Turgon managed to sneak Maglor away from the growing crowd quickly in the darkness; the minstrel did not object.
“We can hide!” Turgon’s whisper was frantic once they were alone. “We will never, ever step outside- lock ourselves away!”
Maglor tenderly stroked his fingers down Turgon’s cheek, something he had not done since the night before Turgon wed. “What of your wife and daughter? And what of my father and brothers?”
“I will not let them get to you,” promised Turgon.
“I am so sorry.” Maglor rested a finger over Turgon’s lips. “You are too late. I took the oath.”
Story Notes:
IDoS 2012. Inspired by the song: Well Worn Hand by Editors.