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polutrope · 6 months

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Oh my God Daemags + ice skating pretty please?

Here you are @imakemywings and @i-did-not-mean-to! 1.1k words of everyone's favourite nerdy gays. No warnings other than a couple soft expletives and one suggestive remark. Context: In this AU, Daeron is Luthien's brother. Daemag have the "And they were roommates" arc. This is about 6 months into their romantic relationship.

“I think we should go on a date.”

Daeron stilled the chopsticks supporting a cascade of rice noodles over his steaming bowl of pho and wrinkled his nose. “Isn’t this a date?”

“Like an actual date. This is just us being too lazy to cook.”

“Dates are expensive.”

“I’ll pay for it.”

“Oh no no. I told you I don’t like it when you get all charitable.” Daeron glared and lifted the noodles to his mouth. “I have money,” he grumbled around a slurp.

“Great,” said Maglor, exasperation mounting, “then why do you care if it’s— never mind. I thought we could go skating at Ivrin Square.”

“Skating?” Daeron’s face twisted in disapproval. “Oh come on Mags, that is so silly. Not to mention what a waste of energy it is cooling the ice… you know temperatures are 3 degrees above average this winter?”

Maglor reached across the table and smacked his boyfriend’s arm affectionately. “Get over yourself, Dae-bae. I’m taking you skating and you’re gonna have fun.”

Shrieks of glee and the scrape of blades against ice filled the square as a crowd of skaters looped round and round the large Christmas tree in the middle of the rink.

“Someone is definitely going to crash into that thing,” said Daeron, tipping his chin in the direction of the tree. “Dammit, these things are so uncomfortable!” He shoved a foot into his rental skate.

Maglor snugged Daeron’s scarf around his neck and pulled him forward for a kiss. Daeron made a sound of protest but didn’t push him off. “It’s a good thing you’re so cute when you’re cranky,” said Maglor, then affecting a posh British accent, “Dost thou require help with thy boot, Prince Daeron?”

Daeron snorted. As he laced up his skate, he muttered teasingly, “You’re such a nerd.”

“So says renowned local history podcaster Daeron Singh-Goel! Oh, and please remind me which of us studies Aramaic on work time?”

“Akkadian, not Aramaic.” Daeron tied a bow on his second skate. “I’ve told you this like a hundred times.”

“Whatever, they’re both equally dead.” Daeron opened his mouth to protest but Maglor leapt up, dragging Daeron with him. “You ready?”

They shuffled awkwardly to the rink entrance. “So,” said Maglor, bracing himself with one arm on either side of the gate, “when was the last time you went skating?”

“Uuh, I dunno, Lúthien dragged me to Aelin Uial when it froze over last winter. Maybe February? Why?”

“Mmhm. And are you… good at it?”

“I mean I know how to stop and skate backwards and stuff.”

“Cool.” He slipped Daeron a smile and grasped for his hand. “Come on, then!”

“Maglor. Do you know how to skate?”

“Sure!” Maglor fixed an enthusiastic grin on his face. “How hard can it be?”

“Oh my god,” Daeron said, as he was dragged onto the ice. Almost immediately, he was straining to hold Maglor upright.

“I can’t believe you don’t know how to skate!” Daeron shouted, guiding Maglor to brace himself on the flimsy plexiglass fencing. “This was your idea!”

“Yeah, and I know how much you love being better than me at something.” Maglor yanked him into am embrace. “See? I’m already holding myself up.”

“I am holding you up,” Daeron said, “which is really not easy considering you’re half a foot taller.”

“More than half a foot, I think. Come on, Dae, show me your fancy tricks.”

Daeron groaned, but slid his hands down Maglor’s arms to clasp both hands, then began to slowly pull him backwards. “All right, good. No, no! Keep your feet together. Yes, like that, toes in. No, not that in. And look at something that’s not moving— no, don’t look at me.”

“You love this,” Maglor whispered.

Daeron ignored him. “All right, we’re gonna turn now, easy. Just keep your weight balanced— wait, no!— aaahh! Ow!”

In an instant, they were horizontal on the hard ice, Maglor laughing gleefully and Daeron sputtering a string of curses that only made Maglor laugh harder, especially considering the number of small children dodging them.

“You did that on purpose!” Daeron cried, scrambling to one knee. “Get up, get up!” He yanked Maglor to a seated position. “That’s dangerous! We have knives on our feet. Get up! And stop laughing like a madman, someone is going to think we’re drunk.”

But no one seemed to be under that impression as far as Maglor could tell. The other skaters wobbled and glided past them with amused smiles. “Fine, fine,” he said. “I’ll do better staying up for you.”

“Oh my god.” Daeron rolled his eyes. “Are you drunk?”

“Of course not. I’m just having fun.”

Daeron took both his hands and looked at him with resigned affection. “You’re so crazy. Come on,” he held out an arm to act as leverage, “get up.”

It was only once upright that Maglor registered the smarting of his hip and knee, so he stuck to the sidelines for a while after that. Daeron, as predicted, could not resist the temptation to show off a little. Maglor smiled as he swooped past him, throwing in the occasional flourish with his arms. And as it turned out, once you got the hang of it, skating round and round wasn't that difficult.

It was also rather boring after about ten minutes, and Maglor found himself singing along to the carols blasting on the speakers.

“You know I can hear you all the way on the other side,” Daeron said, sliding up beside him.

Maglor raised his voice in answer. “A beautiful night, we’re happy tonight, walking in a winter wonderland.”

A passer-by whooped and clapped. “All right!”

“…to sing a love song, while we stroll along…” Maglor reached for Daeron’s hand.

“Now you’re showing off,” Daeron said.

“Come on, Dae, I need a harmony— He’ll say, ‘are you married?’, we’ll say, ‘no man, but you can do the job when you’re in town!’”

Daeron pursed his lips in a way that said he was trying very hard to resist joining in.

“Later ooon, we’ll conspire, as we dreeeam by the fire, to face unafraid, the plans that we’ve made.”

Daeron relented, and together they chorused the last lines: “Walking in a winter wonderland.”

A family on the sidelines cheered and applauded. No more able to resist the draw of an audience than Maglor was, Daeron smirked and guided Maglor in a cautious twirl.

They both laughed as Maglor narrowly avoided another fall.

“So, are you having fun?” Maglor asked.

Daeron huffed and said, “Yeah, yeah. I guess,” then gave Maglor a quick kiss before gliding backwards and launching spiritedly into the next song.

#daeron #maglor #daemags #daemag #holiday prompts #modern au #beleria au #my fic

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thesummerestsolstice · 2 months

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There were quite a few people who absolutely refused to believe Elrond and Elros were who they claimed to be when they first came to Gil-Galad's camp. This led to the rise of several extremely questionable theories on who they really were, from the more mundane– they're just two half-elves the Feanorians found somewhere– to the more... esoteric, like that Maglor had "sung them into existence" to fool the armies of Valinor into letting them steal the Silmarils.

The most popular theory was that Elrond and Elros were actually the children of Maglor and Daeron of Doriath, and that they'd been kept secret for... some reason– look I never said the conspiracy theories made sense. E&E look a lot like Luthien (Luthien and Daeron are siblings with pretty similar features) and a bit like Fingolfin (who looks like Feanor who looks like Maglor), so it's not totally implausible. It would also explain how E&E had Maia powers without being Elwing's kids. And that was just enough information for it to become a completely unkillable rumor. Most of it dies down after E&E show some clearly human traits, like getting sick, but there are still die-hard believers out there. Some genealogies from the early Third Age list Elrond as Daeron and Maglor's child.

Elrond, who's been confronted about his "real parents" several times, is very over it. Gil-Galad thinks it's extremely funny.

#silmarillion #silm headcanons #elrond #elrond peredhel #elros #maglor #daeron #daemags #kidnap fam #gil galad #You can't tell me everyone just believed they were actually Elrond and Elros #I was considering making an angst post about this but the crack potential was too good to resist

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welcomingdisaster · 2 months

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see, if your heart had a back door i'd just slip away

#daemags #back to being insane about them #daeron #maglor #my art #please click on it for higher quality tumblr is FRYING it in the preview

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carmisse · 2 months

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The heir of the Noldor ft Fëanor lives AU.

Fëanor : Hello my children!

Amras : Atya, it is so early.

Caranthir : Atar, you cannot summon us this way.

Celegorm : It's not fair. I will not stand for it.

Curufin : Really, we have lives. We have business to attend to.

Fëanor : By businnes do you mean provoking political discussions and getting into trouble that I should ignore?

Maedhros : My word, there are impressionable young gentlemen present.

Fëanor : Impressionable? Trust me, Maitamo, no sexual innuendo makes an impression upon you brothers. I wish it did, that they might get ideas to marry and start fornicating.

Amrod : Atar!

Fëanor : Perhaps, then, I might have grandbabies. Instead; virgins to the left of me, lustful to the right.

Maglor : I believe I am a married elf.

Fëanor : Yes, and where are you babies? You have made zero heirs to the Throne.

Maglor : I am trying!

Fëanor : Are you? Really? Dearest, I explained everything to you? I drew pictures? You are doing it correctly? Make sure you are putting it in the right place?

Maglor : Atar!

Fëanor : The only heir to the throne abdicated and abandoned us!

Curufin : — Sounds of crying —

Fëanor : …

Fëanor : Sorrows, Sorrows, Prayers. — gives him small blows on his back —

Fëanor : I'am stating facts! The princes have had no babies.

Fëanor : We had one heir, one royal and he is gone!

Curufin : — Sobbing —

Fëanor : Sorrows! Prayers!

Fëanor : Children, this is a crisis. I’ve heard from King Thingol on the topic. Worse, Ñolofinwë is talking about it, wich means everyone will be talking about it.

Celegorm : Atar, I think you are being a bit zealous.

Fëanor : No!

Fëanor : It's time to find for respectable husbands, it's time to find for admirable wives. Get started. One of you had better produce to next ruler of The Noldor or your grandfather’s line dies with him.

Fëanor : Make me a royal baby.

Maedhros : Atar, you can't really expects us t-

Amras : I'm still a babe Atya, you can't expect me to have one?!

Caranthir : This is utterly ridiculous. My husband has abandoned me. How will I produce an heir without him?

Amrod : He did not abandon you Moryo, he is dead.

Caranthir : It's the same.

Celegorm : We must get tyelpe back as soon as possible!

Curufin : You will not disturb my baby's peace! In addition, Findaráto won me custody in court.

Maglor : There's no need for that, Daeron and I will make it, eventually.

Fëanor : It is not a difficult task. Your Ammë and I made seven royal babies all by ourselves. I do not see why the would lot of you cannot make just one.

— The noise of arguments and disagreements can be heard in the background. —

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lomaksarne · 6 months

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I've been watching Frieren lately, and after listening to the OP（Yūsha/The Brave by Yoasobi） many times, I realised that this song suits Maglor and Daeron very well (I don't know if they have a ship name besides Daemags in the English-speaking community, but in China we call them "失联组", which means "missing people")

So I drew a little doodle video for them with this song, hope you like it!

There are still a lot of flaws in this work. I might finish it later if I get a chance

PS有没有人能告诉我手书在英语里叫什么 2023年底了还没搞懂这个问题（啊啊啊）

#the silmarillion #silmarillion #jrrt #maeglin #daeron #daemags #doodle #my art

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tar-thelien · 4 months

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What if Lindir was the child of Maglor and Daeron

Just saying

#daeron #maglor #daemags #tolkien #silmarillion #jrr tolkien #i dont really ship daeron with anyone but oh well

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melestasflight · 1 year

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Maglor and Daeron play music together in Himring.

An original illustration of a scene from A Secret Chord created by the amazing @navyinks

Commissioned for @polutrope - one of the most thoughtful Slim-writers. Fic snippet below the cut.

I close my eyes and listen for my heartbeat. It is strong but steady. I listen for his breathing and when I hear it like a ripple over water my heart skips. I exhale steadily into the pipe and as my fingers move over the holes I imagine they are his fingers on my arms, trailing down my trunk, my hips, my legs. When I open my eyes to look at him I know he is imagining it, too.

He rests the lyre against his knee and joins its notes to mine. Though we sit apart I can feel the vibration of the strings as heat spreading through me. He raises his voice in song, a hymn of praise, and I can feel the breath of his singing, the movement of his lips all around me. My melody quickens, and his harmony keeps time, becomes richer, more complex, even as my playing turns frenzied, erratic, but he ties my notes together, he makes it into music. A long, piercing vibrato, the rush of a vibrant glissando, and we are falling apart in each other's Song. Sound becomes the touch of calloused fingers around my wrists, the colour of his flush, the sweet taste of his seed, the scent of my desire.

from A Secret Chord

#maglor #daeron #daeron x maglor #daemags #music #himring #dagor bragollach #feanorians #doriath #trans character #a secret chord #navyinks #polutropos #the silmarillion #tolkien #gift art

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imakemywings · 8 months

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Maglor was not unaccustomed to such exits at such early hours of the morn. He may not have done so well on the open forest floor, but in the solid wood and stone of the halls of Menegroth, he was able to noiselessly pick his way out of the bedroom, collecting bits of clothing and jewelry as he went, until he could let himself into the hall. With a soft, smug exhale of relief, he hurried barefoot towards the entrance of the royal apartments, content with his easy escape.

That was, until he saw another hurrying towards that main entrance from the other side of the hall.

That figure froze at the same time Maglor did, and for an uncomfortable length of time, they gaped in silence. For a moment, Maglor tensed to run, for Maedhros’ expression was of a man contemplating a quick murder to silence a witness.

“Nelyo?” Maglor gasped.

“Shh!”

“What are you doing here?” Maglor whispered, slipping back into Quenya in his shock. Maedhros hesitated far too long for his usual responses.

“I was seeing the king’s loremaster about something,” he said, which made Maglor’s jaw drop even further.

“No you weren’t!” he exclaimed, stunned to have caught his adroit brother in a lie.

“And how would you know?” Maedhros demanded.

“Because I’ve just come from Daeron’s chambers!”

“I told you not to sleep with him! We are here for diplomatic—” Maglor was already shrugging.

“Forgive me, brother, but Daeron’s argument was far more convincing.” He flashed a toothy smile. “But what were you doing here? The princess is off visiting friends still.” Maedhros did not answer. Maglor’s eyes were growing wider still. He added: “You wore that same robe at dinner last night.” His hair was down, too.

“I do not have time for this conversation with you,” Maedhros said then, sweeping past him towards the door.

Maglor was a fool, but he was no idiot: he recognized a tactical retreat.

“Nelyo! Where were you!” he cried, spinning then at the sound of footsteps behind him and preparing to be chided for making a childish ruckus before the sun was fully above the horizon when he saw King Thingol coming down the hall towards him.

“Hm.” Thingol paused in time to observe the door swinging shut on Maedhros’ heel. Then, pressing something into the pile of clothes and jewels in Maglor’s stupefied arms, he said: “He left his cloak clasp.”

On AO3

#maglor #maedhros #daemags #thingol #maedhros x thingol #doriath summer fun #rocky writes #dorking around while waiting to be able to post my smut week pieces #the silmarillion #tolkien tag

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kitcat22 · 5 months

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Daemags Time travel au!

Daeron and Maglor never technically got together. Maglor was very much in love and proposed on several occasions but Daeron despite also being in love was more flighty and nervous at the idea of being tied down especially to someone he knew deep in his bones was doomed no matter how the person in question tried to avoid it.

Daeron ended up dying in Doriath after being stabbed by Maglor who did not initially realise who it was he’d killed

Due to half maia magic Daeron filled with rage and grief didnt end up in the halls and instead got pulled into a time tunnel dragging maglor along with him although that was a bit delayed

Maglor ends up waking in his old body during a family trip to Aqualonde. He isnt aware that Daeron traveled with him but is increasingly worried about the barely escaped attempts on his life. He thinks Melkor must be suspicious of him.

Daeron is very angry that his genocidal bitch of an ex wont just die. Hes taken to making Maglor’s life as difficult as possible in the mean time. He steals one of every sock Maglor has so there is never a matching pair, he poured glue and chicken feathers on Feanor and made it look like it was Maglor who did it etc

Rest assured Maglor very much wants to die after several thousand years of walking along the beach mourning everyone and everything he’s ever loved, but first he has to make sure he fixes the future.

During this time Finwe and Olwe are both having mental breakdowns thinking they are hallucinating Elwe. A silver haired figure seen standing before the paintings of Olwe’s lost brother. A laugh that sounds so very familiar. Both of their wives and kids are very worried but trying to keep it a secret from the other party as well as the grandkids so as to not ruin the visit. After they both see this phantom at the same time they start to get even more worried that Elwe has returned to life and holds a grudge for them abandoning him to his terrible fate (marriage but they don’t know that)

Cue wacky adventures

#silmarillion #silm #the silm #maglor #makalaure #daeron #daemags #silm time travel #time travel #olwe #finwe #house of finwe #elwe #elu thingol #elwe singollo #thingol

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polutrope · 6 months

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How dare you (affectionate) make me fall so hard on the Daeron/Maglor ship. Seriously, how fucking dare you (really affectionate) make me care and love these two characters, especially Maglor, who mind you, I have never loved at all before (cause you know, yeah I think you know). How fucking dare you (AFFECTIONATE, CANT YOU SEEEE) for inspiring me to write a DaeMag fic because the flavor these two have is just *chefs fucking kiss* and I am so feral about them now (Like as in for the past few months I have been obsessing over them).

Wow Anon, what an Ask to wake up to!! I am so excited for your Daemag journey! You are me 2 years ago when I first fell head over heels for their dynamic in Oshun's Mereth Aderthad. I was so desperate to find other Daemag shippers back then, the pairing (particularly the dynamic I'm partial to, though I appreciate their versatility) is still far too underappreciated in my (totally unbiased) opinion.

Here I thought my purpose in fandom was to make people like Daeron but I must admit turning someone's opinion on Maglor is giving me a different kind of rush 😁. Really sorry about that, I *do* know what you mean but we love him for a reason 😉. And Daeron brings out the best in him (to me).

I'm so curious what your fic is about 👀. I hope you'll let me know if/when you post it!!

If you haven't found them already, may I recommend the blogs of noted Daemag appreciators @imakemywings (also RP blog @adreamofdoriath), @welcomingdisaster, @searchingforserendipity25, @i-did-not-mean-to, and @solmarillion. (I know there are others of you out there stealthily liking my posts, please talk to me.)

And if you haven't found my Daemag Collection yet, check out the bookmarks for more of my fave stories.

#asks #anon #daemags #daemag #this makes me so glad I decided to turn anon asks back on after someone was mean to me 😞

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thelien-art · 1 year

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Thank you for opening pride requests, I'm excited to see what you create this year! Could you perhaps do Daeron/Maglor with a trans flag?

For you too @solmarillion

The two only singers⁓

Just ignore every other bard in Tolkien´s legendarium, they're not important when these two are present.

🏳️‍🌈CELEBRATE PRIDE WITH ME🏳️‍🌈 - send in a character or a ship with a pride flag and I´ll draw it

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welcomingdisaster · 6 months

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doriath red boots bring all the noldo boys to the yard or something

(reference image)

#my art #daemags #daeron #maglor

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carmisse · 4 months

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Fëanorians and their offspring.

Basically fairly random headcanons where Fëanor has nine grandchildren and his line does not die out.

Maedhros and Fingon marry and have baby Ereinion. In this AU, Maedhros does manage to find the twins Eluréd and Elurín, whom he kept under his care; he even baptizes them with names in Quenya.

Maglor adopts (kidnaps) the twins. Following canon, for a change. Although it turns out that Daeron and he fathered a child while they were still married. They divorced after Doriath, so Maglor never knew his husband was in waiting.

After the death of her beloved cousin, Celegorm keeps the only memory of her, baby Maeglin, at her request (Tugorn, who is Turgon?).

After a night of wine without measure, the always neat Caranthir spends hours in bed with Turgon, which results in little Erestor.

Curufin simply disappeared for a year and when he returned he had Telperinquar in his arms.

Amrod and Amras are the uncles who spoil their nephews.

Space is limited, so I did not include the Feanorians' spouses. Husbands, or of course, in this AU they are queer.

These are completely random headcanons that come to mind.

The canon has gone to hell.

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searchingforserendipity25 · 10 months

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Daeron/Maglor "...because the world is ending"? 😚

Hi @polutrope <3 This one one has been living in my docs as Daemags date night (the night to end all nights) for a month. Here it is at last!

The Night to End All Nights

Daeron had been deep into the roadless deserts, when Arien fell - her last blazing sunset had lit the dunes with dreadful beauty, rose sand purples and a red redder than red.

Then, the quiet. Handfuls of stars, snuffed out one after another.

He made his way onwards. Once, the land had not been desert; once, there had been paths of cobblestones paved with sound craft, and there had been chariots, carriages, riders and companies making their ways from glorious cities whose names were lost in the dust, removed from the world entirely, if not for Daeron's memory.

Daeron lived much in memory, now. There the dry well, there the empty streets of the empty city. Here, a deep-rooted peach tree had grown, where only a gray husk remained - he had gathered wild fruits from its generous boughs, shared them with an old enemy in the shelter of its shade, licked the juices from his fingertips and wrist and mouth until he shook as finely as the green leaves in the summer breeze.

Wherever he passed the land groaned with its own undoing.

Beleriand had been thus ruined, in its moribund years; but this was a ravaging wasting sickness, not a wound upon Arda to be solved with the amputation of one continent or another. Above and around and in all places a hundred, a thousand birds flew madly, till they dropped exhausted upon the last grass of the last spring.

The matter of the sky splintered and rained down great boulders of iron that shook and shattered the earth, smoldering with a fell fire, all the hard stone of the mountain ranges shaking and shaking like a single fevered body, bound up in strange resonances of power. One fell near enough to him that the raised dust clung to his lungs and fouled his throat for a time: and then Daeron grew afraid, for a time, shaken from the clear, beautiful rage against Morgoth into fright.

The cough passed, slowly.

The very air grew colder, made cruel without the sun. The waters grew wilder, without the moon; and all creatures grew despairing and violent, in the absence of starlight.

Still: Daeron went onwards. There was a great epilogue to judge - he was not a light-hearted critic, but he did intend to be there at the end, and at the start as well.

And he had an appointment to keep. They had agreed on this, a long time ago, and Daeron for his part was determined to cross crevasses as needed not to be the faithless one.

He had not thought Maglor would fail to be there. Not truly, in any case - not this time.

The land leaned towards the gaping of the world, its old longing for water calling out so starkly it was almost a song. This place had been full of life, once: a lake with many small islands, many new-made voices raised in song rippling the waters.

All the little water that remained reflected only darkness above, darkness around. Not enough remained of the waters of Cuiviénen to be drunk. Daeron’s torch lit it like the flare of a false moon, fading as passed it by.

It was quite beautiful, in its way. All things were unraveling to Song at last: the last fields of grass clinging to the cliff-side called out a rustling wind-song even as they turned to ash, glorious a rush of Music with the memory of the seed’s patience in winter and the growing rush of spring turning to the conflagration of summer.

Daeron closed his eyes. Did he weep, at the beauty of it? He could not sing. It was not time, yet; his voice curled thick and urgent in his aching throat, waiting.

They met at the very edge of the shoreline, where the whitewater rush of the shattered Encircling Sea broke into the gaping maw of the Void. The fall was very steep, the precipice very high, taller than any tower ever wrought. The sound of the water was an unnerving, slithering quiet, for it fell through fogs and mists; and the fall had no end.

A single raised light flickered, there where crumbling stone and air met, but the burned hand that held it up did not flinch from the licking slants of wind-swept fire.

“You are late,” Maglor said, chin raised. His voice, too, was less splendid than it might have been. Certainly less proud. Daeron’s heart turned in his chest, treacherously fond. “And I see you have not even brought any wine, either.”

“It was your turn to bring the wine,” Daeron pointed out. His words rasped in his throat a little, at the start. “I brought it last time."

"Forgive me! If it is any consolation," Maglor said. "I crossed the lands where the marketplace where those sweet bean pastries you loved once stood. Alas! Nought but ruins remain. There, here, everywhere! I had half a mind to start without you."

"That is well enough," Daeron said. He felt a little drunk already, dizzy with terror and Maglor's proximity.

His face caught the torch light, his eyes very bright. Maglor smiled at him. It was an effort - he could see the ancient grief moving in his face, a depth like the strata of the earth being pressed away to make room for it.

They had met on appointed dates two dozen times altogether. By the white piers of Belfalas or the moors of Arnor, sharing the same flask under the vibrant stars of Rhûn’s fields. Brushing knuckles; pressing their mouth’s where a touch had been, in the indulgent absurdity of second-hand lovemaking between two ancient creatures.

They had met. Not many times, but often enough; and always at the parting, regardless of how sweet or how bitter it might be, there was the renewed promise. We shall meet at the end! Even when it had been said in contempt and fury, and the end of the world not long enough to suit the day’s rage.

It passed, the anger. When one lived as long as they did, it grew very difficult to cleave to anything for very long. Grief was a habit, and singing duty and care and craft; all the rest passed and thinned as mist in the sun. Until they met again - until they met each other, and all colours grew bright, the winds colder, the summers gentler.

Daeron waved it away, lightly, light-hearted. O, he felt mad, trapped against the great maw of the black night - but a strange thing very like a laugh trembled on his throat.

"I know I shall! That is not my concern. I knew you would not start without me,” Daeron said. "I could not doubt it. And yet I am glad that I was late; I could not know how much of gladness remained, before I saw your light in the dark, waiting."

“Then I am glad," Maglor said, and the salt that clung to his hair prickled Daeron's nose when he neared. "Though it was a cold wait, and the journey colder still. You give me too much credit. For once! But I could not tarry. There was nowhere else to walk to, nor any other place I could wish to be."

“It is quite beautiful,” Daeron said, looking upon the cliffside. His eyes strained to see the scant starlight reflecting on the distant spray, silvering the night for brief instants. “In its way.”

“The sea was more beautiful,” Maglor said. "Its white sands and silver pebbles gleaming, and the black basalt sand of the Western islands. Gone, all gone! Now we are islanders only, the Encircling Sea the only sea; and its waters fall beyond reaching. I miss the sea-that-was, though it never did thank me for my company."

The mountains were gone. The fallow fields, and the valleys with their crumbling walls left abandoned in long lost days - the great cities of Men, one empire after another devoured by a greater and most ancient greed.

They had seen many kingdoms rise and fall together, over time; but there had been a constancy in that, not this absence of voices and wills, this death-bound silence.

It had not been often that they had wandered together for long. That was a thing neither of them could withstand easily - not they, minstrels to the dead, whose last elegiac duties were not suited to company. Their paths diverged, coming apart to come together again, and there had been joy too with every bitter parting. But they had agreed on this, under the light of the stars, Ages ago. Cuiviénen, at the end of all things - this much, at least, when the time came, at the end.

Daeron laid a hand on his cheek, and felt the warmth of it with a dizzying desire. So it would be this, then, he thought. The last touch; the last kiss, soft as a balm, a vertiginous fall into an embrace from a height no lesser than the sundered face of the breaking world. Daeron held him close with fierce hands, chased the stains of bitter soot on Maglor’s heeks with his mouth, tangled his fingers in braidless curls as dark as the night.

The last, the last! His eyes stung. Daeron was greedy, at the last, covetous with love as had ever been his vice, slow to relinquish. Love renewed all things, even grief; though the grief of Arda's fall had seeped into him into a killing drought, and no more tears remained in him to be shed.

The Music murmured its own last notes, a soundless song of mingled joy and despair.

More despair, at the end, and Daeron had feared, feared, feared it tremendous, more than the Starkinder's defeat or the death of all fruiting trees. Wandering alone in the lightless dark, voice failing and nothing listening, he had thought on the Theme and feared there would not be enough of joy, in the end - had judged his purpose beyond himself, all of Melian's careful and wise tutelage wasted and worn through.

So it had been, in solitude.

"Sweet Daeron. Forgive me,” Maglor said once more, sighing against his neck. His solid warmth was no greater than the flame's, wavering much as Daeron wavered on his feet. "I bring no gifts, and my might is diminished. The melody is yours, if you like. It is not wine, but it might suit your tastes as well, or better."

"It shall be," Daeron said. He knew it as he spoke, and almost laughed for how clear it was to him; he gripped Maglor's hand tightly. "But not mine alone, I judge; for are we not both singers of laments? One last paeon, then: and let not all things that were good and great and terrible fall unremembered, while there is breath with which to sing them."

Above them and around them the last stars went pale, and weary, and dead. The two torches flared, faded, lost the last of their fire.

Then, the quiet. Daeron stepped back. Raised a hand, to mark the time.

It was very easy, after all, to sing together at the end of all things: easy as summer, even in the dark.

#daeron #maglor #daeron/maglor #my fic #the silmarillion fanfic #daemags #wrestled with this on a four hour bus ride and it is finally done (and i've finally arrived 🙌 )

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