3. Chapter 3
are busily driving up the road, and my new friend waves vigorously at
several drivers she clearly knows.
The house is old, but clean and pleasant, like many seaside dwelling it has
a charm peculiar to itself, a bit like the owner. 'Ok,' she says once we
are inside, 'if I'm going to give you a feed, you can tell me who you are'.
Her green eyes lock onto mine, this woman is not only unafraid, she will
not be lied to, and I sense her belief that I must answer her. So I give
her the truth, or at least some of it, 'My name is Maglor, I used to be
many things, but now I am a wanderer, lost to the society of my people'.
Her eyes show her compassion as she introduces herself, 'I am Bronwyn
Johnson; I have lived here nearly 8 years. Last year I saw you, and when I
saw again this year, I just had to find out who you are.'
I look sharply at her, this mortal is indeed different. I wonder, could she
be the one Ulmo spoke to me of holding my doom? Only time will tell the
answer there. I speak to her, 'What do you mean, Bronwyn?'
'You may be many things, but human you are not', she states flatly.
I am now very curious about her. 'Why do you say that?'
'Your pointed ears for one thing, and I've never seen anyone that glows
before', she answers.
She has me now, and I must reveal my kind to her. 'I am an elf, a race of
people who lived here many years ago. Most of my people left these land
untold years ago, few of us are left'.
She nodded, 'I thought so.' She looks me over, slowly. For the first time
in my life I feel uncomfortable under a mortal's gaze. Perhaps it is
because her eyes as so green, like a fine Emerald. 'So how come you are
still here?' she asks, as she checks the pot she has on her stove. Before I
can answer her, again she asks me a question, 'So, do you eat normal food?'
'Yes,' I reply with a smile.
'Good, cos I don't think I have any elf food. Horse food, cat food, but no
elf food. They don't sell it in the Supermarket,' she giggles.
Stifling a giggle myself, I reply to her 'Anything will be fine, do not put
yourself to any trouble on my account'.
'Ok then, some soup and fresh bread to start with then. Do you drink wine?'
'Elves invented wine', I say.
'Good, then make yourself useful, and open this', she hands me a wine
bottle and an opener. I comply, and fill the glasses she has given me,
noting as I take a sip from one glass that she has good taste in
She is serving the now hot soup into bowls. 'I hope you don't mind, meals
are fairly informal here, I usually eat on the back veranda', she says.
'It is too nice an evening to be indoors', I answer her, 'the sky is clear,
and stars are out now, I should enjoy eating outdoors by starlight'.
We take the food and wine outdoors, and seat ourselves. Almost immediately,
a blue-eyed cat, with a pale body and coloured legs and tail appears,
meowing loudly. 'Excuse me, I'll just feed Cherie', Bronwyn says;
disappearing indoors with the cat at her heals.
She reappears, and sits again. 'What sort of cat was that?' I ask her.
'Siamese', she says. Once they were owned the Royal family of Thailand, now
they are reasonably common, I am surprised that you have not seen one
'No, never, it is a pretty animal', I reply.
The food is good, and I realise how hungry I am. Bronwyn watches me eat,
and silently fetches more food when my bowl is empty. 'Not had a decent
feed in a while', she says.
I do not answer her, as my mouth is full. She looks at me again, 'for a
fairy tale being you look awfully thin and scruffy, like a lost dog', she
I say nothing, painfully aware that she is right. For one who was a high
Noldoran Prince, I have fallen far in the world.
She laughs brightly, shaking her head. 'My friends tell me to stop taking
in strays', she says to no one in particular. 'So, you could do with a
shower and some clean clothes. My late husband was about your size, you can
have some of his clothes if you like'.
I blush slightly embarrassed for she is right again. I do look like a
homeless tramp, which on reflection I concede I am. 'Thank you,' I said.
'You are a kind lady'. I have finished the food now, and take my bowl and
plate back inside. She has disappeared into a closet, and soon reappears
with some clothes for me. As she hands me the clothes and a clean towel,
she points me towards the bathroom, 'Are you a widow, Bronwyn', I ask.
'Yes', she replies, a momentary look of sadness in her face, 'My husband
was an Army pilot, he was killed in a training accident, while testing a
new aircraft 6 years ago'.
'I am sorry for your loss', I said softly.
She shook herself slightly, 'It's Ok, he died doing something he loved,
mostly I am over his death, but it's tomorrow is the anniversary of his
death. Guess that's why I took you in tonight, don't want to be alone.' Her
face clears, 'anyway, I'll make dessert while you get cleaned up.'
Ok readers, this fic may not get to be a romance. I am deliberately trying
to show Maglor's 'human' side by making Bronwyn treat him as a normal
person. Also this is going to be about forgiveness, both the gods forgiving
Maglor, and him forgiving himself.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.