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Grief for the Living Son

Grief for the Living Son

Nerdanel removed the last shining opal from the necklace, and set it as a pendant, hanging it from a mithril chain. Only one of her menfolk remained alive, of her husband and seven sons. And when she might ever see her Macalaurë again none could say, not for love nor money!

The Moon rose over the eastern horizon, its light shining on the sheet of music and small crystal ink bottle she’d found in the room once his. What a monkey he’d been as a child, into everything not behind a locked keyhole, ever begging another cookie, branding each possession with the letter M, even his violin! But there at the wharf of Alqualondë--what he’d done had been written in the blood of innocents!

Her family had reached a fork in the road of life, and only she’d continued on the straight way. Holding his music, she wept bitterly.


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