It's strange. Again. Just when things were getting better then he had to show up and ruin everything. Maeglin sometimes known as Lomion fought the urge to spit. They would all see, though. Tuor and Turgon and all the rest who looked askance at him for being his father's son and thought the seed of madness or evil was simply lurking waiting to
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She hums to herself, hasn't noticed the new arrival yet - but the song is probably familiar to Maeglin, typist willing, an old lullaby he heard every night in Nan Elmoth.
The fact that she is walking in his direction can only be blamed on a mother's instincts.
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She's dead. He saw her die. This is not possible. Tuor is screwing with his head no and that is not okay-! Will not speak to her! Just an illusion!
"Mother?"
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"Lòmion." Her steps are fast, though she does not run for fear of tripping.
"My son."
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He half steps back, a little stunned still, expression still utterly unguarded for pure and total shock. "--you're -" He hasn't even noticed the pregnancy, still a little caught up in the holy shiznozzle you're - what. what.
This is not on!
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"I am, and yet I am here," she tells him, sadly. "Are you not glad to see me?"
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Yes, that makes sense. They would. They would keep her from him, wouldn't they, thinking he would - he would -
Hatred flares and he forces it back down, makes his voice light. "After so long, mother...I never thought I would see you again."
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Did you die?
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"But -- tell me, then, of your life." He's hiding something. She needs to know what.
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"Nothing happened, mother. You worry needlessly." Stubbornly. He did get some things from her.
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