Hero

Mellow Soulmate AU.  Ilession contemplates his father.  Quenya names used (Maglor = Makalaurë, Fingolfin = Nolofinwë, Fëanor = Fëanáro, Fingon = Findekáno and Gil-Galad = Ereinion).  This is directly related to "Morals", "Worst Day" and "Villain" as well as any other Maglor-related stories floating around (including "Blush" and the like).  Basically more characterization.  It feels a bit jumbled to me, but I had to get it out.  Takes place probably somewhere near Mordor at the very beginning of the Third Age.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Silmarillion

Pairings: none

Characters: Ilession (OMC), Elrond, random elves (mentions Gil-Galad, Sauron, Maglor, Fëanor, Fingolfin, Fingon, Fëanorions, Elros and Erestor)

Warning: not canon compliant, OMC appears, spontaneous non-canonical procreation, mentions war, torture and death (semi-explicit detail), a little self-hatred, sensitive ideology

Song: Hero

Words: 1,186
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hero (noun): a mythological or legendary figure often of divine descent endowed with great strength or ability; an illustrious warrior; a man admired for his achievements and noble qualities; one who shows great courage
http://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/hero

It was done.  Over.

The end of the war was supposed to bring about celebration and joy.  They had proved victorious and all the peoples of Middle-earth were once again free of the encroaching shadow.  Light came back to the skies and burned away the chains of filth infected the earth and the forests.  Men could return home to their wives and children--to their jobs and work and leisure--without fearing for their lives every day and every night.

Certainly, there was sadness for the dead as well.  Much had been lost in the effort to retake liberty, but it had not been sacrificed in vain.  It was all the more reason for revelry--in honor of those who had perished for the sake of the survival of happiness.  To let all that they had battled for and died for fall into gray ruin in their names would have been sacrilegious.

Yes, they were supposed to be happy.

But Ilession did not feel like celebrating.  He was not cheerful, despite the end of his own treacherous tenure beneath Sauron's thumb.  Instead, he felt tired--exhausted down to the bone.  Wrung out like a ragged old cloth with fraying edges.

It wasn't the death that bothered him.  Not really.  It was expected.

Rather, it was the regard.

Eyes staring and boring.  Voices whispering and hissing.  As though he couldn't see.  As though he couldn't hear.

As though he didn't know.

Some of them held him upon a pedestal, a paragon of virtue for withstanding the danger of hiding behind enemy lines.  And some of them cursed his name as though he were viler than all their foes combined, for they knew that he was a murderer and torturer willingly and by choice.  But no matter which side of the line they stood upon, their blatant observation and fascination was unappreciated.

"You are a hero of the war," Elrond had assured him over and over. "Without your vital information, where would we be, my friend?  Long ago would Sauron have destroyed us and left our homes and people in ruins."

A hero... right...

He didn't feel like one.  He had been just as full of doubt and just as frightened as any of the other warriors.  He had perhaps even been a touch cowardly.

Thinking of all that he had accomplished, he didn't feel proud, but neither did he feel much shame.  Some of the things he had been ordered to do were horrendous--heinous acts of violence and evil.  He had slit throats without hesitation and tortured hundreds into insanity without remorse.  More so than even that, he had traded secrets to the Dark Lord, knowing that if he provided no correct information or valuable knowledge, it would be his hide that next decorated the golden-haired demon's bedchamber floor.

He regretted that it was necessary and wished he did not have the faces of the dead drifting in and out of his memories, their screams chasing him in the dark.

But there was no shame in keeping himself alive when his job was so vital.  There was no shame in putting his life on the line day-in and day-out to protect his king and his people and his family.  There was no shame in doing what was necessary.

Yet, he was glad it was finished.

That "what was necessary" was done and over.  He ignored those who wished to idolize him--name him one of their precious war heroes and parade him around like a trophy of victory down the streets.  All the same, those whose insidious voices hissed at true betrayal and the taint of Sauron's filth spreading he put aside from his mind, for they could not understand his actions.

They were like he had once been.  Ignorant of the deeper choices of others, of the consequences of every action.  Of motivations and plots and deceit and the difference between right and wrong.  That, he did not begrudge them, but neither would he praise them for turning a blind eye.

These days, he tried to sleep a full night without waking up at every sound, knife raised to kill.  He tried to ignore his haunted dreams and pretend everything was fine.  And he thought more and more each day about the past.

He wondered if they would see him as their savior if they knew what he truly thought.

That he could think of many other men who had done as he had done, who had not been praised or worshipped or even mentioned.  Other spies who had been lost in the dungeons of Barad-dûr.  Other men who had been tortured to death for prized information.  Still others who had become murderers in the name of protecting what was truly important rather than righteously backing ideology that played no part in the real world when no one was pure and every dark corner hid corruption.

He wondered if they would scorn him for thinking that--were he considered a hero for his self-sacrifice and for playing his part as traitorous kinslayer so that they might live to see another day on the other side--so, too, should his father be considered a hero.  Maybe more so.  For saving his brothers from their own shattered minds.  For protecting his sons from the true depths of the Oath.  For killing even those who were meant to be allies and kin in order to protect what was dearest.  For picking up two orphaned children and rearing them as his own even when his own sons had abandoned him like trash.

For never giving up, even when all the odds were stacked against him.  When there was no choice but to move forward or be lost in the tidal wave of cursed fate rising behind.

And, maybe, Ilession felt a bit of shame for taking so long to come to this realization.

He knew now that heroes did not have to be the kings of old in their blazing, adamantine armor, riding out to their doom like valiant martyrs--Nolofinwë dying beneath Morgoth's boot in single combat or Findekáno crushed beneath the maces of the enemy whilst his people retreated to safety.

Sometimes, they went unacknowledged.  Unnoticed.  Unaccepted and misunderstood.

And he wondered if his father felt this same way as he--so very tired and so very relieved--when it was all over.  When the end had come.

Wondered what Makalaurë thought of his own actions.  If he considered himself a hero or a villain.

Wondered if the second son of Fëanáro felt guilt and horror at the blood upon his hands.  Or if, in the end, he felt justified.  Or maybe, like Ilession, he had been conflicted.  Had tried his best to do what was right but had made mistakes along the way and regretted.

Wondered if he had miscalculated everything...

And if he would ever get the chance to truly understand.
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I am totally using the prompt to lead up to a plot-point--shamelessly LOL.  But this is characterization also.  Now, I don't want to make it seem like Maglor is perfect or anything (because he's obviously not), but Ilession maybe idolizes him a little bit more than he would like to admit without truly knowing him at all.  Of course, Maglor was coerced a bit, but I'll leave it up to you to decide whether or not he felt justified in going through with the Kinslayings because of Maedhros and Celegorm or if you think he feels super guilty.

I just love writing this way, though, because different characters think differently about each other and are not always accurate--just like in real life.  That is the only reason why I'm letting this veer so much away from head-canon compliance (seemingly).  Getting into their heads is my favorite part, and (admittedly) every time I create a new OC, they need a lot of observation and dissection.

The song was chosen for it's name (as if that weren't obvious enough) and could or could not be interpreted to match the prompt.  Hero by Skillet (this is the Legion of Doom remix but the original is awesome, too) is one of my old favorites from way back yonder a few years that I've just never tired of listening to.  I don't know that I perfectly like the message, but I like the presentation--yeah, I know right, the musician likes the music, so who cares about the lyrics.  It's just that lyrics never make the song for me, that's all.

Anyway, I thought it fit fine with this piece and so I'm leaving it exactly where it is.  Can't wait to see what Ilession decides to do with himself (before and after the war).