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THE FICTION:

 

House, M.D.
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Stella Bridges Arc (German!)
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Dies Irae - Tag des Zorns
Webfehler
Alexander
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Standalone (German)
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Lord of the Rings
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Composer's Block
Istari Love
You Can Still Be Free
Too Much
Elven Breeze
Where the Light Is Brightest
Composer's Block

 

Matrix
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Diamond Cycle:
Diamond's Way pt.1
Diamond's Way pt.2
Down Below
Karma
Lost and Found

 

Standalone Stories:
Into the Dark
Delirious
On New Grounds
Transition

 

C.S.I
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Fallen Angel
Angeldust
When Angels Travel (WIP)

 

Queer as Folk
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Watching the Watcher
  
  

Where the Light is Brightest

 

Disclaimer: this installment is for the sole purpose of entertainment both the author and the readers.
I do not intent to make money of it, so please don't sue me.
All characters unless noted otherwise are the property of J.R.R. Tolkien.

This is the answer to the Lindir-List's Arpil-Challenge, pick-a-plot.
I was given Lindir-Maeglin and a bale of hay. This is what I made of it. Maybe somebody is going to vote for me.
This is not a happy-end-story.

Beta-read by Cara, all remaining mistakes are intended and for the amusement of the valued reader.

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Where the Light Is Brightest.

AN: Slightly AU Takes place in II, 3 (third year of the Second Age) in Lindon. Rest of the notes at the end of the story - they would spoil the story.

~~~

I kept torturing myself.

Ever since the Valar had - in their immeasurable wrath - destroyed my beloved Beleriand I came to this remote place in the foothills of the Ered Lindon. I kept staring towards the West where there was nothing but the Sea and while my tears fell unchecked, I tried to picture the lands that had been there before.

Ai, How sweet had Beleriand been! Now all that is left is that small strip of land, now called Lindon between the mountains and the new shores of the Sea.

The Sea.

I hated it!

I hated to see all this water. They kept telling me that it had been a small price to pay for the certainty that Melkor would never return to Arda. They may have had reason in saying so, but I still suffered from what was taken away from us.

Whenever I sat there, on that sun-kissed hill and stared out into the open where the sun danced on wave after wave, blinding my tearful eyes, my songs would not be songs of joy. Only sad words would pour from my lips, sad notes spill from my harp and together they would trickle down to the plains like rivulets of sorrow.

I thought I would never feel happiness again.

Then, at the end of Laer in the third year of the Second Age something very strange happened. Something that at first scared me a lot:

I sat on my usual place and suddenly had the feeling of being watched. Not being a great warrior and having nothing but my harp with me, I decided to return to the slowly growing village I then called my home. I was afraid it might have been some orc or other evil creature that had survived the terrible slaughter of the last War.

Yet I craved to return soon after and again, after I had sung for a while, I could not shake the feeling of being watched once more.

"Who are you?" I called as I stood, looking around me. "Show yourself for only a coward with an evil mind would hide the way you do!"

The silence after my words was of an eerie quality. I suddenly panicked, grabbed my harp and bolted down the hills, never looking back or slowing down until I reached my little hut.

Until today I cannot tell you why I returned to that place after that day. Yet, I did so. And when I next came to that patch of grass I found flowers there! Withered, for it had been almost I week since I had last been there. A small bouquet of wildflowers it was, bound together with a braided band of grass, now brittle from the sun.

And so it went on for quite a while. Whenever I came there were flowers waiting, later, when Iavas came it changed to seeds of grass, then collections of beautifully colored leaves came. In my home the gifts filled bowls and vases and mugs and my curiosity grew with each passing day.

Who was this secret admirer of mine?

For I was certain, without wanting to appear vain, that this had to be the solution. I regarded my fellow-elves with different eyes, trying to find out who it might be. To no avail.

 

At mid-Iavas I saw him for the first time. I was shocked at the first glance: he looked more like a wild beast to me than an elf with his hair down to his thighs, unkempt and with leaves in it, his clothes hanging in rags from his haggard form. And in his hand - lo! He held a gathering of the most perfectly shaped, vividly colored leaves.

"Thank you for your gifts." I said after I had overcome the first shock. Certainly he wanted me no harm, otherwise he would not have waited for so long and bothered to find me such sweet gifts. "Please, sit with me."

He inched closer. Never before did I see a hind more alert than he was, a rabbit more scared than him as he - step after slow step - neared me. A dirty, scarred hand reached out to offer me the newest bouquet. I in return stretched out my hand ever so slowly to accept it. Our fingers almost touched but he flinched and pulled away as if being bitten.

"That is very beautiful, thank you." I tried not to look into his eyes like one would do with an animal. "I keep all of your gifts at home. I take it you like my music?" from the corner of my eyes I caught a nod.

"Then I shall sing for you again." I did as promised until the sun set, bleeding into the Sea before it finally died. The strange elf had not spoken a single word all these hours. "I have to go home, my silent friend. I bid you a good night." As I rose, he shyly touched my hand and was gone like a shadow. I wondered if this creature was probably an Avarin elf?

 

The next days were very busy with several weddings and I had to play there so that I was hindered from going uphill. When I finally returned I thought I saw him standing on an outlook. Was he waiting for me? It seemed so because when I neared my usual place he approached from the other side. "Mae govannen, my friend." I bowed and greeted him. "I brought you some food." I offered him a few of the leftovers from the last feast. He took it and greedily stuffed his face. He must have been hungry and I wondered how he survived for he did not seem to own any weapons. Again I sang for him. Before long I saw tears roll down his face. My words touched him like any other elf and I was more and more intrigued.

It went on like this for a week. Then I decided to try and approach him. I had brought my comb with me and after a bit of talking - it was obvious that although he refused to speak he very well understood every word I said - he nodded, allowing me to comb and untangle his hair. It was a dreary work but in the end I had managed to even put a few braids in! "You look much better, my friend. Too bad you have no mirror!"

Indeed he had a handsome face. If he would clean himself and gain some weight, I was certain he would be quite successful at courting whoever he wanted.

His hand hard calloused snatched my wrist and pulled. First I started but he immediately released me and so I decided to reach out again and see what he wanted me to see. He took my hand and led me along a barely visible path that led in the end to a small cave. The entrance was sheltered by hazels. Inside was nothing except a pile of fresh hay, two or three more bales stored away at the far side. He disappeared in the darkness of that hole, for it was nothing but that. Upon his return he carried a shard of a looking-glass in his hand and now used it to give my work a thorough mustering.

 

"If you'd wash off that grime, you'd be almost beautiful to behold, friend." I traced the lines of his face with my fingertips and felt him shiver under my touch. He lowered the glass, stared at me with his fathomless eyes and I swear he blushed under all that dirt!

"Wait." He croaked. I was so surprised that I almost missed the sound's meaning. I had been sure this one could not speak for whatever reason. Well, I had been wrong! Mouth agape I watched him disappear. What was he up to?

Ten minutes later I knew it: he had bathed somewhere! Dripping wet, naked and almost clean he came trotting back. My heart ached for him for he was over and over covered with terrible scars! He must have suffered a lot to carry those. I couldn't help myself to touch him for he was beautiful despite all the scars and meagerness.

He gasped as he felt my hands on him. I had felt drawn to him all those days, the mystery that was around him had positively captured me and when I now learned how easy it was to seduce him....

Deprived from physical contact as he was, he came long before I had even looked at his member. A brush of my hand against his nipple had been enough. He climaxed with a keening wail, his seed falling to the ground.

His hunger was not stilled and mine only awoken so we soon found ourselves a tangle of limbs on that disintegrating bale of sweet smelling hay. He obviously did his best to be gentle but he failed mostly. I did not mind. Despite being not a very strong elf, I do not object rough partners. And my friend was so sweet in his gestures, I would forgive him a lot of lapses. Only when he wanted to take me dry and unprepared did I stop him.

All I needed was a soft touch of my hand against his chest and he yielded immediately. I was amazed at the display of his will to make it good for me. He had a bit of grease for a lamp and I told him how to prepare me properly. He was a fast learner and soon had me writhing and begging for more. He was gentle as he breached my barrier but soon after he lost control and took me hard and fast, his hand pumping me as he kept thrusting deeper and deeper into me. When he came, he grunted my name and that almost made me cry...

 

Head over heels I fell in love with the mysterious elf. I visited more often, almost every other day. We always made love in that nest of hay that he had certainly stolen from our village some time sooner. For the first time in years I was happy again. I bought him clothes and food whenever I could afford doing so. He still refused to talk, never told me his name.

"I love the way you say 'friend' to me. I would like to think of that as my name." it was one of his longest speeches he ever made during our bitter-sweet love-affair. To my dismay I could not convince him to come down to our village. I would have loved to share my little house with him but he was adamant in refusing. Again he never gave me a reason for his actions and I was too infatuated with our rather fresh love to question him overly. All I knew was that he carried a deep sadness with him, a pain that seemed to go deeper than any other feeling he had. I wanted to change that!

Winter. Solstice came and I woke to noisy chaos. Despite the early hours the whole village seemed to be in uproar. Countless torches and lamps lit up the central square. People were angry, that much I could tell from their yelling. I quickly dressed and ran outside, forcing my way through the throng until I reached the inner circle.

My beloved stood there. Nay, he was held by several warriors in a cruel grip, his body twisted painfully into an unnatural position. "What is happening?" I asked nobody in specific, my eyes glued on my lover.

"This snake of Melkor's dared to show his face here!" somebody snarled.

"The bane of Gondolin." Somebody else hissed. A stone came flying through the air, hitting the captive at his ribcage. More stones followed. The villagers were so angry they even disregarded the guards who held…….Maeglin! For this had to be his name if he was Gondolin's bane. My lover was - no, it could not be!

"STOP!" I yelled, throwing myself between Maeglin and the stones. One hit my cheekbone and I heard it break with a sickening sound. The pain almost floored me but I stood my ground. The throwing ceased.

"What are you doing? Will you not even try him? Will you not even ASK him if what you say is true? Are you going to commit another Kin-slaying? You are out of your mind, he isn't -"

"Be quiet, Lindir." Maeglin's rough voice stopped my ranting and I turned around, mouth agape.

"Say that it isn't true!" I pleaded.

But he only shook his head. "I'm sorry, Lindir."

"No! Please, my friend, tell them they are wrong!" I grabbed his shoulders and shook him until the guards tore me away from him.

"Did you know him, Lindir?" I was questioned.

"Aye. He... we.... we are lovers." My admission caused the crowd to hiss and suddenly I was afraid for my life!

 

When the sun rose, the judgment was made: since nobody really wanted to commit another Kin-slaying it was decided that he was to be bound and brought north so far that he could not make it back in due time.

He had confessed that ever since the sack of Gondolin he had hidden in that cave, a miserable existence in plain view of the communitiy he could never be part of after what he'd done. It had been my music that had struck a chord deep inside him, that had forced him to give up his hiding and reveal himself, no matter how great the danger. Despite all the evil he had brought upon our people, I pitied him!

Maeglin himself forbade me to follow him and so all I could do was watch as he was bound between two horses, forced to trot along at the pace the riders would choose while I was being held by strong guards. I cried and pleaded shamelessly but to no avail. He was sent away and I was forced to stay.

I never heard of him thereafter.

 

When I now sit on the foothills of Ered Lindon and I gaze at the Sea, it reminds me that when the light is brightest, shadows close-by are darkest.

And I hate it.

FIN

AN: I presume that Maeglin did survive his fall from the walls of the City of Stone [Gondolin]. It is said theat he was thrown down by Tuor, and that, after hitting the rocks three times during his fall, fell into the flames. Though there is nothing more said about him and he may well, by (un)happy circumstances have survived and - with the years to pass - made it across the Ered Lindon where he hid near a village for his heart craved elvish company.

Glossary:

Ered Lindon / Ered Luin - the Blue Mountains

Laer - elvish summer between June 1 and August 11

Iavas - elvis late summer / early autumn

Beleriand - the Lands in the Northwest of Middle-Earth that were destroyed during the War of Warth

Mae govannen - well met : standard greeting among elves.

 

 

FIN

 

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