Full Circle

Buffy stood there for several minutes, stunned by Irmo’s sudden departure. She wasn’t expecting him to leave so soon and she hated that fact that he did. There were still so many unanswered questions in her mind. The Slayer looked blankly around the chamber. Her throne sat empty on the dais, looking impressive and alluring, as the two vats burned with silent blue flames. Buffy could not resist the urge to sit upon that seat once again despite what she had seen earlier.

Slowly and gracefully she crossed the white marble floor, realizing for the first time since Irmo had left that she was not alone in her Hall of Judgment. Among those in the room were four of her thirteen handmaidens: Feawë, Laurië, Anairë, and Vórëa, each one of them representing the Houses of Námo, Irmo, Manwë and Aulë respectively.

She climbed the steps of the dais and took a deep breath before sinking into the blue cushion. She waited in trepidation for the images to appear but it was to no avail. Buffy tried closing her eyes and concentrating but still nothing. Her eyes explored the massive chamber, which seemed rather empty even though she counted thirty-five occupants other than herself.

It was Núrë, the cupbearer, who broke the silence at long last by pulling the cork out of a bottle. The sound of the amber liquid falling into a jeweled silver chalice echoed through the hall. She then approached the dais, waiting for the Slayer’s approval before ascending the steps.

“Welcome home, Freya Queen,” she said with a small curtsey before handing the cup to the Chosen One.

“Thanks,” she replied after taking a sip. “It’s yummy!” Núrë then went back to her appointed post.

“Would you like some music?” suggested the raven-haired minstrel Antamo. Buffy gave a quick nod of her head and he began to strum the strings of his harp. He then sang one of the most beautiful love songs that she had ever heard. Many songs he would sing this night.

While Antamo sang Buffy thought about the latest turn of events in her life. She experienced so many twists and turns in the last several years that she felt like her head would explode. She’s gone from one extreme to the other, yet her place was somewhere in the middle. She has to maintain the balance. What a daunting task she had been assigned.

Buffy didn’t know how much time had passed when she finally did get a vision. And it wasn’t a pleasant one either. To cut a long story short: It was a ‘vision’ of a very angry Thingol banning her from his kingdom. That freaked her out. What on earth could she have done to piss him off that much? Surely, he wouldn’t go to such extremes due to her breakup with Mablung, would he?

She received no other visions while on her sapphire seat besides that one. The prospect of returning to Doriath suddenly looked grim to the Slayer.

Time moved quite swiftly in Folkvang. Before Buffy knew it, two months had passed in what seemed to be a week or so to her. She returned to the mansion only to discover quite a commotion going on. Apparently, the members of her household had noticed that their mistress had disappeared without a word and they were extremely concerned. It didn’t help matters that the elves had broken into her rooms and discovered the large cross on the wall. They jumped to the wrong conclusion thinking that it was blood, Buffy’s blood, until Úrion pointed out the jagged pieces of glass that littered the floor. None understood the significance of that symbol. Not yet, any way.

Only minutes after arriving home, members of the household spotted Buffy as she was descending the spiral staircase. Many of them frantically came up to her asking question after question. The Slayer appreciated their concern for her well-being but blew off her disappearance by saying that she needed time to mourn the end of her relationship with Mablung. Not all believed her story but there was no way in hell that she was going to reveal where she had gone or what she had learned.

All she wanted to do was kick back on one of the comfortable couches with a glass of wine and mull things over in her head. And that’s exactly what she did. She disappeared into the drawing room where she helped herself to a nice bottle of wine and lounged on the sofa.

Mablung had ended their relationship and there was no hope for any type of reconciliation. But was it fair for her to remain in Doriath as a constant reminder of their doomed love affair? She recalled the words of Úrion about the people of Doriath fearing that she may leave their land. Under the circumstances, it now seemed like she had no other choice but to go. It was time to start over, but where?

Even though Buffy’s heart still ached for Mablung, Irmo was right when he said that the pain would lessen. It was a weird feeling. Her brother had repeated the ‘old’ adage: ‘time heals all wounds,’ and that’s how it felt to her. It was as if the breakup had happened years ago. There was still an emptiness deep inside but she was no longer acting like a sniveling idiot, which was good, because the time had now arrived for the Slayer to focus her attention on more important matters.

Úrion was the first one to corner her in the drawing room. “I do not believe your tale, dear Bellaseth,” he said suspiciously. “My heart tells me that you are not being forthcoming about all that has transpired these last couple of months. Will you not tell me, your trusted servant, where you’ve been all this time?”

The Slayer looked directly into his gray eyes. “It’s like I said Úrion, I just needed to get away for a while and clear my head. Had to think about the next step I need to take.”

“What do you mean?” he questioned as he sat in the chair across from her. “What step?”

Buffy forced a smile. “I think the time has come for me to leave Doriath,” she announced solemnly.

His eyes widened. “Why? You have no need to leave these lands. No one is forcing you from your home. Surely you know that,” he remarked.

“I know. But look around,” Buffy waved her hand around the drawing room. “Everywhere I look, I see Mablung. This isn’t my house; it’s mine and his. There’s a difference, you know.” Buffy quickly got up and grabbed another glass from the sideboard before returning to her seat. She filled it and handed it to Úrion. “There’s nothing left for me here except painful memories that I’d rather not have to face day after day. The only way to heal my heartache is to leave Doriath and start over somewhere else.”

“But where Bella? Where will we go?” he questioned anxiously.

“We?” she queried with a raised eyebrow.

“You do not think that you’re going to leave me behind, do you? Where ever you go, I shall follow. Together we will work on your healing and my redemption. But I will not let you walk in this world alone.”

The Slayer was touched by his words. It really meant a lot to her. “I appreciate your loyalty Úrion,” she said. “It’ll be easier facing the days ahead knowing that you’ll be by my side.”

“Through thick and thin,” he responded as he raised his glass and took a sip. “So, where are we going?”

“That’s a good question,” she answered. “I’m still working on that.” Buffy then began to think about the ‘options’ that lay before her.

Buffy would love to move further north where the threat of Morgoth’s was greatest, but that was now Noldor territory. And let’s face it; she really didn’t know those people very well. Although she did befriend Finrod and his brothers, she could never be so forward as to ask if she could relocate to their land. What would she say? Oh by the way Finrod, do you mind if I crash at your place for the next millennia? No, that wasn’t going to work.

But there was one person that she could be that forward with – Orchal. There was no doubt in her mind that she would be most welcomed in the Ossiriand. The only drawback was the location; it was so far south, even of Doriath, and she had to consider her stance against Morgoth. Could she dwell that far away from evil and still be effective in the upcoming battles?

She definitely had to stay in Beleriand; there was no doubt about that. So that eliminated going anywhere east of Ered Luin. Yep, she thought to herself. Orchal’s my only hope. “Excuse me,” she said to Úrion as she walked over to the French doors that were swung open. She whistled and within one minute, two doves landed on her outstretched fingers. She whispered instructions to her messengers before they took off to deliver her pleas for aid.

“Where are they going?” asked Úrion as he walked up from behind.

“I’ve sent one to the green elves and one to the dwarves. I’m gonna need their help,” came her reply.

“What for?” he questioned.

“To prepare for war,” she answered dejectedly.

Úrion then told her that he would inform Thingol of her return. Evidently, no one had any idea as to where she had disappeared. No search parties were sent out; as everyone seemed to think that she needed to get away for a while after the ‘breakup.’ He also reminded her that she was still accounted amongst Thingol’s Household and she should’ve received his permission prior to leaving.

Buffy then gathered everyone in the house and begged them to keep her homecoming a secret until she heard back from her messengers. She feared that the vision that she had in Folkvang would come true once Thingol learned that she had returned. Everyone promised to remain silent about her ‘whereabouts’ including Úrion, much to the Slayer’s relief.

Her restlessness grew with each passing day as a result of being confined within her own halls. She longed to be outside enjoying the last days of summer but was forced to remain hidden. It sucked.

Buffy’s doves finally returned eight days after they had departed. They delivered the replies from both the elves and the dwarves. Yes, she was more than welcome to join the green elves in Ossir. And Drór and the other dwarves would be arriving soon with carts to transport her stuff to her new home. She quickly shared this news with Úrion and informed him that her friends were on their way.

“That is indeed good news,” Úrion told her. “But I deem the time has come for you to notify Thingol of your intentions. A Knight cannot simply leave his or in your case her post; you must be granted permission from the King… ”

“I know,” she replied. “But I’d rather wait until they get here. I’ve got a bad feeling about Thingol… I don’t want to take the risk of him throwing me out of Doriath on my ass. Once I have a means of hauling my stuff out of here then I’ll tell him, but not before.”

“What makes you think that the King would act so rashly?” he asked.

“Let’s just call it women’s intuition and leave it at that,” she replied.

“Well, I still say you need to speak with him about your intentions. Remember it was Thingol who helped you in your hour of need. You most certainly owe him for that,” mentioned Úrion as he pushed a strand of his dark locks behind his pointy ear.

He was right, of course. “Fine,” she said in a defeated tone, “but I’m still gonna wait until my friends arrive before I do.”

While Buffy was locked away in the mansion, she did a complete inventory of all the things she wanted to take with her. Most of these items were made especially for her: her weapons, the Mirror, clothing, jewelry and some miscellaneous pieces of furniture and artwork. Mablung would still be getting the lion’s share including the mansion itself, so it wasn’t like she was cleaning the place out.

Only a few days later, Orchal and the green elves arrived, much to Buffy’s delight. It was so good to see her old friends again as it seemed like it had been ages since she had last spoken with Orchal and Nestor. They stayed up all night talking for hours on end about the many things that were going on in their lives.

With the arrival of the dwarves four days later, it was time for Buffy to proclaim her intentions about the move. The first people she informed were the members of her household. To her amazement, all forty-five of them refused to leave her. They would also go to Ossir. Buffy was touched by their loyalty; she wasn’t expecting that. Úrion then urged her to go to Thingol immediately before someone else did. He felt it was best that the King hear from Buffy’s own mouth that she was leaving permanently.

As the elves and dwarves busied themselves with packing, Buffy retreated to her rooms. Once again, Úrion’s words struck a chord with the Slayer; ‘he helped you in your hour of need. You owe him for that.’ Buffy agreed. She grabbed the shield that Thingol had given her years ago and a couple of other items before she headed off to Menegroth.

Daeron was strumming away on his harp, singing one of the elves favorite songs about the Blessed Realm when Buffy entered Thingol’s Great Chamber. She stopped by the doors and scanned the room, looking at the many people who were congregated in there. It was only a minute or so later when Thingol raised his hand, indicating to Daeron to cease with his music making.

“Enter Bellaseth,” the Kings voice echoed.

Buffy proceeded to the Kings throne and bowed slightly as she propped the shield against her leg. “I hate to interrupt your… songfest, but I need to talk with you, Sire,” she said.

For the first time in many weeks, Thingol looked directly at her. “So you have at long last returned to your domicile,” he started. “A Knight in my Household has no right to leave my realm without my permission,” he scolded. “Where have you been these last two months, Muilwen?” The intensity of his gaze sent shivers up her spine.

“Forgive me, my Lord,” she replied somberly. “So much has happened that I just needed to get away… and think about my future. I assumed since there was no threat of war, that it would be okay.”

“You are not in the position to make assumptions!” he declared loudly. “No member of my Household has the right to depart without my permission! Perhaps I should make an example of you… ”

Buffy bit her tongue. “Will you hear me out?” she questioned in an agitated voice.

Thingol’s glare intensified even more. “Now you want to tell Elu Thingol what to do? You… ”

“I’m leaving Doriath,” she blurted out. “I’ve only come to return the shield that you had given me; it belongs to your House and should remain here.”

“What?!” exclaimed Mablung, who quickly rushed to Buffy’s side. “Why are you leaving?” he asked as their eyes locked for the first time in a long while. He seemed totally stunned by her announcement.

She remained poised as she softly replied, “There’s no reason for me to stay.” She then shifted her gaze back to the King before adding, “My talents are needed elsewhere.”

“You cannot relinquish your post,” pleaded her former lover. “Doriath needs you!”

“No, Melian will keep Doriath safe. You guys have no need for me… Thingol, I ask your permission to release me from my position in your Household.”

“So you wish to renounce your loyalty to me… ” stated the King as he narrowed his eyes on her, his nostril’s flaring.

Not a good sign, thought the Slayer.

“Absolutely not. I’ve pledged my loyalty to both you and Doriath long ago and I have no intentions on rescinding that. If Doriath ever comes under attack, I’ll come to your aid, but I’ve got business to tend to elsewhere. There’s a vast world out there and I can’t devote all my time to Beleriand. Morgoth’s tendrils reach far and wide.”

“You have been in contact with the Valar, have you not?” questioned Melian.

Buffy didn’t want to reveal too much. “Yes,” she answered.

The room erupted into hushed murmurings while the Slayer was subjected to the scrutinizing gaze of both the King and Queen. They both remained quiet. Buffy assumed that they were probably speaking to each other telepathically, a skill that many in their Household possessed. The silence was nearly unbearable.

“Don’t think that I don’t appreciate everything you guys have done for me,” Buffy finally said. “I’m very grateful. And I don’t want to leave without repaying you for the kindness you’ve shown me all these years.” She directed that comment primarily to the Queen.

Buffy pulled a cloth wrapped package from her coat pocket and handed it to Thingol. “Please accept this as a token of my good will and undying friendship, King Thingol,” she proclaimed as she bowed slightly.

Thingol took the ‘gift’ from Buffy and was surprised by the weight. He unwrapped the blue cloth and his eyes widened. Inside was a bar of the purest gold, and one of silver. Both were taken from Buffy’s vaults in Folkvang and were fashioned by the greatest craftsman of all, Aulë.

The Queens eyes lit up as well for she recognized the workmanship of that Vala.

Thingol’s attitude changed dramatically once he received her offering. “This is indeed a mighty gift, Dagnir,” he said in his most pleasant voice. He paused before adding, “I declare that you are hereby released from my services, but not my heart.” His tone was warm and friendly. Buffy let out a sigh of relief.

Her thoughts immediately flashed to the vision that she had had while in Folkvang and she wondered, if by paying her debt to Thingol, that she somehow changed the future. This scene sure didn’t unfold the way she had seen it!

“When do you intend on leaving Doriath?” inquired Melian.

“At first light tomorrow,” answered Buffy.

“Why so soon?” questioned Mablung. “Can you not stay longer?”

Buffy turned to him. “The sooner I leave the better. But if you have a couple of minutes to spare, I’d appreciate it if you would come by the mansion. There are a couple of things that I’d really like to take with me, but they were given to both of us, so… ”

“Take whatever you like. It is no longer my home,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Oh, okay. Well, see you... ” Buffy bowed to the King and Queen and hastily left Thingol’s chamber. She was relieved that things had gone so well with Thingol but she still wondered what was up with that vision. It was weird, to say the least.

The packing was finished later that evening. It didn’t take very long because so many people were helping out. And she wasn’t taking nearly everything that she wanted to.

It was before dawn when Buffy awoke the following morning. She was in a hurry to get on the road and start this next phase of her life. A new beginning… again. The Slayer had no idea how many ‘new beginnings’ life had in store for her, but right now she was on number seven. And isn’t seven supposed to be the luckiest number of them all? She hoped that that was a good omen.

The Slayer was stunned to find Thingol and his family waiting downstairs. They had come to bid her and her household farewell in proper elvish fashion. Buffy was delighted by that gesture as it gave her the opportunity to say good-bye to these people whom she had grown to love. Unfortunately, Mablung was not counted amongst them. She wished that she had said something more to him yesterday, but it was too awkward.

Buffy’s final farewell was to Lúthien.

“I shall miss you, Dagnir,” said Lúthien. “I have enjoyed your company immensely.”

“Me too,” Buffy replied. “You’ve taught me quite a bit and I value our friendship. If you ever get the chance, come to Ossir. You’ll always be welcomed.”

“I will keep that in mind. Farewell my golden friend.” Lúthien then kissed her on each cheek.

Before the sun had risen, the group took off down the road. Most were traveling on foot while some were on horseback and a few were in the dwarves’ carts. Drór wanted to travel by way of the Dwarf-Road, which meant they had to go further north before they could cross the River Aros and then head southeast. It was much longer this way, but Buffy thought it was a good idea to pacify the dwarves, as she still needed their help after they arrived in Ossir.

Once they crossed Aros, the group slowed their pace considerably. Buffy was no longer in a hurry and wanted to enjoy this leisurely trip. The last time she traveled on foot through Middle-earth was disastrous. But this time she wasn’t the guide. It was nice crossing the countryside like ‘normal’ people for a change. She had missed that.

To pass the time, the elves pulled out their harps and began singing amusing songs about this new adventure that they were embarking on. At night, after they had eaten, they would tell stories around the fire while consuming their beverage of choice. The dwarves obviously preferred ale and the elves loved their wine. Either way, they had plenty of both.

Nothing eventful happened until the tenth day of their journey. They were maybe thirty miles from the northwestern borders of Ossir, setting up camp, when they noticed a group of elves on horseback heading in their direction.

“Who are they?” asked Buffy to Orchal.

“I cannot rightly say at the moment. They are coming this way, so it will not be long before we find out.”

Everyone continued with their mundane tasks, occasionally casting a look in the direction of the riders. It wasn’t until after sunset when riders finally reached their encampment. There were twenty of them and at the forefront were two elves that appeared to be identical twins with reddish-brown hair.

“Hail Orchal,” said one of the twins.

“You know these guys?” whispered Buffy to her friend.

“Indeed I do. They are elves from Valinor, the Golodhrim, who have recently settled in these parts,” answered Orchal.

“Noldor,” Buffy mumbled to herself.

The silver-haired elf walked up to the newcomers. “Amrod. Amras. Well met,” greeted Orchal, who seemed to be on friendly terms with these people. “Why don’t you and your kinfolk sit a while and partake in some refreshments. As we say in Ossir, ‘the more, the merrier.’”

“That is good of you, friend,” answered the other twin. “We have been riding since sunrise with too few breaks.” He and the others in his party dismounted their steeds.

Buffy remained seated on the chair that she had removed from one of the carts, watching these ‘strangers’ intently. She recognized the names of the twins from her conversations with Finrod; these were the youngest sons of Fëanor.

The one who had hailed Orchal turned out to be Amrod. He was informing Orchal that they were on their way to visit his brother Caranthir, whose dwelling was northeast of the Dwarf-Road, at the foot of Mount Rerir. The Slayer knew vaguely where that was based on reviewing Thingol’s maps while in Menegroth.

“Come. You’ve got to meet our beloved Bellaseth,” informed Orchal as he led the twins towards Buffy.

When the redheaded elves saw the Slayer, they hesitated. “You are not an elf,” remarked the one named Amras.

“What gave it away?” questioned Buffy playfully. “My bronze skin? Or the fact that I don’t have pointy ears?”

“Are you one of the Hildor?” asked Amrod.

“Yes and no. I’m an immortal mortal,” replied the Chosen One.

“How can a mortal be immortal?” queried Amras.

“Call it a gift of the Valar… or maybe a curse. I haven’t totally figured out which one yet,” she answered with a grin. “I’m Bellaseth but I prefer to be called Bella. At least by my friends.”

“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” announced Amrod in a dignified voice. “I am Amrod, this is my brother Amras. We are the sons… ”

“The sons of Fëanor, I know,” she interjected. “I’m really sorry to hear about your dad. I heard from Finrod that he was a man of many talents. Quite extraordinary ones, if I recollect correctly.”

They seemed taken aback by her words.

“Thank you for your words of sympathy,” replied Amras. “Our father was killed by one of Morgoth’s demons’ of fire.

“Gothmog,” uttered Buffy under her breath. Since she was surrounded by elves who had impeccable hearing, they all heard the name.

“How is it that you know the name of one of Morgoth’s followers?” questioned an astonished Orchal.

Buffy wished she hadn’t said a thing. Damn it! She thought to herself. Why do the elves have to have such freakin’ excellent hearing? Now she had to somehow think of something quick to tell all these people who were all staring at her, waiting for her response.

“We’ve met before,” she answered. “When I was tending to business… elsewhere. He’s the chief of all balrogs.”

“You fought him and yet still live?” asked a disbelieving Amrod. Buffy only shrugged her shoulders in response. “How is that possible? You are so small.”

Everyone in Buffy’s party had a good laugh over that. Apparently, not everyone in Beleriand has yet heard of her or her abilities.

“You have no idea what this young lady is capable of,” remarked Úrion with a laugh. “She is the Slayer, the mightiest of all warriors… ”

“C’mon Úrion,” laughed Buffy. “You’re exaggerating. I’ve had my ass kicked plenty of times.”

“Nevertheless, you live to tell the tale!” he said.

“I didn’t know Fëanor had red hair,” mentioned the Slayer, who was desperately attempting to change the topic of conversation.

Amras answered, “We get the red hair from our mother, Nerdanel.”

Buffy was relieved that her strategy had worked and she spoke with the Valinorean elves about the Blessed Realm and the Valar. Anything was better than talking about herself. One thing that she found interesting was that Fëanor had seven sons. Seven! When the Slayer heard that magic number, she wondered if it was coincidence that she met these sons of Fëanor or if fate was intervening in her life once again.