Full Circle

Ten days later, Buffy and Sauron finally reached the Second Door within the Iron Mountains. Apparently, they were not the only ones to escape by that way. They found the mystical, stone sentry already broken, the mammoth doors ajar, and the silver light of the moon flooding through the opening into the darkened tunnel.

Once they stepped out onto the stone ledge, they felt the cool, fresh air against their skin. With weary eyes, they scanned the lands stretched out before them, glad to be free from the gloomy and dank passageway. To the west, hundreds of miles away, Buffy could clearly make out the Misty Mountains.

“Come, Inanna.” Sauron took her hand and together they climbed down the rocky shoulder.

Since the destruction of Angband, the Slayer and Maia had come to rely on one another. She had provided their sustenance (lembas) until they had run out a few days before, and he had let her ride on his back whilst in wolf form, allowing them to travel much quicker than they would have otherwise.

When they reached the bottom, both collapsed from utter exhaustion. Neither had slept since the opening of the Hellmouth and the thought of sleep was most appealing. Lying side by side, they swiftly dozed off, oblivious to everything around them.

Only a couple of hours later, Sauron awoke. He turned his gaze to his companion. She looked so frail under the moonlight and after days without food and drink, her face appeared pale and gaunt. She had lost a lot of weight during the war and it showed more now than ever. The Necromancer knew that his Master would expect him to care for her, to make her hale again. Though he had always had what he considered a love hate relationship with the Vala Queen, he couldn’t fight the compulsion to take care of her. Changing into wolf form, he disappeared into the fog that had settled about the land, in search of food and a water source.

While Sauron was away, two a.m. came and went, and with it, yet another day passed by that Buffy was not summoned to Folkvang. Ever since her first encounter with the dragons, Sargon had no longer brought her back to Sussrúmnir at the designated time as he had in times past. At first, she thought that strange, but soon found herself so preoccupied with her current predicament that she no longer gave any heed to her sacred duties.

She had no idea that Ilúvatar had intervened in her life yet again. Though all the Ainur were predestined to do certain things at appointed times throughout the ages of the world, the rest of the time was theirs to do as they wished. They did have the gift of free will even though the Slayer believed differently. Every single decision she had made since Ancalagon had been her own, from the opening of the Hellmouth that ultimately lead to the destruction of Beleriand, to her escape with Sauron. Her choices would pave the way for, not only her own future, but those of many others as well.



Buffy was roused from her slumber by the aroma of roasting meat. Her eyes fluttered open only to see a crackling fire over which Sauron was cooking his kill from earlier that morning. She groaned, as she stretched her stiff and aching limbs, slowly shifting to a sitting position.

The Maia gave her a quick glance. “I found water,” he said, grabbing a wooden skewer of charred meat from the fire and handing it to her. “There’s a river not more than a mile or so to our west. Its waters are cold and clean. If you follow the feet of the mountains, you’ll come across it.”

“So you’re not coming?”

Sauron sighed heavily. Turning his gaze to the west, he said, “There’s nothing left for me there. The Valar have taken Melkor prisoner. My home has been destroyed. There is nothing for me to return to.” His dark eyes shifted back to the fire, looking mournfully at the flickering flames.

No one would’ve understood what the Slayer and Necromancer had gone through, how close they’d become over the past week or so. They had come to see each other through different eyes. The hostility and contempt that they normally had for one another was gone, and in its place were understanding and concern.

Buffy could empathize with Sauron. He had lost everything and she understood that, having experienced something similar in Sumer. Perhaps it was for that reason that she encouraged the Maia to come back with her to Beleriand and seek a pardon from the Valar.

“Our agreement centuries ago was that you were to leave me be,” he stated coolly. “Remember when I first helped you and Luthor escape from… ”

“I’m not gonna force you to do anything you don’t want to!” she interjected, cutting his words off mid-sentence. “It’s your choice. Not mine. I’m just saying that the Valar are a forgiving people. They understand how powerful Melkor is, how manipulative. You were good once, Sauron, and from the House of Aulë, no less.” She took his hand in hers and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “When I look in your eyes… I mean really look, I see a good man. He may have been hidden deep inside all these years, but he’s in there nonetheless. You were corrupted by the most powerful Vala of them all, just like me. If you’re repentant, doesn’t that warrant your getting a second chance? Come back with me. Come back with me and seek a pardon from the Valar.”

“They have no forgiveness in their hearts,” he replied with a snigger. “Manwë and his brethren would like nothing more than to lock me in Mandos, or worse.”

“You don’t know that,” she countered with a shake of her head. “I’m no saint, Sauron. But I’ve been forgiven for my sins.”

“And what sins have you committed, Inanna? How many innocents have you killed?”

“It’s my belief that anyone I killed deserved it. But that’s not to say that innocents haven’t died during a time when I had no control of my powers, when I was consumed with madness… ” Her words trailed off as she bitterly recalled her suffering at the hands of Marduk long ago. She let go of the Maia’s hand and turned her doleful eyes to the fire.

“I know that evil’s supposed to exist to give people a choice as to which path they wish to tread down. The time is not yet upon us when it’s eradicated from the world.” She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, shifting her gaze back to Sauron. “Was it not evil of me to save my children with Melkor? They will live on and do evil. They will kill innocents. Doesn’t that make me guilty of killing them too? Do the deaths of their victims not fall on my shoulders?”

The Maia searched the Slayer’s eyes with his own. He could see that she was troubled by her decision to save her offspring, but had accepted it, including the consequences that went along with that acceptance.

Silence fell between them. No longer able to suppress her hunger, Buffy began to eat. Sauron looked on, watching her intently.

In the end, a repentant Sauron agreed to come back with her.

After she had finished eating, they made their way to the river to their west where they washed up and refilled their water skins. They then set off on what the Slayer believed was the long trek to Beleriand. The Maia once again took his wolf form, allowing Buffy to ride on his back in order to hasten their journey home.

Wolf Sauron ran nearly nonstop, just as he had in the tunnel of the Iron Mountains. Because of his companion’s eagerness to get home, he only allowed himself two 10-minute breaks within a twenty-four hour period. And that was mostly for Buffy, as her legs and body would cramp to the point where she needed to walk off the stiffness.

After traveling two hundred and fifty miles, they came to a vast forest of towering trees. They had arrived at the northern part of Greenwood the Great, the same forest the Slayer had traveled through with the Edain on her way back from Sumer, although much further north on this occasion. The shade of the trees provided the pair with much relief from the heat of day. They had journeyed mostly across open plains thus far and a reprieve from the blazing, hot sun was most welcome.

Midway through the wood, they encountered none other than Rocco. Buffy was ecstatic to see her steed as was the beast to see her. He had been searching for his Mistress since the destruction of Beleriand, knowing that she still lived. From that point on, she rode upon her horse, much to Sauron’s delight. For the Maia no longer had to carry the weight of both the Slayer and Grond on his back. That burden now fell to Rocco.

Sauron traveled in wolf form until they reached the western eaves of Greenwood. With Buffy’s arms, shoulders and back aching from carrying the mace, she asked the Maia if he’d carry it for her. In return, he could join her on Rocco for the rest of the trip; a move that would allow them to travel must faster even than he in wolf form. The Necromancer agreed.

The horse galloped at great speed, knowing that his Mistress longed to return to her Halls.

Buffy noticed the first changes to the landscape when they reached the hilly region of Eriador. In the distance, beyond the mountain chain, she could see thick plumes of smoke rising from several of those fissures that had broken open from the earthquakes that had plagued Beleriand more than two weeks before. The fires within a few still burned fiercely, while others were beginning to smolder. Nonetheless, a haze of grayish-black smoke hovered over the western part of Middle-earth.

Once Rocco had made it to the summit of a rather large mound, the Slayer’s eyes scanned the countryside. Having traveled those parts before, she was expecting to see the gap in the Blue Mountains that led to the Dwarf-road to her west, not the glimmering blue tower of her Halls, Lindecoa.

“What the… ” The words died on her lips as she slid off Rocco’s back. Shocked, she felt the blood drain from her face as she walked a few paces forward, staring at the changes that Middle-earth had undergone.

The terrain had changed more than when Ulmo and his servants had saved Tol Galen from the flood. The aftershocks from the numerous earthquakes had formed a great river. From where she currently stood, her Halls appeared to be located about one hundred and fifty miles to the southwest. If her eyes weren’t deceiving her, Lindecoa looked to be located on the south side of some great gulf, near the mouth of the river, whose waters emptied into that large body of water.

Suddenly, images of the destruction flashed in her mind. The Slayer saw that her opening of the Hellmouth in Angband had set off a chain reaction that had literally wiped nearly all of Beleriand off the map. The reality of the whole situation hit her like a ton of bricks. Her legs became weak before giving out completely. Falling onto her knees, she felt as if her heart had sunk to the pit of her stomach.

When she saw Melkor’s face in her mind’s eye and heard the sinister sound of his laughter, she knew that he was behind it all, that he had set her up by playing on her maternal love for her offspring. He knew she’d have their children flee to other dimensions through the Hellmouth. That’s why he had shown her that means of traveling centuries ago. It had all been in anticipation of the day when she herself would thrust open the gateway, an act that had not only brought about the destruction of Beleriand, but had inevitably killed innumerable innocents unable to escape the drowning lands.

Buffy broke down and wept. Morgoth had duped her yet again.

Within a matter of seconds, Sauron was kneeling before her, holding her tightly in his arms. He had known of his Master’s plan all along and now found himself torn between his allegiance to Melkor and his growing love for the Vala Queen. The Maia spoke words of comfort, assuring her that everything that had happened was Eru’s will, and that she should not worry needlessly about that which could not be undone.

His soothing voice had a calming effect on the Slayer. Since she was a proponent of predestination, she believed Sauron’s words. He dried her tears before they set off again. However, this time, the Maia traveled in wolf form so that none of Buffy’s people would recognize him when they entered her domain. She promised to keep his identity secret until they had met with Eönwë and the others from the West.

Following the stream that sprang from the foot of the hills, they continued on their journey. Thick, grey clouds rolled across the sky, blocking out the sun as it sank behind Ered Luin. The early nightfall was accompanied by a cold, drizzling rain. Lifting her head, the Slayer smiled. She could now make out Eärendil in his ship, Vingilot, hovering above the western part of Middle-earth. The rays of the Silmaril, Gil-Estel, penetrated both the thick rain clouds and the swirling smoke. That sight alone lifted her spirits, something she had desperately needed since she had learned of the destruction of Beleriand.

Many lamps lit up the night as the travelers neared their destination. A city of tents and pavilions stretched across the sparsely wooded area that surrounded the former isle. There lived, until new dwellings could be built, those elves and mortals of Ossir that had survived the war and turbulent changes to Endor.

She took off her cloak and wrapped it around Grond, not wanting any to see that she was bringing back the mace of Morgoth.

Rocco neighed. The high-pitched sound reverberated throughout the region, informing all that their Mistress had finally returned. Only a few seconds later, a trumpet answered. The harmonious notes brought tears to Buffy’s eyes. After fifty years, she was home.

“She’s back! Luinil’s back!” cried out a cloaked figure as the Slayer entered the encampment.

“Hail, Bella Queen!”

“Welcome back, my Lady!”

“Ilúvatar has answered our prayers and brought you safely home!”

The Eldar and Edain continued to shout words of greeting as their Mistress rode toward Lindecoa in the now heavier rain. The smiling Slayer waved back, nodding her head in acknowledgement as she passed her people by. Looking behind her, she saw a drenched wolf Sauron lagging behind.

“C’mon, Wolfie,” she said encouragingly to her new ‘pet’.

When she reached her Halls, Orchal, as always, was the first to welcome her home. “Welcome back, Bella,” said the beaming elf.

Buffy slid off Rocco and sat Grond on the stone drive.

Orchal pulled her into a bear hug. “Oh, how I’ve missed you. We’ve been worried sick,” he continued, holding her tightly in his arms. “It gladdens my heart to see that you’ve finally made it back safe and sound.”

“Can’t… breathe,” she sputtered, tapping the Green-elf on the shoulder.

“Oh. Sorry,” he laughed, easing his hold on her. “What’s this?” His eyes turned to the large item wrapped in Eärendil’s dirty, white cloak.

“I’ll tell you later,” she whispered, aware of the numerous people gathering around them. “It must remain covered. I want this taken to my vaults. None are to see it.”

The Green-elf snapped his fingers. Tarlanc and Gelir came rushing forward. Orchal ordered the cloak-wrapped object to be taken to the vaults. Tarlanc went to pick it up, but found it too heavy. It took four elves to haul the weapon of Morgoth into Lindecoa.

“Come, now. Let’s get you inside and out of this rain,” continued Orchal, linking his arm with hers. They started up the steps as people continued to rush out of the double doors and down the stone steps.

The Slayer’s eyes scanned the crowd for her loved ones. A few of her maidens reached her side. One of them thrust a large umbrella over Buffy’s head.

“Welcome home, Luinil,” they said in unison.

“Thanks.” She turned to Orchal, a worried look on her face. “How’s Olofin? Káno? How’d we make out in the war and its aftermath?”

“Fine, fine,” answered the elf reassuringly. “Although, Olofin is gone. He left ten days ago in search of you, flying over the lands in falcon form.”

“Oh.” She was sad to learn that her son was gone, but glad that he was alright. “And Káno? How’s he?”

“He’s fine. He’s around here somewhere.” Orchal’s eyes turned to the wet wolf at Buffy’s side. “And who might this be? Where are Barathalion and Noeriel?”

A frown came to the Slayer’s face. “They didn’t make it. Ancalagon… Ancalagon got ‘em,” she answered hesitantly. Her mood instantly became solemn.

The Green-elf hated the fact that he had stirred up her grief. “And who is this… creature?” he asked again in a more lighthearted voice though his expression was one of disgust. He couldn’t imagine why such a foul beast was in his old friend’s company.

She quickly turned her head to Sauron. “This is Wolfie. He helped me escape Angband and has been my friend and constant companion ever since.” She rubbed his wet head. Noticing the look of dismay of Orchal’s face, the Slayer was quick to add, “We’ve been through many trials together. He’s alright, Orchal.”

The Green-elf raised his brow in doubt. He didn’t sound convinced, but he wasn’t about to question her further. “If you say so,” he answered half-heartedly.

As they entered Lindecoa, the joy that Buffy felt was about to come crashing down. While she had made certain assumptions during the war, she was about to discover that what she thought had happened, in reality, had not.

“Bella! Bella!” One voice carried over the others that packed the foyer of her Halls. Lalwen was pushing her way through the throng, anxious to get to the Slayer’s side.

“Lalwen!” Buffy smiled.

“Bella!” said the elleth, nearly out of breath. She grabbed hold of the Slayer’s shoulders, her grey eyes searching her friend’s. “Luthor? Where is my beloved Luthor?”

“Isn’t he here?” she queried, thinking the Maia’s fey would have returned home after his death.

“No! I haven’t seen him since the war. I thought he was with you. What happened? Where’s my beloved, Luinil?” cried out the tearful maiden.

Buffy felt her heart sink, realizing now that she had been wrong about Luthor’s fate. And to make matters worse; she now had to tell his wife and her dear friend that the Maia had died during the war.

“Come with me,” she said, grabbing the elleth by the arm. She pushed her way through the crowd searching for some place where they could speak in private. Wolf Sauron followed, refusing to leave Buffy’s side.

The threesome entered a parlor, shutting out the rest of the Household. The Slayer then sat Lalwen down and told her about the battle with Ancalagon. The maiden wept, having her worst fears confirmed. Unwilling to be consoled, she fled from the room wanting to mourn her husband’s death alone.

Buffy felt sick. She had convinced herself that Luthor had remade his flesh after his death. She was greatly dismayed to learn that he hadn’t returned home. She couldn’t imagine where he could’ve gone.

An idea then came to her. Holding back her own tears, she thought that she could summon Luthor’s spirit into an Orb of Thezula. If the Maia was unable to remake his flesh, she would have Eönwë or Oromë do it instead.

Having decided not to waste any more time and that she needed to put an end to Lalwen’s grief, she ran to the door and threw it open, only to see Maglor, Maedhros, Thranduil, Elros and Elrond standing on the other side. Her heart skipped a beat when she laid eyes upon them. She had missed them all terribly. The sight of her loved ones immediately pushed Lalwen and Luthor out of her mind as they hugged her in greeting. Tears spilled from their eyes as they enjoyed their long overdo reunion.

There was so much that they needed to discuss, so many questions that needed to be answered. Buffy could tell by the look in Maedhros’ eyes that he longed to hear news of the Silmarils and of her promise to return them to him and Maglor. Before the conversation could turn to that topic, Meldis greeted her, telling her that she had prepared a hot bath for her Mistress. That was about the only thing that could take Buffy away from her beloved men folk. It had been over a month since she had last bathed properly.

As she was ushered away, Maglor told her that he would have supper ready in a private dining room where they could continue their reunion away from the rest of the Household. Wolf Sauron followed her and Meldis up the main flight of stairs as the elves sang a resounding rendition of Sweet Madam Blue.

The Slayer gave no thought to Sauron’s being in her bathing chamber with her. He had seen her naked on more than one occasion since their escape. Regardless, she thought she’d have some fun with the Maia. She had ordered her maidens to bathe her pet. When Sauron growled his discontent, Buffy threatened the beast in a low hiss. He reluctantly yielded to her demands.

As they assisted their Mistress with her bath, the elven-maids told her much of what they had experienced during her absence. Upon hearing their revelations, Buffy decided that she wanted many of her captains and chieftains present at dinner. She wanted to hear everything that had happened after she had become separated from her hosts, about their escape in the ships, and the sinking of Beleriand.

Once clean, she slipped into a beautiful blue gown. She carefully placed her crown of luinil flowers on her head before leaving her bedchamber with a now clean, but humiliated wolf Sauron in tow.

When they arrived at the dining hall, the attendees were already seated. The men and women rose from their chairs as their Queen took her place at the head of the table. She ordered her servants to feed her pet raw meat (a favorite of the Maia’s whilst in his beastly form). While her people dined on cooked lamb, the Necromancer ate the same, only raw.

Buffy was told of what had happened during and after the war while she was absent. She learned that those from the West had refused to depart Middle-earth until she was found. Eönwë had known that she still lived, but deemed that she was lost somewhere beneath the rubble of Angband. Ulmo’s servants were searching underwater while the Eagles had been sent to search from the air. The Slayer was surprised that she had neither seen hide nor hair of anyone, including Olofin, whilst on her journey back to the western shores.

Having so many present meant that the sons of Fëanor would not question her about the Silmarils directly. Instead, Maedhros said, “So, Luinil, you have learned what has happened with your people. What tale do you have to tell, for I deem it to be one worthy of telling.”

She then told of what had happened to her in Angband, leaving out pertinent details. She spoke of her confrontation with Melkor but admitted that she was called away to the depths of his Halls to help rescue innocents from the destruction. She made no mention of opening the Hellmouth, saying only that everything began to collapse around her, and if not for Wolfie, she would have been buried beneath the Iron Mountains.

Now, Sauron heard all that she said and was quite shocked that she lied to those whom she professed to love the most. It reaffirmed what his Master had always said: that he and Inanna belong together, that it was their destiny from the very beginning. There was no doubt in the Maia’s mind that her marriage to the Noldo was swiftly reaching the end. He could sense it. In a way, he felt sorry for her. He knew that Melkor had placed a curse on any man whose heart turned toward his beloved Melisse, and that that curse would follow the Slayer throughout her life in Middle-earth, affecting all that decided to court her. But what Sauron felt most badly about, was what that would do to Inanna, the pain that would cause her. While he was confused about these feelings of his, he was powerless to do anything about them. Who was he to contest the will of the mightiest of the Valar?

Several hours later, Buffy excused herself for a few minutes. She hastily made her way to the cooling porch. She summoned all the falcons that she could, asking that they find Olofin and bring him back home. She watched as scores of the birds then took off into the darkness in search of her half-elf son.

Once they had disappeared from sight, her thoughts immediately turned to Luthor. Thinking that his spirit was lost somewhere in Middle-earth, she decided that it was time to help her father figure and bring him home too. She ran back into her Halls, making a beeline for her armories. Wolf Sauron followed, refusing to leave her side, even for a moment.

When she entered the massive chamber, she went straight to the stack of crates that lined one of the stone walls. Popping open one of the nearest boxes, she dug through the straw until her fingers grasped a cool glass orb. Once she had retrieved the mystical device, she took off for her tower.

Sauron flew past her as they climbed up the winding steps of the tower. The closer she got to the top, the heavier and hotter the air became, causing Buffy to become tired. By the time she reached the top, the backs of her calves were throbbing and sweat was running down her face and neck. The circular room was stifling hot even though all the glass panes in the windows had been smashed out from when Ulmo and his servants had moved Tol Galen to the mainland. Apparently, none of the work crews had been in the tower as of yet, to make the necessary repairs as they had in other parts of Lindecoa. The bottles of wine that she kept stored there were shattered too. Shards of glass littered the stone floor. She was disappointed that she wouldn’t be able to quench her thirst.

The Slayer wiped the sweat from her face with the bottom of her dress. She then turned to the Maia and said, “You’ll have to wait here,” as she eyed the ladder that would take her to the roof of the structure.

Slowly, she climbed up the rungs, pushing open the trap door when she reached the top. She stepped out onto the wet, slick surface of the tower roof, now wishing that the rain had not stopped. At that height, she was expecting to feel a cool breeze against her damp skin. Instead, the mugginess of the night greeted her. Looking toward the heavens, she could see that the rain clouds had dissipated, allowing the stars of Varda Elbereth to shine brightly amidst a canvas of jet-black sky.

Buffy turned her gaze to the northwest of Middle-earth and there she beheld Gil-Estel still hovering closely above the lands. Seeing Eärendil so close to her home renewed her hope, and made her confident that she would succeed in summoning Luthor’s spirit from wherever the Maia might be.

Holding aloft the Orb of Thezula, she said the incantation to summon his fey, but nothing happened. She tried again, speaking in a louder, more commanding voice. Still, nothing happened. She tried yet again, shouting so loudly that many of those sleeping in Lindecoa and in the encampment below were startled awake. She continued - screaming the spell until her voice became hoarse. With each failed attempt, her hope dwindled more and more.

This can’t be! How could Luthor not come when commanded? Where could he be? she thought before trying once again.

When she started the incantation, again, her voice cracked, revealing her pain, her anguish. Buffy now knew that her father figure was gone from her, that he was where she could not reach him. Tears streamed down her pale, sticky face. She tried to continue with the spell but found it near impossible to utter a single word through her sobs. All she managed to do was mumble incoherently.

Then, from behind, she felt a presence. For a fleeting moment, she hoped that Luthor had returned, that he had somehow heard the desperation in her voice and found his way to her, but that was not to be. A hand gently grasped the outstretched arm in which she held aloft the Orb. She could feel the calluses on his fingertips.

“Enough, Inanna,” said Sauron softly. “It’s over. Luthor is gone.” The Maia couldn’t bear to hear her cries of despair any longer. Once again, he found himself compelled to comfort the Vala Queen, to help ease her sorrow. He had transformed into his human-like form so that he could be there for her. “Shh,” he sounded, pulling her into his arms. “It’ll be alright, Inanna,” he continued speaking soothingly and stroking her golden hair. “Everything will be alright. I promise.”

Buffy buried her face in the Maia’s chest and wept. “He’s gone, Sauron. Luthor’s gone.”

The Necromancer held her tightly, letting her cry until she had no more tears to shed. Aware of the many eyes from below attempting to see what was happening on the roof of the tower, Sauron sunk to the stone floor, holding the Slayer in his arms so that none could see them.

Fearing that members of Buffy’s Household would intrude on this private moment, Sauron, with a wave of his hand, locked the door that led up to the tower. Of course, he was right in doing so, for Maglor and many others were on their way to that door, seeking to comfort the grieving Slayer.

When her sobbing had lessened, he pulled out of the embrace, cupping her face with both of his hands, drying her tears with his fingertips. “Luthor has done what he was supposed to do, Inanna. He was your teacher, your mentor. His role was to make you stronger, to show you who you really are. But now his task is complete. He has fulfilled his errand in Middle-earth…”

“I don’t believe that,” she replied, sniffing back her tears. “He has a wife. Their life was just beginning. He’d never leave Lalwen. Never!”

“His destiny was you. Not the elf-maid,” countered the Necromancer. “His time in Middle-earth is over. He has returned to the West where he’s to face the judgment of the Valar.”

“What?” she queried, feeling her body going numb. “How do you know that?”

“I see things, Inanna,” he answered, tenderly caressing her cheeks with his calloused fingers. “All the Ainur have the gift of foresight. If you open your mind, you will see that as well.”

Buffy fell quiet. Her eyes searched Sauron’s, looking to see if he spoke the truth.

“He must answer for his deeds, both the good and the bad,” he continued in a mere whisper. “Think of him no more. He’s no longer your concern.”

“But I love him. I need him,” she protested, her eyes welling with tears yet again.

“It’s time for you to move on, child. There are others that need you more. There are those here that love you.” He gave her a small smile. “I’ll be the first to admit that I’m no expert when it comes to love, but, Inanna, I can see that your house is full of such love. These people… these people have such love for you. I feel it. I see it. They’re wholly devoted to you. They’d willingly sacrifice themselves for you and not out of fear or intimidation. I’ve never seen the likes of that before. You are the embodiment of love. Your people need you. Middle-earth needs you.” His expression softened as his dark eyes searched hers. Sauron then whispered, “I need you. Teach me, Inanna, teach me how to love.” He leaned in closer.

Buffy remained frozen, dumbfounded. The Maia softly pressed his lips against hers, kissing her softly, an act that startled her back to her senses.

“What… what are you doing?” she sputtered, pulling away from the Necromancer. His brief moment of affection mortified her. Before he could answer, she quickly added, “No! This can’t be happening.” She pulled out of his grasp, letting the Orb fall from her hand. She jumped to her feet and hastily made her way down the ladder, disturbed by the Necromancer’s actions.

As she swiftly flew down the steps of the tower, Sauron pocketed the Orb and jumped through the trapdoor. By the time he landed on the floor, he had transformed into his wolf form. He chased after the Slayer.

Buffy utilized her slayer speed, outrunning the wolf down the winding stairway. When she was nearly at the bottom, rounding one of the bends, she ran into her husband. Literally.

“Ahhh!” she cried out unexpectedly.

“Oww!” he exclaimed in surprise.

The force of the impact sent them both falling down the steps. Fortunately, they didn’t go too far as many from the Slayer’s Household had accompanied Maglor and were able to stop them from rolling the rest of the way down the steps.

Thranduil helped Buffy to her feet. “Oh my Eru! Bella - are you alright?” he queried, straightening out her dress, which had become twisted around her.

“Yeah, I’ll live,” she moaned, blinking the stars away. Her body was throbbing as she turned to her husband. “You okay, Káno?”

The Noldo moaned, rubbing his hip. “I’m fine.” He narrowed his eyes. “Why did you lock the door?” he asked with an air of annoyance in his voice.

Buffy eyed wolf Sauron, who remained still on the stairs, intently watching her, before she answered, “I… I must have inadvertently locked it. Sorry.”

Having heard her earlier cries from the top of the tower, everyone fell silent and stared at the Slayer with sympathetic eyes. Those concerned looks sent her fleeing from the tower stairway to her private rooms.

The hair on the wolf’s neck bristled as he growled at the others, forcing them to clear a pathway so that he could follow. The men shrank against either wall, allowing the beast passage. Sauron took off after Buffy with Maglor in hot pursuit.

The Slayer never realized exactly how large Lindecoa was until she had to outrun her pursuer. She knew that Sauron was following. However, with the head start that she had, she was confident that he wouldn’t be able to find her easily for he was not familiar with the layout of her Halls. To be on the safe side, when she reached her rooms, she closed the outermost door, ensuring that the Maia couldn’t follow unless he changed his bodily form, which would be a foolish thing for him to do, considering where he was.

Once she had entered her favorite sitting room, she went over to the sideboard and poured herself a glass of spirits. Her hand trembled terribly, causing her to spill the potent beverage all over the table’s surface. The strong smell of alcohol filled her flaring nostrils as she tried to catch her breath. Snatching the drink, she collapsed on the nearest sofa, leaning against the cushioned arm. She took a long swig, surprised to find herself shuddering from the bitter aftertaste. Yet that one gulp served its purpose by calming her nerves instantly.

Buffy curled her legs beneath her, sipping on her beverage. Her thoughts went from Sauron to Luthor, which only made her heart ache with sorrow. She didn’t know what she’d do without the Maia, not to mention what she was to say to Lalwen. Her hope of ending the elleth’s grief by bringing Luthor to her was not to be.

The fatal events of the battle played over and over in her mind. If only she had had a better grip on Luthor’s hand, things would have been different. She failed him. She let him fall to his death. The burden of guilt was becoming insurmountable. Her own anguish was quickly turning into despair.

At that moment, she heard the door fling open.

“Bella!” called out Maglor breathlessly.

Sauron, who had been waiting outside the door, bolted past the Noldo and into the adjoining sitting room where a teary-eyed Buffy sat. She paid no attention to the wolf as he ran to the end of the couch, resting his muzzle on the arm. Maglor entered only moments later.

“Why did you run?” he panted, rushing to her side. He plopped down beside her, taking the drink from her hand and setting it on the table.

“He’s gone, Káno. He’s really gone,” she said, barely containing her tears. “It’s all my fault. He’s… he’s dead because of me.”

“That’s not true!” protested the Noldo, taking his wife’s hands. “Ancalagon killed Luthor. Not you! You did everything you could.”

“But… but… ”

“Speak no more of what you cannot change,” interjected Maglor, stilling Buffy’s words by pressing his finger to her lips. “You’re not to blame, Bella. Do not harbor the guilt over something that you’re not responsible for. People die in war, even those of great power.”

“But, he’s supposed to be here, with us, Káno, with Lalwen.” A tear escaped her eye. The Noldo was quick to wipe it away. “Oh God! I’ve gotta tell Lalwen that he’s gone, that he’s really gone.”

“I deem that she already knows,” he answered solemnly. “I think we all know in our hearts when we’ve lost one whom we love dearly. She’s been dealing with that loss for weeks now. You’ve merely filled in the blanks by telling her the tale of what had happened.”

Maglor wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “We’ll get through this, Bella.” He paused, allowing his wife a few minutes to pull herself together. When her breathing had become calm and steady he continued on a more optimistic note. “You need to look at the positives here. Morgoth has been defeated. Rumor has it that Tulkas wrestled him from his throne and hog-tied him with Angainor.”

“Hmm,” she sounded, staring blankly at her glass of spirits on the table.

Wolf Sauron let out a mournful sigh. He walked over to the rug in front of the fireplace and lay down. Resting his head on his paws, he watched the couple on the couch.

Silence fell between them again. The Slayer’s thoughts turned to her pledge to take the Silmarils from Morgoth and return them to her husband and brother-in-law. She knew that the conversation would inevitably go in that direction and wondered if she were better off to bring it up herself. Should she confess to Maglor that she made the choice to save her offspring than to reclaim the heirlooms of the House of Fëanor? A cold chill swept over her at the mere thought.

“Are you cold?” asked the Noldo, feeling his wife’s body quiver.

“No, not really,” she replied, reaching for her drink once again. She chugged the contents, having decided that she would confess that she had not told her husband the whole truth earlier. She sat the glass back on the table with a clink. Not wanting to make eye contact with Maglor just yet, she stared at the empty glass, saying, “There’s something I need to tell you. I didn’t tell you the whole truth earlier, at dinner.”

“What are you talking about?” queried the perplexed Elf Lord.

“The Silmarils,” she answered faintly, unaware that she was nervously chewing her bottom lip like Luthor had always done.

Maglor did not respond, but she could feel his penetrating gaze boring into her.

“I… I had made a choice,” she continued, fidgeting with the material of her gown. “I had to.” She turned, locking her eyes on her husband. “I had to choose between saving my offspring and the Silmarils. And… and… ” She couldn’t seem to get the words out.

“You chose to save your offspring,” he said, finishing her sentence for her.

“I know I had promised,” she started to explain, “but when I heard their cries… Oromë was gonna kill them. And not all of them are evil. Some have acted as my spies and, and… ”

“You don’t have to explain yourself, Bella. You did the right thing.”

A look of shock came to her face. “I did?” she queried in disbelief.

The Noldo gave her a reassuring smile. “The Silmarils do not matter to me any more. All I care about is you, you and our family. You saved those whom you love. How can I fault you for that?”

“So, so you don’t hate me?” she asked hesitantly.

“Of course not,” Maglor responded with a slight chuckle. “I love you, Luinil. I promised you that our family would always come first, even before the Jewels of my father. I’m just glad to have you back, back here with me. I’ve missed you so much. Let the Valar do as they wish. The Silmarils have brought enough suffering to me and my people. The time has come for me to let them go.”

“Oh, Káno!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around her husband’s neck. “You don’t know how happy I am to hear that. I thought you’d leave me for sure.”

“I’ll never leave you.”

Buffy pulled out of the embrace. “You don’t know how much I love you, how much I’ve missed you,” she said, cupping his face lovingly in her hands. “Not a moment went by that I didn’t think about you.”

Before he could say anything, she kissed him, passionately. Feeling his touch, the warmth of his lips reminded her how much she truly missed him. It seemed like forever since they had last been intimate, when in reality it was more like decades. Forgetting that Sauron was even in the room with them, Buffy and Maglor began to undress one another. Their desire for one another had awakened, and would not abate until their bodily needs had been sated.

Once naked, the Noldo lifted her into his arms, his mouth never leaving hers, as he carried her to their bedroom. Buffy fumbled with the doorknob, not wanting to break away from their kiss. Managing to get the door open, Maglor pushed his way through. She went to kick the door closed, but it failed to latch and remained slightly ajar. They dropped onto the bed, anxious to rediscover each other after so many years apart…



As Buffy and Maglor succumbed to their passion, those that had followed from the tower had decided that Maedhros be the one to enter their private sanctuary. The copper-headed elf crept into the first chamber. Finding it deserted, he proceeded to the next. The elf gently rapped on the door, even though it was partially open. His knocks caused the door to open wide. His eyes scanned the room, stopping on the wolf lying by the hearth. The beast lifted his head, cocking it to the side. He sniffed the air in the Noldo’s direction, his yellow eyes never leaving the Elf Lord. The look in the creature’s eyes sent a shiver down Maedhros’ spine.

“Bella. Maglor,” he called out softly. Shifting his gaze from the animal, his eyes stopped on the door leading to the bedroom, which remained slightly open. Keeping a cautious eye on the animal, whose keen eyes remained locked on the Noldo; Maedhros slowly crossed the chamber to the next room.

He heard the smacking sounds from within the bedchamber, giving him an idea of what was taking place beyond the door. Unable to restrain himself, he peaked around the corner, only to see his brother and sister-in-law in the throes of passion. Slowly, he backed away, reeling from the sight. Feelings of jealousy stirred in his heart. Maedhros was startled as he bumped the coffee table, tipping the glass, which fell to the floor with a clink. His eyes darted toward the bedroom, wondering if Maglor and Buffy had heard the noise. He remained still, listening intently, only to hear the moaning and groaning of the couple’s lovemaking.

Sauron, seeing Maedhros reaction, knew immediately that the elf was in love with his sister-in-law. Despite his feelings for the Vala Queen, he saw the perfect opportunity to fulfill one of the tasks that Melkor had planned - the total destruction of the House of Fëanor. He softly whimpered, the sound attracting the Noldo’s attention.

Maedhros locked his eyes on the wolf, heedless to the fact that the beast was weaving a dreadful spell about him. The elf’s mouth went agape. He rubbed his eyes, shocked by what he was witnessing. Instead of the wolf lying there before the fireplace, he now saw his father, dressed in his fineries.

“Do not doubt your eyes, my son,” said Fëanor, standing tall and proud as always. He was stern in face and mood. “I am grieved at heart, Nelyafinwë, for it seems to me that my eldest sons have forsaken me, that they have allowed my death to be in vain.”

“Is it… is it really you, father?” queried the bewildered son.

Sauron in disguise stepped forward. “Indeed,” he answered, placing his hand on Maedhros’ shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Even Mandos himself could not keep me locked away whilst my sons allow thieves to run off with my most prized possessions.”

“Adar,” said Maedhros in awe, dropping to one knee. He bowed his head, showing his father the respect that he had demanded in life. He raised his head, looking in disbelief at the eldest son in the line of Finwë. Reaching out for his father, he said, “My Lord, how great it is to see you once again… ”

“Enough of your flattery, Maedhros!” he retorted angrily. Fëanor stepped away from his son, his face wrinkled with contempt. “Look at you! What you’ve become. Sulking around here, secretly watching your brother fornicate with the Queen of Harlots!” He turned his narrowed grey eyes to the bedchamber door. Both Buffy and Maglor were unaware of what was happening in the adjoining room.

He let out a snicker of disgust before turning his gaze back to Maedhros. “At least my youngest sons had the decency to die a noble death in their attempts to regain what is rightfully mine. But you, you and Kanafinwë allowed yourselves to become beguiled by that Vala of Lies and Fornication.” He motioned toward the bedchamber with his head. “She has no loyalty to this House. Are you and your brother too dimwitted to see that? She had aligned herself with the enemy long before Ea was wrought!” he spat with seething hatred. “She has been conniving with Morgoth to destroy my House. One by one, my beloved sons have fallen because she has kept the Silmarils from us. She is behind all our troubles, all our woes.

“And here you are, lusting after such a creature, letting it compromise your true purpose in Middle-earth. You disgust me! You have no loyalty to our House. You are unworthy of being a son of Finwë, much less my son,” the menacing form of Fëanor sneered.

“Please, father,” implored a repentant Maedhros. “I’m sorry. Please forgive me. I’ve become weak since you’ve… you’ve departed. What can I do to earn your praise and respect again, my Lord? I’ll do anything.” On the verge of tears, he crept over to his father, cowering at his feet.

A sinister smile came to the elder elf’s face. It was now time to set in motion the next part of Melkor’s scheme. “That’s a start,” he began, nodding his head approvingly. “Look at me, my son,” he ordered, staring down at Maedhros.

The copper-haired elf turned his gaze upward, looking at his father with tear-filled eyes.

“I will only forgive you when you regain the Silmarils. Take them from the thieves in the West. I do not care if you have to kill them all.”

“I will, father. I will,” readily agreed the eldest son of Fëanor.

“And have Kanafinwë go with you. Two Silmarils are left. One for the each of you.”

“But… but Maglor has renounced his Oath… ”

“The Oath cannot be rescinded. You are his brother, Nelyafinwë. You must convince him that you need his aid or else all will be for naught. You cannot do it alone. Kanafinwë must assist you in this task.”

Maedhros’ eyes darted to the bedchamber for a moment. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to convince Maglor to help him.

“What say you?” queried Fëanor, his patience wearing thin.

“Yes, father. I will see that your will is done.”

“Promise me; promise me that you’ll see to it that your brother is in agreement with you, that you will both fight for my Jewels, to the death, if necessary.”

“Yes, father,” Maedhros nodded. “I will see it through to the end. You have my word.”

“Good,” answered Fëanor. “Now off with you. Make your plans now for there is not much time left.”

Maedhros rose to his feet. Bowing before his father, he hastily left the chamber, thinking of how he could possibly convince Maglor to seize the Silmarils from Eönwë and his kindred.

When the door had closed behind the Noldo, Sauron’s smile broadened. He was pleased by his actions, confident that things couldn’t have gone any better. He picked up the glass from the floor and walked over to the sideboard. Filling it with the same spirits that the Slayer had drunk earlier, he guzzled a glassful before placing the vessel on the table. He then changed back into his wolf form and took his place back on the rug, eager to see what the morning would bring…