Full Circle

A dumbstruck Buffy felt her heart drop to the pit of her stomach. She remained motionless, her green eyes surveying the scenery before her. Lindon looked completely different without the beautiful majestic trees that had made their lands famous. She knew how much the Green-elves loved the trees of Ossir, and could not imagine what would possess them to hack down their woods.

“I know that you’re shocked. I see it on your face,” began Orchal, staring at the Slayer.

“Ya think?” she managed to mutter, still bowled over by the nakedness of the forest.

“I can’t explain it… not in words, that is,” continued the Green-elf, struggling to explain what had happened. His grey eyes scanned the emptiness that stretched out before them. “Those of us from the kindred of the Teleri had this… this compelling need… to build… ”

“Build?” repeated the Slayer, turning her bewildered gaze to the Green-elf. “What the hell are you talking about? Build what?”

Instead of directly answering her, Orchal strolled to the edge of the main boardwalk, leaving Buffy behind. He placed his hands on the railing and looked below. “Ships,” he answered in a faint voice.

“What?” she half-laughed. “We have plenty of ships.” She headed to her friend’s side, thinking that he and the other elves must have celebrated in the manner of the old ways of Sumer by smoking too much hul-gil. “What the hell do we need more ships for?” When she reached Orchal’s side and looked below, she let out a soft cry. “Oh… my… God,” she said slowly. Shocked, she leaned over the railing with her jaw agape.

Hundreds of feet below, she saw both the Eldar and Edain working feverishly, constructing the largest ships that she had ever set eyes upon in all Middle-earth. The frames of the vessels were so mammoth that there was no river in all of Beleriand on which they could sail. The hulls alone on those boats would be at least four stories high upon completion. Thirteen of them filled the areas where the land had been raped of all vegetation.

“What? Huh?” The Slayer could not find the words to convey her thoughts. She wanted to bop the Green-elf on the head for wasting Ossir’s most treasured resources on ships that were obviously built for the sea, not the rivers within their lands. Moreover, Belegaer was leagues and leagues away! Ossir didn’t possess any type of device that could transport vessels of that size to the ocean. Buffy couldn’t even think of any possible way to hoist them from the earth, or even fathom how much each boat would weigh once finished.

“We had to,” said Orchal softly, watching the workers below. “We had to build.”

The Slayer locked her eyes on the Green-elf, studying him carefully. His face was a mask of sadness and confusion. It was obvious to her that he didn’t wholly understand why they had to build those vessels. His eyes revealed his sincerity and need to complete the task that he felt was assigned to him and his kindred.

“Oh, Orchal,” she sighed, leaning her head against his arm. “What does this all mean?”

“I don’t know,” he replied with a shake of his head. “I wish I knew. All I can tell you, Bella, is that we must complete this task. I know in my heart that it’s important, though I really don’t know why.”

“Have you spoken with Ulmo?” Buffy asked, still reeling from the shock of all that she was seeing.

“No. I’ve tried, but he does not answer my summons.”

“Hmm,” she sounded with a thoughtful expression on her face. After a momentary pause, she snorted. “First, I find out that a Penis Tree grants immortality and now my people are building sea-faring ships that we can’t even get to the sea!” The Slayer stood upright, tightly gripping the railing of the boardwalk. She watched the workers below with her narrowed eyes. “Something big is gonna happen. I don’t know what it is, but it’s coming.” She turned and headed for the stairs to Lindon Hall.

“Penis Tree?” queried a flummoxed Orchal. He shifted his gaze to the Slayer. “Oh, don’t you dare leave without telling me this tale of yours!” He chased after her. “What the hell is a Penis Tree?”

Laughing, Buffy led Orchal to her favorite porch overlooking the Gelion. There, she spoke to him and a few of the other Green-elf councilors about all that had happened on her journey. They were intrigued by her newfound alliance with Humbaba, but especially by the Two Trees in the Garden of Edin. They debated whether Eluréd’s prophetic words of doom were connected to the sudden compulsion of the Teleri to build their ships. The Slayer believed there was only one way to find out, but she’d need to return to Lindecoa and search her Mirror for possible answers.

Since Barathalion and Noeriel were back on Tol Galen with Luthor and Lalwen, Buffy was forced to take one of Ossir’s regular-sized ships to the isle.

It was nearly seven o’ clock when her boat glided next to the docks of Lindecoa. Most of her Household was enjoying their evening meal, save those on sentry duty. As the Slayer made her way to her Halls, she was relieved to see that Tol Galen remained untouched by the axmen that had hewn the trees in Lindon.

Upon entering her southern fortress, she motioned to the guards to keep her return quiet. She immediately made a beeline up the stairs and to the chamber that contained her Mirror.

Once the basin was full with the water of Ulmo, she placed her hands on either side of the bowl, anxious to see what images would appear. To her surprise, she saw the western marches of Doriath. Just like the Green-elves, the Grey Elves too were constructing massive ships, under the direction of Melchizedek (still disguised as Túreb). Buffy was stunned, unable to comprehend what possessed the Teleri to build those mighty vessels.

A part of her was jealous that she had not received the same visions as they. Yet, a voice in her head, her conscience perhaps, said, ‘But you received visions of the Two Trees of Edin, visions that will have a greater meaning in times to come!’

Buffy stepped away from the Mirror, confused more than ever. She needed to mull things over. She poured herself a glass of red wine and sat in the one of the two chairs in the sparsely furnished chamber. She wondered about the significance of the ships, and what purpose they could possibly serve considering they were being constructed so far inland.

She sat on the edge of her seat, bent over the glass of wine that she clutched with both hands, swirling the contents as she mused things over. A cold chill suddenly ran through her body. The glass slipped from her grasp and fell to the floor, shattering into many pieces. As a stream of red wine flowed across the floor, in her mind’s eye, she could see a gigantic red wave crashing onto a desert. It was the same vision she had experienced on numerous occasions. The same vision that Bór had told her about at their first meeting.

“Are they connected?” she said aloud, her voice echoing within the near-empty chamber. The Slayer couldn’t help but think that the ships that the Teleri were building had something to do with that blood red wave that had plagued her dreams for centuries. However, she was still confused. Middle-earth was not a desolate wasteland. Only the plains south of Angband came close to resembling the desert-like setting in the vision, but there were no dunes or sea bordering those parts. Other than Haudh-en-Ndengin, the lands were flat, sandy, but flat.

Leaping from her seat, she quickly went back to the Mirror, tracking crimson colored footprints across the floor in the process. Buffy looked back into the basin, focusing her energies on Anfauglith, desperate to see if the terrain had changed since the last time she had been there. Indeed, there were now some dunes in that area, but not exactly like her vision. And for the love of Eru, she had no idea how the sea came into play! To the north, were the mighty peaks of the Iron Mountains, to the west, The Mountains of Shadow, and to the east, The Blue Mountains.

She turned her gaze to the pool of wine on the floor, trying to decipher the meaning of the red wave. “Is it symbolic?” she queried aloud.

Is it symbolic? Is it symbolic? Is it symbolic?

The sound of her voice bounced eerily against the walls of the room, almost in challenge, or perhaps, mockery.

Buffy began to pace. A tingling sensation coursed through her body. She knew that her last comment was significant. The time had finally arrived for her to interpret the vision that had haunted her for years. The dream had to be symbolic.

Red, she thought to herself. What does the color ‘red’ denote? She nervously bit her bottom lip as she came to a stop at one of the windows. Blood… Life… Love… Strength… Danger… Passion… Rage…

She leaned her head against the cool glass of the windowpane, looking at the beautiful garden in bloom below. War is coming and it’s gonna be a bad one, she concluded. A bloodbath. Her heart pounded frantically in her chest, her temple started to throb at the onrush of blood. But, what of the boats? How do they come into play if the tidal wave thingy is symbolic?

The Slayer lifted her head, rubbing her temples in hope of easing the pain. Turning, she looked at the mess on the floor. She decided to clean it up before she slid and cut herself on the shards of glass. Once finished, she curled up in the chair, wondering if she was in the ballpark of figuring out her dream. As the room became darker and darker, she drifted off to sleep, dreaming that same dream over and over until she was summoned to Folkvang at two o’ clock the following morning.

Sargon was surprised that his lover hadn’t given him a verbal thrashing upon her arrival.

Buffy was so preoccupied with making sense of the vision that she had forgotten all about the Adan allowing four years to pass in Beleriand while she was away. She was desperate to make sense of the vision and had high hopes that Sargon would help her with that.

Unfortunately, she got the annoying response, “Eru shows me only what He wants me to see. I’m sorry, Bella. I can be of no help to you.”

Frustrated, the Slayer carried out her sacred duties before being sent back to Lindecoa, only a second after she had departed.

Feeling somewhat drained, she plodded down the corridors to her bedchamber. After completing her nighttime ritual, she crawled into bed next to her husband.

Before her head hit the pillow, the lamp suddenly came on, illuminating Maglor’s handsome face in the silver light of the moonstone.

“You’re finally home,” said the Noldo, greeting her with a warm smile.

“Yeah, finally,” she yawned.

The Elf Lord studied her for a moment, noticing the dark circles beneath her eyes. “Are you alright? Did things go ill on your journey? Did you find the Two Trees? Did Marduk discover… ”

“Whoa, Káno,” she interjected, motioning him to stop. “Too many questions, too quickly. First and foremost,” she paused as she pulled Maglor into an embrace, giving him a quick kiss. “I’m okay, just tired,” she continued, the tone of her voice revealed her weariness. “Everything went well. Took a bit longer than expected, and I apologize for that.”

“I’ve come to understand that your slayer duties come first, at times,” he replied in earnest. “I’m just gladdened that you made it home, safe and sound.”

“Well, I don’t know about the sound part, but things went off without a hitch, mostly,” she shrugged, feeling her cheeks warming at her deceptiveness. “I did what I needed to.”

“You don’t want to talk about it, do you?” asked the Noldo, noticing the flushed color of her face.

“Not tonight. I just wanna go to sleep.”

“Alright then. We can talk about your trip in the morning.”

“Thanks, Káno,” she answered as Maglor turned off the lamp.

Buffy snuggled up to the Noldo, pushing aside the feelings of guilt at lying to her beloved. She was convinced that she was doing the right thing. Her husband had to suffer the consequences of his actions at Menegroth, plain and simple. He could never learn that Eluréd and Elurín still lived, and that she herself had given them the gift of immortality.

The following morning, the Slayer awoke to find that Maglor had brought breakfast to their private rooms. It wasn’t their usual fare of pastries and coffee, but a smorgasbord of victuals that made her mouth water once she caught a whiff of the delicious aroma.

“Your stomach was rumbling in your sleep and I knew you’d be ravenous upon waking,” informed her husband as he seated his wife at the table in the adjoining sitting room.

“You know me so well,” she replied, piling her plate high with eggs, bacon, cantaloupe, strawberries and toast. “I’m starving.”

The Noldo poured her a steaming cup of coffee. “Are you up for discussing your journey into Sumer?”

“There’s not much to tell,” she answered, shoveling a forkful of scrambled eggs into her mouth. “I found the Two Trees. There in a place called Edin, at the foot of Orocarni.”

“You’ve been gone for four years, Luinil,” continued her husband, watching her over the steamy cup he clutched in his hands. “Surely you have more to tell than that.”

“No, not really,” responded Buffy nonchalantly, gorging on her breakfast.

Maglor took a sip of his coffee knowing that his wife was keeping something from him. His thoughts immediately turned to Bëor, her former lover, whom he believed dwelled in Sussrúmnir. He couldn’t help but think that they had begun their affair again. The Elf Lord noticed that she had become rather distant in the past decade, seemingly preoccupied by something… or someone.

“Have you and Bëor resumed your affair?” blurted out the Noldo, scrutinizing his wife’s reaction.

The Slayer choked on her toast. Coughing, she said, “What?”

“Have you and Bëor resumed your affair?” he repeated in an eerily calm voice.

“Are you out of your mind?” she answered heatedly, angered that Maglor would suggest such a thing.

“You still haven’t answered my question,” he continued in the same tone. “Are you and Bëor, or should I say, Sargon, having an affair?”

“No! We’re not,” she replied, dropping her fork onto her plate with a clatter. “And I resent the accusation!” Her narrowed eyes bore into the elf’s, revealing that she was telling the truth.

“Well, what am I supposed to think?” he asked dejectedly, placing his steamy mug onto the table. “You’ve been gone for years and refuse to tell me a thing. I can only assume the worst.”

“For your information, I’ve spent most of my time with Humbaba,” she replied, having rehearsed that lie in her mind numerous times knowing damn well she’d have to give some account of the events that had taken place during her absence.

“The demon?” he queried, arching his brow in doubt.

“Yes, the demon,” she answered, checking her ire. “Morgoth isn’t the only Big Bad out there, Káno. There are others beside him and Marduk that are up to no good. Things are happening here, and in the East too. Right now, I’m focusing all my attention here, knowing that something big is about to happen. For Eru’s sake - my people are building colossal ships that we can’t navigate on the waters of Ossir!”

Noticing the sadness in Maglor’s eyes, Buffy reached across the table and placed her hand on his. “I’m sorry if you feel that I’m leaving you in the dark. I don’t want to fight. I don’t want to argue. My journey was business-related. Nothing more. But there are things that I can’t tell any. I have to keep my word. If I can’t do that, then what do I have?”

“But Humbaba is an enemy and should be treated as such,” he replied, regretting his previous outburst.

“Sometimes,” she started hesitantly, “sometimes people, or in this case, demons, can change.” The Slayer searched her husband’s eyes. “I believe people can change. There are times when we have to look beyond the evil that one does, and see the goodness that’s in their heart.”

“Like me?” he said, turning his downcast eyes to her hand that rested on his own.

“Yes, like you.” Buffy pulled her hand away and made her way around the table to her husband’s side. She gently lifted his chin, locking eyes with the Noldo. “I love you, Káno. I love you in spite of the things that you’ve done. Though it still grieves me knowing what you and your brothers did in Menegroth, I forgive you. The Oath is something that I can’t undo. I know that now. But your actions, no matter how heinous, haven’t stopped me from loving you. Maybe that’s wrong of me, one of my shortcomings. I don’t know. But know that I’d never do anything deliberately to hurt you. I’ve made mistakes and I’m trying to atone for them. I can’t change the past. Let’s just put all this nonsense behind us, and live for today, ‘cause for all we know, there might be no tomorrow.”

“I’m sorry I doubted you,” replied the Noldo, placing his hands on her waist. “It’s just that you’ve seemed so distant lately and I only assumed… ”

“War’s coming, Káno. I think that’s obvious.” She turned her head to the west. “The tidal wave of doom is coming and I don’t know if we’ll survive it.” A pained expression came to her face. She softly added, “I don’t know if I’ll survive it.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, his concern over her last words apparent.

She then spoke of the dream that she had had for years.

The Noldo was quite familiar with the vision. His wife had not only told him about it before, but he had also read about it in her diaries while in Nargothrond.

Buffy’s greatest concern was that she was always floating dead on the blood-red sea, which made her think that she would not survive the upcoming battle.

“But you’re always revived,” countered the Elf Lord. “Someone always resuscitates you.” He moved his hands to her shoulders, giving them a reassuring squeeze. “You cannot die, Bella. You always come back. It’s what you do.”

“Unless I’m killed by another Vala,” she replied weakly. “There’s no coming back from that.”

Maglor looked deeply into the Slayer’s eyes. “I don’t think Morgoth wants you dead. He’s had ample opportunity in the past. As much as it pains me to say it - he loves you and does not want any harm to come to you.”

“Who says I’m talking about Morgoth?” She pulled free from her husband’s grasp and returned to her seat.

The Noldo stood there, speechless for a few moments. He then faced Buffy and said, “Marduk could have killed you, but he didn’t either.”

“Who says I’m talking about Marduk?”

The elf rushed to her side. Kneeling beside her, he asked, “What is it you know? What have you seen in that mind of yours?”

“I don’t know,” she sighed, lifting her gaze from her plate. “Let’s just forget about it. We’ll let the chips fall where they may.”

Maglor gently took hold of her face, forcing her to make eye contact with him. “If you’re in danger, we need to know. We need to figure things out before anything bad can happen.”

“I’m always in danger. Even now.” Seeing the worry in his grey eyes, she knew that she had to alleviate his fears. The Slayer gave her husband a reassuring smile. She placed her hand atop his that cupped her cheek. “What we must keep in mind is that Ilúvatar’s on my side. Besides,” she added with a shrug, “I was alive and kicking in the Fourth Age, so maybe I’m overreacting with this whole dream thingy. I’m sure I’ll make it through this.”

Her words brought some comfort to the Noldo, for what she had said was true. She was alive during the End of Days. It was during the Fourth Age that she had been sent back to their present time. While Maglor found the whole time traveling phenomenon baffling, he believed in his heart that it was something that he wasn’t meant to understand. It was something that only his beloved was to experience. No one else.

“C’mon and eat. Breakfast is getting cold,” continued Buffy, before digging into her food once again.

From that day forward, Maglor could see that his wife had become more like her old self again. As time began to swiftly pass, they spent all their time together. Sometimes they remained on Tol Galen, other times they went to Lindon to check on the progress of the ships.

In the first week of Yr 535, the Eldar and Edain had completed the massive vessels. It was at that time that the Slayer mused to her councilors, “Maybe we’re supposed to collect two of every animal.” No one understood her comment, but she found it slightly amusing. Buffy was beginning to think that maybe the roaring tidal wave in her dream wasn’t necessarily symbolic. Perhaps it was partially symbolic. She came to believe that some type of flood would come, just like the one Noah had experienced in his day.

Nevertheless, the Slayer found herself happy and content in those days, having no idea that her world would soon turn upside down. While she still kept reinforcements along Ossir’s borders, she gave little thought to things happening outside her realm.



At the Mouth of Sirion, the elves now mingled with a few mortals that had sought refuge there. They too had built great sea-faring ships, among them, Eärrámë (Tuor’s ship) and Vingilot (Eärendil’s ship). Tuor had left Middle-earth with Idril in the Yr 533 in search of the Blessed Realm. Unlike those that had set out before them, they passed through the Shadowy Seas where the enchantments of the Valar lay and reached the shores of Valinor two years later. Tuor was the first mortal to set foot in Aman, and Manwë Súlimo would gift the Adan with everlasting life so that he could remain in the Undying Lands with his beloved wife.

Eärendil became Lord of those people after his father had departed. Five years before, at the age of twenty-six, he had wed Elwing, Dior’s daughter, who bore him twin sons, Elrond and Elros in the spring of Yr 531. Yet, during the winter of Yr 535, his discontent for Middle-earth had grown, and the half-elf had become determined to find, not only his parents, but also the silver shores of Valinor.

It was shortly after Eärendil’s departure from the Havens that Maedhros learned that Elwing had survived the onslaught at Menegroth and had the Silmaril in her possession. After consulting with Maglor, they both decided to forego their Oath out of their love for Buffy. After the last Kinslaying, the elder sons of Fëanor had felt remorseful for their evil deeds and vowed not to cause the Slayer any more grief. They had rescinded their Oath, yet they would soon discover that that was easier said than done.

When those Noldor that were determined to reclaim the Jewel of Fëanor saw that Maedhros and Maglor refused to act on the news, they went to Amon Ereb and spoke with Amrod and Amras in hope that the youngest brothers would encourage their elder siblings to seek what they had come to Middle-earth for.

During the torrential rains of winter, the twin sons of Fëanor arrived in Lindon, concealing the true purpose of their visit from their sister-in-law. The brothers came during a time of celebration and used that as the reason for their unexpected arrival.

Buffy had no idea that the twins were there attempting to rekindle the Oath in Maedhros and Maglor. Amrod and Amras would find that it was not to be an easy task, but they were determined to remain in Ossir until they had convinced their brothers that they had no choice in the matter, that the Oath was a living thing that had to be fulfilled.

Changes soon overcame both Maedhros and Maglor, as both began to experience dreams in which their father demanded that they fulfill their Oath and reclaim the Silmaril. In fact, all sons of Fëanor were experiencing the dream, but none told their siblings of their nightly torments.

“You would have my death be in vain, Kanafinwë Makalaurë,” spoke the phantom image of Fëanor in the Noldo’s dreams. “You would put the love of a Vala before that of your own father, your own flesh and blood. All the Valar are an enemy to our kindred, including your wife! Already, she has allowed my Silmaril to pass through her hands to that of the enemy. She will do so yet again, my son! My Jewel will heal your aching heart and bring such bliss to you and our people. Fulfill the Oath! For only by doing so can you forestall the Doom that awaits you otherwise.”

Night after night, Maglor awoke in a cold sweat. Though Buffy tried to get him to talk about what she believed to be nightmares, the elf would lie, saying that he had seen images of a great battle instead.

His dreams prompted the Slayer to have her people practice drills throughout the day, despite the pounding rains. Some in her armies complained about training during the storms that inundated Ossir during the winter months.

“Battle does not cease because of the weather,” she said to her troops during one of those torrential downpours. She paraded before the men and women who stood in formation, unflinching even with the frigid showers taking place. “We must be ready to fight at all times, in all types of conditions. We must acclimate ourselves to the changes of the terrain and use it to our advantage or else we can admit defeat and go home to our warm houses.” She stood in ankle deep mud, staring at her warriors. “War is coming, my friends. Those ships behind you are a testament to that. Those not prepared will die.” Her eyes scanned the drenched people. Their faces remained emotionless. “If you can’t take a little rain, then get the hell out of here. I have no use for whiners.”

None quit her armed forces. But many were relieved when the warmer, dryer season of spring arrived a couple of months later.

While Buffy trained her armies, the sons of Fëanor’s torments grew to insurmountable levels, now plaguing their waking thoughts.

At the onset of autumn, Maedhros, as the Lord of the House of Fëanor, had yielded to the will of those from his Household and sent messengers to the Havens of Sirion. His envoys spoke of friendship, particularly between the House of Luinil and the House of Thingol, and demanded that the Silmaril be returned to the surviving sons of Fëanor.

Elwing and her people, primarily the survivors of Gondolin and Doriath, believed that it was the Silmaril that had helped to heal their pain and sorrow. They held to the belief that all the blessings on their Houses and their ships could be attributed to having the Jewel of Fëanor in their possession.

Acting as Regent until her husband’s return, she sent back word that she would not surrender the Silmaril, especially in her Lord’s absence.

A few days later, the Noldorin messengers arrived back at Lindon, informing the Lords of the House of Fëanor of Elwing’s response.

“Now is the time to act,” encouraged Amras in his speech to his brothers. “We need to strike the Havens whilst Eärendil is away. We could not ask for better timing.”

In spite of the goading of Amras and his twin, both Maedhros and Maglor were reluctant to attack the elves at the Havens.

Maglor countered the words of Amras in a rousing speech of his own, making many a Noldo ashamed at the thought of defying Buffy’s wishes and betraying her friendship. The second son of Fëanor’s words were so profound that even Amrod and Amras felt badly and spoke no more of the Oath… for a while. However, they felt that they needed to remain in Ossir and by the side of their eldest brothers.

Before the year ended, Buffy and her Household, together with the sons of Fëanor, returned to Tol Galen. After spending nearly a year in Lindon, she was ready to look upon the beautiful thick woods on the isle. She was ready for what was coming, and so were her people. It was only a matter of waiting, waiting for Morgoth to make his next move.

Shortly after the New Year, the brothers proposed that the Slayer go on a hunting trip with them in the region between the Rivers Adurant and Duilwen. Since it was custom to hunt with bows and arrows, Buffy thought it would be great practice to hunt deer or boar.

Hunting was not fun, by any means. Most of one’s time was spent hiding in the brush or up in a tree, waiting hours upon hours for game to come down one of the nearby trails. The cold rains didn’t add to the enjoyment, and after a couple of days, Buffy returned to Lindecoa, leaving the sons of Fëanor to their own devices.

Amrod and Amras took advantage of the situation by broaching the subject of retrieving the Silmaril from Elwing. This time, they managed to convince their elder brothers to act.

Since the Slayer knew that the brothers were hunting nearby, she didn’t give it another thought when they were gone for a couple of weeks. That was typical of most hunting trips and gave her no cause for alarm.



Those from the House of Fëanor stealthily approached the village in the middle of the night, just as they had done at Menegroth. The heavy fog that had settled upon the lands concealed their arrival.

It wasn’t until the intruders neared the heart of town that the sentries sounded their trumpets, alerting their kindred that lay sleeping in their beds.

The suddenness of the raid forced many of the Sirion elves to bolt from their homes, some still in their nightclothes, carrying whatever weapon lie closest to their beds. Others, at least had the wits about them to garb themselves in some type of mail or armor before dashing into the mayhem taking place in the streets outside of the Halls of Eärendil. Many of the women and children fled into the frigid, cold night, afraid that the wrathful brothers and their accomplices would murder them.

Amrod and Amras led the onslaught, hewing all down that stood between them and the doors to the house wherein the Silmaril lay. Yet something happened amongst some of the Noldor from the House of Fëanor. As they battled their kindred on behalf of the brothers, a few of them suddenly became overwhelmed with shame and guilt. In their mind’s eye, they envisioned a horror-struck Buffy shaking her golden head disapprovingly, tears streaming from her mournful eyes. Repenting on the spot, they then fought with the elves from the Havens, slaying those from the House of Fëanor.

A frantic Elwing made the painful decision to flee her home with the Jewel of Fëanor around her neck, leaving behind her young twin sons. She waded into the frigidly cold sea, determined to escape from the Noldor that were slaughtering her people. She’d swim until the strength left her, drowning in the same waters that her husband’s ship was sailing upon.

As fatigue and hyperthermia overcame Elwing, she felt herself sinking beneath the water, knowing that death was imminent. She was unaware that Ulmo was close by and had been watching. He would, by no means, let the maiden perish. Using his magics, he turned her into a great white bird and invigorated her weary limbs. In this form, she shot out of the sea. The blazing white light of the Silmaril cut through the mists that hung over the ocean as Elwing instinctively flew west…



“NO!” cried out Buffy in her anguish, knocking the basin off its pedestal. The shrill sound of her voice pierced the silent corridors of Lindecoa, waking many from their peaceful slumber. She couldn’t believe that Maglor and his brothers had deceived her yet again, that they were currently at the Havens, spilling innocent blood. Witnessing such unwarranted carnage opened the floodgate of negative emotions: anger, pain, disgust, shock, sadness, and worst of all, betrayal. Her husband had sworn to her that he had revoked his claim to the Silmaril, that their family was more important to him than that damned Jewel of his father’s. She now saw that that was all lies, lies said to pacify his gullible bride.

The Slayer collapsed to the floor, sobbing, as many from her Household came rushing into the chamber, alarmed by the shrieking cries of their Queen.

Olofin, the first to enter the chamber, skidded to a halt beside his mother. Dropping to his knees, he pulled her into his arms, trying his best to console her. The half-elf repeatedly questioned her, desperate to find out the reason for her grief, but her response was indiscernible.

Luthor, Lalwen, Thranduil and the lions were amongst those that continued to flood into room. They immediately surveyed the scene and noticed the overturned basin on the floor.

The old man crouched down beside Olofin and Buffy. The creases in his tired face deepened as he looked upon one whom he loved so dearly in such despair. “What happened, Bella? What did you see?” It took everything the Maia had to conceal the panic in his voice.

Barely able to catch her breath, she could only blubber the words, “Káno… massacre… Sirion.”

Those three simple words were enough for the elves to understand their meaning. Many gasped in shock. Some turned away, covering their faces with their hands, not wanting the Slayer to seek the looks of appall on their dazed faces.

Olofin broke down, devastated to learn that his father had participated in yet another Kinslaying. His head fell on his mother’s shoulder as the tears gushed from his green eyes.

Luthor took charge of the situation, ordering everyone out of the chamber except those closest to Buffy and her son. He felt that this was a very personal matter and that only those accounted as immediate family should remain to help the pair deal with their grief.

The whole ordeal saddened the Maia; however, he had to be strong for his loved ones. It didn’t help that Lalwen, Thranduil and the lions were bawling also. All loved and thought highly of Maglor and his brothers. Hearing that the Oath had reared its ugly head once again meant that a black cloud now hovered over Ossir.

When the Slayer had shed her last tear, nearly an hour later, she was able to share with the others what she had seen in more detail. Feeling numb and speaking coolly, she told them how Sargon had suggested that she look in her Mirror once she returned to Lindecoa. The Adan did not prepare her for what she would soon see - the House of Fëanor attacking those at the Havens, killing their kinfolk with wild abandon. Her voice broke several times in the telling, and it was only with the aid of a couple of glasses of spirits that she made her final pronouncement at the end of her tale.

“This time it’s over,” she declared morosely to the others. Her long face was flush from the alcohol, her eyes glassy and swollen from crying. She turned her misty-eyes to Olofin. “I can’t be with your father any more. I can’t deal with this any more. It’s… it’s too much.”

Choking back his tears, the half-elf took her hand in his, stroking it affectionately. “You have to do what you have to do, Nana. Yet, I know that this doesn’t change your feelings for Adar. You love him still.”

“But I can’t deal with this bloodshed any more. It’s one thing to fight the enemy, it’s another to cruelly kill those undeserving. How can I just sit by and ignore this? I’ve already forgiven him once. I can’t do it again. His actions are deplorable - you know that, Olofin. I can’t forgive him for this. I just can’t.”

“I will support you in your decision, mother - whatever it happens to be,” he replied, sadly looking into Buffy’s eyes.

“We all will,” chimed in a depressed Thranduil. “We’re here for you, Bella. We always will be.”

An emotionally drained Buffy was ready for bed. Olofin and Thranduil escorted her to her private rooms as Luthor and Lalwen lingered behind in the chamber.

When the room had emptied, Lalwen turned to her lover and said, “Her tears were not golden as Sargon had foretold. She’ll forgive my nephew for the Kinslaying once again.”

“I know, my dear, I know,” sighed the old man. “I now fear that her love for Maglor will bring about a most certain doom.”

“What is it you speak of, my love?” asked the worried elleth. “If some new misfortune awaits Bella, surely she should know.”

“Let us see what happens,” he continued, clutching her hand with his. “If there’s one thing about Luinil that I know for certain - she can thwart fate like no other. It’s late. Let’s go back to bed. We’ll see things more clearly in the morning.”

The two left the chamber, unsure of what tomorrow would bring…