My Fanfiction +++
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.
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.