A/N: I'm pretty sure I can only write sad head canons. Oh well.  Here's a sad one. The picture in the media section alone is enough to make me sad. But have fun reading...actually if you do have fun you're a creepy psychopath who needs mental help :3 

As always, please comment and vote!

Maeglin sat on the edge of a fountain, brooding. Life went on around him, yet he could not continue to keep its pace. He was a traitor to Gondolin now, and also partly a traitor to himself. Every day, he became more and more like his father, filled with more darkness. Now he was helping the evil side. Laughing quietly to himself, Maeglin thought, What does it matter? Good or evil; it only depends on what your perspective is.

So, since he had duties to fulfill, he made Morgoth the good side in his head. After all, Morgoth had promised him the hand Idril if victory over Gondolin was theirs. When had Turgon ever even thought of him and Idril together? When had Idril even thought of them? 

Maeglin's countenance darkened, and his eyebrows drew close together. Idril probably thought about him often, but not in the way he wanted. She hated him for his love for her; there was no mistaking that. She had made him feel like an outcast, hated by almost all. Now, while he knew he wasn't hated by everyone... most of the population of the city didn't trust him for one reason or another. It was probably better for him to work in the service of Morgoth: he had the mightier army, promised to give Maeglin Idril, and was going to win. Not a single person in Gondolin could possibly surive Morgoth's attack without warning.

Maeglin was stirred from his brooding by a young Elfling shouting, "Maeglin! Maeglin!" He looked up, his thoughts darkening even more when he saw who it was: Earendil. Earendil, with his pale face and light-brown hair, seemed to be the embodiment of why Maeglin was doing everything he was. Earendil, Idril's son, made Maeglin's want to see Gondolin fall ten times stronger. Earendil, the Elfling--no. He was not an Elf, now was he? Not fully, at least.

He would have liked to be left alone, but knew Earendil was persistent and wouldn't allow it. So Maeglin plastered a smile to his face and beckoned him over. Happily, Earendil rushed to his side, sitting down on the fountain beside him.

"There you are!" he exclaimed, turning to face the Elf. "I was looking for you! I brought you something." Earendil held out a handful of blue and purple flowers. Trying not to show his annoyance, Maeglin took them and forced a grin.

"Thank you, Earendil."

Earendil nodded. As soon as he looked away, Meaglin made to throw the flowers away, but something stopped him. Earendil always gave him something or other, and he gave often, at least once a week. Maeglin looked down at the flowers again. They were so beautiful: blue like the night sky and purple like the rainment of royalty. He had always liked to think that the boy hated him, and that he was acting only on Idril's words to bring him flowers and such. While not entirely realistic, given that Idril always scorned him, it made Maeglin feel better about what he was doing. Of  course, Earendil would have to fall with the city. Suddenly, Maeglin asked, "Earendil, why don't you hate me?"

Earendil's gaze snapped to Maeglin's. "Why don't I hate you? Why should I hate you?"

Maeglin nodded, cringing internally. For some reason, that sentence, said in the voice of a happy innocent child, made him feel guilty. Guilty, just because it was Earendil saying it! Why? He hated Earendil. 

"Do you like me?" Meaglin questioned. He needed to know exactly how the boy felt. It was nagging at him now.

Earendil hesitated. "Well...to be honest, I do not even really know you. My mother forbids me from speaking with you, but I do anyways. It isn't that I like you all that much, mostly because I know you love my mother, and she loves my father, and nothing you can do will change that...I can just sense that you need help. You're fighting with yourself, aren't you? What's wrong, Maeglin? You can tell me anything, and I swear on...on... everything that I won't tell anyone."

Maeglin's simple look turned to a violent glare. "No," he said, "you are wrong." Which had been true only moments before Earendil showed up. Maeglin had made up his mind. Now that Earendil had showed him such kindness, his decision was crumbling as he remembered everything the young one had done for him.

"Please, Maeglin! I just want to help," he begged, eyes wide.

"No!" shouted the Elf. "No, you can't help me!" He sprang to his feet but kept his glare focused on Earendil. "Goodbye. Thank you for the flowers." With that, he turned to leave, angrily ripping off the delicate petals and crusing them in his hands.

*        *        *

Maeglin stood on one of the towers on the wall of Gondolin. The wind whipped his dark hair around his face, but he made no move to push it away. He was thinking hard about the events of that day. Hadn't he just thought earlier that Earendil was the reason for his hate and grief? So why was he feeling guilty about destroying him and everything he loved? Maeglin definitely did not want to incur the wrath of Morgoth on himself, but a tiny part of him didn't want to betray the city that had taken care of  him and his mother, before she died. 

Meaglin snapped out of his thoughts when he heard footsteps on the stairs, and thinking it was a guard, he went to hide behind a box of supplies that had been set up there. But as the figure made it's way to the edge of the wall, he realized that it was no guard. It was Earendil, and he was sobbinghis little heart out. Slowly, Maeglin peeked out from behind the box. 

"Earendil?" he asked quietly, standing up to his full height. Earendil whipped around, frantically wiping his face.

"M-Maeglin? W-why are you h-here?" he stuttered. "Y-you aren't allowed!"

Maeglin walked over to the little boy, pity in his heart. "I come here often, little one. Yes, I'm not allowed, but no one ever finds out. And I'm not hurting anything, am I?" He smiled at Earendil. Earendil did not smile back, so Maeglin prodded, "What's wrong?"

Earendil's eyes widened. "I...I had a dream," he muttered. "It was of you, Maeglin. You betrayed us, all of us, to Morgoth. The city was on fire, crumbling to dust. You took my mother, killed my father, and..." he paused to take a shaky breath, tears still falling freely down his face.

"And what?" Maeglin urged, nervous. Earendil had just voiced Maeglin's plan exactly, and he had to assure the boy that it wouldn't happen so he wouldn't tell anyone. His parents were already suspicious enough. 

"...and then you killed me," he whispered, locking his eyes with Maeglin's. The fear, doubt, and uncertainty in his eyes made something inside of the Elf hurt.He couldn't tell if it was guilt or some other emotion, but it made him hurt quite a bit. 

"Oh, Earendil," he breathed, holding out his arms. Almost immediately, the boy ran to them, and Maeglin could feel his small body heaving up and down with sobs as he cried. Unsure of what to do, he put one hand on Earendil's head and stroked his hair gently. Then he brought Earendil down to the ground, and he leaned back against the wall while the boy cried still beside him. At last, Maeglin noticed that Earendil's heartwrenching sobs had died down. Just as he thought he was asleep, a little voice whispered, "Promise me, Maeglin. Promise you'll never do any of that."

Maeglin's mouth hung open as he tried to make a desicion; but there was really only was choice: to lie to Earendil.

"I promise," said. He never knew that it could be so painful to say only two words, but they seemed to rip at his heart. There, Maeglin realized that he cared for Earendil like a little brother, and he almost always had, no matter how many times he'd tried to tell himself other wise. Even though he was asleep by then, Maeglin whispered to him, "I promise." 

Earendil never noticed Maeglin's tears that fell onto his soft hair that night.

*        *        *

Parts of the city were indeed on fire and crumbling to dust, just as Earendil had predicted. Maeglin tried to tie a struggling Idril's hands behind her back. When he finally succeded, he turned to Earendil, who was cowering in a corner with a sword much too big for him. 

"Maeglin!" he cried, watching his home burn around him and his mother tied up by somene he had come to know as a brother. His terror and grief were too much for anyone that age to have to endure, so much that his tears had dried long ago.

Maeglin couldn't feel anything. He'd betrayed everyone, finally done it. There was no going back, and he could not afford to feel anything like he'd felt the night of Earendil's dream. The youth stood up, holding the sword as best he could, but it was just not the right size, and Maeglin knocked it away easily with his own.

"Stop!" cried Eareandil, but the words had no effect on him. "Stop! Please, STOP!" Maeglin just advanced, preparing himself to kill the boy. The only thing that did indeed make him stop was when Earendil said, in a voice hardly audible over the noise of the ruin of the city, "You promised."

Maeglin paused, regret, fear, sadness, and guilt washing over him in a huge wave that he couldn't control. He turned to Idril. She had tears streaming down her face, leaving little streaks in the dust that coated it. Her eyes seemed to beg him: Maeglin, please. Don't hurt my son.

His moment of hesistation cost him dearly. Tuor showed up, seemingly out of nowhere, and Maeglin's hate was rekindled. They ran at each other, swords flying this way and that, each of their faces etched with pain and loathing. Out of th corner of his eye, Maeglin noticed that Earendil had unbound and ungagged his mother. If they escaped....all would be for nothing. He would be in the service of Morgoth with no reward, no hope for happiness.

So he stopped. Maeglin stopped fighting, stopped trying, and let Tuor kill him. As the sword stabbed into his stomach, he felt no pain; the hurt he was feeling inside was too great to be matched by a physical wound. Earendil's words echoed around in his head: You promised.

When Tuor realized that he had won the fight, he yelled and took Maeglin by the back of his shirt. A brief tinge of fear went through Maeglin as he realized what was happening. Tuor was going to throw him off the wall. And he did.

As the Elf fell, time seemed to slow down, and tears flew from his eyes. He gasped as the pain in his abdomen suddenly became noticable. He saw Earendil's face looking down at him, and he screamed. In that one scream, he wanted to convey every emotion he felt: hate, sorrow, guilt, regret, love, and fear. But most of all, he just wanted to say, "I'm sorry."

I'm so, so sorry.