Middle Earth Gamer

The Last Son

A Song of Sorrow and Renewal"

Taranis's eyes flutter open to the gentle sound of waves breaking on the shore, the rhythm almost like a lullaby. The last thing he remembers is the feeling of weightlessness as he threw himself into the void, abandoning himself to the depths below. But now, to his surprise, he is lying on solid ground, breathing in the crisp sea air, alive and strangely at peace.

Beside him, his sword, Anguirel, gleams in the sunlight. He reaches for it, feeling its cold metal beneath his fingertips, grounding him, tethering him to the world he thought he'd left behind. With a sigh, he hoists himself to his knees, staring out over the vast, sparkling sea. Why had he been spared?

Then, faintly over the sound of the waves, a melody drifts through the air. It's a haunting tune, filled with notes of melancholy and an undercurrent of quiet, almost defiant hope. Taranis feels a shiver down his spine. There's a familiarity to this music, something ancient and resonant.

Turning, he sees a figure walking along the shore toward him—a tall, graceful man with an otherworldly presence. The sun glints off the stranger's dark hair, and Taranis catches a flash of sorrow in his eyes, a look that seems all too familiar to him.

It isn't until the man is close that Taranis realizes who he's seeing. His heart skips a beat as awe overcomes him. "Maglor," he murmurs, half to himself, voice catching.

The Elf pauses, his expression changing to one of surprise and curiosity. "You know my name," he says, his voice rich and smooth as the sea at dawn. "Yet you are but a man of mortal years. How is it that you recognize me?"

Taranis bows his head, a mixture of reverence and disbelief in his gaze. "I have heard songs. Tales of the Sons of Fëanor, of the Kinslaying at Alqualondë...of you, the singer who has wandered the shores of Middle-earth in mourning."

Maglor's face darkens briefly, memories clouding his expression. "The songs capture only fragments of truth," he replies softly. "Though perhaps enough." His keen eyes sweep over Taranis, noting his disheveled state, the weariness that clings to him like a shadow. "You bear a heavy burden, mortal. Tell me, what sorrow has driven you to such a desperate path?"

Taranis hesitates, his throat tightening as he thinks of the heartbreak, the betrayal that had led him here. But beneath Maglor's gaze, there's a sense of understanding that encourages him to speak, as though this ancient soul would not judge him.

"It was a woman," he begins, voice hoarse. "One who once pledged her loyalty to me. I thought we were bound, but she left and married another." He clenches his fists, feeling a surge of bitterness. "After all we shared, she moved on as though I meant nothing. I came to believe that life held nothing else for me."

Maglor nods, a knowing sadness in his eyes. "Your pain is not unfamiliar, Taranis. I have seen many cast themselves into shadow for less. But hear me." His gaze grows steady, piercing as he speaks. "Love, when betrayed, is indeed a wound—but it need not be the end of you."

His words seem to cut through Taranis's despair, touching something deep within him. He swallows, unable to meet Maglor's gaze. "I thought love made me stronger," he murmurs, almost to himself. "But now it feels as though it has torn me apart."

Maglor regards him for a moment, then steps closer, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Strength is found not only in love but in survival. Scars are the marks of endurance, reminders that we have walked through fire and emerged on the other side."

They begin walking along the shore, the silence between them comfortable, as if each understands the other's sorrow without words. The waves lap at their feet, gentle yet unrelenting, a symbol of persistence. After a while, Maglor speaks again.