I have arrived at the cracks of fire. (Turns back to offstage and waves at something with his handless arm, as
if shooing it.) Go on. You're a good horse. You'll find
your way home. (Turns back to the audience and walks over to the
very edge of the stage, where he stands looking down into the flames. He appears calm now.) It is fitting: a fiery grave for the son of
Fëanor, whose name means spirit of fire. I leave Middle-Earth. (He attempts to close his hand around the Silmaril, but ends up having
to close it by pushing it shut with the stump of his other arm. Then
he leans forward and falls into the fire. Fire circles off, hiding
Maedhros in their middle. All exit SL. They are replaced by Water,
in the same space. Maglor enters SL, walking slowly along the edge
of the stage, holding the Silmaril in a palm only slightly black.)
Maglor: I have just received word that my brother Maedhros is dead,
taking the Silmaril with him. These jewels have brought disaster
on my family and I hate them for that! I defy my Oath and I shall
cast my jewel into the sea! Take it, Lord of the Waters. May
it bring you more joy than it did me. (One of the Water rises up,
Maglor places the Silmaril in its hand, and it sinks back down.) Now let the Dark come down on me, for I broke the Oath and have rid myself
of the jewel! I care not. (Iluvatar enters SR.)
Iluvatar: You have suffered enough, Maglor. Your brothers are
lost, and you have had enough sorrows already. The Dark shall pass
you by. (Exits SR.)
Maglor: I will return now to Elrond and Elros; they are the only ones
I have left to care for on this world. May the bad fortune that follows
me not touch them. (Takes two steps back; Maedhros comes out from
SL to join him, Eärendil comes from SR. Water exists SR.) Thus the three Silmarils found their final homes...
Eärendil: One in the heavens, borne upon my brow when I, Eärendil,
sail my ship among the stars... (He touches a hand to the Silmaril on his
forehead, and leaves it there.)
Maedhros: (in his dead voice, flat and expressionless) One in
the fires in the bowels of the earth, held to the last by me, Maedhros. (He displays his burned hand palm outward, fingers, which are slightly
bent, pointed down. The Silmaril is held there.)
Maglor: One in the deep waters, cast there by me, Maglor.
All three: Here ends the Silmarillon. (Maglor and Eärendil
exit SR, slowly. Maedhros looks fondly down at the jewel, clasps
it protectively to him, and exits SL.)
