The Perfection of the Crab by octopus_fool  

The first time Makalaurë had gone to the beach with Marillë, he had expected a nice, relaxed walk along the beach, deep gazes into each other's eyes, looking at the stars and having a nice dinner afterwards. What he had not been expecting was to be on his hands and knees, slime dripping from his hair as he peered into the rock crevice where she was trying to point out some strange creatures to him. 

Makalaurë squinted and looked past the squishy green, purple and red sea anemones into the pool of water. A fish darted away.

"Was that it?"

"That pearl goby? No, they are interesting enough, especially their mating behaviour and how they survive if they get caught out of the water by Ossë's tides, but that's not what I'm trying to show you. Do you see that rock pinnacle, right towards the back of the crevice?"

Makalaurë repositioned himself slightly, his left hand slipping off something squishy. The scent of seawater and algae assaulted his nose. "Yes, I think so…"

"Then look right behind it, in the water. It's a bit hard to see, but the claws are peaking out a little and if that little bearded wrasse over there keeps getting closer…"

Makalaurë looked at the small fish, and suddenly, the sand erupted and a spiny bluish-grey crab with red marks held the fish in its red-lined claws. The water was stained reddish by the blood and Makalaurë swallowed.

"Yes, I definitely saw that. It is impressively fast."

Marillë beamed at him. "Yes, peregrine crabs are one of the fastest creatures in the rock pools. That bearded wrasse didn't stand a chance! Isn't the crab a magnificent creature?"

Makalaurë looked at it doubtfully. It was carefully removing portions of the poor fish with its other claw and daintily transferring them into its mouth. Efficient, yes, well-adapted too, but magnificent? Makalaurë couldn't really see the appeal. 

He looked at Marillë, with a green smudge across her beaming face. He could definitely see the appeal.

"Hold on, you have a little something there…" Makalaurë reached out to pull a piece of reddish seaweed from her silver hair, then lost balance and splashed into the pool with his hand as he tried to steady himself.

Marillë burst out laughing, but extended her hand to help him out of his awkward position.

"There will be a lecture on crabs next week in Alqualondë. Would you like to come with me?"

Makalaurë was sure he could endure a lecture about crabs if it meant spending more time with her.

This time, Makalaurë was pretty accurate in guessing how things would go. Marillë was enthusiastic to see him, but as soon as the lecture started, she was entirely focussed on it. At least she held his hand and squeezed it when she became particularly excited about something. 

What Makalaurë hadn't expected was the lecture to be genuinely interesting. He would never admit it to Marillë, but before their walk on the beach, he had never thought about crabs aside from when he had one on his plate. 

Now he learned how the different crab species adapted to various environments and challenges, and that not everything that looked like a crab actually was a crab, because it turned out that looking like a crab was the supreme form of existing as a small creature in or by the ocean.

After the lecture, they walked along the pier of Alqualondë and went to a small restaurant that Marillë assured Makalaurë was the best seafood restaurant there was, even though it was barely known. They ordered crab, even though Makalaurë thought it was a bit odd.

"Why not appreciate them with all senses?" Marillë said, laughing as she cracked her crab open and pointed out the muscles they had learned about earlier.

Makalaurë had to admit that the crabs and the restaurant were excellent. And as the violins swelled and the singer in the restaurant serenaded the light of the trees shining onto the sea through the Calacirya, Marillë leaned forward to kiss him. Makalaurë couldn't imagine a more perfect evening.

Maglor stared at the fish in the little pool. It was a big one, and he was hungry. He had been living off snails and shells for far too long. Fish would be a great change. Slowly, Maglor approached the fish and extended his hands. With a jolt, he reached into the water to grab the fish. There was a loud splash, and Maglor found himself in the water, hands empty. The fish had dashed into some secret hiding place.

Suddenly, Maglor remembered watching a crab catch a fish in what now seemed like another lifetime. Marillë had pulled him out of the water when he had found himself in an equally waterlogged situation as now.

Maglor felt his eyes sting as he remained sitting in the water. If he were a crab, he would at least be able to catch a fish.

The sun burned him, and the salt stung his eyes and the cracks in his skin. The wind tangled his hair and when there was cold or rain, Maglor shivered miserably. Sometimes, Maglor screamed just to see if somebody would hear him, and then he regretted it when he couldn't even sing afterwards.

Maglor was not made for this. He had been made for the stage, for singing songs that made people cry from their beauty, for coming up with new melodies and lyrics. He had been made for comfortable evenings with Marillë, for long nights in bed with her and the rain drumming against the windows in the morning as he watched her sleep in. 

He had also been made for holding a fortress, for galloping over the plains with his soldiers and putting fear into orcs with his battle cry. Surprisingly, he had also been made to fulfil a father role.

But this… this was not his element. These conditions were made for sea creatures, not a son of Fëanor. They were conditions in which seabirds could thrive, oysters, mussels and clams. And crabs. Maglor remembered how the conditions of the sea favoured the shape of the crab, how all small creatures that had nothing better to do slowly turned into crabs. If Ulmo had any mercy, he would turn Maglor into a crab too.

Maglor sang his longing out into the wind. He sang of the silmaril, and he sang of claws. The tides washed across the shores, and he wandered, a song of Marillë on his lips, and a song of shiny carapaces. The seagulls screamed of crabs, and Maglor joined in. 

Oh, to be a crab, to be the perfect creature of the beach! To eat with claws rather than burnt hands, to snip at everything that bothered him! Oh, to be beloved to both Ulmo and Marillë again! Truly, crabs had everything he could only yearn for. What enviable creatures!

The sun glared, and Maglor's skin burnt and peeled. The discomfort made Maglor itch and his skin feel too tight. He sat on a rock and picked at the red skin on his foot. There was a crackling sound, and something red and shiny became visible under the cracked skin of Maglor's left foot. He prodded at his loose skin, then clenched the muscles in his leg. His leg pulled free from the skin, then another leg, and another, and another.

Maglor struggled and squirmed, his skin too tight, too restraining. He bit and scratched at his arms, at his accursed hands, until bluish-grey and red shell broke through the damaged skin. His claw finally freed, Maglor used it to wrench off his remaining skin, shrivelled and useless as it had become to him.

He left the skin behind to be washed away by the sea or scavenged by seagulls. It was irrelevant to him. He had turned into something more perfect, more beloved.

Maglor scuttled into a nearby rock pool, his heart singing hymns of praise. 

It was the life. The shape of claws, eight legs and a body in a tough carapace was truly perfection.

It took Maglor only a few days of practice to catch his first fish, and by then, he had learned to appreciate the culinary joys of crunchy seaweed and algae too. 

His urge to wander had not abated, but scuttling along the beach on eight legs brought Maglor more joy than trudging on two legs ever had. And whenever Maglor found a nice rock pool, he spent a few days relaxing. 

Maglor realized he had never truly appreciated how terrifying gulls were, but luckily, he was too large for them.

Only once, a particularly large specimen grabbed him anyway and took off flying. When his claws didn't work, Maglor found that songs of power worked just as well on his stridulated hind legs as they had worked on his vocal cords. The gull let go of him almost immediately and flew away as fast as it could.

Maglor had never heard of crabs having stridulated hind legs before, but it didn't take long before he had perfected the art of it just as well as he had learned any other instrument. 

It seemed that you could really be a crab and have it all. 

A summer storm hit the coast, and Maglor didn't pay enough attention, having become too used to his legs gripping everything as strongly as he wanted them too.

A wave, and then he was no longer clinging to his rock but swirling through the black depths of the sea. There was nothing Maglor could do but let it happen. Perhaps he would be crushed against a rock, or eaten by a gigantic fish that feared neither claws nor music. And so Maglor drifted and swirled, until he fell asleep.

When he woke, his feet were on the ground, and there was a strange light in the water near him. Maglor scuttled closer to it to investigate it, and see why it felt so familiar. 

A bright crystal lay on the bottom of the sea, glowing with the light of long forgotten times. Maglor tapped it once with the tip of a blackened claw. The light and the music of it resonated in him, and Maglor clicked his mouthparts in what might once have been a smile.

Then he scuttled off, leaving the light behind. He had to get to shore. There were rock pools to bask in and fish to eat.

A face peered at him, and Maglor wondered if elves had always been that large. Then recognition jolted through him, right as she grabbed him expertly in a way that made using his claws against her impossible.

"What a curious specimen you are," Marillë said, inspecting him from all sides. "I've never seen a peregrine crab with black claws rather than red ones."

She smiled at him, and he wondered if he should try to sing to her or if he preferred to remain unrecognized.

"You're coming with me. I know just the place for you," she said. "You will be perfect with a sauce of butter and herbs."

Maglor froze, then resigned. He probably deserved it, after everything he had put her and so many others through. And if he was to be honest, there were worse ways to go than to be eaten by Marillë.

"I'm jesting, you know. I would have recognized you anywhere, Makalaurë. And Ulmo tells me you can still sing, especially if you are startled. So I couldn't resist the temptation to see if you would sing for me."

Maglor decided that he would not, at least not today. Instead, he clicked his claws at her, the rhythm matching the song that had been played when they first kissed in a small restaurant, long ages ago. 

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