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lamemaster · 11 months

Text

All of My Names

Pairing: Maglor x Reader

Genre: Soulmate au-ish

Word Count: 3k

Summary: Love does not require conquering the heart, mind, body, or soul. It need not the bonds of marriage or profound confessions for it to foster. In your case, it bloomed even without the name of the one who became everything to you.

AN: I want to write something similar for Finrod too but different feel. I just looove the idea of lovers yearning for that true true love.

“She hasn’t touched any instrument for years, what makes you think she would be welcomed in The Aetherius Conservatory of Harmonic Mastery? Only the greatest and the most superior ever have made it there. Not just any rock icon. It is a place that hosts the talented but also hardworking.”

“You know she has made a name for herself. A star that prestigious organizations such as yours denied for so long but look now. She stands higher than any of your students. Even now you refuse to accept her. Then this is not about prestige, tradition, or her shortcoming but your own ego that prevents her entrance.” Danielle fumed as she angrily pulled off her formal blazer. There was little reason to respect these stuck-ups.

“y/n spent years writing and singing not for this recognition but for her own sake. I should have known better that this academy would rather raise twats that all walk the same path,” Danielle hastily picked up her belongings ignoring the atrocious huffing and puffing old coots on the other end of the table.

“One day, y/n will be greater than all of you and that day you will be the ones begging.”

“Ms. Randall, we promise we will beg meticulously once your dearest y/n learns the difference between a singer and a musician.” the director added with a smug smile on his wrinkled face. It is the last thing Danielle sees before she slams the door on the director's face.

“How could they do this? You have every right to study there. You have fame, money, and all the connections.”

You gently hold your fuming friend and manager’s hand in yours, “It’s alright Danielle. We are doing great even without the academy’s recognition,” your attempts to calm down your friend fail miserably.

You have been part of the music industry for a decade now. What started as a roadside singing to raise money for your household somehow blew up into a worldwide career. Thousands of fans, multiple hits, and innumerable wealth but nothing could prompt you to touch an instrument.

It was too painful. The very act of even thinking of strumming the strings of a guitar left you grappling with an open chasm of pain in your chest. It was longing too strong that even an inkling of its fulfillment might lead you crazy.

Your songs had always been of longing and of love that you never experience but knew of so well. It was as if a past unknown to you lingered in the blindspots of your life. A mystery that causes every instrument to make you yearn for someone deeply. Someone whose name you cannot remember.

As the scenes of your window changed rapidly and as the wheels of your car spun, you found yourself scribbling in your notebook. A confounding unease plaguing your heart laid down on the blank sheet of paper.

Immersed in the depths of love, night and day,

But your name, I can't seem to convey,

The name that you do not know or remember but someday…if the stars align you will know him. He who seems to come alive the subtle brine in the air and the crashing waves of the sea.

Oh my love, oh my love,

Lost in the embrace of love's sway,

But your name, I can't find a way,

Oh my love, oh my love.

What would his name sound like? Would it ring loud like the reverberate of echoing drums or would it sting like the unrelenting strings of a lyre?

Oh, I'm captivated by love's sweet spell,

Yet unable to express it, can't you tell?

In this longing heart, your presence I claim,

Lost in the realms of love's eternal flame.

You always felt it. A tug that threatened to push you over the edge of the world. The world that curved at its edges seemed to be a tightrope to you. You walk precariously as the forceful pull of something out of this world seems to follow you. Making every moment of living a restless dream.

Dreamed of the day we would finally meet,

To share my heart's secrets, so sweet,

To surrender my life, completely yours,

Whether you embrace it or close the doors

Whoever, it is that your soul longs for you love him. He who makes up the meaning behind every word written by you. He who seems to plague your dreams and reality. You have never heard his voice or looked into the depth of his soul. The only piece of his soul that you get to hold on to is a fleeting image of nimble hands plucking the strings of a lyre.

I've become enchanted, lost my mind,

Now my fate's intertwined,

No matter how the story unfolds,

Your name is forever within my soul.

At the mere revelation of those hands, you spent years scourging for musical stores, musicians, harpists looking for him. Any sign of the hand with a blackened palm. A hand that plays despite the pain of a lingering would or bloodied fingers. Years that have led to nothing. A void that leaves you weary of the instruments that he seems to love.

Oh, I'm captivated by love's sweet spell,

Yet unable to express it, can't you tell?

In this longing heart, your presence I claim,

Lost in the realms of love's eternal flame,

Oh my lo-

“Is it him again?” Danielle leans in looking at your sheet of scratched-out words. “The one whose name remains a mystery. The reason behind your rejection today.”

“How did he play a part in this?” You vehemently defend the person you do not know. “It is my inability nothing of this is his doing,” your heart beats at the thought of the mystery man getting any blame for your own shortcomings.

4 years ago~

Away from the winding roads and loud of the city you find yourself on the solemn beach unvisited by any during the cold months of winter.

You wanted out from the cameras, fans, and fame that followed you everywhere. It was too much and you have left too little of yourself.

It had been years since you first sang in front of a busy cafe or by the busy intersections, years since the eyes of industry turned to you, years since you grappled with the fame you never asked for and now you are tired. Maybe once you were happy but now a restless melancholy fills your heart.

The world seems to be bursting on its seems. It is then that you see it. A faint glimmer hidden in the depths of the sand. Your footsteps lead you to the barely visible lump in the sand that seems to tug you towards it. It's as if the festering restlessness in your chest is hooked to it.

Unraveling sand your hands pause a intricately carved lyre stares back at you and your heart stirs. “It’s you,” your breath comes heavy with the relief that fills you at its very sight. It was as if the world fell back into its place.

You reach down and carefully pluck the mysterious artifact from its sandy resting place. It was a lyre, weathered and worn as if it endured the passage of time and the relentless embrace of the sea. Its wooden frame bore marks of age, telling tales of a forgotten past.

Closing your eyes, you allow yourself to be carried away by the enchantment of the moment. And in that darkness, a vivid vision unfolded before you. You saw a pair of slender, bloodied fingers, their nimble movements plucking the strings of the lyre with effortless grace. The melody that emanated from the instrument was hauntingly beautiful, filled with longing and a touch of melancholy.

You could almost feel the emotions pouring forth from the ethereal music, touching your soul in ways you couldn't comprehend. The vision offered glimpses of a story, of someone who had played this very lyre with fervent passion and unwavering dedication. The fingers were worn, evidence of countless hours spent pouring heart and soul into the strings.

In that fleeting moment, you felt a connection, as if the music reached out to you across time and space. It was as if those slender fingers were reaching for yours, whispering a tale of lost melodies and unspoken yearning.

As the vision faded and reality washed over you once more, you opened your eyes, the lyre cradled gently in your hands. The weight of its history and the mystery it held felt both exhilarating and overwhelming. A mix of curiosity and trepidation coursed through your veins.

What stories did this lyre carry? Whose fingers had plucked its strings with such skill and fervor? Questions swirled in your mind, urging you to uncover the truth, to embark on a journey that would unravel the secrets hidden within the timeworn instrument.

As you walked away from the beach, the lyre cradled in your arms, you knew that this encounter was no mere coincidence. It was the beginning of a profound journey, one that would bridge the gap between time and hearts, and perhaps, ultimately, lead to a reunion with the one whose music had stirred your very soul.

Love does not require conquering the heart, mind, body, or soul. It needs not the bonds of marriage or profound confessions to foster. In your case, it bloomed even without the name of the one who became everything to you.

Just a glimpse potent enough to uproot your life. A pain so profound that leaves you sobbing in the wee hours of the night.

You find yourself standing in front of the mirror, tears streaming down your face. The image of those bloodied fingers, strumming the lyre, lingers in your mind. The ache in your heart intensifies as you long to know the story behind those hands, to understand the pain they endured and the melodies they created.

But deep down, you know that the lyre holds more than just a mystery to be unraveled. It holds a connection—a bond that transcends time and space. It is a bond that resonates with your own longing, your own unspoken desires.

Days pass, and the lyre becomes a constant presence in your life. It sits in the corner of your room, its strings untouched, yet its presence fills the space with an unspoken yearning. You find yourself drawn to it, spending hours simply gazing at its intricate carvings and imagining the music it once produced.

But fear holds you back. Fear of unlocking a power that you may not be ready to face. Fear of delving into a world where reality and dreams intertwine. The weight of responsibility rests upon your shoulders, and the thought of playing the lyre feels like opening a floodgate of emotions you may not be able to control.

Yet, even in your hesitations, your love for the lyre grows. It becomes a symbol of something more—a symbol of a love that transcends time and space. It represents the possibility of finding the missing piece of your soul, the one whose music has haunted your dreams.

Late at night, as you sit by the window, the moonlight casting a gentle glow upon the lyre, you find yourself talking to it, pouring out your heart in whispered words. You speak of your longing, your hopes, and your fears. The lyre becomes your confidant, a silent witness to the depths of your soul.

"You hold the key to my heart," you whisper, your voice filled with a mix of vulnerability and determination. "But I'm not yet ready to unlock the secrets you hold. I fear the intensity of what lies within, and I fear losing myself in the melodies that may awaken."

The lyre remains silent, yet you can almost feel its understanding. It is as if it knows the weight of your emotions, the depth of your love, and the significance of your connection.

Days turn into weeks, and weeks into months. The lyre remains a cherished companion, a silent reminder of the mysteries that lie dormant. You continue to resist the urge to play it, knowing that the time will come when you are ready to embrace the melodies that lie within.

For now, you find solace in the presence of the lyre, in the knowledge that the one whose fingers once graced its strings is out there, waiting to be found.

As the years pass and time etches its marks upon your face, you find yourself sitting in a quiet room, the lyre resting in your hands.

With a gentle touch, you run your fingers along the worn wood, feeling the memories embedded within its grains. The weight of a lifetime's worth of longing and unspoken words hangs heavy in the air. You bring the lyre close to your chest, cradling it like a precious relic.

"I hope to meet you in another lifetime," you whisper, your voice trembling with the weight of unfulfilled dreams. "If not in this lifetime, then in the next. And if not that, then in the countless lives that follow. I will wait, for as long as it takes, for our souls to find each other once again."

A bittersweet smile plays on your lips as you think of the countless possibilities that lie ahead. In your heart, you know that the connection forged with the lyre and the mysterious musician it represents is not bound by the constraints of a single lifetime. It is a bond that transcends time and space, reaching beyond the boundaries of human understanding.

"I will be here, in whatever form you find me," you murmur, your voice carrying a steadfast determination. "Whether as a melody in the wind, a whisper in the night, or a soul intertwined with yours. I will wait, for our destinies to align once more."

With a final caress, you place the lyre back in its rightful place, a silent reminder of the love that knows no bounds. As you rise from your seat, a sense of peace washes over you. The longing that once consumed your every thought has transformed into a patient hope, a quiet assurance that your paths will cross again.

And so, you carry the memory of the lyre and the unseen musician with you, weaving their presence into the tapestry of your existence. You continue to live your life, cherishing each moment, knowing that somewhere, in a realm beyond your reach, your soulmate awaits.

And as you walk into the twilight of your life, you hold onto the belief that one day, in another time and place, you will finally meet the one who has captured your heart across lifetimes.

In the realm of whispers and secrets, rumors spread like wildfire, and the tale of the crazed singer who died alone in a room next to a sole lyre took hold in hushed conversations and dark corners.

Whispers carried on the wind, painting a picture of a tormented soul who had dedicated their life to the pursuit of an elusive love. They spoke of a singer whose voice echoed with raw emotion, captivating audiences around the world, yet haunted by an unrequited longing that consumed them from within.

The story spoke of a secluded room, its walls adorned with memories frozen in time. Within that room, the singer was said to have spent their final days, surrounded by relics of a past they couldn't let go of. And at the center of it all, resting against a faded tapestry, lay the sole lyre, its weathered strings bearing witness to the melodies that had once danced upon them.

Some claimed the singer had become lost in their own labyrinth of love, descending into madness as they relentlessly searched for the one who had ignited their soul. They spoke of sleepless nights spent in the company of the lyre, fingers hovering over the strings, yet never daring to play a single note. It was as if the musician's heartache had become so profound that they feared unleashing its power upon the world.

As the rumors spread, the tale took on a mythical quality, intertwining the singer's story with that of the mysterious musician who had once breathed life into the lyre. Whispers of a soulmate lost across time reverberated through the corridors of imagination, leaving a trail of wonder and sorrow in their wake.

But amidst the rumors, one thing remained certain—the singer had found solace in their connection to the lyre. In that quiet room, their heart had beat in harmony with the instrument, pouring out their yearnings and desires, even if they were destined to remain unheard by mortal ears.

The story of the crazed singer and the sole lyre became a cautionary tale of unrequited love and the all-encompassing power of passion. It served as a reminder that even in the pursuit of something as elusive as love, one must tread carefully, lest they lose themselves entirely.

Maglor awoke in the hallowed halls of Mandos, his spirit reassembled, with fragments of his soul intact. It was as if the very force of life had stitched him back together, remade from the ashes by you, who loved just a figment of him. He could feel your presence, the one who had captured his essence in your words and breathed life into his existence once more.

But as he gazed upon the fading memories of the mortal world, a profound sense of peace washed over him. He realized that even though your paths had not yet converged, the love that bound you was timeless and enduring. It was a love that transcended physical barriers and spanned across realms.

With every step he took, Maglor whispered words of hope and longing, sending his love out into the world and trusting that it would find its way to your heart. He embraced the knowledge that love, like a gentle breeze, would one day bring you together, merging your souls into a symphony of eternal harmony.

And so, Maglor strove forward, not with a sense of desperation or yearning, but with a deep sense of peace and anticipation. He carried within him the belief that your presence would grace his life again, in this realm or the next, as the currents of fate gently guided your paths toward a joyous reunion.

In the tranquil halls of Mandos, Maglor's words resonated with a newfound hopefulness, his voice carrying the melody of a love that defied all boundaries. And as he walked the paths of destiny, he knew deep in his heart that your love story was far from over.

He whispered your name, a gentle invocation of love and longing, sending his wishes out into the universe. For Maglor knew that as long as your souls remained connected, your love would endure, transcending time and space, until the moment when your destinies would align and you would finally find each other.

"Maglor, Makalaure, Kanafinwë," Maglor whispered his names, each syllable carrying a weight of significance. With every repetition, he made a promise to himself and to the universe that one day, he would reveal all of his names to you. One day, when the threads of fate wove together and brought you back into his arms.

Maglor yearned to open his heart to you, to lay bare the depths of his being, and to intertwine his destiny with yours in a timeless bond. He vowed to preserve his identity, to keep the flame of his essence alive, so that when the moment arrived, he could offer you the entirety of his existence. He understood that true love required patience and the willingness to wait for the perfect alignment of stars and souls.

With a serene smile upon his face, Maglor surrendered to the passage of time, knowing that it would bring you closer with every tick of the cosmic clock. He held onto the hope that one day, in the tapestry of eternity, you would stand before him, and he would share his names, his stories, and his love with you.

And so, he whispered your name into the ethereal winds, his voice carrying the promise of a future filled with the union of two souls destined to be together. Maglor cherished the knowledge that the day would come when he could look into your eyes and say, "I am Maglor, Makalaure, Kanafinwë. These are my names, and they belong to you."

He held onto the belief that one day, the universe would conspire to bring you into his life, where he would reveal all of his names, along with the boundless love he carried within his heart.

#the silmarillion #tolkien elves #silmarillion #noldor elves #silmarillion x reader #tolkien #angst #middle earth #maglor x reader #maglor #soulmate au #hopeful ending #I love writing selfless but kinda angst love #holier than thou readers are my vibe #romance

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