Instadrabbles (delayed dribbles) by 0ur_Ouroboros

The cure for anything is salt water (sweat, tears, or the sea)

Maglor wanders the shore and inhales its salt-water scent in the mornings. He finds comfort in this routine, while weeks, years, or perhaps ages pass him over. Pass him through, he thinks, as a sound that could pass for laughter escapes him.

At times, he thinks, better the wound had not healed at all, that his flesh still wept fresh from the burn: a reason for his tears. A meaning. 

For where reason and meaning lead, he thinks, an ending must follow.

Yet watching his hands move under sea-water, he feels no pain. 

In his flesh, long-healed, only numbness remains.