Hello! I got some ideas while seeing a documentary, so this new fic was born. Enjoy it!
The Lord of the Rings and the Silmarillion are from J.R.R. Tolkien.
Three Times Daeron nearly drowned and one he came home
"When the hell did I thought this was a good idea?" asked himself Daeron, playing a violin as his ship, one the edain thought unsinkable, plummeted towards the deeps of the ocean. And why? Because that damn woman he stalked in London was going to board it looked a lot like Luthien. Cordelia was her name, he found out with time, and she had no idea who her lookalike was. He later discovered that she was some minor noblewoman descendant from Gondor, so of the doriathrim princess herself, hence the likeness, but her massive attitude dismissed the charm immediately.
"It was a good pay" one of his fellow musicians answered, not knowing what else to say. Or the elf´s true reasons to board that ship. The poor minstrel looked again over the board how the smaller ships were escaping the bigger one with mostly women and children. He was sure he could swim to one of them, given that they didn´t move too apart but…
"How long do you think we have once we hit the freezing water?" questioned one of the others. The sindar made the calculations in his head. The edain didn´t have much, having been made fragile by Ilúvatar, but him… he was a different history. Elves were stronger physically, after all.
"Oh, not much, just a few minutes, if the force of the ship didn´t sink us first" the one with the chello said, not wanting to sugarcoat the truth. "It´s simple, we got down, dragged by this big monstrosity, and never surface again. At least not in this life."
"How bad, and me who wanted to reunite with my wife" the other violinist said, never stopping playing. This amazed him, the strength these men had to keep calm and continue bringing it to the terrified passengers, despite being in a hopeless situation. Perhaps if he had known this before, he wouldn´t have underestimated Beren.
He sighed, adding his voice to the music a second after. It was one of his songs to Luthien, his way of saying goodbye to the woman that still haunted his dreams despite being dead for several centuries now. Being in the body of one of her own descendants or in an echo in his memory, she never left him. he knew the humans didn´t understand him, as he was singing in a language long lost to them, but they instinctually understood that he was doing so for the woman he loved. For Cordelia, many would think, having seen how he looked at her in the ballroom or dinning room, but he knew those tears belonged to Luthien. Only to Luthien, the Unreachable.
Not for the first time, he lamented not having departed with the other elves to the shores of Aman, where he could see his cousin Mablung again or perhaps even Thingol or Dior. He once saw Dior Elúchil from afar, admiring the result of Beren and Luthien´s love. He was not as pretty as his mother, but the elven beauty was incredibly well balanced with the human traits he carried. He was, in one word, beautiful. As a product of true love should be. Too bad he had to depart the world before his deeds as a king were heard all over the world. Damn kinslayers for their thirst for the Silmarils.
Thinking about the Kinslayings led him to the Feanorians, famous kinslayers, three of them slew in his homeland. All of them were dead by now… or perhaps not. Maglor could still be out there, singing his sorrows to the sea like Daeron himself to the shadows. Last time the two minstrels found each other, they shouted insults at the other before singing a duet about lost lives and depart like friends. The sindar later found out that the Feanorian went to the other side of the Pacific, leaving him there. Never again got a notice of Maglor… was he even still alive? He should make sure when… if he arrived in America.
"That was beautiful" said one of his companions said, with tears in his eyes. "I don´t know what to say, but if your girl had some sense…"
"Girl? What girl?" another one questioned, not stopping with his hands. He never paid attention to anything but the music, much like Daeron himself when he was young, so he never noticed his longing looks to Cordelia. "Never knew that you have a girlfriend, Dickie. Or is it wife?"
"He was shooting weird looks at a noble girl all the time during dinners" other musician answered, looking mischievously at him. "Even regaled her with a serenade one night. Too bad girls like that doesn´t look at guys like us."
"Yes, too bad, buddie"
"She is not the only I´m singing to" answered the minstrel, finally opening his heart to the others. "That girl, Cordelia I think, only looks like her. The woman of my live has been dead for several years now."
"Woow, I´m sorry"
"Don´t be, she chose another man…" he admitted, surprising the others. He was breathtakingly beautiful and the girl chose another man? "All my live, I have been pinning for a woman who married another, spurning me in the process." He shook his head. "Well, I suppose I deserved it. I made a lot of trouble for her, trying to separate them."
"Really?" a sound told the men that their time was nearly over, as the ship tore in half. "Gentlemen, it was a pleasure to play with you tonight" said the leader of the orchestra. Then he dedicated a few words to each of them. "Dickie, I hope you reunite with your girl on the other side."
"Daeron" he answered, surprising them all. "My true name is Daeron" they all looked dumbfounded. It was true that they all knew Dick Turner was not his true name but to learn it now… it was surprising. "And I know I won´t"
"Then let´s meet each other again"
"I know I won´t" after all, elves went to Mandos Halls until their rebirth. "But I will sing about your accomplishment here all the eternity."
"That´s enough then" their goodbyes were cut short again, as the ship finally dragged them under the water and to the deeps. Daeron swim for his life, not wanting to end there. As he thought, he managed to resurface, surrounded by bodies of the passengers, and shivered. Never the cold has been a problem before… but he never found himself stranded on one of the iciest places in the sea. He looked around for other survivors… nothing. Nothing at all. He remained afloat for some time hearing nothing more than the ragged breath of the ship´s survivor, fewer as the minutes passed.
"Is there someone else alive?!" someone yelled somewhere near him. Freezing cold and not knowing what else to do, the elf grabbed started to make sounds, to call the attention of the sailors. Finally, a boat stopped in front of him, lifting him from his icy prison. He was then taken to a larger ship, where blankets and other warm things were given to the survivors.
"Mister, a name?" one of the sailors asked.
"Dick Turner" he answered, biting a piece of bread. He lifted his eyes and found himself staring at Cordelia´s, who was on the upper level, in the arms of a young gentleman. She was smiling so prettily, just as the Tinúviel when she stared at her beloved´s eyes. He smiled sadly. "That Luthien already found her Beren."
"What, sir?"
"Oh, nothing, it´s only a story I knew from somewhere…"
"Then can you tell it to the children?" asked the sailor, a bit nervous. "Many of them are orphaned from one or two parents now and their cries turn some people crazy. The widows would be glad for the chance to rest and cry themselves, at least for a moment, before returning to their children´s sides."
"Of course" Daeron said, looking for something to distract himself, even if it was the history of Beren and Luthien, the couple guilty of his stranded situation. Anyway, he sat himself in front of the children and started to narrate with his musical voice, cultivated from years of being a minstrel and loremaster. "In a faraway land, lived a King that was admired by everybody he met. He had a wife, a real angel descended from heavens, and a daughter who was claimed to be the most beautiful being on creation. Her name was…"
-Years later-
"Why does the damn ocean hates me?" asked Daeron, possibly a Ossë, trying his best to keep himself on the ship as it sunk into the deeps. When he took the ship Empress of Ireland from Quebec after finding some clues of his friend Maglor, he just wanted a good trip, not a remember of the Titanic. But, unfortunately, the Valar had other plans for him. like sending him to meet Ulmo before going to Mandos.
And talking about Makalaurë, it seemed like the Feanorian found himself in a good amount of trouble on his own. During his two years stay in the States and Canada, the sindar found out that the other musician made himself a home with the puritans in Salem. Why? He didn´t know. Perhaps he was actively searching for death, because that was the single most dangerous place for an elf in the entire continent. Anyway, he was judged for witchcraft under the name Mark Minstrel and condemned to be hanged. The story would have died there with him and Daeron would have never found a trace from him if not for the singular history that happened after that.
Apparently, when Mark Minstrel was about to be hanged, a flying ship descended from the skies and snatched him from puritan hands in front of the crowds demanding his blood. A flying ship handled apparently by long haired, pointed eared things that made the inhabitants of Salem even more scared of witchcraft. And rabid, of course. The doriathrim shook his head when he heard that. What was Earendil thinking? Why would he rescue Kannafinwë between all the people? The Feanorians destroyed his family… or did they not? As far as he knew, the noldor prince had taken the heirs of Dior as sons and raised them. Perhaps the blond felt some kind of debt towards him.
Well, he wasn´t going to psychoanalyse the man. Or his wife. Or anyone on that family.
Anyway, as he didn´t find himself with much work on earth, he took a job at a Transatlantic. He didn´t mind to go back to Europe, after all he could buy tea leaves in Liverpool before setting off to America again. He liked Earl Grey more than the American strand. But now he was here, left to fend for himself in the waters of the Atlantic if he didn´t manage to reach one of the boats. Well, at least he was an elf. And his situation was not as desperate as in the Titanic incident. He turned to see the SS Storstad, the ship with which the Empress had collided in the dense fog.
Why did he boarded that ship again? The work… no, that was not the true reason. As with the Titanic, his true reason had less to do with work and more to do with HER. A girl he saw getting a job on the Empress was Luthien´s likeness, even more than Cordelia. Mya, who had the same sweetness of the princess and nothing of the stuck-up attitude of the other noblewoman. A shame that she had also found her Beren before even meeting Daeron.
"Valar, if I get out of this, I promise I won´t even think about Luthien anymore" he promised, reading himself for a direct hit with the water. "I won´t importunate her anymore in death. She could be with her Beren in peace… please. Just… I just want to see Mablung and my family again."
Ulmo must have heard him, because the elf didn´t drown. He was rescued by one of the ships and managed to get to Liverpool without being eaten by sharks. After that, he told himself that he wouldn´t board another ship in a few years, followed the investigation and made a live for himself in England… at least until the World War that destroyed nearly everything. Then he marched back to America… on a plane. Everything but a ship.
-Years later-
"Why the hell did I came back to a ship? Haven´t I learned with the last two?" Daeron found himself in a sinking ship for the third time, after having finished a mission with the American Navy. Life was hard for singers during war times, especially ones that were not big shot stars (mostly out of choice, because he could have beaten any of those youngsters to Mandos and back), so he ended up enrolling in the last days of the war, only to end in the USS Indianapolis transporting the Atomic Bomb… and sinking into the shark infested ocean. "I hate wars"
He managed to reach a floating box and pull himself inside before the fish got a bite out of him, praying to Ossë, Ulmo and whoever else he managed to remember not to die in the ocean. He was tired of it trying to claim him, so he promised never to put a foot on it again if he managed to reach whatever port safely. Whatever… COUGH!
"Are you alright?" he woke up violently spitting water over a maiden near him. She didn´t seem to mind, as she had been trying to revive him for several minutes now. Her tunic was soaking wet, a nice white thing Daeron felt ashamed of ruining. He lifted his eyes to look at his saviour´s face, then he was muted. "I found you washed ashore, all wet and in that strange clothing. Tell me, are you form Alqualonde?"
"Alqualonde?" he parroted, not knowing what else to say.
"Yes… well, you look more sindar than teleri, but I´m not going to judge" the girl helped him to get on his feet. "Did your ship capsized in Alquolonde or Tol Eressa? Because I can take you…"
"Luthien?" the minstrel finally managed to ask, not being able to keep it in for longer. He had not thought about the ancient princess in quite a long time, but this girl was so much like her that he couldn´t help but ask. Much more than Cordelia the noblewoman or Mya the waitress. She raised an eyebrow, looking straight at him.
"Did you know my great grandmother?"
"Great grandmother?" the elf looked around himself, not believing what he was seeing. He was in Aman. After all that time, he was finally on the Undying Lands with the other elves, never to be alone again. "Are you Dior´s granddaughter?" she nodded. "But… Dior only had two grandsons"
"That was before the War of Wrath" the girl explained, looking uncomfortable for a change. How did he managed to live in Aman and not hear the greatest scandal in centuries? "Earendil and Elwing had me after my two older brothers disowned them as parents. I was born here." She then motioned for him to follow her. "My mother´s tower is near, would you like to accompany me there?"
"Yes…" then he noticed something. "What is your name?"
"Baradwen" she answered. "Baradwen Earendilien"
The walked together back to Elwing´s Tower, with Daeron eyeing the girl like she was a wonder, making her uncomfortable. They managed to arrive to a white tower near the sea, one where screams could be heard from. Baradwen shook her head, apparently in defeat, as the argument inside escalated quickly.
"He should know better than to come at this hour" she said, as a dark haired elf was seeing exiting the place, making a loud bang as he closed the door. It was Lord Elrond. "Good day"
"Good for you, perhaps" he answered, going straight to his horse and galloping away.
"What happened here?" asked the doriathrim bard, not understanding. Elrond should be delighted to have his parents again in his life, all four of them… or perhaps not. Maybe he still had some issues with his mother. After all, the woman abandoned him to death. And didn´t him disowned both Earendil and Elwing?
"Maglor managed to convince, blackmail or emotionally guilty trip him into reassuming his relationship with our parents for both him and Elros, but, as you realised, it ended badly when he put it clear that he wanted an apology for being abandoned and Elwing stated that she won´t apologise to anyone. The situation is… dire, when ada is not close to act as a buffer between them" the maiden said, sighing. This was of public knowledge, why didn´t he knew it? "Why didn´t you know?"
"Excuse me?"
"With the screams that could be heard in both Sindarin and quenya, everybody from here to Tirion knows about my family problems. For Mandos, the news reached even Formenos and that place is nearly closed to the rest of the world. So why don´t you know?"
"I, well…"
"Daeron!" someone collided with him with a force that nearly knocked him to the ground. He looked at the person that dared to do that to him and his eyes became full of tears. It was someone he had dearly missed. "Mablung…"
"It was about time, cousin!" the other elf said, holding him tight. Noticing the happy family reunion, Baradwen took her leave. She had a mother to calm down, after all. "What were you doing in Arda so many centuries? Even Maglor reached Aman before you!"
"So I have heard" he answered, happy, embracing his cousin once more. "Then, how are thing going here? Are all of Doriath alive now? Is Elu Thingol reigning or has Dior taken charge?"
"Why don´t you find out by yourself? Let me take you home" holding his hand, the former marchwarden guided him to the new Doriath, where most of his formerly dead friends and acquaintances were. He got effusive greeting from everybody, even from complete strangers born in Sirion, which turned after some minutes in demands for him to sing his most famous lays. He complied after Elwë himself asked him to and received the applauses that he had been secretly craving in the human world for his art.
"I saw you were getting very friendly with Baradwen over there. Tell me, cousin" said Mablung, after he managed to recover his kinsman. "doesn´t she look like Princess Luthien?" Daeron got very red, knowing that he meant with that smile. "Do you like her?"
"It would be a mistake to court her just because she looks like the…"
"Oh, give her two weeks and she will show you she is nothing like the princess. But anyway, I think she might be perfect for you." The marchwarden looked at him with a fun expression. "Are you planning to marry anytime soon?"
"Mablung!" could be heard in all the place.
-Months later-
"Sorry for making you wait, but… news travel slowly to Formenos" said Maglor, drinking the tea Daeron offered him. The two musicians finally sat down together to talk like civilized people, despite the animosity that still existed between the doriathrim and the feanorians. "Came here as soon as Elrond told me that you were here, courting his sister."
"Is she still his sister? Because your son made it pretty clear you are his and his twin´s father" the other shot him a look. "And last time I escorted Baradwen home, he was having a screaming match with Elwing for all Aman to hear."
"That couldn´t be avoided. If only she apologizes…" the noldor shook his head, making some of his hair ornaments cling. "Anyway, what news do you have from the human world? Last ones were when Elrond rescued me in the Vingoliant from those crazy edain of Salem. That was the craziest thing in the world."
"Wait, Elrond? Don´t you mean Earendil?"
"No, Elrond" he looked somewhat entertained. "Had he not risked his neck, I would have considered the thing fun, but…" the other was very eager to hear, perhaps to write a new song in those new tunes that captivated the public in both Aman and the human world. "Why don´t we exchange a new for another? That way we both get information and inspiration."
"Deal" Daeron said. "I almost sank three times"
"Ossë must hate you" the prince shrugged. "Fingon moved to Formenos with Maedhros"
"And you father didn´t throw a fit?" there was no answer. "Okay, fine, I was almost eaten by sharks the third time."
"I spent almost my entire trip to Aman tied to a mast…"
How did you like my history for Daeron? I already planned another drabble to explain what happened to poor Maglor in Salem. I wanted to do something with the witch trials with him, because I read a fic about him being present for a witch execution in England and I wanted to try something like it. Well, poor Daeron now is trying to pull the history from Makalaurë and Maglor from him, both searching for inspiration for a song. Whose do you think would be better? Review!