1970
"I liked that song," Robert Plant said.
Maglor raised an eyebrow. He was stoned and time seemed to dilate, a heavy fog over his mind. "What song?"
"The one you were humming when we were sitting in the forest, toking up."
Maglor blinked slowly and then he remembered. When the buzz started to kick in he'd found himself humming the lullaby Fëanor used to sing when he was an elfling. He grinned, pleased that his friend liked it.
"You come up with it?" Robert asked.
"Not exactly. My father did. He was an artist, an inventor, not a musician, but he had his musical moments, and it was why I decided to play music myself." Maglor felt that wistful ache again.
"D'you mind if I borrow it?"
Maglor considered. He couldn't take songwriting credit, as that was the opposite of keeping a low profile - Led Zeppelin knew his secret, as did the Rolling Stones; Keith Richards was Radagast in disguise, after all. The Beatles needed to do acid to cope with the revelation that non-humans were walking among mortals and reality was much weirder than they'd thought. But even if he couldn't be credited as one of the authors of the song, he still thought it should be out there. A living memory of Fëanor.
Maglor began to sing the melody, in Quenya. Jimmy Page came in from the bathroom and began to wave his violin bow - the one Maglor suggested he use for the guitar - like a conductor. By the end of the song Robert was in tears.
"I don't understand a bloody word you said, but it was fuckin' beautiful," Robert said. "So beautiful I almost feel like maybe I shouldn't use it, like it's... it's sacred or something -"
"Feel free to write your own lyrics," Maglor said, "that way you don't feel like you completely stole it without credit."
"Right. Sing it again, so I can jot down what comes to my mind?"
As it turned out, even though Robert Plant didn't understand a word of Quenya, the lyrics were still a very rough English and modern-day translation of Fëanor's words to the lullaby. It was as if his soul knew, even if his mind did not.
There's a lady who's sure all that glitters is gold
And she's buying a stairway to heaven
When she gets there she knows, if the stores are all closed
With a word she can get what she came for
Ooh, ooh, and she's buying a stairway to heaven
There's a sign on the wall, but she wants to be sure
'Cause you know sometimes words have two meanings
In a tree by the brook, there's a songbird who sings
Sometimes all of our thoughts are misgiven
Ooh, makes me wonder
Ooh, makes me wonder
The lullaby was actually a love song about Fëanor's brother Finarfin; Fëanor had glossed it as "lady" to not arouse suspicions, and Nerdanel had always assumed it was about her.
And as we wind on down the road
Our shadows taller than our soul
There walks a lady we all know
Who shines white light and wants to show
How everything still turns to gold
Maglor felt that wistful ache tighten in his chest, remembering the Silmarils, Fëanor's tribute of love for his brothers. A love that had driven Fëanor to stand against the gods and try to set his people free from oppression. A love that had driven Fëanor to madness, dying in vain.
He wished Fëanor - and Finarfin - could hear this now. That their love had been immortalized, even after the Silmarils were gone.
But he was certain the whole world would hear, and he hoped that the piper would indeed lead the world to reason, to finish the job his revolutionary father had attempted so long ago.