Full Circle

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: HIM



Buffy was left momentarily speechless. She gave the enchanting elf the once over. He appeared to be around six feet, six and was rather well built. He wasn’t a huge bulky guy but slender and physically fit. His longish dark hair, which looked nearly black, cascaded down his back, to just below his shoulder blades. But it was his eyes that made her weak-kneed. Their intensity left her totally smitten by this handsome stranger.

The Slayer knew that he had to be one of the Valinorean elves because he addressed his question in Quenya, the High-elven tongue of the West, instead of Sindarin, which was spoken by all the Eglath that dwelled in Beleriand.

“So, you must be the mysterious singer with the golden voice,” she said, attempting to play it cool.

He gave a slight nod of his head. “I am Kanafinwë Makalaurë, son of Curufinwë Fëanáro,” he announced. “It’s a pleasure to meet you… ” He raised his eyebrows, not knowing how to address her.

“Oh, I’m Maranwë Luinil,” she replied. “But most people call me Luinil although I’m known by other names as well.” She was quite shocked that she used her ‘real’ name, but whether it was a slip of the tongue or complete stupidity on her part, she really didn’t know. Or care. She was face to face with the man of her dreams. He was the vision of everything she could ever ask for, tall, fair and handsome, with one hell of a voice. He was like a cross between an angel (not the vampire) and a rock star, and oozed sex appeal.

“You have watched me for many weeks, have you not?” he asked as they ambled over to a nearby willow tree. “I can always sense when I’m being watched… even from afar.” They sat on the grass beneath the boughs of the tree.

“Guilty as charged,” she answered. “I’ve never heard a voice like yours before. You’re fabulous! You wouldn’t happen to be looking for a job, would you? I could always use a minstrel with a voice like yours.”

He let out a hearty laugh. “I’m flattered by your words, but I’m afraid that I’m content with where I am.” He leaned against the tree, stretched out his legs and asked. “Perhaps you care to explain where we are? For I deem that this in no typical dream.”

“Good call,” she said. Buffy then went into a lengthy and detailed explanation about dream states, alternate realities, astral projection and the subconscious mind. Kanafinwë listened with rapt attention. The Noldo had never visited another, in the flesh, while in an altered state of consciousness before. He was amazed to be one of the rare few that were able to experience such magic first hand.

“Your knowledge regarding these magics is quite impressive, though your detailed explanation was a bit tiresome,” remarked the elf teasingly after Buffy finished speaking. “That’s a most extraordinary ability to possess.”

“You have no idea!” she replied.

“Do you do this often?” Kanafinwë asked, as he folded his arms behind his head.

“Not really,” the Slayer answered. “It just sort of happens… ” She sighed knowing that it would soon be time for her to wake and she didn’t want to devote the entire conversation to discussing ‘mystical transportation.’

“Well, I must say that I’m glad that it has. I cannot think of anywhere else I’d rather be. It’s not every day that I meet a beautiful maiden who captivates me, dream or not,” commented the Noldo with a smile.

“Ooh, I’m beautiful and captivating,” she said gleefully. “Well, I gotta confess to you Kanafinwë, you’ve got this whole animal magnetism thing going on. How is it that a hunkilious elf like yourself is not wed… or are you?” she queried with great interest.

“No, I have no wife. I haven’t found her… yet. But I must say that I am enjoying your company immensely Luinil… and I especially like all the adulation,” he said with a chuckle. Buffy’s face turned a deep shade of red. He stood up, held his hands out and then said, “Come on.” Buffy grasped his hands.

“Where are we going?” she asked suspiciously.

“We are going to watch the sunrise on the beach. Its quite spectacular,” he answered as he pulled her to her feet. “There’s a pathway just down the way. It’s not far.” Buffy didn’t care how far it was; he was still holding her hand. She’d walk from one end of Arda to the other as long as he was by her side.

“I haven’t been to the beach in ages,” she remarked as they headed back towards the cliff.

“No? I haven’t been in a while… except in my dreams these last few weeks,” said Kanafinwë as he cast a glance at her. “I’ve dreamt about you before, a while back. I saw you with an older gentleman… in a very strange pub.”

“Yeah, I remember,” she answered. “But we don’t wanna go down that road now, do we? That leads to lengthy explanations and my ‘tiresome’ words might put you to sleep,” she said doing her best impression of the Noldo.

“I think that you’re right about that! We will not discuss dreams or astral projection or any other element of these magics that we’re experiencing. Let’s enjoy it for what it is. Agreed?” he questioned.

“Agreed,” she answered.

He led her down a sloping grassy path that ended at the sandy shore. They were both barefoot and Buffy had flashbacks to her life in California as her feet sank in the cool sand with each step. Kanafinwë still held onto her hand as they walked along the shoreline, the waves lapping at their feet. They went maybe a quarter of mile before stopping at an alcove in the cliff’s wall.

“This is my favorite spot,” he proclaimed. They sat with their backs against the wall; the entire rocky surface was covered with ivy and clusters of fragrant yellow flowers. The gentle sea breeze was invigorating and Buffy could taste the salt in her mouth. The cry of the gulls could be heard in the early morning as the sun slowly rose from the ocean’s depths.

“I can see why,” she replied. She wrapped her arms around her folded legs, staring at the waves as they crashed on the shore. “This is bliss,” she added.

“Yes, it is.” They sat there quietly for several minutes. Buffy felt content just being in Kanafinwë’s presence. “Can I ask you a question?” he asked, breaking the silence.

“Sure,” she replied. “Fire away.”

“Why have I never seen you in Valinor?” he asked straightforwardly.

She turned her gaze towards him. “I’ve never been to Valinor,” she answered. “I have no business there.”

“No business there,” Kanafinwë echoed her words. “I thought that all the Ainur resided in Valinor, except those that follow Morgoth.”

“What makes you think I’m one of the Ainur?” she asked, slightly stunned by his perceptiveness.

“Oh Luinil, I was born and raised in the Blessed Realm, I know an Ainu when I see one,” responded the handsome elf with a grin.

Buffy fell silent for several minutes. “Not all the Ainur dwell in Valinor,” she started in a solemn voice. “And not all that dwell in Middle-earth are evil, only those who dwell in Angband are. I’m not evil. My job is to maintain the balance… between good and evil, that is. I’m the bane of Melkor’s existence.”

“Speak not that name!” said an anguished Kanafinwë. “He is our darkest foe and should be addressed as such. None of the Noldor dare call him by that name!”

“Sorry,” she said slightly taken aback. “I see that you have issues with him as well. Join the club.” She wished that she hadn’t spoken the name, Melkor. Kanafinwë’s whole demeanor had changed from one of contentment to one of anger and sorrow.

“Forgive me for my outburst,” apologized the Noldo. “Morgoth has brought much sorrow to my kinfolk. He is nothing but a liar, thief and murderer! No peace will we have until we bring about his downfall and retrieve the heirlooms of the House of Fëanáro.”

Buffy placed her hand on his sympathetically. “I’m sorry to hear about the evil that he’s brought down upon your House. He stole the Silmarils, right? Those are the heirlooms of which you speak.”

The painful memory was reflected in his eyes. “Yes,” he said quietly. “He killed my grandsire and robbed our treasuries.” Kanafinwë clasped Buffy’s hand in both of his, gently caressing it, as they fell quiet once again.

Buffy had no idea that her comment would have such an effect of him. “I’ll help you Kanafinwë,” she said at last. “Whatever it takes, I’ll help you reclaim the heirlooms of your House.” That wasn’t just a mere statement; she meant it, even though she knew how much Morgoth prized those jewels. She remembered how violently the Dark Lord reacted at the mere mention of the Silmarils back in her ‘dark’ days. It would not be easy, but it wasn’t entirely impossible either.

“You’re willing to do that?” he questioned with surprise.

“Honey, for you, I’ll do just about anything,” she replied with enthusiasm.

He laughed heartily and his mood greatly improved after that. “Then I shall sing a song for you, golden maiden. I will sing of bliss and love.”

“Two of my favorite things,” she answered.

Kanafinwë grabbed his harp that was sitting on an old log against the wall. He began to strum his instrument and sing in that enchanting voice of his. Buffy leaned her head against his shoulder, and watched as the sun climbed in the early morning sky. She felt utterly content for the first time since arriving in Middle-earth. All her fears and worries subsided while under the thrall of Kanafinwë’s song.

The words of Irmo came to her mind, ‘Dreams are yet another form of reality. It is my gift to you.’ For the first time, she truly understood that statement. She was meant to meet Kanafinwë in her dreams. Her big brother didn’t want her to be alone and he sent someone who could complete her, make her whole; something that she had never experienced in her entire life.

When the last notes of his melody faded across the distant sea, the spell was lifted and Buffy zealously applauded. “Bravo!” she exclaimed. “I’ve gotta tell you Kanafinwë, that was incredible! Absolutely wonderful! If you ever desire a change of scenery, you’d be most welcomed at my own Halls. I don’t think I’d ever leave if I had a minstrel like you around!” gushed the Slayer.

“Once again I thank you for your flattering words,” he said politely with a quick nod of his head. “I’m delighted by the fact that you enjoy my music… ”

“You’re like a rock star,” she laughed. “All you need is some leather pants and… ” She couldn’t finish that sentence. The image that flashed in her mind took her breath away. Literally.

He looked at her with a puzzled expression. “What is a rock star? I have never heard that expression before.”

Buffy was about to answer when she heard her name being called frantically over and over in her mind. “Bella! Bella!” She knew that it was time to wake.

“Crap!” she said aloud, confusing Kanafinwë even more. “I’ve gotta go. Something does not bode well at the homestead,” she said as she got to her feet.

“Is something wrong?” he asked with an air of concern.

“Probably,” she replied, “but I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.”

He set his harp aside and rose. “When will I see you again?” he asked as he took both of her hands in his. Buffy continued to hear the frantic cries of her name.

“Soon. Look for me in your dreams,” she said with a wide grin on her face.

“That I shall,” he replied as he kissed the back of both her hands.

“Please Kanafinwë, don’t tell anyone about our meetings. We must use discretion. No one’s supposed to know that I’m here. Promise me,” she demanded.

“I promise that from here on out nobody shall know about our trysts,” he vowed. Kanafinwë took care in how he worded his response. He had already told his eldest brother about the strange dream involving the petite golden haired maiden that he had long ago.

Buffy gave his hands a gentle squeeze before she let go and returned to reality.



A moment later, her eyes darted open and Orchal was bent over her. “Bella! Thank goodness you’re awake. There are some youngsters playing with your contraption by the river… ”

“Shit!” she exclaimed as she flew from her bed and out the door, her bare feet covered in sand. Buffy jumped the steps three at a time, holding her white gossamer nightgown above her knees. She ran down the boardwalk as the men ogled her near naked form. Without hesitation, she leapt from the boardwalk, landing a couple of hundred feet below. Her feet sunk in the soft earth and she caught herself before falling in the dirt. “Holy shit!” she exclaimed when she saw what the little hoodlums were up to.

A large group of elflings were gathered around the catapult near the riverbank. One of the kids was seated in the ‘spoon’ at the end of the arm and was about to be hurled into the river. “HEY!” Buffy screamed as she continued running as fast as her legs would carry her. Unfortunately, her timing was off by a split second. She heard the click of the lever and then saw a silver-haired boy go flying through the air. But the little brats did not know that adjustments had to be made to the weights of the engine to determine how much force was used. They overshot their mark. The boy careened into the rock wall on the opposite side of the river. A loud cracking sound could be heard as his limp and bloody form plummeted to the water beneath him.

Without hesitation, the Slayer jumped from the embankment into the ice-cold river. She gasped for air as she resurfaced, the coldness nearly taking her breath away. The current was taking her downstream as she bobbed up and down looking for the boy. She saw his flailing form some fifty yards down from her.

The current was swift and Buffy was an excellent swimmer so she was able to reach the elfling in no time at all. She grabbed him around the neck, keeping him above the water as she kicked feverishly to the shore. “Thranduil!” she scolded the youngster (who ironically was thirty-eight, the same age as Buffy, which is the equivalent to a young teen in ‘mortal’ years). “What the hell were you thinking?” she asked as she looked over his injuries. His body was trembling and his skin had a purplish hue to it. His nose was broken and a steady stream of blood poured from both nostrils. The poor kid also suffered from a compound fracture to his femur, the bone piercing his skin at an odd angle.

Thranduil was howling in pain, gagging on the blood that was running down his throat. Buffy propped him up against a large rock. Her anger ebbed only to be replaced with grave concern. She spoke softly and reassuringly to him as she tore a strip from her gown. The Slayer needed to make a splint. With a shaky hand she grabbed the nearest piece of driftwood that would suffice for that purpose.

Buffy eyed the height of the embankment as she tore another strip from her gown. A group of people had gathered and were in the process of lowering a rope. As the Slayer worked on the splint, Úrion came down the rope with a cloak and a blanket in hand. He handed Buffy the cloak and wrapped the blanket around the boy. She was freezing, her teeth chattering, as she put the cloak on.

“Let me carry him,” suggested Úrion.

“No, I’ve got him,” answered the Slayer. “Okay Thranduil, I’ve gotta get you up the embankment before we can tend to all your injuries. Wrap your arms around my neck,” she instructed. “That’s a good boy.” Buffy picked up the whimpering elfling, grabbed the rope, and carefully scaled the rock wall. When she reached the top, she placed him in Orchal’s arms. “Take him to the house.”

Buffy ordered all the kids involved to report to her Hall where she would dole out the appropriate punishments. Orchal took Thranduil to one of the chambers in the main house while the Slayer inquired as to his mother’s whereabouts (his father died in the war, being close kin to Denethor). As it turned out she was visiting some kinfolk in the east.

Nestor came around the corner wheeling a cart loaded with various herbal remedies and implements needed for that ‘art of healing.’ “What do you have that’ll knock him out?” asked a still shivering Buffy.

“Do not fret about it Bella. I’ll tend to the child,” he said as he attempted to bypass her into the room. “Excuse me!” he asserted, miffed by her rudeness.

“Just give me the tonic and I’ll take care of Thranduil,” she replied, with her hand held out.

“You’re no healer! That is what I do best as you should recall!” he countered.

“I’m not in the mood to argue with you Nestor. Give me the tonic and be gone. And that’s an order!” demanded the Slayer.

Nestor stood there for a moment floored by the words and tone of his friend. “Fine,” he said as he handed her the bottle and took off down the corridor leaving his cart behind. Everyone seemed taken aback by Buffy’s attitude.

“He’s my responsibility,” she said before slamming the door and locking it.

Immediately, she went to Thranduil’s side. “Am I going to die?” he asked between whimpers.

“No sweetheart,” she replied as she opened the bottle. “Drink this,” she instructed, as she put the bottle to his lips. He took a dose of the tonic and within a few minutes, he fell asleep. Buffy took this opportunity to heal Thranduil herself. She couldn’t share this secret with anyone, not yet anyway. As Morgoth showed her years ago, the Slayer utilized her saliva to heal the boy’s wounds.

It was not the most enjoyable of experiences, but Buffy was only concerned with the end results. She was able to heal all his injuries but deliberately left a faint scar on his leg to act as a reminder of this most stupid and dangerous stunt.

As the Slayer left Thranduil’s chambers, she summoned one of her healers to keep an eye on him. She was wet, cold and dirty and in desperate need of a hot bath. Úrion was already in her rooms when she arrived. She ordered him to have the arm of the catapult dismantled and kept under lock and key in case any other elfling had the gumption to repeat Thranduil’s disastrous feat. The Slayer waited impatiently as bucket after bucket was carried to the tub. This was the first time that Buffy had truly missed the mansion in Doriath.

While the Slayer was bathing, an uptight Nestor came barging into her private chamber. Buffy cursed under her breath, angry that she kept forgetting to lock the doors in this place. “Do you mind?” she questioned. “I’m kinda naked here.” She tried to hide her ‘stuff’ the best she could.

Nestor ignored her words. He grabbed a chair, pulling it a little too close to the tub for Buffy’s comfort. “How did you heal the boy?” he asked as he sat down, arms folded across his chest.

“Can’t this wait?” she asked.

“No. How is it that you were able to mend Thranduil’s leg so quickly? The bone had pierced the skin! Yet now it looks as though it had never been injured.” He was half frantic.

“I’m a woman of many talents, Nestor,” she admitted with a twinkle in her eye. It was obvious that he was stumped by her newfound healing abilities. “Listen, don’t be angry over this. It’s not a big deal. I’ve learned a few things over these last few years; healing being one of them.” She slid closer to the side of the tub and rested her arms on its edge. “You’ll always be my favorite healer. You know that, don’t you?” she said in a flattering tone.

“Pfft!” he sounded. “I am not worthy of the title ‘healer’ when compared to your skills,” he replied sullenly.

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” she countered. “Who was it that healed me when I couldn’t sleep for weeks? YOU! Who has every remedy under the sun for whatever ailment one may suffer from? YOU! My dear Nestor, you’re the greatest healer in all of Ossir; don’t get down over one incident. You’re consistent. I’m not. That’s why I love you so.”

“You love me?” asked the golden haired elf.

“You bet I do. You’re like the brother I’ve never had. Or wished I had.” She smiled, knowing that she had real brothers but that they were strangers when compared to the likes of Nestor, Orchal, and Úrion. “Please don’t be angry with me any more.”

He let out a sigh. “All is forgiven, but you will someday teach me your methods of healing, right?” queried Nestor as he rose from his seat.

“You’ll be the first one. Promise.” She even did the whole cross your heart and hope to die routine.

“Enjoy your bath,” he said as he left her chamber.

Buffy let out a sigh of relief. She really did love Nestor but it was way too soon for there to be a dissenter amongst her Household. The Slayer was appointed to her position in Ossir; she didn’t inherit it by direct bloodline, as was normal custom. Incidentally, it was Thranduil who was next in line for the lordship of this land since he was now the only living descendent of the ‘Greenleaf’ clan. Denethor was his uncle.

When Buffy finished dressing, she returned to her Hall where she knew there was a group of youngsters awaiting her judgment. The look of terror on their little faces softened her heart considerably. But she still punished them by assigning them to the most tedious tasks in her Household. They wouldn’t be happy campers for the next three months.



For the next sixteen nights Buffy continued with her nocturnal rendezvous’ with Kanafinwë. They spent each night in a different place doing different things. No, nothing like that! At this point in their unusual ‘courtship,’ they had finally reached the passionate kissing stage. No groping, just kissing, as Káno (her nickname for him) was always the perfect gentleman.

It was unfortunate that while on their seventeenth ‘date’ that fate found a way to intervene in her love life once again. Kind of ironic since she was the Vala of Love, and all. But it seemed to her that whenever the potential for a new loving relationship was within her grasp, it was somehow cruelly torn away from her… as she was about to find out!

On this particular night, they paid another visit to that isolated spot on the beach where they had gone the first time they ‘met.’ Since this was all a dream state, they came up with different ways to make themselves more comfortable. Instead of sitting in the sand, they were sprawled out on a magnificently large chaise lounge made for two. And they saw to it that they had plenty of refreshments including wine, ale, mead, delicious ripe fruit and cheese. Something to snack on, if they found themselves hungry or thirsty, whatever the case may be.

They were surrounded by darkness and lay there talking and watching the starry sky. Kanafinwë then asked her the most peculiar question, “Are you named after the star or is the star named after you?” he asked as he pointed to the heavens, indicating the star in question.

After all these many nights, Buffy had never admitted to being one of the Ainur although it was alluded to many times. She did confess that she was the Slayer, but he really didn’t know what that meant other than she was to maintain the balance between good and evil. She wanted to keep this whole ‘thing’ separate from her real life. This was a way of escaping the rigors of reality. But Kanafinwë was very clever. The question that he posed was yet another example of his trying to get her to admit that she was an Ainu. Buffy knew that, and she wasn’t about to slip up again.

She turned on her side and looked deeply into his gray eyes. “Do you see the word stupid on my forehead?” she asked lightheartedly. “You’re not gonna trick me, Káno, no matter how hard you try.”

“Is that so,” he replied in like manner, as he flung his legs over hers. Buffy attempted to playfully squirm away, but he prevented her from doing so. “Let me see if I can use my ability to charm you into admitting who you really are,” he continued naughtily.

“And how do you intend to do that?” she asked as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

“It requires that I show you rather than tell you,” he whispered seductively.

He moved in closer, their lips were a mere inch apart, she could feel them burning with desire. She had just closed her eyes when a voice rang out from nowhere, “LUINIL!”

They both jumped, startled by the interruption. The ‘moment’ was lost.

“Luthor?!” exclaimed Buffy when she caught sight of his form just outside the alcove. He looked good, kingly even. It seemed that he was taking that whole Lord thing seriously. But what had concerned her the most was that he was dressed in battle gear. “What is it?”

Luthor’s gaze shifted from her to the elf and back to her again. “Melkor has unleashed an army against our fortress. They are marching as we speak. I do not have nearly enough men to combat them, as they are ten thousand strong. We are outnumbered, my friend. And we are in need of your… skills.”

Buffy jumped to her feet, as did Kanafinwë. “He’s found the fortress!” That distressed her more than anything else.

“They are still about thirty miles north of the fortress. I do not want Melkor discovering its whereabouts. That would be disastrous. We must take the battle to him! My men are prepared but they will not march out without you, their General,” he said with an air of annoyance.

Buffy looked up at Kanafinwë. “See, duty calls once again.”

“Let me help you,” he volunteered. “I have thousands of men at my disposal. Tell me where to go and we will join you… ”

“It won’t do any good, Káno. It would take months for your men to reach the fortress; it lies far in the east… ”

“Get a move on Luinil!” ordered Luthor. “There is need for haste! If you continue to dawdle, all our hard labor will be for naught.” He then disappeared.

Buffy turned to Kanafinwë. “Is there nothing I can do?” he asked with deep concern. “I want to help. Let me come with you. I’m skilled in battle.”

“I’ve already told you, it’s too far away. I can deal with this. It’s not my first time down this road and believe me, it won’t be my last.”

“You take care then,” he said softly as he took her hands in his. “War is a vicious affair. Be safe. Stay alert. And most importantly, come back to me in one piece.” He kissed the back of each of her hands. Buffy felt the warmth of his kisses course throughout her entire body, making her momentarily lightheaded.

“Wait for me,” she said hopefully.

“You know that I will. No peace will I have until I know that you’ve safely returned to me,” he answered. The Slayer knew that she needed to get a move on, but his eyes captivated her. She couldn’t believe how infatuated she had become with Kanafinwë, especially when one considers that they had only met seventeen nights ago.

“I’ll return, I promise,” she said resolutely, as she kissed him passionately on the lips. She felt her face flush. “I’ll see you soon.” She gradually walked backwards, clinging to his fingertips not wanting to let him go. Even though this was a dream, she most definitely could feel his ‘touch.’

“Be careful.” Those were the last words the Slayer heard before she awoke in her own bed in Ossir.



It was still dark outside and according to the clock it was half past four. Buffy climbed out of bed and went to her wardrobe, deciding that leather would be appropriate for the upcoming battle. She went to one of her adjoining rooms and grabbed her armor and axe, carefully placing them on the bed. Before she geared up for war, she wanted to inform Orchal that she had to leave Ossir for a while.

As she walked to his chamber, she tried to concoct some type of story to explain her sudden departure. By the time she rapped on his door, she thought she had a plausible story. When he didn’t answer, she turned the knob and entered, praying all the while that he was ‘decent.’

“Orchal,” she called. He obviously wasn’t in his sitting room, so she continued to his bedchamber. “Orchal,” she called again as she tapped on the door. Without waiting for an answer of some sort, she went ahead and opened the door.

“Bella? What’s wrong?” he asked as he sat up, and lit the lamp next to his bed.

“It’s nothing, really,” she whispered as she walked over to his bed. “Well, that’s not true… ”

“I’m awake. There’s no need to whisper,” he said with a yawn.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” she said apologetically as she sat on the edge of the bed. “Listen, I’ve gotta go. Slayer stuff… ”

“What do you mean? Is it something to do with the enemy?” he questioned.

“Afraid so.” She had no other choice; she had to fudge the truth. “I was looking in my Mirror and saw an army about to attack a… a fortress far east of here. The people there are not equipped to take on an enemy of this caliber. If I leave now, I think I’ll be able to get there before Bauglir’s minions do.”

“Oh, dear. That is indeed dreadful news. What can I do?” he asked.

“Just keep things moving along here. Act as my regent while I’m gone.” She thought for a moment. “I don’t know if I’ll be back by spring, so if the Naugrim come back before me, have them continue with their labor. I need as many of those engines as they can build. Let them know that, when I return, I’ll have their payment… ”

“What shall I say to the Household?”

“I don’t know. Use your judgment. I’ve really gotta go.” She turned to leave.

“Take care, Bellaseth, and for the love of Ulmo, be careful,” she heard Orchal say as she crossed the room. She gave him a little wave before disappearing out the door.

Buffy quickly made her way back to her chambers. The house was quiet except for the clicking of her boots on the wooden floor. Once inside her bedroom, she went to the wardrobe and grabbed her feather coat. She didn’t know if she would actually need or use it, but she wanted to bring it nevertheless. Carefully she folded it up and placed it into a satchel along with some extra clothing and her orb of Thezula. She then put on her mail including her helm. After surveying herself in the mirror, she grabbed her axe and disappeared in a flash.




Úrion stepped out from behind one of the columns in Buffy’s bedchamber, thankful that she was too preoccupied to notice his presence. He walked over to the area where she had been only a few moments before, his hand feeling the impulses of energy that still lingered in the air. How did she do that? He wondered to himself as he inhaled deeply. Úrion relished the scent of the Slayer; it was imbued with such power, making him both envious and resentful of her at the same time.

He made his way to her ‘real’ private chamber, so called because it contained her Mirror. This was the only room that Buffy demanded that the door be kept locked at all times. Only two keys existed to the door and she entrusted one of them to Úrion for safekeeping. Once inside, he locked the door before scanning the room. It was sparsely furnished with a couple of comfortable looking chairs and a small table in one corner. In the center of the chamber sat the Mirror on its marble pedestal. Beside it was a cistern full of the ‘water of Ulmo.’

Úrion walked over to the Mirror, grabbed the ewer that rested in its basin and used it to transfer water from the tank. After the bowl was filled, he sliced his hand and let a few drops of blood fall into the water. Immediately, it began to hiss and emit black vapors. He studied his wound for a moment, blood dripping down his arm, before running his tongue along the incision. It was then healed.

“It has been far too long since I’ve last heard from you, Úrion,” said the unmistakable voice of Morgoth from the Mirror. “You’d best have a good reason or I’ll see to it that you are disemboweled on a daily basis by Carcharoth for the next century.”

Úrion gripped the rim of the bowl in an attempt to stable his trembling body. “Much has happened in the last few years, my Lord Melkor. This has been the only opportunity I have had of late… I would never intentionally delay any communications with you.”

“Then Melisse does not suspect a thing about you, I take it,” replied Morgoth. His image in the basin was clearly visible.

“I am still her trusted servant,” he replied confidently.

“That is good news, my friend. Good news indeed!” He paused. “So tell me, what has my wife been up to?” asked Morgoth with interest.

Úrion told the Dark Lord about the break up with Mablung, which didn’t please him in the slightest, as he already knew about that. “If it weren’t for my cunning skill, it would not have happened in the first place!” he yelled angrily. “Tell me something that I do not already know!”

“Forgive me,” stammered the traitor. “Inanna has left Doriath for Ossiriand; we now dwell in the house of the dead elven Lord, Denethor. She has been named the ‘Blue Lady of Ossir’ by the elves in this land,” he revealed.

“I have always said that she was a natural leader,” commented Morgoth. “Let her lead them into ruination.”

“You might want to reconsider that,” remarked Úrion as his courage grew. “The Lady has been quite busy devising new weapons that can inflict damage from far away. I have never seen the like before. And the one that we have built is deadly accurate. These engines, as she calls them, are capable of launching a projectile five hundred yards!”

Deep creases formed between the Dark Lord’s eyes as his anger escalated. “Why is it that I have no knowledge of these… machines?” barked Morgoth. “For one year she dwelt by my side and I never considered… ” He was seething, his eyes burning with an intense fury. The Vala had only been concerned with creating new monsters – his children, with Buffy. He never gave any thought to building war machines, only standard weapons. She was attempting to foil his plans and there was no way he was going to allow that. “I want those devices!” he ordered.

“It’s not that simple, Lord. These are very large contraptions that are difficult to transport,” argued Úrion. “It is much easier to send the designs to you. I will have them copied and I will have one of your messengers deliver them to you.”

“Very good. Make that your number one priority. I want those designs!” He fell silent for a few moments. “I will not have her thwart my plans… ”

“She may be in the process of doing that very thing as we speak,” said the ‘elf’. “It has been only a few minutes since she disappeared garbed in full battle gear.”

Morgoth’s evil laughter resonated throughout the chamber. “That, my friend, is my doing. I needed a diversion for my beloved whilst I set Illyria up on her throne in the lands east of Orocarni.” A wicked grin appeared on his monstrous face. “My spies tell me that the second born have awaken. There are hordes of these witless mortals running around, oblivious of the world. They lack purpose and direction in their wretched lives. Oh, but that is all about to change! They shall soon learn that I am their only salvation in Arda.”

“What more can I do for you Lord?” asked Úrion.

“Proceed as you have been. Keep me informed but do nothing to jeopardize your position with Melisse. I do not want her to discover your true nature,” answered Morgoth.

“Very well,” replied his servant. The conversation was over. Úrion left the chamber exactly as he found it. He hastily went to collect the plans from the engineers to begin work on making copies for his Lord.