Sirielle asked for a drabble about Maglor's fate after the last awful line in The Silmarillion. Since it is her birthday and also the holidays, I have given her several versions.
The first is a double-drabble that considers the whimsy of and lessons learned from the Eldar.
He closed the book with a snap. "That is it," he said. "The history of the Eldar."
The girl glanced up at her tutor. Disappointment gleamed in her eyes. "But I do believe that you've forgotten a bit," she said. She was a smart girl with straight shoulders and a forward way about her, but she was used to getting what she wanted. Mystique, romance: she was at the age for fairy stories, for frozen princesses and wicked queens.
And lost princes.
But her tutor only smiled. "I have not forgotten a single word. The texts you have read are secret, granted not even to kings. Yet I have found them for you. They contain all that is known."
The girl thought about this. She stared out the window. It was winter, and the light off the snow made her face look graven, aged.
"But what about Maglor?" she blurted out finally. Eyes widened, smile youthful and naïve, the illusion was ruined.
"There is nothing to know." He gathered the book into his arms, "and so I do not teach it." He strode from the room before she looked too deeply into his face. Before his own illusion was ruined.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.