Dream || 001 || Cacophony ♪
[Warning: Blood and a lot of character death. Silmarillion spoilers?]
Shouting. Crying. Sobbing. The homes were burning, these refugees’ homes.
It was all so pointless.
Blood stained Maglor’s sword, blood stained his hands…
Screams, the screaming of men, women and children alike. It grated against his ears, but he could not press his hands against his ears to drown them out-no, his hands were bloodstained.
Maglor, grimly, parried the sword of one of the few defenders left and ran him through.
More blood to add to his list, more blood staining hands more suited to the harp than the sword.
He looked up, and there was his brother’s bright red hair, unmistakable even in the midst of battle.
“Maedhros,” Maglor called out, striding towards him. But he froze at the expression on his brother’s face. There was a long silence in the middle of chaos.
“Where are Amrod and Amras-“ Maglor began. Maedhros shook his head, and Maglor stared.
His youngest brothers, the two twins he had helped to raise-
Two dead twins, sprawled on the ground, gaping wounds in their chests. Similar in life, so had they died.
One by one by one.
Bold, crafty Curufin, an arrow through his chest.
Dark Caranthir, eyes like a child again, reaching out to him despite the blood that pooled beneath his body. “Macalaure-“
Celegorm, known for his beauty, still beautiful in death, though pale and lifeless, and if he paid no mind to the gaping throat, Maglor could almost believe that his brother was not dead-
And he was back in the midst of the battle again, staring at Maedhros, his only remaining brother.
“We found the sons of Elwing,” Maedhros said, voice cold, so different from the caring elder brother Maglor had once known. But no…he had to be cold, to survive this.
The scene shifted, changed to a small cave underneath a waterfall. The two children, twins, stared up at them-so young, so young, clutching each other’s arm for security and safety.
Maedhros’ eyes flicked over them. “If she will not give up our treasure, we shall take her,” he said, and again Maglor was struck by that coldness. No, no, they were just children, he would not, could not allow Maedhros to take these young lives-
He could not move, though he struggled to at least cry out and stop this madness. He could only watch as Maedhross pulled out his sword and stepped closer, brought it up and then-
Screams and blood, a child’s sobs, before those two, were suddenly silence.
--
…
Shouting. Crying. Sobbing. The homes were burning, these refugees’ homes.
It was all so pointless.
Blood stained Maglor’s sword, blood stained his hands…
Screams, the screaming of men, women and children alike. It grated against his ears, but he could not press his hands against his ears to drown them out-no, his hands were bloodstained.
Maglor, grimly, parried the sword of one of the few defenders left and ran him through.
More blood to add to his list, more blood staining hands more suited to the harp than the sword.
He looked up, and there was his brother’s bright red hair, unmistakable even in the midst of battle.
“Maedhros,” Maglor called out, striding towards him. But he froze at the expression on his brother’s face. There was a long silence in the middle of chaos.
“Where are Amrod and Amras-“ Maglor began. Maedhros shook his head, and Maglor stared.
His youngest brothers, the two twins he had helped to raise-
Two dead twins, sprawled on the ground, gaping wounds in their chests. Similar in life, so had they died.
One by one by one.
Bold, crafty Curufin, an arrow through his chest.
Dark Caranthir, eyes like a child again, reaching out to him despite the blood that pooled beneath his body. “Macalaure-“
Celegorm, known for his beauty, still beautiful in death, though pale and lifeless, and if he paid no mind to the gaping throat, Maglor could almost believe that his brother was not dead-
And he was back in the midst of the battle again, staring at Maedhros, his only remaining brother.
“We found the sons of Elwing,” Maedhros said, voice cold, so different from the caring elder brother Maglor had once known. But no…he had to be cold, to survive this.
The scene shifted, changed to a small cave underneath a waterfall. The two children, twins, stared up at them-so young, so young, clutching each other’s arm for security and safety.
Maedhros’ eyes flicked over them. “If she will not give up our treasure, we shall take her,” he said, and again Maglor was struck by that coldness. No, no, they were just children, he would not, could not allow Maedhros to take these young lives-
He could not move, though he struggled to at least cry out and stop this madness. He could only watch as Maedhross pulled out his sword and stepped closer, brought it up and then-
Screams and blood, a child’s sobs, before those two, were suddenly silence.
--
…