Summary: At the end of his long life, Maedhros son of Feanor finally breaks down and weeps as memories overwhelm him. Written in poem format, no slash intended. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I could never even dream of owning a character like Maedhros or any of the others mentioned here. They belong to Tolkien, and Tolkien only.
Author's Note: What follows is a brief and very random bolt of inspiration that hit me as I was falling asleep last night, and I was thankfully able to jot it down. And that's really all I have to say about this one, short and sweet as it is. I'm not sure if it's anything that great, as poetry's kinda hit or miss for me, but I do hope you enjoy it!
He wept for his father, driven insane.
He wept for his grandsire, immortal slain.
He wept for his brothers, driven astray.
He wept for his mother, driven away.
He wept for a family, driven apart.
Why must jewels of the eye vie for love from the heart?
He wept for a promise, sworn rashly but true,
And what sorrow would follow, only Mandos well knew.
He wept for the blood that stained his fair hands
When waters churned red in undying lands.
He wept for desertion, the bitterest fate
Of those who came late through the ice-covered Waste.
He wept for a hand, left high on black cliffs.
Why could not the Singer have granted his wish?
He wept for the Union that bore his own name.
He wept for betrayal, that Union's dark bane.
He wept for a Battle, Unnumbered in Tears,
And the Mound of the Slain, which remained countless years.
He wept for his cousin, the truest of friends,
Who should have endured to a glorious end.
He wept for a Jewel, to his hand burning brought.
He wept for the anguish, and the madness it wrought.
He wept for one brother, true to the last,
Whose love and allegiance none could surpass.
He wept for his people, so far from their home.
He wept for himself, at the end here alone.