Susan was a lady, a queen to be specific, and she kept her temper under control. No matter how much she wanted to. Bad enough that Lucy had derailed another lesson on the classical dance styles of Calmoren by bursting into some kind of jig thing. Now Maglor had not shown up to her archery practice.
Sure it's not like he'd promised he'd be there, but he took even off hand comments pretty seriously, and she'd been looking forward to working on her form.
Instead she was walking through the halls of Cair Paravel, not in a temper, in a less than ideal mood. She was a dignified queen of Narnia, and she would comport herself so. When she saw Maglor she'd tell him off. Politely, and with dignity.
Where would he be? She'd already checked his room, and asked her siblings and everyone she met who worked here. Nobody knew where he was. He wasn't in the music hall, the library, the armory, the smithy or any of his usual haunts.
Susan's emotions were getting stronger. Not anger, naturally, but something else, something like irritation but more intense. Like anger, but obviously not anger. Her face kept wanting to pull into a scowl, but she managed to avoid it.
Maglor had not even been in the forest. The Dryads had not seen him all day, and they were very annoying about it. Sighing about missing 'proper words' and the one who 'spoke of the great trees of elder days'. What a great tree was, let alone the concept of 'elder days' they proved frustratingly vague.
Strangely, when she finally walked to the beach, she found no one there. No mermaids, no gulls, not even a faun skiving off work. In frustration, queen Susan, who would in future days be called the gentle, stooped and picked up a shell. She bounced it in her hand once, twice, then with a great scream of rage she hurled it into the ocean.
Immediately, she felt embarrassed, it wasn't exactly ladylike and she felt as childish as Lucy. She glanced around hoping no one saw, only to notice the target of her anger walking towards her. With a fierce glare, she started towards him.
"Your majesty, what causes you such rage?" Maglor asked as she came into earshot.
"You!" She exclaimed.
Then she paused and took a breath.
"You." She hissed. "Bad enough that you don't show up to archery practise like you said, then you have the utter gall to just up and disappear! I've been looking all over for you, and nobody seemed to know where you are."
Maglor had the utter gall to be surprised. He looked from her to the sun, then finally adopted an appropriately apologetic and sheepish look.
"I see, my apologies." He said softly. "I had meant to come, but I grew distracted by the sea, and lost track of time."
"What on earth is so distracting about the sea?" Susan asked sarcastically. "Is it the way that it is alway there? Or the fact that it cannot shoot arrows?"
"Again, forgive me, your majesty." Maglor said, still speaking quite softly. "It is a personal matter that I should not have allowed myself to grow so engrossed in. I hope you can forgive me."
Truth be told, Susan's anger was rather undercut by how readily he apologised and how strangely withdrawn he seemed. He did not seem quite so tall, and his dark hair seemed to hang somehow lifeless. Even that strange light in his eyes seemed at a low ebb, showing the dark colour more clearly than usual.
"Well, since you have grovelled sufficiently for our amusement. We shall forgive you." She said imperiously.
No smile, not even a twitch of the lip. "Your majesty is too kind."
Susan turned away. "Well, there is still some light left and I do need to practise. Are you coming with me?"
She did not see Maglor's longing glance at the sea, nor the resolve that firmed in his eyes, but she did hear his response. "I suppose I have some time, your majesty."
From there things seemed mostly normal for a while. Perhaps Maglor was not so quick with to jest or tease, but he had always had days like that. Still, Susan found herself worried. After she finished a quiver, she decided to speak on the matter.
"In hindsight." She admitted carefully. "I may have overreacted, I mean it's not like you promised or anything."
"There is a saying among the Holy Ones." Maglor said. "Thou shalt not swear oaths, rather, let thy yea be yea, and thy nay, nay. All else is falsehood in pleasing garb."
The young queen raised an eyebrow, but otherwise said nothing to the strange change of speech pattern. "Perhaps, still, my anger was born more of annoyance at trying to find you, and I should not have taken it out on you."
"I maintain that it is unnecessary, but your apology is accepted." Maglor replies.
Susan rolled her eyes. "The dwarves are right, you are an ungrateful so and so."
The tall elf just chuckled in response. Susan smiled, glad that her teacher/friend was feeling better.
"What's so special about the sea anyway?" She asked as she retrieved her arrows. "I guess it's pretty but not enough to stare at for hours."
It was fortunate that she was turning around, because otherwise should would have missed the brief flash of utter despair that crossed the elf's face. Then, like a cloud passing the sun it vanished and he smiled faintly.
"Ah, my people have ever loved the sea, though the Followers of Finwë less than the Foam Riders admittedly." He said lightly. "It is in our blood. Partly it is the love of Ulmo, mostly it is that our hearts year for Elvenhome in the west, beyond the setting sun."
Susan was tempted to ask. Maglor rarely spoke about his home or his people. Even calling him an elf got a strange smile from him. No. Based on that expression he tried to hide, the comment was a deflection and she wasn't going to stand for it.
"That's not the whole story, is it?" She asked. "When I first asked, you looked so sad, and it's not like you to neglect to show up somewhere because you're doing something you like."
"I did say that a greater part than love is the yearning for home." Maglor replied evenly. "Home is barred to me, and I cannot return there however I yearn for it. Perhaps I lost myself in grief over that."
"Did you?" Susan pressed. "If you did, then fine, but I want you to tell me the truth. Why were you so sad, what was it about the sea that made you lose track of time?"
For a long moment, Maglor was silent, then he sighed.
"No. In truth, it is part habit, part true grief." He sighed again. "It is a long and unpleasant tale, one I would rather not speak of yet."
Susan bit her lip in worry. "Well, is there anything you can tell me? I, I just want to help if I can, even if it's just listening."
Maglor stilled, staring off into the distance. For the first time in a while, he looked old. It was strange, given the apparent youth of his face; but in the cast of his expression and the way he held himself, he briefly appeared as a bent old man.
"I have told you I had seven brothers." He said at last, softly. "We, well, it is a long tale as I said, but we did terrible things, seeking to reclaim jewels of our fathers. Yet, in they end, I stood alone. Every brother I had was dead, and the bitter irony? In our quest to retrieve them, our father's jewels were destroyed."
"I see." Susan didn't understand how that linked to the sea, but she felt sorry for the elf. "That's, well I understand why that might be a little distracting."
Maglor gave her a faint smile. "The worst part is, I think, that I do not remember how long it has been since I last saw them. I wandered in grief for a long time, whether it was years, or centuries or perhaps even longer, I do not know."
That did not sound healthy. Susan felt bad for Maglor, she really did, but at the same time she worried. Worried that he was going to hurt himself, or already had by just walking away. Perhaps one day she would search and he would not be waiting at the beach.
"Perhaps, but I don't think that matters." She said carefully. "While you should obviously feel sad that they're dead, I don't think they'd be upset that you don't remember how long it has been since you saw them."
Maglor barked a short, bitter laugh. "No, I don't think they would. In fact, I rather think several of them would scold me harshly for moping."
The elf's face slowly morphed into a bittersweet smile as he spoke.
Susan took a deep breath, and took the risk. "Maybe they'd have a point."
The look Maglor gave her was difficult to describe, the complex mix of emotions it portrayed more than she could decipher.
Susan met his gaze unflinchingly and continued. "It's not that you can't be sad, that's stupid. But maybe just standing staring at the sea isn't a good way to deal with it. Maybe next time you're feeling sad you should do something else."
"Something else?" Maglor asks darkly.
"Yes." Desperately she wracked her brain. "Grandma used to draw. Or maybe you could cry. I know adults don't, but sometimes when I'm sad I feel better after I do."
Almost immediately she realised what she just said and her cheeks flamed. It took an effort of supreme discipline to not hide her face in her hands or run away like a little girl.
"Adults weep." Maglor said kindly. "Tears are not evil, and should not be avoided. Never feel lesser for what you feel, it is something no one can control."
Not willing to be distracted, Susan said, "You don't though."
This time Maglor's look was familiar. It was one she had seen her parents give her and Lucy many times. She's not sure what it means, just that it was full of an odd combination of love, sorrow and amusement.
"I fear I have shed all the tears I have to shed." He said, with a bitter twist to his lips. "Tears unnumbered in point of fact."
"Well, maybe try drawing, or some other hobby?" Susan tried.
"I write songs, I did write one in my grief." He says quietly. "The Lament for the Noldor."
"Have you written anything since, though?" She countered.
Maglor was silent for a long span of time. Then he turned and pulled an arrow from the target.
"Come." He said. "We should practise while it is still light."
Weeks and months passed, and Queen Susan thought of other matters. She did not forget that quiet conversation at the archery range, but she did not press her teacher on it either. If, perhaps, she had a small network of gulls who agreed to tell her if Maglor ever left the castle, that was her business.
One day, as the sun sank in the sky, she came across Maglor in an isolated room, surrounded by paper and instruments.
"Your majesty." He started, papers scattering in all directions. "I apologise, I did not realise this room was in use."
Queen Susan raised her book with a kind smile. "I was merely looking for somewhere to read. Might I ask what you are doing?"
"Ah, I am trying to write a song." He admitted sheepishly. "It isn't going very well. I can't quite get the sound right."
"Oh?" Susan replied, concealing her feeling of vindication. "What is it about?"
"The sea." He replied. "I'm trying to write a song that captures the feelings it gives my people. It's, harder than it used to be."
"These things take time." Susan said softly. "Grandma used to draw pictures of grandpa. She was never happy with them either, she used to say they were too sad."
Maglor's smile was forced but secretly Susan appreciated the effort. "Well, it seems I'm in good company."
The queen nodded once and pointed at a comfy chair. "Well, I'm going to read my book there, let me know if I'm in your way or you need help with anything."
Thus, her evening was filled with the stuttering first steps of what is now called the Mermaid's Call. While it would be said, in later days, that no music would ever call someone to go to sea, to sail or swim so fiercely, it began in that room with sour notes and slow fumbling rhythms.