Full Circle

The Vala Queen was on cloud nine! Not only did she now possess the Nauglamír, (which was one of the greatest relics ever made), but she had also heard the words “I love you” from her firstborn, something she had waited ages to hear. She was so elated by the recent turn of events that she didn’t consider the power of the Silmaril nor the effect its blinding rays would have on mortal eyes. That is, until a second later, when she reappeared in the room that served as the base of operations in Lindon Hall.

Immediately, everyone in the room dove for cover, hiding their eyes in the crook of their arms or burying their faces in their hands. Thinking that The End had truly come, many shrieked in fear, or uttered prayers of deliverance.

“Shit!” the Slayer exclaimed, horrified by their reaction. She pulled her cloak over the Jewel of Fëanor, yet the Blessed Light of the Silmaril still shone through her garment in a brilliance of blue. Her fretful eyes scanned the chamber, watching as some of the residents of Lindon Hall collided with one another in their attempts to escape through the door. Others tripped over some of the furniture, landing flat on the floor with their eyes firmly shut.

Eluréd and Elurín, who happened to be in the room at the time, sprinted toward the Vala Queen, doing their best to avoid those scrambling for refuge.

“Bella! Mortal eyes cannot take the power of the Silmaril,” informed a panicked Elurín, throwing his arms over her chest.

“We need something to hide it in,” shouted his twin brother over the din.

“I’m sorry,” the Slayer apologized in a wounded voice. “I forgot.”

“We need a box!” declared Eluréd, running over to the desk, and rifling through the drawers.

As Eluréd searched frantically for some type of container, his brother shouted to the others to calm down. “It’s not the End of the World, people. Buffy has merely returned - ”

“Hey!” interjected the Slayer, feeling slighted by the remark.

“ - Keep your eyes shielded until I tell you it’s okay,” he continued, ignoring the Vala Queen’s comment altogether.

“I said I was sorry,” she said huffily to the son of Dior.

“You should’ve known better,” reprimanded Elurín. “They’re not the Edain of old! The Silmaril can blind these people! That ought to be something you shouldn’t forget.”

Buffy mumbled another apology under her breath, as Eluréd came dashing over, emptying a briefcase full of papers onto the floor. “This was all I could find. Hurry, Bella! Put the Nauglamír in here!”

She quickly undid the clasp, gently placing the bejeweled necklace on the felt lining of the case. Eluréd then slammed the box closed, stifling the mystical Light.

“Okay, okay,” shouted a relieved Elurín. “We’ve taken care of the problem! You can open your eyes now.”

The others cautiously peeked over the crook of their arms or spread their fingers apart on their faces just enough so they could glimpse the interior of the room.

Disgruntled grumbling then broke out, as many rubbed their sore eyes feverishly or wiped the tears that had streamed down their pale faces, as a result of the blinding Light of the Silmaril.

“Sorry!” the grimacing Valië apologized yet again, regretting the she had caused her friends a few moments of utter terror, not to mention, physical discomfort.

Dawnie stomped across the room, blinking her eyes rapidly to clear her vision. She stopped before Buffy, her arms folded across her chest, anger etched on her youthful face. Breathing hard, she narrowed her eyes, staring at her sister for a moment. Then, out of the blue, the young woman slapped Buffy; the sound of her hand striking the Vala Queen’s face drew gasps of shock from some of the bystanders.

“What the hell was that for?” queried the startled Slayer, rubbing her stinging cheek.

“That’s for leaving me!” barked Dawnie, shaking with rage. “You said you’d be right back. That was five days ago!”

“Um, Dawn,” chimed in Xander, hesitantly approaching from behind. “I don’t think it’s such a good idea to hit Buffy.” He stopped. Leaning close to her ear, he whispered, “She’s a God! She might turn you into a toad or something.”

“I’m not gonna turn her into a toad,” answered the Vala Queen, rolling her eyes at the mere suggestion.

“You said you’d be right back,” Dawn repeated, revealing the hurt in her voice this time. “How could you leave me like that?” she added, her eyes brimming with tears.

Buffy’s facial expression softened, her right cheek red with her sister’s handprint. “I’m sorry, Dawnie,” she responded, pushing back the stray strands of hair that had fallen across the young woman’s face. “I’ve had a lot to do. I didn’t realize how much time had passed.”

Dawn stood there, sulking, blinking the tears from her eyes.

“Oh, come on. Don’t do that,” whimpered the Slayer. “I’m back now. See!” she added, waving her arms animatedly before the young woman.

Connor came to his wife’s side. “Give her a break, Dawn,” he said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. “I’m sure your sister’s been under a lot of stress with destroying the world and all.” He turned his gaze to the Slayer. “Hey! I’m Connor,” he said, introducing himself to his sister-in-law.

“Hey!” Buffy answered back, giving the young man the once over. She couldn’t help but notice how remarkably similar that he and Dawnie looked. They had many of the same features. “I’m Bell-, Buffy,” she corrected herself.

“Yeah, I know,” he replied, as his eyes slowly swept over her. “You know, I thought you’d be… bigger.”

“Hmm,” she sounded. “Haven’t heard that one before.”

“What was with that Light?” asked Willow, who had joined the group along with Giles. “Was that like your true form?” she queried excitedly. “‘Cause I remember reading about Zeus, and how he had… ”

“No, it wasn’t my true form,” Buffy interjected, cutting off Willow’s sentence.

“Oh,” the Witch answered dejectedly.

The Valië promptly turned her attention back to Dawn. “Are we okay?”

The young woman looked at her for a moment or two and then nodded her head. “Yeah, we’re okay.”

Buffy smiled. “Good,” she replied. With her relationship with her sister mended, she was now ready to get back to business. “If five days have passed since I left, then, today’s the tenth, the tenth of December.”

“Meaning only two days left ‘til the world goes kaboom!” chimed in Xander, dramatically emphasizing the word “kaboom.”

“Actually… ” began the Vala Queen, who was willing to go into detail about what was transpiring in the States, but was unable to, as Giles cut her statement short.

“We’ve been doing some research into The End of Days, studying the Book of Revelation and, and the other numerous texts at our disposal,” he commented, now in Watcher mode.

“What else could one expect at Stuffy-Suit Central?” the Slayer quipped, as her eyes scanned the many prim, tweed-clad Watchers in the room.

“This is serious, Buffy,” replied Giles, grabbing the book out of one of his fellow Watcher’s hands. “If my calculations are correct, we’re talking about eighty percent of the population being wiped off the face of the Earth.”

The Watcher fixed his eyes on the Vala Queen as she counted with her fingers, her lips moving silently along. “Move the decimal point over,” she mumbled. “Carry the one.” She pursed her lips together, her face wrinkled as if in deep thought. “According to my calculations, it’s eighty-five percent - give or take a few hundred thousand. But I could be wrong! Math hasn’t always been my strongest subject,” she added with a shrug.

“This is preposterous!” exclaimed Giles. “How can you sit idly by and allow billions of people to die?”

“I’m not sitting idly by,” she shot back. “I’m bringing it to fruition. There’s a difference, you know.”

“Giles has a point,” said Xander, eager to put in his two cents. “I mean, it seems wrong for us to do nothing, to not stop this war. We’re the good guys here. We’re supposed to nip evil in the bud.”

“What the hell do you think I’m trying to do here?” said the annoyed Valië. “Evil will be punished! Evil will be eradicated from the world. I can’t put it any simpler than that.”

“And at what price?” queried a perturbed Giles, shoving the book back into his fellow Watcher’s hands. “The blood of the innocent? Women? Children? It seems needless for so many to die.”

Buffy groaned in frustration. “You people just don’t get it!” she moaned, walking away from the group. “They are the sacrifice! You don’t rid evil from the world without sacrifices!” she preached, as those nearest to the Slayer backed away at her approach. “Have you people built a cocoon around yourselves? Do you not see what’s taking place in the world? It’s Hell on Earth out there! Humans have become overly arrogant. They’ve done away with the laws that were supposed to govern them, allowing themselves to become ruled by id.”

She stopped, facing her friends.

“And for your information id is short for idiot! It’s chaos out there. People have allowed themselves to become ruled by depravity, doing the unthinkable in its name. All in the name of id.” She shook her head in disgust. “It’s Sodom and Gomorrah all over again, only this time, the depravity has spread world-wide.” She snorted. “And I don’t think I need to remind you all of what happened to those two cities.”

“But, but the children,” stated a female Watcher by the name of Mrs. Stillwell, her big brown eyes full of concern.

“The children have become as tyrants unto their parents,” the Vala Queen replied coolly. “They’ve been brainwashed, dominated by the id. The disease has spread even to the youngest.” She paused. “There is no hope of changing things. Only with the world’s destruction do we have any chance of hope. Believe me, if there was another way… ” The words faltered on her lips. She turned away from her friends, eyeing an old painting of Queen Victoria that hung on the wall.

There wasn’t really anything else Buffy could say. Either her friends believed in her, or they didn’t.

The others exchanged uneasy glances, unsure whether they should drop the topic of conversation or continue questioning the Valië further.

“I believe in you,” said Elurín amidst the quiet that fell upon the room.

“As do I,” spoke up Eluréd, who continued to clutch, in his hand, the briefcase which contained the Nauglamír.

A smile crept upon the Slayer’s face as she slowly turned, looking at the twin sons of Dior. “Thanks, guys,” she said, happy to have their support.

“None of us are against you, Buffy,” Willow tried to explain. “It’s just strange that we’re not a part of things, the war, that is. Normally, we’re trying to take down the Big Bad, not… well, you know, helping ‘em along.”

The Vala Queen narrowed her eyes, locking them on the Witch. “Is that what you think of me? That I’m the Big Bad?”

Willow’s eyes widened in response to the Slayer’s questions. She feared that her friend was taking her words out of context. “No, no, no, no! That’s not what I meant at all,” she said, frantically shaking her head. “I mean, I was a part of it. I’m the one who brought you here, triggering this whole Armageddon thingy. I never meant to imply that you were… you know, bad.”

“I think what Willow is trying to say is that we’re scared, Buffy,” piped up Dawn, stepping forward from the group. “This is the only world we know, and to think that it, along with the majority of the people, are going to die.” She shook her head in dismay. “It’s scary. We love this world and the people in it.” She paused, cocking her head to the side, and added, “Well, for the most part.”

“This isn’t the first time something like this has happened,” replied the Slayer in an attempt to reassure her friends.

“Yes, the Flood. We’re well aware of that calamity,” remarked Giles.

“Not just the Flood,” refuted the Valië. “There have been others, hundreds of cataclysmic events, if not thousands. Granted, not to this degree, but still… ” She smiled warmly. “You guys have nothing to worry about. I’ll keep you safe. And when you see the world as it should be, you’ll be thanking me.” She chuckled. “Believe me, you ain’t seen nothing yet!”

“The thought of the Earth becoming a heavenly realm gives me the warm fuzzies. Anyone else?” said an enthused Xander, his eyes shifting to the others in the room.

“Warm fuzzies,” uttered Buffy. “What the hell does that mean?”

Laughing off her comments, Elurín added, “The new world will be spectacular! Bella’s right about that. Just you wait and see.”

The Vala Queen eased past the others in the room, rejoining her loved ones. She leaned in close to Giles and whispered, “You do realize that most of these people aren’t going with us, don’t you?”

Apparently, the Slayer didn’t realize how loud her voice actually was, as the others in the room that were not part of her intimate circle began to freak out after she uttered that statement to Giles.

“What?” cried out one young girl, no older than fifteen, on the verge of tears. “We’re gonna be left behind!”

“What is this nonsense, Rupert? You said that we were part of the Elect too,” proclaimed an uptight-looking Watcher by the name of Mr. O’Malley.

“I… I… well, I…,” stammered Giles nervously, his eyes darting from Buffy to his panicking colleagues from the Watchers Council and their Charges. He had assumed that all in Lindon Hall were going with the Vala Queen, and had assured the others, (except Mrs. Wentworth), that they’d be departing England for the Blessed Realm before The End. He looked at Buffy and moaned, “Help me out here.”

“No problemo,” she answered, nodding her head. “Excuse me! Excuse me!” she said, as she made her way through the crowd to the desk. She leapt upon the wooden surface, facing the occupants of the room. “May I have your attention, please!” she continued, as the murmuring in the room died down. “Thank you!”

She cleared her throat. “There’s only a certain number of people allotted to take the journey with me to Valinor. That includes my dear sister, Dawn and her husband, Connor, and little Luke.” She shifted her eyes to her sister, smiling at her and her spouse. “Xander, Willow, and little Buffy, of course,” she went on, turning her gaze to those two. “Mr. Giles,” she said with a nod of her head before fixing her eyes on the twin sons of Dior. “Paul and Saul, as you know them. They too got Golden Tickets.”

Buffy then searched the scores of people in the room, pointing to a redheaded girl in the back, she added, “You too, Heather. You’re gonna come with us. And Amanda. Um, who else? Who else?” she mumbled, her eyes scanning the group. “Oh you too, Mr. Hannon, and… ” She clicked her tongue as she searched for the last person. “There you are,” she continued, locking her eyes on a middle-aged woman. “You’re coming too, Ms. Warwick.” She smiled, chuckling. “What a cool name - Warwick!”

“That’s it!” bellowed an old Watcher by the name of Sinclair. “What about the rest of us? What happens to us?”

“Well,” began the Slayer, folding her arms across her chest. She debated whether or not to tell them the truth. After a few seconds she continued, “Well, in a few hours time, England’s gonna get bombarded with neutron bombs. One of them is gonna hit the area nearby.”

“What?” exclaimed several people at once.

Others wailed, terrified at the prospect of a nuclear strike.

“Now, now don’t panic!” she continued, motioning for the crowd to settle down. “Your deaths will be quick. Nearly painless.”

“Nearly painless?!” shouted one of the Slayers, in tears. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Well, your flesh will bubble from the wicked heat. Your inner core temperature will rise until your insides burst… ”

Shrieks of despair drowned out Buffy’s words, as the bawling grew louder.

“It won’t be that bad!” insisted the Vala Queen, raising her voice over the clamor. “It’ll only last a couple of seconds! Then you’ll be dead.”

Giles frowned at her, wishing she hadn’t have been so graphic in her details. He shook his head, as arguing and fights broke out within the room.

Buffy shrugged her shoulders before leaping off the desk.

Giles immediately rushed to her side. “Did you have to be so forward? They’re people for God’s sake,” he hissed, shooting her a disapproving look.

“They say honesty’s the best policy,” she answered, with yet another shrug of her shoulders. She glanced around the room at the numerous rows taking place. “Guess that’s not really the case, huh?”

“You think?!” he shot back.

“Oh, well. Let’s be off then,” she said with a clap of her hands. “I’ve gotta make a trip to the basement first, then we’ll be on our way.”

“So, that’s it!” spoke up an upset Dawn. “We’re just gonna leave these people behind to die!”

Those whose names the Vala Queen had called out quickly made their way through the throng, eager to be at her side.

“What do you want me to do?” queried the Slayer. “There’s a finite number of people on the list. I just can’t go changing it on a whim.”

“But you’re a God,” countered Xander, somewhat exasperated. “Can’t you use your godly powers or something? Give these people a break, Buff. They’re our friends.”

“Rules are rules,” she snapped sharply in reply. “After they die, Námo will judge them. And if he so commands it, they’ll be released from Mandos. It’s out of my hands. Really it is.”

She glanced at the disheartened faces of her friends. “There’s nothing more I can do. Let’s go.” She shifted her eyes to Eluréd. “Don’t lose that!” she said, pointing to the briefcase in his hand.

Eluréd nodded, patting the case, as they pushed their way through the crowd, leaving the bickering and brawling members of the Watcher’s Council behind.

Once they had reached the hallway, Dawnie said, “I need to get Luke.” She was still rather upset by the recent developments.

“I’ll get him,” answered Connor, giving his wife’s hand a gentle, reassuring squeeze before he took off down the corridor in the opposite direction.

“Hey! Wait up, Connor. I need to get Buffy,” shouted Xander, taking off after Angel’s son.

“Meet us in the basement!” Buffy shouted over her shoulder.

“I can’t believe this,” said a nervous Willow, walking beside the Slayer. “I mean, this is it. The End of the World. It’s kinda scary, like Dawnie said.”

“It’s the end of the age, not the world,” corrected the Vala Queen.

“Yeah, but so many people are gonna, you know, die.”

Buffy sighed heavily, not wanting to argue with anyone about the impending doom, especially her friends.

“I’m not blaming you. Not for a second,” Willow continued, seeing the frustrated look on her friend’s face. “I just can’t believe that it’s happening now.”

“Yeah,” chimed in Dawn. “I always figured it’d happen after we were long gone.”

“People have been trying to predict this time for thousands of years,” added Giles. “Who would’ve thought that the Mayans were nearly spot-on in their predictions?”

The Slayer waved her hand, answering, “Me. Except I inverted the numbers so that when the time finally came, people wouldn’t realize that The End would happen sooner rather than later.”

“Where’s the logic in that?” queried the perplexed Watcher.

“I don’t know,” she replied with a shrug. “Made sense at the time, I suppose.”

They began to descend the stairway.

“There’s something I don’t understand,” remarked Willow.

“Yeah. And what’s that?” answered the Vala Queen.

“Well, I was always taught that the Jews made up the Elect, that we were the Chosen Ones.”

“You’re talking about two different things, Will,” came the Slayer’s reply. “The Elect are comprised from the Twelve Tribes of Man. The Jews are merely one tribe, and are greatly outnumbered when you take into account the other eleven.”

“So how were we chosen?” she queried. “I mean, the Elect, that is.”

“Your bloodline. The Elect are descended from the Ainur,” she replied, glancing at her friend. “The Gods and… and their helpers. I hate the word servant. Sounds too demeaning.”

The Witch nodded in agreement.

“Any way, the Valar and Maiar are what my brethren are called in the elvish tongue,” Buffy continued to explain. “Some of them mated with mortals, mingling their blood with mankind.” They took off down another corridor. “I’ve followed the bloodlines of Man for ages, tracking them, recording their names… ”

“Then there really is a Book of Life?” interjected Giles in surprise.

“Absolutely! The Elect were chosen by their bloodlines.”

“So, who am I descended from? I know Xander’s descended from that guy Beren, and I assume that Dawnie’s descended from you, since she came from your blood… But what about me?”

“You’re descended from me as well,” Buffy replied, as they reached the stairwell to the basement.

Willow stopped in her tracks, the blood rushing from her face. “Come again?”

The Slayer faced her friend, smiling. “You’re descended from my youngest son, Aeneas, Aeneas Morgon.”

“Aeneas! I’m descended from Aeneas of Troy?!” she exclaimed, bug-eyed.

“Actually, he was of Númenorean descent. History has been distorted a lot,” explained Buffy. “But, yeah, they’re one and the same. My youngest bedded lots of women,” she chuckled. “Not that I discouraged that. I was delighted to have my blood running through the race of Man.”

The Witch stood there with her mouth agape, staring at the Valië in disbelief.

Buffy folded her arms across her chest as the others stood around, wishing that she would hurry up and finish her business so they could leave England before the destructive nuclear attack.

“Do you think it was mere chance that we met at Sunnydale High?” asked the Slayer, her eyes twinkling with knowing. “We were destined to meet - me, you, Xander, and even Giles here,” she continued, motioning toward the Watcher with her head. “Our bloodlines called out to each other, brought us together. It was destiny.” Her smile broadened. “You’re like my great-great-great-… well add about fifteen more greats - granddaughter.”

“Huh? Imagine that,” Willow gulped, floored to hear that her best friend was also her distant foremother from many generations back.

“Come on, we need to get a move on,” the Slayer remarked, seeing the eager faces of their companions. “Time’s ticking away,” she said lightheartedly, as they started down the dimly lit stairway.

“I can’t believe we’re related,” said a stunned Willow.

“Small world, isn’t it?” laughed Buffy. “Any way, The Elect were chosen for the bloodlines… ” she continued, as she descended the steps. She then stopped, looked over her shoulder and saw the redheaded woman standing several steps higher, her arms stretched from wall to wall, blocking the others from following.

“What? What’s wrong?” the Slayer asked, her face wrinkled in confusion. “Why’d you stop?”

Willow stared at the Slayer with a troubled look on her face. “How can I be part of the Elect when I had gone all evil? I’m not worthy.”

“Bullshit!” countered the Valië.

The Witch looked unconvinced.

Buffy climbed up a couple of steps, stopping one stair below her redheaded friend. “It’s all about the bloodlines, Will. Your past - pfft, that’s nothing,” she said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

Willow still looked unconvinced. “But I killed a man. I killed Warren.”

“Oh, God! Please tell me you don’t harbor any guilt over that,” answered the Slayer. “He was a piece of shit, Will. He deserved what he got. Consider it justifiable homicide. I do.”

“Yeah, but I also tried to destroy the world. I’m… I’m a bad person,” she groaned, overwhelmed with guilt.

“Once again I say - bullshit! You’re nothing of the sort.” The Vala Queen looked keenly upon the Witch. “I’ve done some pretty horrific things in my day, Will… ”

“Did you ever try to destroy the world?” queried the redheaded woman anxiously.

A smile came to the Slayer’s face. “What the hell do you think I’m doing now?” she chortled. “You’ve taken a walk on the dark side. There’s nothing wrong with that. In fact, I’m of the opinion that that gives you a greater understanding of the world, of the motivations of the bad guys. And you haven’t done anything like that again. You’ve learned from that whole ordeal and moved on. Just remember those times, because you just might find that they’ll become useful one day. Okay?”

Willow gave her a small smile. “Okay.”

They started filing down the stairway again.

“But, you know, Buffy, I did bring you back. So in a way, I’m kinda playing a part in the destruction of the world,” continued the Witch, half-amusedly.

“I suppose you could say that,” the Valië replied thoughtfully. “Though, if it makes you feel guilty, just put it all on me. I’ve gotten pretty good at handling the burden of guilt.”

“Nah,” said Willow. “I think I want to be associated with the Earth’s destruction, especially if it creates a heavenly realm. Like Xander said, it gives me the warm fuzzies.”

The Slayer didn’t comment, having reached the basement, which, over the years, the Watchers had used as a storage room. She stood there for a moment, trying to get her bearings. She then squeezed her way through the old furniture and dust covered crates.

“What are you looking for?” asked Dawn, following behind Willow.

“A secret door.”

“Secret door?” repeated Giles. “I’m not aware of Lindon Hall having a secret door.”

“Ergo the word - secret,” she responded, slightly distracted with her search.

“Yeah, Giles,” Willow chuckled. “You think there’s gonna be a big flashing neon sign on the wall, saying, ‘Secret Door.’”

“I just assumed that we Watchers were familiar with all the secrets contained within this castle. It has been our refuge for centuries,” he answered irritatingly.

“It’s like Hogwarts,” remarked Amanda. She then added excitedly, “Ooh, you think there’s a Room of Requirement down here?”

“Nah,” answered Buffy. “Just a secret vault.”

From the top of the stairwell, Xander shouted, “You guys down there?”

“Yeah!” yelled back Dawn.

Both Xander and Connor came barreling down the stairs, toting their children on their hips.

“Crap,” the Vala Queen murmured, finding the wall that she had been searching for blocked by an old bookcase, laden with useless junk. “Stand back!” she then ordered to the others with a quick glance over her shoulder. “I’ve gotta move this thing and I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”

“Back up. Back up. Back up,” repeated Ms. Warwick, as Mr. Hannon, the last in the queue, shuffled his feet backwards.

Checking to see that everyone was a safe distance away, the Valië then focused her attention on the barricade. Slowly, the bookcase lifted from its spot, the items stored on the shelves falling onto the stone surface of the floor, as the cabinet levitated higher and higher into the air. The piece of furniture then turned on its side and sailed through the air until the Slayer let it drop onto some nearby crates.

She then kicked the stuff blocking her way, as the Light of her fey intensified, but not so much as to blind the others.

Her companions watched in interest, whispering amongst themselves.

Buffy then placed her hands on the stone blocks, running her palms over the cold, rough surface of the wall. When she felt an imperfection in one of the blocks, she smiled, knowing she had found the right one. With her back to the others, her incisors grew to sharp fangs. She sank one of the teeth into her index finger, breaking the skin, and tasting blood. Her teeth then returned to normal as she ran her bloody finger along the mortar that surrounded that block. When the stone was framed with blood, the mortar glowed red for a few moments, to the oohs and ahhs of the others. One by one, the blocks began to disappear, revealing a narrow, arched gateway.

“Welcome to Diagon Alley,” snorted Xander upon seeing that.

“Wouldn’t that be so cool,” remarked Amanda, craning her neck to see what lay beyond the doorway.

Smiling with delight, Buffy stepped into the pitch-black chamber, the only light coming from her essence.

“Ow! Watch it!” said Willow, as Dawnie stepped on the back of her feet, eager to see what was housed in the secret vault.

“Sorry,” answered Dawn. “Hey! Stop pushing!” she said to Giles, who was knocked into her, as everyone was anxious to see what treasures lay beyond the doorway.

“Sorry, Mr. Giles,” apologized Heather. “But, it’s not my fault. They’re pushing behind me.”

The Vala Queen ignored the others, who gradually made their way into the darkened chamber. The only light came from the Valië’s fey.

“Um, Buffy,” started Dawn, looking around the dimly lit corners of the chamber. “I think you’ve been robbed. I don’t see anything in here.”

“All is as it should be,” answered the Slayer, walking toward the center of the room.

“Yeah, there’s nothing in here but a crap-load of dust bunnies,” commented Willow, as her eyes scanned the dimness of the chamber.

When Xander entered the chamber carrying little Buffy, he too surveyed the room. “I think I’m having flashbacks of Al Capone’s vault,” he quipped.

“Mortals,” grumbled Eluréd under his breath, as he bypassed the others to get to Buffy. “You people have no idea how great a treasure is locked away in here.”

“They soon will, my brother,” added Elurín, following behind his twin.

“You guys need to stay back,” ordered the Vala Queen. She stopped, standing in the center of a pentagram etched into the stone floor. Its markings were so faint that the others could not make out the symbol.

Elurín went to Buffy’s side. He took her punctured finger in his hand, inspecting the small hole in her flesh. “I don’t think you’re bleeding enough. Need a knife?”

“Yeah, that would help,” she answered, not wanting to “fang out” in front of her loved ones.

The son of Dior lifted his pant leg, revealing a sheathed blade strapped to his limb. He reached down and pulled out the knife.

“Where shall I slice?” he queried, grabbing hold of her arm once again.

“Hit the wrist. It’ll bleed faster,” she answered, before Elurín ran the blade across her flesh.

“What is it with all the blood?” asked Xander, hiding little Buffy’s eyes from the ghastly sight.

“It’s always the blood,” replied Dawn, staring almost trance-like at the life force dripping from her sister’s arm.

“Step back, my dear,” Buffy then said to Elurín. She then squatted down, slowly turning as her blood streamed from her wrist onto the outer circle of the pentagram.

“I don’t get it,” whispered a perplexed Connor.

Dawn looked at her husband. “The vault’s obviously beneath the floor, and from what I gather, Buffy’s blood is the key.”

“Half of the key,” remarked the Slayer, looking up at her sister with a big grin on her face. “You know, you’d make one hell of a Watcher.”

Her sister smiled in reply.

“If your blood is only half the key, what’s the other half?” queried Giles thoughtfully.

“The blood of my son,” answered Buffy. Having completed the circle, she stood, licking her wound, and healing it instantly. “My son decided long ago that it was best to use both of our life force’s to open the vault,” she explained as she held out the palm of her hand. Suddenly, the vile of blood that Luthor had taken from Olofin in Findor appeared in her hand. “We hoped that none would figure that out. Guess we’ll find out soon enough if that was the case or not.”

The Vala Queen removed the plug on the vile and carefully poured Olofin’s blood in the same manner as she had poured her own. With the circle complete, she tossed the empty vile aside, but instead of it hitting the floor, it vanished in mid-air.

“Stay back!” she proclaimed in a loud voice. The blood glowed red like lava, warming up the rather cold chamber, as the life force of both mother and son ran along the engraved symbol on the floor.

The Elect backed away toward the walls of the room, watching with trepidation.

Once the blood had run through the entire hollow of the pentagram, it burst into a wall of blue flame. The fire licked at the Slayer’s flesh, but with no ill effects. The flames gradually died down, as the star within the circle began to rise from the floor, the sound of stone scraping against stone reverberating within the chamber.

The Valië leapt off the slab, watching in delight, until the star-shaped block came to a standstill. She then ran her hands down the length of two of the points. The rock then began to crack, forming a rectangle that, when complete, ejected itself from the larger stone mass, revealing an opening about six inches by twelve inches. She reached her hand inside the encasement, as the twin sons of Dior eased closer, standing on either side of her.

“I feel it,” she announced excitedly, grabbing hold of the wooden box.

The twins anxiously looked on, reveling in yet another rare moment that Buffy allowed them to share with her. The others in the room whispered amongst each other, wondering what rare artifact was housed inside the stone star.

The Vala Queen pulled out the mallorn box. On the lid was etched the Star of Fëanor.

“You guys might want to shield your eyes,” said the Valië, her eyes scanning the mortal occupants in the chamber. “I wanna make sure the Silmarils are still in here.”

Quickly, the others turned around, covering their eyes with their hands.

Buffy snapped the lock open on the box, her heart pounding in anticipation. It had been centuries since she and Olofin had locked the Jewels away. Giving a quick look at Elurín and Eluréd, she opened the lid. Immediately, the two Silmarils illuminated the chamber in a blinding light.

“All’s well,” she said with a smile, quickly closing the lid. Dimness filled the room once again. “Okay, people. My business in Middle-earth is now officially over.”

“So, so what happens now?” asked a nervous Dawn once she faced her sister again.

“We’re going to Valinor, to Mandos.”

“Ooh, this is so exciting,” said Willow, grinning from ear to ear.

“It won’t be, at first,” answered the Slayer, holding the box firmly in her hands. “Valinor has seen its share of war too,” she sighed. “In fact, the battle still rages on.”

The smile on the Witches face faded fast.

“Don’t worry,” continued the Vala Queen. “I’m gonna put an end to it.” She smiled. “It’s my destiny. Always has been.” She turned her gaze to Elurín and Eluréd, her eyes glistening with tears. “Ready to go home?” she asked.

They choked back their tears, merely nodding in reply.

“Let’s go then.” She shifted her eyes toward the others. Without her uttering a single command, they all vanished from Lindon Hall, reappearing in the Hall of Mandos only a second later.

Buffy’s friends looked around the massive chamber with awe-filled eyes. Though the room was dimly lit by numerous torches, the majesty of Námo’s Halls filled them with wonder. Never before had they seen pillars carved in the likeness of trees, every intricate detail seemed to come alive with magic. Tapestries adorned the walls from floor to ceiling, the images capturing the most important events that had taken place in Arda since the very beginning. Everything was constructed from smooth black stone, except the ceiling, which glimmered like diamonds in the firelight.

Seated upon his throne atop the dais was Námo himself. He looked upon the newcomers with keen interest.

Immediately, Eluréd and Elurín fell to their knees, paying respect to the great Lord. The others looked at each other in question, before awkwardly following suit, dropping to their knees in homage to Buffy’s brother.

Námo fixed his gaze on his sister. Whether they spoke telepathically to one another, none truly know. But they remained silent for some time, their eyes locked on each other.

As the others clamored to their feet, they watched as brother and sister continued to stare at one another. Each one of the Slayer’s companions felt a sudden pang in their hearts, a feeling of overwhelming sadness that they didn’t quite understand.

“Hail, Luinil and company,” said the Lord of Spirits after several minutes, rising to his feet.

“Um, Hail,” said Xander, the only one of Buffy’s friends that seemed to find his voice.

The others stared in awe at Námo, dumbfounded that they were in the presence of one of the most powerful of Gods.

The Fëantar began to descend the twelve steps of his dais, his eyes remaining locked on his sister. “I must say that I have waited long for this moment, a moment that I consider both bitter and sweet,” he said solemnly.

The Vala Queen made no reply, but continued to stare at her brother.

“And these are your friends, I take it, the last of the Elect,” he continued as his eyes swept over her companions. Námo’s brows briefly shot up when his gaze came to a rest on baby Luke, who remained clutched protectively in Connor’s arms.

“They’re brave and loyal, and deserve the highest honor afforded,” answered the Valië as she shifted her gaze to her friends.

“Indeed,” replied Námo with a nod of his head. “It will be done.” He approached his sister, stopping before her. “And do you, Luinil, have no greeting for your brother?”

Buffy looked up at the Lord of Spirits, who was much taller than she. After a few moments she said, “Why is it that everyone kept from me that you’re my twin, my twin brother?”

“We felt it was best, under the circumstances,” he answered. “And Ilúvatar agreed.”

“You’ve lied to me. Everyone’s lied to me,” she whispered softly in a pain-riddled voice.

“We only did it to protect you, my sister,” he answered.

“No,” she said with a shake of her head. “You did it to protect yourselves.” Her eyes welled with tears. “You didn’t come to my defense. You let the others believe untruths. How could you do that? How could you do that to me?”

The pain in Buffy’s voice filled the Vala with grief, something, which in itself, was a rarity. “I did what I thought was best,” he replied, his eyes too beginning to water.

A golden tear escaped the Slayer’s eye, trickling down her cheek and onto the black stone floor.

“I’m sorry, my sister,” continued Námo. “I’m sorry if you felt that I had betrayed you. That was not my intent. I did what I thought was best, but, alas, I deem that that was not good enough.”

“No, it wasn’t,” she answered. “You don’t know what it’s like out there. None of you do. You don’t know what I’ve been through… ”

“I do know,” he interjected. “We are bound, you and I, Maranwë. I have felt what you have felt. I know your pain, your anguish. I have tried to ease your sorrow, when I could. The Valar are not the personification of perfection. We are fallible. We make mistakes… and so do you.”

Buffy shifted her eyes to the box clutched in her hands, sniffing back her tears.

Námo gently lifted her chin. “My sister,” he said softly, locking his teary eyes with hers. “Let us put an end to our quarreling. I am truly sorry for the pain I have caused you, and I only hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive me, to forgive us all for not truly comprehending the horrors you’ve had to endure. We have now witnessed it firsthand in Aman. We have lost our Lord. We have lost many. We understand that grief, your grief, for it has hit us at home.”

The Vala Queen handed the silver mallorn box in her hand to Elurín. “Hold this a second,” she said, offering him a quick smile. She then turned her attention back to her brother. She placed her hand on his chest, over his heart, and with tears streaming down her cheeks, said in a commanding voice, “The link is broken.” For a split second, a flash of white light emitted from her hand.

Only a moment later, Námo fell to his knees, weeping, clutching his sister’s hands in his. “You did not have to do that, Maranwë. I was willing to go with you.”

It was now she that lifted the Vala’s chin. “This journey’s just for me,” she sniffed. “I hope this proves that I forgive you. And that I’m sorry for having been such a… bitch.”

“You truly are merciful, my sister, to have taken such pity upon me… ” he wept.

“You’re my brother, my twin brother. And I love you, even though I haven’t always shown that,” she confessed before placing a kiss on his forehead.

Námo wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, burying his face in her chest, sobbing. “I love you, Luinil. Oh, my Luinil,” he cried, repeating both her name and his proclamation of love for her.

The Valië embraced her twin, holding him comfortingly in her arms, assuring him that everything would soon be alright.

“Bellaseth!” bellowed a voice from behind, causing her friends to jump with a start.

She turned, only to see Irmo and Nienna standing together with Vairë (Námo’s wife), and Estë (Irmo’s bride).

“Irmo, Nienna,” she said, nearly blinded by her tears. She freed herself from Námo’s grasp and ran to her siblings. She leapt into Irmo’s arms, having been closer to him than her other siblings. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything I’ve done,” she cried.

“No, Bella,” her brother answered, holding her in his arms, “It is I that should apologize… ”

She pulled away, reaching for her weeping sister. “No, it’s over. I hold no grudges against any in Valinor.”

“Maranwë,” wailed Nienna, wrapping her arms around her sister for the first time since they had assumed bodily forms. “Your presence brings me much comfort. It brings comfort to us all.”

“It’s almost over,” answered Buffy, reassuringly, wiping the golden tears from her eyes. “It’ll soon be over.”

Námo joined his siblings, who remained huddled together. He then said, “There are many in my House that wish to bid you farewell. Your children await you, for I have kept them safe, including Illyria.”

She turned her bleary eyes to her twin. “Thank you, Námo. Thank you for protecting them.”

“I shan’t ever stop, my sister. I will always be here for them,” he vowed.

“I believe you.”

“Let me take you to them,” declared the Lord of Spirits, “and to the chamber where Fëanor and his kin await you.”

Buffy had nearly forgotten about her friends who were beginning to understand what was happening. They stood there, most crying, sensing that they were about to say good-bye to their loved one, that she was leaving them, for good.

The Slayer, surrounded by her siblings and kin, turned toward her mortal friends. “Do not weep for me,” she said, sounding more queenly than ever before. She approached them with a smile on her face. “A new dawn will rise, and the world will be as it should’ve been, at the very beginning.”

Dawnie stepped forward, towering over her sister. “But… but you’re leaving us, again. You always leave us.”

Buffy cupped her sister’s cheek. “It’s the only way, Dawnie. I’m making the world a better place for you all, not for me. I’m tired. I’ve lived a really, really long time. My work here is done. It’s time for me to find my peace. Haven’t I earned that?”

Dawn’s bottom lip quivered, as she tried to restrain her tears. “I guess so,” she answered in a small voice. “But, it still hurts. You’ve only just come back into my life, and, now you’re leaving me just as suddenly. I only wish we could spend more time together, that you could get to know Connor, and watch Luke grow up.”

“But I’ll always be here,” she replied soothingly, sliding her hand near Dawn’s heart. “I’ll live on, in here.”

“That’s so sappy,” Dawn chuckled through her tears.

“I thought it fit the moment,” Buffy answered with a shrug. She then hugged her sister, whispering, “Mom’s here, Dawnie. You can see mom again.”

A look of surprise came to her sister’s face. “Mom? Mom’s here?”

“Yeah,” the Vala Queen nodded. “Mandos houses all the spirits of the dead. She’d really like to see you again.”

“What about you? Won’t you come with me?” asked Dawnie hopefully, wiping her nose on the sleeve of her shirt.

“I can’t, honey. I don’t have the time,” Buffy answered with a heavy sigh. “There’s still a lot that I have to do, and I don’t have much time left.” She turned to the others, as Dawn clung to her hand. “I’m not so great with good-byes.” She locked her eyes on a weeping Willow.

“We were supposed to grow old together,” reminded the Witch though her tears.

“Oh, but Willow, that’s the best part - you won’t grow old, ever. You’ll always be young, thirty-three to be exact… ”

“God! This sounds like a scene from The Lost Boys!” remarked Xander, attempting to make light of the situation.

“Take care of each other,” Buffy continued, her eyes scanning her loved ones. “You’re gonna have to look out for one another. Don’t forget the past. That’s important. Remember those days. You’ll need that in times to come.”

Giles, in particular, looked at her with a baffled expression, trying to decipher the hidden meaning of her words in his typical Watcher fashion.

With a grin on her face, Buffy began to slowly step backwards. “Bye.”

“No!” Dawn cried out, shaking her head in despair. “Buffy! Don’t leave me!” She kept a hold on her sister until the Vala Queen’s hand slipped through her fingers.

“It’ll be alright, Dawnie. I promise,” Buffy said in her most reassuring voice, as she continued to step backwards. Her kinfolk and the twin sons of Dior gathered around her. “You’ll be fine. You’ll all be fine.”

She then turned, walking between Námo and Irmo and suddenly stopped. “Oh, Willow,” she said, looking over her shoulder at her redheaded friend. “I forgot to mention that the Jews weren’t the Chosen Ones – it was the Sumerians. The Jews claimed their lore as their own.” She chuckled. “When the world is healed of its hurts, speak with my friend, Thranduil, the Elf Lord, he’ll tell you all about how he defeated Goliath.”

A flash of white light lit up the chamber, momentarily blinding the mortals. That was when Buffy made her escape with her immortal loved ones.

Only a few short seconds later, the room returned to normal. Some of the Maiar from Námo’s Household went to the Scoobies, offering them comfort in their time of distress…



Buffy and her kin had taken off down one of the corridors. Námo had allowed the deceased housed within Mandos to exit their “cells” so they could see the Fëantári in the flesh as she headed for the deepest chamber that held Finwë and his descendents.

The phantom forms had lined up along either side of the passageway. All were on bended knee, praying and weeping for the Vala Queen, reaching out to touch her with their ghostly hands. The Slayer touched some of the specters that she passed by, her mere touch bringing them comfort in their time of sorrow.

Some of those from the Slayer’s own Household had met up with them on the many mile journey to the deeps of Mandos, including Glorfindel. Setting eyes upon him after everything that had happened was one of the most gut-wrenching moments in her life. The golden-haired Noldo sobbed, knowing that the Vala of Love’s time in Arda was nearly up, and that, soon, he’d never see her fair face again.

She took his hand in hers, asking him to walk with her. The group’s number swelled, the deeper they went, as many from the Households of Námo, Vairë and Nienna had joined them, wanting to be a part of the train of the most holy Maranwë Luinil.

Midway down, they took a break, gathering in one of Námo’s private chambers for Buffy’s last meal. Amongst the one hundred and forty-four attendees were the forefathers of Man, dating as far back as the days of Sumer, as well as the Edain of old, including the fathers of the Three Houses (except Bëor), many of the Eldar, though mostly those from the Slayer’s Household, with the rest, Ainur from her own House and that of her siblings. She had also requested that her children be present, and was saddened when all came except Olofin, who wished to stay with his father’s kinfolk until her arrival later that day.

To the jubilation of the others, the Vala Queen showed the Silmarils to those in attendance. And, at their urging, she wore the Nauglamír as they ate. She took advantage of that time, speaking with most, asking them to deliver messages to those that she would not have the time to meet face to face.

It was during this time that she bequeathed her most prized possessions to her loved ones. Those honored enough to receive one of her treasures were left speechless, dumbfounded to be the recipient of an heirloom from the House of Luinil.

After three hours, the meal and gift giving came to an end. Buffy asked to make the final leg of the journey alone, wanting to meet with those of the House of Finwë in private. Her parting brought much sorrow to those in attendance, for most knew that they would never see her again. As she took off down the passageway, carrying the box with the Silmarils, the Edain, Eldar and Ainur sang Sweet Madam Blue, their voices resonating throughout the whole of Mandos, even reaching the tomb where Finwë and his children waited.

As the Vala Queen descended deeper into Mandos, those lined along the passageways were jubilant to see her wearing the Nauglamír. The deceased viewed that bejeweled necklace as a sign of hope, and knew in their phantom hearts that their time of solitary confinement would soon be ending.

When Buffy had finally reached the lowest level, she was surprised that Míriel, mother of Fëanor, was the only one waiting for her. The elleth was the first in Valinor to die, having succumbed to death shortly after the birth of her only son, ages before. However, she had regained her fleshly form under the condition that she never set foot outside of Mandos until after the Breaking of the World.

“Well met, Luinil,” she said, curtseying before the Valië. “What an honor it is to finally make your acquaintance at long last.”

The Slayer smiled at Maglor’s grandmother. “Hello, Míriel,” she replied, happy to see the woman of whom she had only heard in tales.

“I have come to escort you to the tomb of my kin,” the elleth continued, clutching her hands before her, “And to show you the numerous tapestries that I’ve woven in tribute to the legendary House of Finwë.”

Now, the passageway that the two women were about to embark down was extremely long, a couple of miles or so, and all the walls, from floor to ceiling, were covered with Míriel’s embroidery, which seemed so life-like it was eerie.

The elleth narrated the tale behind each work of art, starting with the awakening of the Elves at Cuiviénen, including her Lord, Finwë. She spoke of how the patriarch of the House had won her heart at their first meeting, and proudly showed her needlecraft marking that occasion. Their wedding, the journey to Aman, the birth of her only son - all of those significant moments were captured on fabric, displayed on the walls as blissful memories for the matriarch of the House of Finwë.

However, there were also some sorrowful images depicted on Míriel’s tapestries. Her languishing after Fëanor’s birth was the first of many to come. With profound skillfulness, the elleth had captured the sorrow and despair that she had felt at the time, particularly in her eyes. It was tragic, really, to see her holding baby Fëanor in her arms, her face weary of life.

“I came to regret my decision to abandon my hröa,” she explained. “I had felt so utterly exhausted, as though I could not go on a moment longer.”

Buffy stared at the tapestry, listening to the words of Míriel and finding herself relating to the elleth.

“My heart tells me that you are feeling the same as I did, back then,” the woman continued, her eyes fixed on the Valië, who continued to stare at the life-like artwork of her husband’s grandmother. “I can see it in your eyes, on your face. You are languishing with each passing day, are you not? You have grown weary of this world.”

The Vala Queen could feel her eyes watering. God, how she didn’t want to cry any more! She turned, facing the elleth and said, “Yes,” in a faint voice. “Life is becoming more unbearable by the minute.” She then turned her gaze away, staring at the next portrait, that of Finwë, meeting his second wife, Indis.

“It will pass, you know,” said Míriel thoughtfully. “It did for me. I regret it every day, my decision to leave my Lord and only son.” Her eyes scanned the tapestries that featured the births of Fëanor’s sons. “I should have been there, to love them all. Perhaps things would have happened differently… ”

“Everything happens for a reason. We can’t change the past,” answered the Slayer softly.

“I suppose you’re right,” the elleth sighed, shifting her grey eyes to the Vala Queen once again. She studied Buffy for several minutes, looking upon her with understanding, for she could see the weariness imprinted not only on the Slayer’s face, but also on her soul.

Míriel had dwelt long in the Houses of the Dead and had learned to read people pretty well. She could see a shadow lingering over the Vala Queen, a curse that had been placed upon her by none other than Morgoth himself, a hex that followed the Slayer soon after entering Arda, dooming her and those whom she loved. Considering that, the elleth deemed that the Valië fit in well with her family, as each member of her House had been damned by the guile of Morgoth Bauglir, or so she believed. Her heart went out to the wife of her grandson, Kanafinwë Makalaurë, whose cursed life had only recently ended a few years before.

The woman then took Buffy’s free hand in her own, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

The Slayer turned to Míriel, who then motioned toward another tapestry on the wall.

“There he is, my second grandson, Kanafinwë, as a babe,” she said, pointing to the portrait.

The Vala Queen followed the elleth’s gaze, smiling when she set eyes upon her beloved Káno as an infant. “He was such a cutie pie,” she cooed with a smile. “Káno didn’t have any portraits of himself as a baby when he came to Beleriand.”

“You can see that Olofinwë takes after him a great deal,” Míriel commented, beaming with pride. “My Lord is quite fond of your son with Kanafinwë. We all are.” She leaned in closer, affectionately gripping the Slayer’s arm with her other hand, a smile on her face. “I cannot tell you how delighted Finwë is that his name lives on in Middle-earth to this very day. He is overjoyed that there is a land named in honor of his House.”

“Yep, Finland still stands,” remarked the Slayer, “And will continue to, even after the Breaking of the World.”

“And to think that your son has bestowed such an honor upon us,” she continued, her grin widening.

“He’s a good boy, er, man,” Buffy corrected herself. “I keep forgetting that he’s a grown man. He’ll always be my baby.” She sighed heavily. “I’m gonna miss him a lot. I’m gonna miss everyone.”

“That does not have to be, my Lady,” said Míriel with a glimmer of hope in her grey eyes. “You can remain here, if you so desire.”

Buffy faced the elleth. “It doesn’t work that way,” she answered, shaking her head. “I don’t belong here.” She turned back to the tapestries adorning the wall. “I never belonged here.”

“With all due respect, my Lady, there are those that would strongly disagree with you,” she countered firmly. “You have enriched the world with a bounty of blessings.”

“I take it that Fëanor inherited his ability of persuasive speech from you, Míriel,” the Vala Queen chortled. “You make things sound nicer than they really are. I’ve only done what had to be done.”

The woman took a breath, preparing to speak again, but the Slayer continued before she could say another word.

“There’s no point in discussing this any further. My mind’s made up.” The Valië looked at the heartbroken elleth. “I’m old, Míriel, a lot older than I look. I’ve died on several occasions, so I’ve experienced death too. I know what I’m leaving behind. My legacy will live on, through my children, my loved ones, my friends. This is their time, your time. Enjoy it. Consider it the last of my blessings. The world is going to be a better place. There won’t be any Morgoth types to ruin it. I’m taking them all down, every last one. None can hide from my wrath.” She smiled. “Come on. Let’s get a move on. I’m eager to see your kinfolk again.”

“Our kinfolk, my Lady,” corrected Míriel. “Our kinfolk.”

“Call me Bella.” replied Buffy as they started down the passageway again. “I’m so over the formality crap.”

While they went along, the elleth pointed to specific tapestries that she thought would greatly interest the Vala Queen. These, of course, depicted the Slayer’s early life in Beleriand with Maglor and his brothers, and eventually, Olofin. Recalling those times before the Western Lands were utterly destroyed brought a wistful smile to the Vala Queen’s face. To the very end, she would consider those memories her greatest treasures.

Then, she heard it, the sweet melodic voice of her beloved.

Maglor, sensing his wife’s presence, began to sing her a love song, a love song that he had written about her long ago.

Buffy froze in her tracks, spellbound by the Noldo’s serenade. Her heart began to pound frantically in her chest; her legs becoming weak, as though they had been turned to Jell-o. She reached out for Míriel, leaning on the elleth for support.

“Bella? Are you alright? Bella?” asked the concerned woman.

The Slayer didn’t reply. Her eyes filled with tears, her stomach twisted in knots as her beloved sang his beautiful tune. His lyrics took her back, back to the first time when she had encountered the Noldo in the dreamscape, and had become enamored with him by his voice alone.

Míriel gasped in amazement, as she saw golden tears streaming down the Vala Queen’s face, the tears turning to nuggets before they hit the stone floor.

Buffy could barely breathe. She had longed for this moment for thousands of years, and, now, found herself both anxious and terrified. She took several deep breaths in an attempt to steady her nerves. Once calmer, she hurried toward the House of Finwë’s prison. Míriel crouched down, scooping up the handful of golden nuggets from the floor, shoving them into her pocket, before following the Vala Queen.

When the Slayer reached the end of the corridor, she stopped, drying her eyes on her cloak. She then lifted her trembling hand, placing it on the cool stone facing of the door. Slowly, the stone gate began to open. As it widened, the Light of the Silmaril poured through the opening, illuminating the darkened chamber that housed those from the line of Finwë.

When the door had finally opened all the way, Buffy stepped inside, followed by Míriel. There, she beheld the phantom forms of Finwë, first King of the Noldor, Fëanor, Maedhros, Maglor, Celegorm, Caranthir, Curufin, Amrod, Amras as well as Celebrimbor, (Curufin’s son), and, of course, the Valië’s son with Maglor, Olofin, (the only one from the group that had had his hröa made anew).

A stunned silence enveloped all from the House of Finwë. The Blessed Light of the Silmaril captivated them all, leaving them speechless for several minutes. It had been ages since any had last beheld the Jewel of Fëanor, a Jewel that had brought much heartache upon their royal House.

Olofin was the first to speak. Coming to his mother’s side, he hugged her, and said, “Nana, you’ve come at last.”

“My boy,” she uttered, choking back her tears as images of his badly beaten body flashed in her mind. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He pulled out of the embrace. “You have nothing to be sorry for… ”

“If only I had known. If I had known, I would’ve stopped it,” she said in dismay. “I would’ve done… ”

“Shh,” he sounded, placing his finger to her lips. “Do not fret about the past. What’s done is done! And I hold no one to blame for my demise. It was fated to be. And I have accepted that, and now you must do the same.”

“But… but… ”

“Leave it, Mother,” he said with an air of finality to his voice. “I’m fine. My flesh has been made anew, and since being here with my kin,” Olofin’s eyes darted to the ghostly occupants in the chamber, “my soul has also been healed.” He gave her a reassuring smile, taking her hand in his. “Perhaps this reunion will heal yours as well.”

He led her to her beloved. She looked upon Maglor’s fair form, her heart all aflutter.

“Káno,” she uttered breathlessly.

A warm smile came to his face. “Bella,” he whispered, reaching out to touch her, yet, much to his disappointment, his ghostly hand merely passed through her flesh. The smile quickly left his face. “How I wish that I could hold you once again,” he sighed.

Buffy fought back the tears forming in her eyes. “I think I can do something about that,” she said, handing the mallorn box in her hand to Olofin. Using her magical abilities, she wove her spell about Maglor and his kin, remaking all their fleshly forms.

Maglor and Maedhros, in particular, were moved by having their hröas once again. Each marveled at his newly made hand, the one that had been painfully burned from the theft of the Silmarils, ages before. The eldest son of Fëanor wept, for he now had two unmarred hands. He stared at them, slowly rubbing them together, delighted by the return of his sense of touch, which had been denied to him for so long. He was not the only one to feel that way, as all the members of the House of Finwë rejoiced in having their bodies back.

Míriel then hurried deeper into the room, to the bench-like seat that protruded from one of the walls. There, she picked up the stack of neatly folded robes that Olofin had brought when he had first returned to Mandos. The elleth was indeed a woman prone to modesty, and felt compelled to cloak her loved ones’ nakedness as quickly as possible.

After a quick inspection of his right hand, Maglor turned his tear-filled eyes to his wife. Though he was gladdened to return to his body, (something he had longed for since he had faded from Middle-earth), he also felt a great sorrow in his heart. His intuition told him that this moment was bittersweet, that the embodiment of him and his kin was indicative of something tragic, the loss of his beloved Luinil.

Maglor reached out, cupping Buffy’s face with his trembling hand. She automatically closed her eyes in response, her breathing quickening as his thumb caressed her warm, soft skin.

“Oh, Bella,” he whispered, stepping closer, longing to kiss her. He pressed his lips softly to hers, losing himself to the love that he felt for his beloved. Slowly, his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her body against his. He buried his face in her long, golden hair, drinking in her scent, as the tears flowed from his eyes.

A vision suddenly sprang into the Vala Queen’s mind, a vision of her and Maglor standing barefoot on the lush green grasses of Ezellohar. They were exchanging their wedding vows amidst the blending of the silver and golden Light of the Two Trees. It was a magical moment witnessed by all the Children of Ilúvatar, as well as the Ainur and offspring of Aulë. For a fleeting moment, Buffy thought that she was seeing a snippet of the future, but, alas, it was not so. A black shadow then appeared on the scene, and in its lust, devoured the idyllic image, thus, taking away the last shred of hope she had of a brighter future with the son of Fëanor. Tears streamed from the Slayer’s eyes, as she realized that the vision was merely a mirage, an illusion of her deepest desire.

Though she had loved many, all her relationships had been doomed from the start, for Morgoth had always been lurking in the background, using his guile or his agents to destroy those whom Buffy loved most. Poor Maglor had been punished more than the others, as Melkor hated the fact that his beloved Melisse had loved the Elf so deeply. It was the evil Vala that had prevented the Noldo’s hröa from fading over the years. Morgoth had come to him in dreams, and guided him on his travels. One of the Dark Lord’s favorite means of tormenting the Elf Lord was to have the son of Fëanor come upon his wife throughout the ages, only to witness her in the arms of her many lovers.

It suddenly dawned on Maglor that there was no pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, that his hope of a new life with Buffy would not come to pass. Things were becoming clearer to the Elf.

He pulled out of the embrace. The Slayer wiped his tears away with the back of her hand.

“You’re not staying, are you?” queried the brokenhearted Noldo. “You’re leaving me.” He glanced at Olofin, adding, “Leaving us.”

“I’ve only come to say good-bye, and to bring you this,” she answered, unclasping the Nauglamír from around her neck. “I had promised you that if I could retrieve the Silmarils, I would.” She placed the Jewel of Fëanor into her husband’s palm. “I have all three. I have fulfilled my promise to the House of Fëanor.”

Maglor stared at the bejeweled necklace in his hand, amazed to see that the Silmaril did not burn his flesh.

“What do you mean you’re leaving?” asked Olofin anxiously. “That’s not how it’s supposed to be.” He stepped closer to his mother. “This is your time, Nana. Our time. This is what you’ve been waiting for, what you’ve been fighting for.”

She fixed her sorrowful eyes on the half-elf. “I’m sorry, my son. But this isn’t my time. It never was. My time’s over, finished. This is your time…”

“NO!” he protested, shaking his head emphatically. “You’re destined to become the Lord of Arda. It was prophesied… ”

“No, honey,” she answered with a shake of her head. “You’ve mistranslated the ancient text. The scepter of Kings is to pass onto my House, not me.” She forced herself to smile. “You, my son, are destined to become King.” She reached out, caressing his cheek. “You shall become the next Lord of Arda.”

Olofin was dazed. He wasn’t expecting to hear those words, and would gladly have forfeited any claim to the throne if his mother would only remain in Arda. But, the half-elf knew his mother well, and could see the determined look in her eyes that confirmed that she would not remain in Eä for any reason.

“How cruel and deceptive fate can be,” he uttered under his breath.

“The box, Olofin,” Buffy said, abruptly changing the subject. “Open the box.”

The half-elf obediently complied with his mother’s wishes. He lifted the lid, filling the room with more of the Blessed Light of the Silmarils.

The Valië then took the box from his hands. She walked over to Fëanor, who was surrounded by his parents and sons. “Take these, Curufinwë Fëanáro,” she said, handing him the mallorn case, “for they rightly belong to your House. May the Silmarils ease your heart, and bring healing, not only to you, but to the world.”

With his mouth agape, Fëanor looked upon his greatest treasures with tear-filled eyes. After his long confinement in Mandos, he had come to realize that his pride had led to his undoing, and to the downfall of his noble line, from his father to his grandsons. How long he had dreamed of having the Silmarils back in his possession! Yet, now, as he looked upon those magnificent Jewels that he coveted so, he did not find that their return brought him the joy he had always expected.

“I cannot tell you how long I’ve waited for this moment, how many times I’ve dreamed to have my greatest works returned to me,” he said, still staring at the Silmarils in the box. “I now see how much grief they’ve brought to, not only those of my House, but to others in the world.” He shifted his grey eyes to the Vala Queen. “The dark cloud over my House in dissipating, and my heart tells me that you’re the one to thank for that, that you, my dear Luinil, have brought peace back to my kin.”

“It’s been a long time coming,” she answering with a warm smile.

“Indeed. Words alone cannot express my gratitude, my Lady,” Fëanor said. “If you could stay but a little longer, perhaps I could create some magnificent treasure for you… ”

“There’s no need for that, Fëanor,” interjected Buffy kindly, shifting her gaze to Olofin. “Olofinwë Tirno is treasure enough. I can’t ask for any more than that.”

Fëanor looked fondly upon his oldest grandson, a smile coming to his face. “He has made us all proud, and has restored honor unto the House of Finwë.”

The Noldo Lord realized then that his greatest treasures weren’t the Silmarils, but the love of his family, something that he deemed priceless in the scope of things. And he would claim, in after days, that it was the Vala of Love that showed him that…