My brother always used to sing about fair maidens finding true love without a doubt. This was when we were still living on Valinor. Now - if he sings - his songs are filled with battle and strife, meeting with new races as Dwarves or the Edain, or successful hunts where one of my brothers would bring home game and other wildlife.
Love. I often wondered why Maglor did not speak of his own love, but always of others, making it the most important tale to him and his crowd, who would be completely engrossed in it after mere seconds.
I remember the young maidens sitting around the many fountains in Tirion, claiming their sadness that a man would not look into her direction, or worse, dissecting flower petals one after another in a staccato rhythm saying: "He loves me, he loves me not. He loves me..."
If life was just that simple, I softly speak to no one beside me. The weather has been harsh this winter: the wind roars around my stronghold and many couples find each other in a passionate em