Work Text:
Fingon was trying new things, and there were, indeed, many new things to try. (He was also trying to be sensible about it, and not jumping into too many things -- new or old -- at once. Success was more mixed on that front.) Today's new thing was music, and only new -- he thought -- in the sense that the pieces had been composed in the last yeni. He had neglected to take into account new understanding of physics-as-Song. Quantum Song was well beyond his own understanding, but not beyond that of the Tirion Academic Symphony. The unexpected and astonishing light-show that the music produced was still flickering in the corners of his eyes, and phrases, motifs, elements of the music -- in no key or every key, notes assembled in very different ways than he was used to (and wouldn't some of those techniques be useful on a battlefield, an avalanche-rescue, faced with a dragon) -- were tumbling around in his head, fitting together and coming apart in patterns and tessellations. He wondered if Maglor knew of it, what Finrod thought, what Caranthir would make of it. He also wanted to climb up some place high and solitary and let his mind go still.