Disclaimer: I don't own the Silmarillion or Lord of the Rings
Pairings: Elladan x Fem Maeglin
Characters: Maeglin (Lómiel), Elladan, unborn baby (mentions Eöl, Aredhel, Idril, other elves of Gondolin and Celebrían)
Warning: extremely AU, het, genderbending, pregnancy, past torture, war, betrayal and murder, canon character deaths, self-punishment, fluff
Song: Beautiful
Words: 1,005
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life (noun): the quality that distinguishes a vital and functional being from a dead body; the sequence of physical and mental experiences that make up the existence of an individual
http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/life
When she had first returned from the Halls of the Waiting, Lómiel had doubted her second chance. Had doubted that being housed in a living and breathing cage of flesh and bone would change the circumstances of her eternal damnation. Had doubted that life could return to her the light that had been so systematically and brutally extinguished.
Because what could ever make right the wrongs she had committed? What could ever erase the suffering that laid heavy over her soul? It had seemed so impossible at the time--so hopeless.
But she had been wrong. And he had been right.
Life had a way of reviving that tiny spark of hope, of gluing back together the scattered shards of broken dreams into something new and dazzling.
"Enjoying the roses, melethril?"
She turned slightly, and the sun-kissed face of her husband filled her vision. Eyes that had once been filled with nothing but pain and shadows--darkened as a storm over the seas--were now lightened, silvered with joy. Her sweet Elladan settled himself beside her on the bench in the clearing where they had first met, where they had bonded and the vines of their lives had grown together and entwined permanently into a single creation of beauty. His hand wrapping about hers was like heaven, the squeeze of his palm against hers a promise.
She could feel his happiness reflected back onto her as Arien's rays, warmth seeping into her skin and down to her bones, driving away the chill that always lingered with visions of flame and death and betrayal. It clouded the wicked black gleam of hate-filled eyes and the shadows that lingered as a curse over her family's head for thousands of years.
And though Lómiel did not think she could ever forgive herself for everything that had been said or done, for the crumbling white city she had once called home and the beloved blue eyes of her cousin lit aflame with terror, she thought maybe she could put it behind her.
Because there really had been a simple choice. Regret forever in the Halls as a ghost of a man whose life had been too short and too brittle, lacking in love and torn apart by violence, or take the chance and move on to find something greater waiting in the world outside. Regret would not take back the horrors that had been committed. Damning her spirit to eternal isolation would not fix the betrayal that had been wrought on all sides, nor would it heal the hurts that had been dealt as mortal blows.
As she leaned against her mate, she thought here, at least, she could become something worthy of recognition. Could pay back her debt. Could soothe a heart as equally broken and longing as her own. And it would be enough to hold back the darkness.
"Will you join me in enjoying the roses, Lord Elladan?"
He laughed, leaning over to press a kiss against the corner of her lips. "I think I have been distracted from the roses by a flower much more glorious. Hopefully they are not too jealous."
And he smiled. Always, his smiles made her heart flutter. The shadow over his heart after his mother's fading and departure was leaving a little more each day, and though it would never be gone, Lómiel liked to think that she helped him in every way a friend and lover could, liked to think that her words were comforting and her touch gentle.
She liked to think that the tears she brushed from his cheeks made way for something better. Something worth returning to life for.
They had a future. She--Maeglin the Traitor reborn and returned--had a future beyond endless days of gray walls and memories of loveless homes and unrequited fantasies. A future with a husband and children and a home unsullied in the new days cleansed of darkness.
Never had she been so grateful to her savior for arousing her from her stupor in the Halls, for guiding her away from nothing short of self-induced ruin and torturous suffering until the End of Days. Thinking about what would have become of the heartbroken Maeglin lingering on and on in those gray rooms, watching memories bittersweet and tainted flash against the walls as a torture more cruel than any whip or brand, it was a terrifying contemplation.
More than that, though, she was grateful to be given this second chance, because for Elladan it had made all the difference, and she had never loved anyone so potently or completely as he, not even Idril in the days of Gondolin. That love, one-sided and born of the desperation of an orphaned boy alone in a strange reality, was pale in comparison to what she felt now for the man whose spirit was so closely woven into hers that she was not certain where he ended and where she began. Both broken, but piecing the other slowly back together with their own damaged parts into something gloriously hale and whole.
And though this life would never be perfect, it was all she would ever need. All he would ever need.
She lifted their embraced hands, resting them over her rounded belly as she leaned against her husband's shoulder. And together, they enjoyed the afternoon clear and calm in the wake of war and destruction. Finally, there would be peace.
"I am certain the roses are quite jealous, but they will have to admire from a distance," she whispered against his ear.
Because the little seedling planted amongst the endless rain of sorrow was still growing and growing, blooms bursting to life and hungrily taking in the newfound sunshine. And a new little bud had just begun to unfurl beneath their watchful eyes, almost ready to greet the world. And it was beautiful.
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When I first wrote Maeglin, I had no idea that his story was going to end up like this. It's kind of bizarre, and very difficult to write because of all the confusing gender pronouns and lack of flashbacks. Maybe I'll change that when it's edited, but for now I am satisfied. They are absolutely adorable. Now, what to do about Elrohir... I don't want to put him with anyone usual--so no Legolas, Lindir, Glorfindel, Erestor, Haldir, etc... Though I have seen one with one of them paired to Orophin (and I have plans for those three brothers, believe me). Well, we'll see.
Can you see the blatant reference to the song in there? I swear, this story is full of references to other stories galore. But that's kind of what made it fun to write, if you know what I mean. LOL. Anyway, listening to Beautiful by Future World Music. Amazing song, though if you're going to listen to their stuff, their website has all of their albums right on it in very good quality here under the Music link. Lots of awesome stuff there.
But this particular song, I've just always been fond of since I first listened to it, and thus eventually knew I was going to use it for something. I thought about using Victory of Life or Passion of Victory, but both were too triumphant and lively; I needed something with a little more tenderness and less bravado, because this scene just didn't fit.
La, la, la, enough of my musician-esque ranting. Have a good day.
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