I COULD NEVER SEE TOMORROW

Maglor and Fëanor hurriedly crossed the Sirion at the Mouths, a difficult area to ford, but the only one possible for them. Maglor was weighted down by not only his heavy cloak but also his armor. He still wore military-style boots, with which he was reluctant to part, but Fëanor insisted that he leave them behind as well as his vambraces, shoulder pads and breastplate, his leather jerkin and his leggings, although he adamantly refused to give up his weapons or his harp. Therefore, his tool-belt containing his sword and dagger went with him across the river. And he would not remove his long shirt that fell to mid-thigh and preserved some, at least, of his dignity. To state that Fëanor’s naked presence did not affect him would have been to deny the emotions that ran in a disturbing stream beneath the surface of his somber exterior. But Maglor preferred to bury them beneath his more irksome thoughts for the present time.

As the two Elves swam across the river, Maglor found that divesting himself of his heavy clothing was a good idea, because the weight of his sword, dagger and harp slowed him down enough. “We are leaving a trail for your pursuers to follow,” he said to Fëanor, panting as he swam in steady, even strokes beside his resurrected father, although Fëanor seemed to be swimming effortlessly. “First your garment that we left at the lean-to, and now almost all of my clothing. They will know our intended route, and possibly our destination.”

“Even we do not know our intended destination,” Fëanor shot back.

After much difficulty without a boat, the two swimmers made it safely to the eastern shores and then into the great forest of Taur-im-Duinath after running most of the way for several days. They did not sleep until they were under cover of the forest near its edge. Exhausted and spent, they threw themselves down on the forest floor and lay beside each other, breathing hard and not speaking. Presently they fell asleep.

Fëanor awoke first the next day and went in search of food. He found some walnut trees and knocked down some nuts, and he discovered many different kinds of berries. These he brought back to Maglor and waited for him to awake. Then he sat and watched him as he slept, this Elf who had once been his son, but now whom he remembered only obliquely, as if he had been an acquaintance, but of whom he had some scraps of intimate knowledge.

He knew Maglor was a scholar and a consummate musician. He remembered that he had been much admired in Tirion in the old days for his strong voice and complex musical compositions. Fëanor had been given some information about Maglor from the Valar—that he had become a renowned minstrel in Middle-earth during the time they called the Long Peace—and Fëanor thought he would like to hear Maglor sing again.

He watched the minstrel as he slept on his back, his shirt pulled up to his chest, revealing a great deal of his slender body. ‘He is much too thin’, thought Fëanor, ‘and he looks old—older than me.’ The minstrel’s golden-brown hair had lost much of its luster, its long strands falling about his thin face, although it was tied back with a strip of leather. His body was lean and scarred, much of his muscle tone having been lost over the years since he had stopped fighting. Fëanor thought that sword-practice was something they could do to while away the time as they journeyed across Beleriand.

He continued to watch Maglor and muse upon the past until the minstrel eventually awoke. When Maglor came to with a start, his gaze fell upon Fëanor immediately, sitting naked with his arms wrapped around his knees, staring at Maglor with such intensity that the minstrel flushed a deep red, self-consciously pulling his shirt down to cover himself. He sat up and pushed the hair out of his face.

“How long have you been awake?” he asked.

“A long time. Since the early light. I have been wandering about and have brought back food for you,” Fëanor said, indicating the nuts and berries. “You are too thin for my liking. The sugar from the berries and the oils from the nuts should put some flesh back on your body. Come and eat.”

“Now you sound like my father,” said Maglor with a wry smile. “Why did you not wake me earlier? Should we not be on our way as soon as possible, in case your pursuers catch up with us?”

“Eat first,” said Fëanor. “We have probably eluded them by entering this forest. It will be most difficult for them to track us in here.”

“Not necessarily, if one of them is a Maia,” said Maglor. “Surely he would possess special skills that would enable him to find us if that is what he wanted to do.”

“You are sharp-witted,” said Fëanor. “If they want to find us in order to stop us from what we are doing, they will. Otherwise, they may merely be following us, rather than pursuing us. They may be waiting to see where we are going and what my intentions are. I think they suspect that I will not do what they have asked of me.”

“I don’t understand this at all,” said Maglor. “I don’t know what you are talking about, and why I am running away with you. I feel this whole thing is a dream.” He gave a deep sigh, stood and shook out his hair, retied it, tried to pull his shirt down lower when he noticed that Fëanor was staring at his torso, and then walked over to the dark-haired Elf, sat down beside him and began to eat a handful of berries. Fëanor cracked open the walnut shells with two rocks, breaking the nuts between them.

“Are you still very skilled with your hands?” asked Maglor, watching Fëanor’s movements.

“Yes, the Valar have given me skilled hands once again, although there are certain techniques I must re-learn, but all in time. The skills contained within my fingers do tie in with my mission.”

“Are you going to tell me what this mission is?” asked Maglor, chewing the tasty walnuts with relish. “You keep mentioning it.”

“Eventually,” said Fëanor. “I want us to become closer first—get to know each other better and in such a way that we trust each other completely.”

Maglor sighed and looked at the enigmatic Elf with some measure of exasperation. “You remind me of Tyelkormo—Celegorm,” he said. “The way you are evasive—that was just like him.” He smiled at Fëanor, one corner of his mouth turned downward in sadness, the other side uplifted in amusement. “We should have a long talk about the others in the family, but now is not the time,” Maglor sighed. “We should be on our way, or your followers, pursuers or otherwise will be on our trail and I do sense that you do not wish us to be discovered as yet.”

Fëanor patted his shoulder and said, “No. Not yet. As I told you, I do not intend to carry out my mission, though that is what I wish to appear to be doing. And I don’t know—I may decide in the future that it would be best if I did carry it out.” He rose to his feet, and then offered Maglor a hand, helping him to stand. “You are too thin,” he remarked again. “You need more food than the nuts and berries in this place, but how we are to find it, I know not.”

“Well,” said Maglor, strapping on his weapons-belt and retrieving his harp, “let us be on our way. Perhaps we will find some game and I can eat that to cure you of your obsession with my appearance. How are you at using sword or dagger?”

“Not very good, I am afraid,” said Fëanor, as the two strolled through the forest, with purposeful strides, yet no longer in as much of a hurry as they had been. “I have not regained my old proficiency.”

Maglor laughed. “You were never proficient in your first incarnation,” he said. He continued to chuckle at his naïve companion.

“I am in need of sword-practice,” said Fëanor. “I think we should establish a training schedule so that you can teach me the art of sword-fighting and dagger-throwing.”

“Is that wise?” asked Maglor. “Even if no one is in pursuit of us, it is probably a foolish idea to stop and allow ourselves time for frivolous play and foolery with weapons.”

“Not at all,” said Fëanor. “I think that it would be wise for me to learn these skills in case we happen upon danger, and then I would be of more use to you. I would not want to be standing idle while you are fighting wolves or other creatures by yourself with no help from me.”

When the two Elves presently came to a clearing, Maglor stopped and turned to Fëanor. “Right,” he said. “You are right. Here is an ideal spot for a makeshift training ground. Let us stop here and we can commence our practice swordplay. I will teach you the moves and strategies for different situations.” He unbuckled his belt and let it fall to the ground.

“How can you teach me with only one sword?” asked Fëanor.

Maglor sent him a glance of exasperation, which was lost on Fëanor. “Do you want me to do this or not?” asked Maglor, looking about at the surrounding trees. “If we can find a suitable branch, then I can use that and pretend it is a sword, while you wield the real one. That way you will become familiar with its weight and heft.”

They assumed the correct positions while standing opposite each other, Maglor explaining to Fëanor how to stand, the correct way to position his feet, and the different ways to hold a sword. Using a roughly sword-shaped stick, Maglor taught him the basic rules of thrust and parry. He was surprised that Fëanor showed a fair amount of skill after he had said that he was untrained and untested.

“The Valar must have given this incarnation of me some innate fighting skills,” said Fëanor, an expression of surprise on his face as he discovered his own unrealized talent, and disarmed Maglor with an effortless swing of the sword at just the right moment.

“You shouldn’t wonder,” said Maglor, shooting him a look of admiration as he stopped to pick up the fallen sword from the ground. “You would need fighting skills to travel in the wilds of Middle-earth. It is a savage land in many of its regions, and though Morgoth is gone, there remain some of his minions and dangerous beasts of his creation still lurking in dark places.”

The Elves continued their journey through the forest until Maglor could walk no longer. Fatigue and hunger had taken their toll on him. They stopped near a stream. “Give me your dagger,” said Fëanor suddenly.

“Why?” asked Maglor. “I have not yet shown you how to use it.”

“I think I should be able enough to skewer us a fish for our supper. While I am doing so, why don’t you hunt about for some vegetables, herbs and fruit, and build a fire?”

Maglor watched Fëanor walk down to the stream, his black hair flowing behind him, his lithe, athletic body aglow in the dappled sunlight. He sighed. He was beginning to feel dependent upon this Elf, and not in the way of father-son, but as a companion, a friend and fellow hunter. He set to work finding the things that Fëanor had mentioned: some wild asparagus and lettuce; plenty of berries and some figs. He started a fire with the flint he had tucked into his dagger-sheath, and then he made a salad of the food he had found, ripping the vegetables apart with his hands and adding the berries and figs when the salad was ready. This part of the forest was pleasant, the trees not too thickly-spaced, sunlight able to find its way through the treetops to provide dappled shade below. Many food plants were then able to grow in this place.

Fëanor had caught two good-sized fish, and returned with them to the campfire, dripping water onto Maglor as he handed his catch to the minstrel.

“I think we need to find you some clothing,” said Maglor, shifting his body to avoid being deluged with Fëanor’s water droplets.

“Unless we happen across someone’s home in this forest, I shall have to remain as I am. Besides, I like being naked. It would seem there is some unlikelihood of finding other people here,” said Fëanor.

“I don’t know,” said Maglor. “There are many Elves in nearby Ossiriand. In fact, it is quite densely populated with Green-elves. It would not be unreasonable to assume that some of the more solitude-seeking among their kind might desire to move into the forest to live alone. It has happened before.” He looked at Fëanor crossly. “And I do not know why you do not mind going about naked. I find it rather disturbing.”

Fëanor blinked and stared at Maglor. “Why are you disturbed by my nudity?” he asked, his eyes wide.

“I don’t know,” said Maglor, looking away and fidgeting with his shirt, pulling it roughly as far down his thighs as possible so that one of the shoulder seams came apart halfway. “You just do.”

“Are you not pleased with me for catching some fish for you?” asked Fëanor.

Maglor nodded, his face becoming flushed. “Yes, but that has nothing to do with the other.”

“Well, I thought you sounded cross with me,” said Fëanor.

“I am not cross,” said Maglor. He lay down on the ground and abruptly turned his back on the stunningly beautiful and disturbing reincarnation of his father who had unsettled him. “I would like to sleep now. Goodnight,” he said.

Fëanor stared at Maglor for many minutes before he lay down near him. He sighed, and gradually went to sleep while he thought about the strange situation he was in. He was reincarnated solely for the purpose of preventing one who was to unknowingly aid a new dark power from becoming strong enough to be as much a threat to Middle-earth as Morgoth had once been. But Fëanor thought that there was more behind the Valar’s intentions than what they had told him, and he had escaped before the full plan and his part in it had been revealed to him. He knew he was to seek a certain person in the east. He had been told that Maglor could help him find this person, and he had been able to find Maglor’s current settlement after he had hidden aboard two Númenorean ships in order to reach Middle-earth.

When Fëanor saw that two people were approaching them at the settlement, he thought this meant that the Valar and the Maiar would know where the two Elves were at all times. While still in the Halls he had been told that two people would be accompanying him on his mission: one a member of the Maiar, and the other a newly resurrected Elf-warrior, like himself. However, he did not know their identities. He wondered how much he should tell Maglor. Eventually he fell asleep ruminating on these thoughts, although he was uncomfortable and fearful.