@ondothlim
It was agony to watch, the writhing, feral mass they once had called their friend. Spitting insults and defamation of his own character, along with everyone elses. Egalmoth nearly jumped to try and comfort him, heart aching at the sight, but held back by the stoic Ecthelion. He looked at his twin, brows furrowed and half ready to fight him, but there Ecthelions eyes betrayed his own desire to help and inability to do so.
He hummed softly, the gift of music bestowed upon him by his father. Already he used it to calm Maeglin, when the thrashing usurper had been impossible to bind and began hurting his men. He saw no reason why he could not use it again. He hummed and whispered under his breath, singing a song of calm, the tendrils of darkness so clawed within Maeglin would not be able to be removed, but perhaps they would stay quieter within the songs presence. He did not know if it had an affect, or if Morgoth's shadows simply gave the boy enough room to calm himself. But he kept at it, and eyes upon the figure of Maeglin, stayed as a constant guard.
Glorfindel had listened long enough, to lies which clearly had twisted Maeglins mind. He caught a glimpse of something else. Something which drove him to a knee as he bent before the boy and gently pushed the dark tendrils of his hair aside. His words were of little consequence to Glorfindel, though he'd seen Egalmoth recoil, no barb of dark lies were believed enough to pierce Glorfindels heart. The only grief was in the remembrance of Turgons imprisonment, in how he must be suffering within the high walls of the dark lord. But he was not here, Maeglin was--
He had come for a reason. And Glorfindel intended to find out just what that reason was.
"Be at ease Lómion, son of Aredhel." He rumbled softly, tilting his head to look him in the eyes, touch gentle in spite of everything, he gripped his jaw so he might be still. He did not want a fight. "I do not desire to harm you. Merely to find what you were looking for." .
. . Of course, it was very possible he'd get a fight anyway, for in the eyes of Maeglin he searched and slipped into his inmost thoughts as Ecthelions music grew slightly louder in concern. Osanwë was a gift, one taught and fostered in the Prince of the Vanyar, he did not use it often, and never on the unwilling. This was a very special case. And so he spoke, voice soothing in Maeglins mind:
Tell me, Lómion, what do you want from me?
H̸̢͍̤͙̬͚͖̉̿̅̽͒͊e̴̡̮͈̞̐̀̾ ̵̧̥̟̥̖̟̞̬̟̳͌̇̇i̸̳̤̻̣͔͐ͅͅş̷̯̯̰̓̏̓̀̀̓͘ ̴̨̫̖͉͖̙̹̮̽̒ͅl̶̙̝̱̗͔̎̑̏̿͂̉̀̆͊́y̴̨̧͇̯̲̲̖͛̾i̷̡͓̗͔̗̤̫̙͐͗̄n̸̤̒̌̐̓g̷̞͌̔̀͜ͅͅ
Two songs warred within Maeglin's mind- the steady, thrumming beat of Morgoth's and the soothing melody sung by Ecthelion. Their clash was a peculiar discomfort, as though his head was stuffed full and fit to burst. Pain lanced through his mind and he could do little but whimper as Glorfindel gripped him by the jaw.
He could not move- could barely breathe as Morgoth's influence strove to fight off the calming nature of Ecthelion's song and the intrusion of Glorfindel into his mind. Maeglin's lips parted and closed, as though trying to speak. He hadn't the power. Hadn't the breath.
¿ǝɯ ɯoɹɟ ʇuɐʍ noʎ op ʇɐɥʍ 'uoıɯo̗˥ 'ǝɯ llǝ⊥
Tears streamed from Magelin's eyes- wide open as if he perceived some unmentionable horror- and he went rigid. It felt as though three sets of chains had him bound in place. Morgoth's- a heavy iron that burned and froze him all at once. Ecthelion's, a gossamer thread with deceptive strength... and Glorfindel's - gold, and yet unyielding.
Maeglin had thought he'd known true fear in Angband, but this... this was it. This was the most frightened he had ever been.
Immobile, Maeglin could do nothing but watch as Glorfindel flitted through his memories- from the awkward, stiff walk to the home of the rebellion (seeking help) back to his crowning (terrified for what would happen to those taken, those he had managed to barter for. What would Idril think? Would he be able to keep Earendil safe?) back to his time in Angband (and the stew he'd been forced to consume, before a line of skulls all too familiar... he had not eaten meat since, could barely stomach anything anymore.) back to the moment he'd been surprised by the Orcish ambush.
Then, Glorfindel would see Maeglin- bound in chains in the prison his mind had become, eyes desperate, mouth forming silent pleas for help before he was engulfed in shadow.
G̷̱̤̟̫͖͙͇̖͒̈͑̍̆͜E̵̼̰̣̖̖̱̙̭͌͌͝Ț̷̡̨͖͘ ̶̭̝̇͗͝T̶̬̬͙́̈́̍̈́̃̎͝Ḩ̷̛͇͉̜̝̅Ȇ̷̦̩̲E̴͓͓̟͈̘̒̊͗ ̶̧̞̻͎̗̲̱̦̔̀̅̂͘͠G̶͓̠̞̦͖̽̉́̏̈̈̀̚͜͜͠Ơ̴̠͛͑͝͝͝N̴͇̙̈́̎̒̈́̾̇͌̋͜͝͝É̸̘̟̲͓͙̠̩͎̾͊̌̉͆̔̕͝
Glorfindel would be ejected from the Puppet King's mind with a loud cacophony of Morgoth's song, and Maeglin would scream, slumping to the side and writhing in agony.
M̶̞̪̗̌̑̎́͂̏͝u̷̻̱̪͎̮̍̅̐̒̋̏̒̿̽͝s̶͕̥͇̱̗̺̭͇̺͊̏͗͆̿̈́̐͘ͅt̵̢̙͇̮͖͌́̆̇̋̍̍̚͘͝ ̴̡̞͉̤͙̖͇̖̳̖͐͑̐̚I̸̝̖̓̑̒͋͘̚͠ ̶̩͚͑̍́p̵̢̨͕̳̪̗̘̓̆̊u̵̼̜̹̯̪͗͌͊̏̋̃͠l̴̫͓̬̞̗̼̩̉ͅl̵̡̘̟̳̫͇̙̎ ̸͎̪̤̭͚̻̲̟̘̌̂̓͌̉́̈̀̅͐à̷͔͇̮͍̲͒t̶͔͊̏̽̍̀̀̉͝ ̵̈̃̈́̅͛̏͜y̶̢̜̫̤̰̯͖̅̔͒ơ̶̼̒̏̔̽̑̓͝͝u̴̡̯͎͚̹͖̠̦͆̓̾̄̈́̾͛̅r̵̟͙̄͌͌͠ ̸̢̫̳̠̭͙̯̟̥͊͊͠s̴̡̼̱͚̙̭̄̄̈́̎t̴̲̖͔͇̥͎̂̔̃̍̍͋̑r̷̨͖̞͉̜͝i̴̧͚̜̻̗͓̽̌̅̔ṅ̴̯͇͎͇̖̣́̍̍̚̚͠g̷̠̩̻̪̓s̵̢̺̃͊͌̽̕ ̵̳̔̏͌̃̉̔ḅ̸̢͉͕̝̙͈̣͓͋͒ͅǫ̶̭̓͆͋͊̍̽͜y̴͊̈́́͆̿͜?̸͖̟̆͆̽̄̈́͑̅̽͘͝
