Tears From Twilight
Beta: Vesta
Shame.
It was an all-encompassing emotion. His cheeks seemed forever tinged crimson, his ears burning with the titters and whispers spoken behind raised hands.
The King had made him an adviser.
He still could not understand why.
More quiet laughter behind him. He set his jaw, banished the threatening tears, and continued to walk.
He knew the things they whispered about. He knew the names they had given him.
Coward.
Deserter.
Kinslayer.
The more the words floated to him on the gentle breeze, the more he came to believe them. As if his own memories and recriminations were not enough!
Silently he drifted, his mind always clouded by a haze of doubt and shame. The King he now served under either could not see his sins of cowardice or chose to ignore them. Regardless, one Elf's acceptance, king or not, was not enough to repair all that was broken.
A mouse of an Elf. Half of a whole. Lost. Guilty.
He bent his head, fighting the new flood of tears. Oh, how he wanted to mourn! Mourn for a dead king; mourn for a lost city; mourn for the loss of his own heart, long buried under rock and water.
Still, he could not.
Traitor.
Wretch.
Kinslayer.
Bones mend. Muscles strengthen. And memories should fade.
Not for him, though.
Memories, vivid and real, haunted his footsteps.
Betrayer.
Bringer of ruin.
Kinslayer.
The tears fell, hidden behind a thick curtain of midnight hair. Tears for the fallen. Tears for the lost. Tears for himself.
Maeglin dwelt in twilight and tears, pain and shame, guilt and loneliness.
He should have died with those he betrayed. He should have died when he fell. He should have died all those years ago when his father had come for him.
Tears for betrayal. Tears for blood.
His life was nothing but tears...
