Chapter 15 – Songbird

My father gave his consent – such as it was. He allowed me to work with Maglor. And yet he was troubled. He wore a dark expression as we sat together late into the night and still the next morning. I could tell he had something more to confess, but for whatever reason remained silent. It was not until we neared the king's audience chamber that he chose to speak.

"If he ever hurts you, I'll kill him."

That was what he said to me. It was a simple truth. And he had surely known it from the first time he saw Maglor and I together on the ship. "I know," I replied, and afterward, I sensed a great burden had been lifted from his heart.

He pulled me into his arms. He kissed the top of my head, and then he whispered, "Be sure Maglor knows it, too."


Valinor
Fourth Age

It cannot be said that Maglor went out of his way to upset her. It was not out of his way at all. The truth of the matter was, he had consciously kept his temper at bay during their previous encounters. He made no effort to do so now. Maglor wanted no assistance and when Eruanna appeared at his door he went straight to Fingolfin to tell him so. But the king would not listen, and so Maglor did the only thing he could do – he turned his frustrated rage on Eruanna in hopes of driving her away. For months Eruanna endured Maglor's ill moods and day by day their intensity increased. No one knew the cruel way in which he spoke to her or the days and nights she worked without rest. No one knew because Eruanna revealed nothing when asked how she fared. And Maglor never raised his voice or uttered an unkind word where others could hear.

By the time two seasons had passed, however, it seemed to Eruanna that a kind of madness had overtaken him. It reached the point where anything she did or said provoked his wrath. She knew he was trying to drive her away and she would not let him. She would not tuck tail and run. She had made a promise to help him, and every flash of anger, every cruel insult was further proof of the pain and anger devouring him from the inside, proof that someone needed to help him.

Unfortunately, none of this made enduring Maglor's fury any easier.

One thought alone comforted Eruanna as the weeks passed, 'He can not keep this up forever.' She knew he could not. She prayed he could not. Every elf had his breaking point, and Maglor, too, would eventually crack under the strain. Something would push him over the edge – a sight, a sound, a memory. There was no telling what the trigger might be. Eruanna merely prayed it would find him quickly. There was only so much more she could take.

Eruanna handed Maglor a stack of contracts to review before she broke for lunch.

"What are these?" he asked gruffly.

"Land allocations for the northern province," she replied.

He picked up the stack and practically threw them back at her. "The northern province? Where are the contracts for the city proper?"

"They are next on my list," she replied.

"Why did you not finish the city accounts first?" he snapped.

Eruanna knew by his tone that there was no answer she could give that would please him. She took a breath and tried anyway. "You told me you wanted the appraisals completed this week – you did not specify any particular order."

His eyes narrowed and he looked upon her as a hawk would a field mouse. "And how do you expect to know how many new domiciles will be needed in the north, if you have not completed the inventory of open dwellings in Tirion!"

Eruanna swallowed hard. He was yelling at her again. When she first began working with Maglor, he barely spoke to her. Now he made it a regular habit to raise his voice. She knew there was no use explaining to him that she had started with those requesting dwellings in the north, so she could concentrate her efforts on placing families in Tirion.

She bit her tongue.

"An orc could do a better job of this than you," he growled as he rose from his seat. "I expect the city tallies on my desk by tomorrow morning!"

Eruanna started to protest. "It will take all night," she said, but Maglor cut her off.

"Then you had better get back to work. I will have your meals sent up." He left the room and slammed the door.

Eruanna collapsed into her chair and rested her head in her hands. Despite her best efforts, she could not stop the tears from falling.


Eruanna was startled by a knock at the door. No one came to call on Maglor, save for the king, and he did so only rarely. No one else would seek out Eruanna here. The only other possibility was that it was one of the kitchen staff with her meal. She laid down her quill and straightened herself before answering. "Come!"

The door opened and a tall ellon with dark red hair and a trimmed beard stepped inside. "Oh," he said, as his eyes fell on Eruanna. "I am sorry. I thought this was Makalaurë's office."

"It is," she replied. "I am his assistant. Can I help you?"

The ellon seemed to consider her question, before answering it with another. "Do you know when Makalaurë will return?"

It was an odd question for two reasons – the first being that Eruanna had never before heard anyone call Maglor by his Quenyan name, and the second, that this stranger had foregone the use of 'lord' or 'prince' in reference to Maglor. Eruanna suspected she knew the why of it. Though he had not offered her his name, there were not many elves of the Noldor with facial hair and locks so distinct in color – none who would call on Maglor, at any rate, or speak of him in so familiar a way.

She glanced at the clock hanging on the wall. "Prince Maglor takes his midday meal with the king. He will return shortly, if you wish to wait. If not, I can relay a message to him."

The ellon smiled kindly upon her. "I think I will wait, then, if it is not too much trouble."

"As you wish," she replied. "You may take a seat, there, if you like." She pointed to an elegant and seldom used chair before Maglor's desk.

"Thank you," he said, but did not sit. Instead he made his way around the room, perusing the sculptures, the books and artwork decorating the walls. When he reached her desk he turned his attention on her, and it made Eruanna uncomfortable. She was well aware that her eyes showed signs of her earlier upset.

"Is there something wrong?" she asked without looking up.

The ellon frowned. "I was about to ask you the same question."

"I'm fine," Eruanna replied, but she was certain her guest was not convinced. He continued to watch her and Eruanna grew nervous under his steady gaze. She invented an excuse to rise from her desk and flee to the adjoining room where the files she and Maglor handled were archived.

The ellon followed her to the doorway. He leaned against the frame and watched her as she pretended to search for something in the stacks. "How is it you came to work with Makalaurë?" he asked. "I was under the impression that most in the palace do their best to avoid him. Did you draw the short straw?"

Eruanna laughed at his question. "Not quite," she said. "The king asked me if I would work with Maglor … and I said yes." She pulled a book off the shelf.

"Thinking better of that decision now, though," he said as she passed him.

Eruanna frowned before she could stop herself. She hated when others read her so easily. "Maybe," she said, "a little." Eruanna returned to her seat. She could feel the ellon's eyes still upon her and dared not lift hers from her desk.

He spoke again, after a time, words Eruanna was not expecting to hear. "He had a gentle soul, in his youth, like his mother. I would imagine he keeps it well guarded these days, behind walls of fire and stone, if it has not been destroyed completely."

Eruanna lifted her eyes to find the ellon staring out the window, though she doubted the garden was where his attentions lie. "You seem to know a lot about Maglor," Eruanna said.

"I did … once," he replied and took a seat on the sill.

A companionable silence fell between them and Eruanna returned to her work. She managed to complete three contracts by one hour after noon. It was on her third trip to the archive that Maglor returned. She heard the door open and rushed back to the office in hopes of avoiding his wrath. She reached the doorway just as he stepped inside.

Maglor was about to call for Eruanna, but when he spotted the ellon sitting behind his desk, he went mute.

"Hello Makalaurë," the ellon said and smiled.

Maglor blinked as if he thought his eyes deceived him. When he realized they had not, he withdrew a step, preparing himself for a quick retreat. "Grandfather," he whispered.

Mahtan rose from his seat. "It has been a long time, child," he said. "I have missed you."

Maglor said nothing, merely continued to stare at his grandfather with what Eruanna could only describe as abject terror. Mahtan stepped forward, drew a letter from his pocket, and held it out to Maglor. "I bring word from one who has waited long for your return."

Maglor looked down at the letter but did not reach for it. He seemed to choke on the air. He began to tremble. He closed his eyes.

Mahtan closed the distance between them so he stood a mere arm's length away. He reached out a hand to Maglor and touched the side of his face as if to wake him. "Will you not speak to me, songbird?"

A strangled sob rent the air in answer to Mahtan's plea. Maglor lifted his hands to shield his face, but nothing could hold back the tide rising up to drown him. He gasped for breath before his knees gave way.

Mahtan caught his grandson in his arms a second before he fell. He lowered Maglor to the ground and held him as he wept for the first time in thousands of years. "Let go, child," he whispered, "let go."

Eruanna witnessed this scene from the doorway of the adjoining room. She had no choice. There was only one way out of Maglor's study and that was through the front door. Eruanna didn't know what Maglor would do if she revealed her presence now, but she knew it was wrong to remain hidden. She entered the room and crossed it quietly. Her eyes met Mahtan's briefly as she passed, but Maglor continued to weep in his grandfather's arms and took no notice of her as she slipped past him and out the door.