The Road

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The Road

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He knew he had found something special the moment he first heard the electric guitar. This revelation had taken place in a small bar in London, a short stop in his travels. He was spellbound by the sound, drawn to this creation of wood, steel and electricity, the raw energy that hummed through the air when it was played, and the way it touched souls in a way unlike any other.

In equal measure he was intrigued by the mortals who played such instruments. They were poetic souls, rebels, wanderers, those who burned their candles at both ends. They threw themselves into crazy highs and depressing depths with an abandonment at which he could only marvel. Once he learned the craft, he found a job as backup guitarist. Time passed, and he faded into the shadows when they made history, boosted by skills taught and passed on in the late nights on the tour bus, and lyrics composed of threads from the world with whom Maglor was so intimately acquainted. He was sad when he left them, but for a short while he found people to share the long, weary road with and music of strange times, but also home.

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