“You.. you are Feanor’s son.”
The comment might have startled him in the recent past. Now it was becoming such an easy thing to deny. “No,” replied Maglor quietly, pulling his hood down a little more. “I am from Doriath. Berdreth is my name.”
“Forgive me; you looked familiar.” The ellon looked about to say more, but turned back to the conversation he was having at his table.
Maglor quickly crossed the pub and climbed the stairs to the room he was staying in. Bareness, save for the vase of chrysanthemums, greeted him as he shut the door and removed his gloves. The scars would always remain; a constant reminder of whom he was and always would be. No amount of denial could change that.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Maglor