#poor maglor

[sesamenom]

second of seven

[saurons-rings]

Maglor: Embarrassed because I’m walking down the street and a rat is walking at the side of me. It looks like we’re together

Curufin: Have you considered that the rat might be embarrassed too

[dreamingthroughthenoise]

“He’s not breathing!”

Dimly Maglor could hear the voices, but they seemed to come from very far away, as far away as the hands that grasped his arms and helped to heave him upward out of the sea. He felt his back collide with hard wood, then fingers pushing back the wet strands of hair that clung to his face, tilting his head.

“Move!”

There was suddenly a pressure against his chest, rhythmic like a heartbeat, and the feel of air being forced into his lungs. It repeated over and over in a cycle, the only thing that seemed to be keeping him tethered to his body.

Kind, he thought vaguely, to try and rescue a wretch like him. They must not know who they had scooped out of the sea, otherwise they would not try so hard.

A woman’s voice frantic and fearful reached him and the faint pressure of slender fingers wrapping around his hand. “You need to wake up! Open your eyes, try!”

Try. Why, he wondered distantly. Why should he try when it was so much more peaceful to let his spirit go? Why should he fight to live when there was nothing for him to live for any longer? The children he’d loved as if they were his own were safe and he’d thrown the jewel away forsaking the Oath though it would condemn him to Darkness Eternal. It was justice at last for those he had wronged, to let himself go at last.

“Makalaure!” It was the man’s voice again, commanding, but with the same edge of urgent fear of the woman’s voice. “Makalaure, you need to try, you need to breath!”

A sudden realization crept into his awareness. They knew his name. They knew him.

“Try for Elrond, Maglor,” the woman was saying close to his ear, her voice thick with tears. “Try for him, please.”

Elrond’s name was like a jolt of lightning through his entire being.

Water bubbled up in his throat and he choked, spluttering as he suddenly found himself firmly back in his body. He rolled to the side, salt water spewing from his mouth in a painful burning rush. The hands were holding him steady, patting his back, their voices soothing as he fought to breath normally. Everything hurt, his ribs, his chest, his throat, and he collapsed weakly to the smooth wooden surface as he gasped in the welcoming cool air, shivering.

“Get him a blanket,” he heard the man say, and there were footsteps rushing away. The large warm hand continue to pat his back, the other steadying him on his shoulder. “That’s it Makalaure, don’t try to move, just breath. You’ll be all right. We’ve got you.”

Maglor nodded weakly, shuddering with each painful breath but lay still as he was told.

The sound of footsteps returned, and then a gloriously warm blanket was being wrapped around him.

[edgeoflight]

Well, I’ve clearly been reading too many news stories about David Cameron fucking a pig, because, writing the fic that I’m currently writing, I just typed “the vibrations of the tory inside him suddenly increased...” and then had to jump back from the keyboard going “Noooooo, bad fingers, bad!” 

Now back to the Feanorian porn, which will definitely not include any Tories!! 

[chaos-in-the-making]

/Loki is a firm believer of kicking a horse while it's down.

[leeeeeeeeeegooooooooolaaaaaaaaas]

r-navy replied to your post:whispers who's your favorite son of feanor

meeee tooooooooo >~~<

Let's start a fanclub! He needs more love! :'D

[xxxmoonlitfantasyxxx]

Headcanon Time!

So I thought that the main reason Elrond hired(What word am I looking for? Can't think of it) lindir is because Lindir's musical talent reminded him of Maglor... Going with the theory that not everyone forgot our poor Maglor!