Full Circle

Finrod accepted Buffy’s invitation to stay in Lindon for the remainder of the season. It was the middle of winter and the elf’s journey home would be very harsh to endure at this time of year. In Ossir, the weather remained pleasant and one only had to contend with the rain, which the green elves welcomed over snow any day.

During the elf’s visit, the Slayer demonstrated how her various war machines worked. He was quite impressed with the devices; none of the Noldor had ever seen any contraptions like that before. She mentioned to him that these engines were available for trade and that she would love the opportunity to see if the mighty Noldorin Lords were interested in doing business together. Finrod assured her that they would most definitely be interested. He was.

Now Finrod could not help but notice all the jewels that the Slayer had in her possession and he was quite curious as to how she came by these treasures. For the devising of gemstones was done by Fëanor during the bliss of Valinor and the Noldo was amazed to see that Buffy and her Household had multitudes of them.

“Some of us have connections in Valinor,” she had replied coyly. Finrod knew that she did not want to discuss who her contacts were, but he could see that she was no mere maiden. He had his own suspicions. Ever since he saw her fey long ago, there was no doubt in his mind that she had to be one of the Ainur. Power radiated from her although she brushed it off as part of being the Slayer. Whatever she was, the Noldo felt a deep connection with her. He couldn’t explain it, but he could sense that their fates were somehow intertwined.

Before winter had completely passed, Finrod departed Lindon in order to return to his own realm.

It was at the insistence of Orchal that Buffy had revealed to all of her Household her true identity. The silver-haired elf told her that it was the will of Ulmo that she share her secret with those who vowed to serve her. They promised that they would not disclose that revelation to any, and in return, Buffy bound their fey’s to hers. So, if any of them die, their spirits will not be commanded to return to the Halls of Mandos. The Slayer did this, knowing that it was in direct violation of the decree mandated by Manwë. She needed elves bound to her for their skills would be needed in times to come.

Three weeks later, Buffy, along with two hundred elves from her Household, left Lindon for the long journey to Eithel Ivrin. She was quite excited about the trip since she had not seen much of the land outside of Eastern Beleriand. Most of her time in Middle-earth had been spent within the forests of Doriath or Ossir and she had only once, traveled through West Beleriand (in fey form), years ago.

The caravan crossed the river Ascar and then headed due west, parallel to Andram. Most of the people were on horseback and they had oxen pulling wagons laden with gifts and provisions for the trip. Buffy didn’t bring any of her machines, only simple sketches. She feared that if she brought the detailed designs then the Noldor would have no need to buy them. The Slayer thought that that made good business sense.

Buffy was in awe when she saw the Gates of Sirion for the first time. This was where the River Sirion ran through the caverns of Andram and gushed out into the most spectacular falls that she had ever seen. The rushing sound was quite loud and the air was filled with mists from the water crashing against the rocks below. It was definitely a Polaroid moment for the Slayer. She purposely made the group journey further north in order to see this wonder of Beleriand even though it wasn’t easy to cross there. But she also came to realize why Ulmo wanted her to tell her Household about her identity, because it required the use of magic on her part to get oxen-drawn carts safely across the top of the slippery stone wall.

All were relieved when they made it to the other side without incident. The group then continued traveling in a north-western direction among fields of blossoming flowers. The green elves lifted their voices in song and rejoiced when they finally came to the River Narog. They were not far from their destination. They continued to follow the stream northwards and soon they saw the southern foot of Ered Wethrin (Mountains of Shadow) looming in the distance.

After six weeks of traveling, their journey had finally reached its end. They crossed the ford and arrived at the pools of Ivrin where great pavilions and hundreds of tents were erected in various shapes, sizes and colors. The many banners of the Noldorin Houses blew in the early afternoon breeze. The Slayer’s emblem was carried by her standard bearer.

Buffy’s reputation had preceded her. Her skill in battle was known by all the Noldorin Lords although she knew them not. But one thing that the Noldor did not have a true grasp of were the garments that the Slayer normally wore. Since she was no longer subject to Thingol’s authority, Buffy dressed scantily when compared to the elves. She arrived at Eithel Ivrin wearing black leather pants (courtesy of Sauron) and a red top that pretty much resembled a strapless bra. Her attitude of “if you have it, flaunt it” could clearly be seen. Buffy was a woman and damn proud of it, too!

Úrion helped her off her steed and Kit and Kat (who roamed freely throughout the trip), were happy to be at their mistress’s side once again. The assembled elves looked at Buffy with bewilderment in their eyes. They could actually say that they’ve never seen anyone remotely like her ever before, not in Beleriand nor in Valinor. She was unique. One of a kind. And that’s how Buffy liked it.

“It is good to see that you have made it at last, Bellaseth,” said Finrod in greeting. “There are many who wish to make your acquaintance.” He nodded to her companions before offering his arm. “I shall introduce you to all the Noldorin Lords. I have already told them of your war machines and the King is most interested in hearing your proposal.”

“Excellent,” she replied. Buffy couldn’t help but notice how much attention she was drawing from the strangers. She found it rather amusing although she wasn’t sure if they were gawking at her dress or her kitty cats. “I see that there’s not many women around,” commented the Slayer as they started walking through the mass of people. She was followed, at all times, by twenty of her closest confidants including her beloved trio.

“Only those that wished to come have come,” he replied. “Fingolfin has deemed this meeting as a way of reuniting with our long lost kindred and hopes to unify all the Houses in our fight against Morgoth. And you, my dear lady, are the only woman who wields power in Beleriand.”

“What about Melian?” she asked as she glanced up at the elf with a smile. “She’s a Maia… and your kin.”

“True, but it’s Thingol who truly wields the power in Doriath, as you are well aware,” answered Finrod as they came upon a group of elves in deep conversation. “Our Lord has extended his hand to Thingol and his people, but none have yet arrived from Menegroth.”

“Thingol leave Doriath?” questioned a chuckling Buffy. “I don’t see that happening. You won’t be able to get him to leave Doriath for nothing… except maybe war.”

The first elf Lord that Buffy met was Turgon, youngest son of Fingolfin. He was holding court with many people (including Aegnor and Angrod, Finrod’s younger brothers) in one of the pavilions. The Slayer and her companions were invited to join them and partake in some wine. She took a seat between two elves named Galdor and Ecthelion as she took the chalice of amber fluid that was proffered.

“It’s very good,” she said after taking a sip. Buffy had consumed a lot of wine since her arrival in Middle-earth and considered herself a wine connoisseur of sorts, but after tasting the wine of the Noldor, she knew the green elves produced a far superior quality. Of course, she would need to sample more, but she saw another money- making opportunity for Ossiriand. The Slayer then ordered a couple of her servants to bring forth eight bottles of wine from their stores. Once these elves tasted their stuff, they’d be hooked.

It was then that a squat dark-headed elf asked her a question, “Is it true, what they say, that you’re indeed the warrior maiden who fought under Thingol’s banner in the first war?”

She eyed him for a moment before replying, “Yes, it is.”

The elf no longer bothered to conceal his disbelief nor his laughter. “You are very small, even for one not of the Eldar,” he began. “I do not believe that you are the capable warrior that they speak of. You’re no bigger than an elfling.” He laughed heartily.

Buffy rolled her eyes. How many times had she heard that now? A million? “Well… ” she began before the son of Fingolfin interrupted.

“The Lady’s strength is much greater than you deem, Salgant,” counseled Turgon. “Watch your tongue or you may find yourself eating crow!”

Salgant laughed once again. “Surely you jest, my Lord,” he said with a laugh as his eyes gave Buffy the once over. “I do not sense this strength that you speak of.” He fixed his eyes on the Slayer. “I’m willing to allow you a chance to prove your strength, Lady, if you will.”

“So, you want me to knock the crap out of you?” she asked. Her eyes showed her disdain yet she so hoped that his answer was yes. No one likes a smart ass, especially when the comments are directed at you, and Buffy was ready to put an end to this before the situation escalated.

He laughed once again as he got to his feet. For the first time, Buffy noticed that this guy was a bit on the chunky side. Most elves were of slender build but Salgant was clearing the exception to the rule.

“Come, Bellaseth. Let us see if you have been named rightly so,” he answered as he drained the liquid from his goblet.

Many of the elves snickered and giggled over Salgant’s bold words. Most seated in the pavilion sensed the Slayer’s power, unfortunately, Salgant wasn’t accounted amongst them. Buffy looked to Turgon as if to see if it was okay to demonstrate her strength.

“He is asking for it, Bellaseth. I believe that Salgant needs to be taught a lesson for his cheek,” he stated as he put his chalice to his lips in order to hide the mischievous grin on his face. It was apparent that Turgon found the whole scenario humorous.

Buffy got to her feet, her drink still in hand. She and Salgant stepped outside the pavilion while the others adjusted their positions so that they could witness the test of strength. The combatants sized each other up. Salgant was at least a foot taller than Buffy and Eru only knows how much he outweighed her. She took a sip of wine.

“Okay big boy, tell you what I’m gonna do. I’ll let you go first; hit me as hard as you can,” proposed Buffy. She handed her drink to Nestor, spread her feet about a foot or so apart and put her hands behind her head. The sneering Slayer waited for his blow.

Salgant was affronted by her request. He blinked several times before saying, “I’m not going to hit a woman! What kind of monster do you think I am?”

“Oh, c’mon, you know you want to,” she teased. “Believe me, I’m gonna hit you pretty hard and I don’t think you’ll be in any condition to hit me back… ” Her smiled widened and she continued to taunt the elf. “In fact, I bet that after I hit you, you’ll be rolling on the ground crying, ‘Oh Eru, my jaw, my jaw.’ So… this is the only opportunity you’ll have to show how much of a man you are or… ”

WHAM! Salgant threw a right hook at the Slayer while she was still speaking. Buffy wasn’t sure if the shocked expression on his face was from the fact that she didn’t flinch or that he had just hit a woman.

“That did not hurt?!” he questioned with an air of disbelief.

Glorfindel, a gorgeous golden-haired elf, laughingly said, “It looks like Salgant is the one with the strength of a woman.” A chorus of laughter sounded from under the pavilion.

“My turn,” said the Slayer excitedly. For a split second, Buffy detected fear in Salgant’s eyes but he quickly managed to conceal it with what she thought was false bravado.

“You are about to see what kind of man I am, Dagnir. I am a Noldo and we are as tough as the earth,” he boasted with his chest puffed out.

“And I’m just a poor, weak and helpless woman,” she said mockingly before giving him her right hook. Salgant went soaring backwards twenty feet before hitting the ground with a heavy thud.

“Oh Eru,” he cried out, “my jaw, my jaw.” He was rolling around on the ground clutching the right side of his face. Many of the Lords had leapt to their feet when they saw the elf go flying. They were amazed by what they had just witnessed and looked at the Lady of Ossir in a whole new light. No elf ever doubted her abilities from that day forward.

“See! Didn’t even break a nail,” said a gloating Buffy as she examined her fingernails. She took her drink from Nestor and sat back down.

Ecthelion and Galdor helped Salgant to his feet amidst the laughter from his kinfolk, including Turgon. “Perhaps next time you will have the wisdom to heed my words of warning, my friend,” the son of Fingolfin commented to a moaning Salgant.

“Leave me be! Leave me be!” bitterly said the injured elf as he sat back down. “She damn near broke my jaw,” he whined. His dignity took a bigger hit than his face and Buffy didn’t nearly hit him as hard as she could have.

“Here’s some advice for you Salgant,” remarked the Slayer. “Never judge a book by its cover. You never know what you’ll find inside.”

He glared at her. “Yes… I’ll keep that in mind, Lady.” A deep purplish-black bruise rapidly formed on his fair face. He refilled his cup and took a deep draught while still being ridiculed by the rest of the company.

“I think that Salgant needs to be cut some slack,” interjected Úrion. “Speaking as one who has trained with Bella, I understand when one doubts her might until they actually see it for themselves… or in this case, are on the receiving end of it.”

“Nay! I say we continue to goad him a little while longer so he does not forget this lesson all too soon,” suggested Galdor with a laugh.

Buffy whispered to Nestor who then handed her a small wooden box from the pouch on his belt. She walked over to Salgant, pulled a little table in front of him and took a seat. His face looked pretty bad and it didn’t help matters any that Buffy had worn rings on every finger.

“Give ‘em a break, guys,” she said to the others. “Same thing would’ve happened if I hit any of you.” She turned her attention back to Salgant. “This is some awesome salve that was devised by my people in the east. It heals just about any injury and removes scars, too.” He looked at her skeptically, leaning further back in his chair. “I swear, I’m not gonna hurt you. I wanna help you.” She started placing the ointment on his bruise.

“What’s that from?” he asked pointing to a scar on her stomach.

“Which one?” she replied. She showed him that she had two; one was two inches below the other.

“Both. Did you get them in battle?” he queried, slightly confounded.

“Hmm, this one wasn’t so much a battle as a fight. Just your average run-of-the-mill vamp. Had an off day… he got lucky,” she answered as she pointed to the top one. “And this one was from a Turok-Han, an über-vamp. Let me tell you, that was one hell of a battle.” Salgant stuck a finger into the salve and went to place the ointment on her scar. Buffy pushed his hand away. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” she questioned as she leapt aside.

“Let me use your salve to remove the scars,” offered the elf.

“No!” she shot back as she quickly returned to her seat. “I don’t want to lose them. They’re a reminder of mistakes that I’ve made in the past. At least, some of them are.” The Slayer could not help but notice how every elf seemed to be scrutinizing her. For the first time, she felt naked. Their eyes were scanning the numerous scars on her body. One of Buffy’s handmaidens came forward, as though answering an unspoken command, and helped her mistress into a short black jacket.

“You have fought in numerous battles, have you not?” asked a perplexed Ecthelion. “For I deem that you are very experienced when it comes to warfare.”

She smiled weakly. “You have no idea. I’ve been fighting the forces of darkness for nearly thirty-eight years, ever since I was fifteen, that’s when I was Called.” Buffy then explained what a Slayer was and about some of her early battles.

“How is it that one so fair and gifted has no husband?” questioned the elf Lord, Rog. “I reckon that you come from a goodly stock and your children will be very strong.”

Once again, the Slayer laughed. “When it comes to me and love, I don’t fare well in that department. I come and go as I please and I answer to nobody. This world… Middle-earth, it’s so different from the days when I was born. Here, women are docile and obedient to their men. And I most certainly am not like that!” She glanced at the many elves. “Besides, what kind of man is interested in a woman whose thoughts constantly revolve around battle techniques and warfare? Who desires a woman whose sole purpose is to bring death to beastly creatures that lurk in the darkness?”

Dozens of unwedded elves raised their hands, much to Buffy’s amusement.

It was at that moment that Fingolfin, High King of all the Noldor, approached, surrounded by many Knights from his Household. All the elves rose to their feet out of respect for their Lord, Buffy included. He strode up to the Slayer.

“You must be Bellaseth Dagnir,” said the tall dark-haired elf. His gray eyes sparkled with wisdom and she could sense the strength of his fey. “It is with great joy that I make your acquaintance, Lady,” he added with a slight bow of his head. Immediately, a great wooden chair was placed in the center of the pavilion and the King took a seat. He folded his hands in his lap and stared intently at the small woman who sat across from him. “I am eager to learn more about these weapons of yours, Bellaseth,” he stated. “But I would rather wait until we have representatives from all the Houses before we hold council.”

“Sounds good by me,” she replied. She shifted in her seat, the intensity of Fingolfin’s eyes seemed to pierce her very thoughts, making her slightly uncomfortable. She stared into her chalice, her finger tracing the rim.

“You are an emissary of the Valar, are you not?” questioned the King.

“Yeah, I guess so,” she replied uneasily.

“I perceive that your doom is greater than my own. Will you not walk with me?” requested the King.

“I’d be honored to,” she answered as she got to her feet. The King instructed his people to leave them be, he wished to speak to the Slayer in private. They walked due east towards the eaves of the Woods of Núath. “Perhaps you’ll speak more freely with me now that there are not so many ears listening in for I see there is much power about you.” He walked proudly with his hands clutched behind his back, nodding at passing elves every now and again.

“What do you wish to speak about, Lord?” she asked with the utmost respect.

“You, Bellaseth. It is you that I wish to talk about.” He smiled kindly before continuing, “I was born and raised in the Blessed Realm long ago and I have walked amongst the mighty Ainur that reside there. Why is it that I have not seen you there? For you are indeed one of the Ainur, are you not?”

She chuckled. He sounded like Kanafinwë. “I see your not one for beating around the bush either. A man after my own heart.” Buffy fell silent for a few minutes as they continued to walk. She couldn’t believe that she was actually contemplating whether to reveal her true identity to the Elven King. There was something about these newcomers from Valinor that Buffy couldn’t quite put her finger on. They seemed to have any uncanny ability to read people well… maybe too well.

“Your silence speaks volumes and I assure you that your secret’s safe with me,” he remarked. “I would not ask but I see that the day will come when you’ll be closely associated with my own House. And my heart tells me that we’ll have all too few opportunities to speak this privately in the future.”

“No one sees everything, you know,” she commented as she looked up at him.

The sun was glaring in their eyes as they ascended a small knoll that overlooked the pools. They sat down on flower-speckled grass and continued to shoot the breeze. Fingolfin had talked about Valinor and the Ainur as well as Hithlum, his home in Middle-earth. After a while, the conversation came back to her again.

“Why is it that the Valar have sent a woman to combat the forces of Morgoth?” inquired the King.

“Who said that I was sent here by the Valar?” she questioned back.

His intense gaze remained fixed on her for several minutes. It was Buffy who finally broke the silence.

“I’m not a coward… but I fear him,” she confessed softly. “Morgoth has this weird fixation thing with me. He’s done horrible things… ” Her words broke off and she shuddered. “I’m not ready to take him on yet, but I’m preparing just the same. When the time comes, I’ll be ready. I have to.” She fell silent again, saddened by the memories of her earlier torment. Buffy then turned to him and added, “Only a Vala can kill another Vala, you know that don’t you? None of your people will be able to defeat him.” She didn’t know why she said that, it just blurted out of her.

“Perhaps it’s folly but I would rather die trying to defeat the Dark Lord than bow down to him. I fear him not for he is craven,” the King said firmly.

“He knows a lot of magic, Fingolfin,” Buffy warned. “Everything he touches is enhanced so much the greater for it. Believe me, I know. I’ve seen it first hand.”

“You have been to the Dark Lands?” he questioned in a shocked tone.

Buffy looked down at the grass. “A few times,” she admitted. “Those were dark days for me and I’ve seen what Morgoth’s capable of. Let me tell you Fingolfin, you’ve got to get everyone in Middle-earth to unite as one or we’re all doomed. It’s that whole ‘united we stand, divided we fall’ thing.”

“That is my intention with this feast. I have sent messengers throughout Beleriand inviting our kindred to join us and you can see for yourself how many representatives from the various tribes have come,” the Noldo King responded gesturing before them.

Buffy looked out at the hundreds of people that were milling around. It was then that she noticed a banner with a familiar symbol on it - an eight-rayed silver star. The same star that was etched into her throne of sapphire back in Folkvang. Her heart started beating fast, she nearly thought it would pop out of her chest.

“Fingolfin,” she started. “That emblem over there, the star,” she pointed towards the pavilion that they had been at before. “What House does that represent?” she queried.

“That would be my half-brother’s House, the House of Fëanor,” he replied.

“The sons of Fëanor are here?” she asked excitedly.

“I was not aware that you’ve met them,” he commented.

“I’ve only met three of them,” Buffy responded, her eyes fixed on the banner.

“Only two of the sons of Fëanor have come; Maedhros and Maglor,” revealed the Elven King.

Buffy whispered the name Maglor under her breath, her heart racing even faster than before. “I don’t want to seem rude, Lord, but I’ve really got to go,” she said as she got to her feet. “We’ll hook up later, okay?” The Slayer took off down the knoll before Fingolfin could answer. He watched her disappear into the throng of people.

The Slayer bypassed the pavilion where Turgon was still holding court and stopped when she came to a group of fifteen elves standing in a semi-circle. A tall broad shouldered elf with long copper hair stood above the others, laughing at something that another elf had just told him. However, Buffy’s attention was focused on the dark haired elf whose back was turned towards her - Kanafinwë, who was called Maglor in the Sindarin tongue. She stood there for a few moments and was soon joined by Kit and Kat who sat on either side of her. She continued to watch the elf as he spoke with Finrod.

It was only a minute later, when Maglor sensed someone watching him. He turned around and his eyes locked with Buffy’s. He looked at her with a surprised expression on his face before his lips curled into a smile. The Slayer thought that her heart was going to pound out of her chest as they quickly closed the gap between them. When they were merely inches apart, Buffy threw her arms around his neck, stood on her tiptoes and kissed him. Maglor swept her off her feet and she wrapped her legs around his waist as they continued kissing passionately.

“Does she greet every Noldo that way?” asked the copper-haired elf to Finrod, with an air of anticipation in his voice.

“No,” answered a baffled Finrod. “I didn’t know that Maglor even knew Bella.” He was surprised by Buffy’s greeting as much as anyone else.

Maglor placed Buffy back on the ground, his hands cupping her face. “Where have you been? I have looked for you but I could never find you… ”

“I was hit by a poisonous dart during the battle,” she answered as she showed him the red dot on her neck (it looked like a busted blood vessel). “Knocked me out for twelve years!”

“Twelve years?” he exclaimed, slightly dumbfounded. His eyes swept over her body from head to toe. “How are you feeling? You look to be in good health.”

“Yeah, I am now. I can’t believe you’re here!” She then whispered, “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you,” as she wrapped her arms around his waist.

“Yes, I do… ”

“So Maglor, are you going to introduce me to your… friend or not?” asked the tall copper headed elf.

Maglor had momentarily forgotten about his companions after he had laid eyes on Buffy, but introductions were called for. He took the Slayer’s hand in his and they faced the group of elves.

“I’m Bellaseth Dagnir,” she blurted out. “But my friends call me Bella or Luinil.” She let out a sigh, grateful that she spoke before Maglor, for he knew her by her ‘true’ name, and now was not the time for that little revelation.

“So you are Bellaseth Dagnir,” said the tall elf. “And I see that you and my brother are already somewhat familiar with one another though I have seen you not. I am Maedhros, eldest of the sons of Fëanor,” he announced with a slight bow of his head. Maedhros was nearly the size of Thingol but much broader built. He was the most muscular-looking elf that Buffy had ever seen. “If my memory serves me well, and I deem that it does, are you not also called Maranwë, Luinil?” he queried.

As Buffy was about to respond, she glanced downwards and happened to notice that Maedhros was missing his right hand. Her mind flashbacked to her time in Angband and an early morning discussion she overheard between Sauron and Morgoth:

“It is still intact. We found this on the crags. I thought you ought to see it,” she recalled Sauron saying.

And Morgoth’s response, “Give that to Carcharoth, my favorite of the wolves, as I deem he will savor the taste of the flesh of one of the Noldorin Princes of Valinor.”

Buffy put two and two together pretty fast and felt the blood draining from her face. Oh my God, thought the Slayer. Maglor’s brother is the one that Morgoth hung by his wrist from the precipice of Thangorodrim. While that thought seemed horrendous to her, it gets even worse. Morgoth had retrieved a beautiful ruby ring from the severed hand and had given it to Buffy as a gift. Now when the Slayer had left with Luthor, she didn’t take one piece of jewelry or any other ‘mementos’ from her captivity, but Luthor had. He took all the items that he could find in Morgoth’s bedchamber that belonged to her, the ring included. For many years, the Maia kept this from the Slayer and it was only during her last visit that she discovered this. And now, here she was, face to face with the one that suffered horribly by the command of Morgoth.

“Bella? Bella?” Maglor called her name over and over, shaking her out of her reverie.

Buffy blinked a couple of times, “Sorry… about that.” Her glance went from Maedhros to the dark-haired elf that stood to his left, and back again. “Um, what were you saying?” she questioned with a slightly dazed expression on her face. The Slayer was tripping out, to say the least.

“Are you sure your well?” asked Maglor with concern.

“I’m fine, really,” she answered as she returned her gaze to Maedhros. “Your hand. Is Morgoth responsible for that?” she queried.

His whole demeanor seemed to change in an instant. He furrowed his eyebrows, his body tensed and Buffy could see the fire enflamed in his eyes. Maedhros lifted his right arm, “The Dark Foe is behind all anguish in Beleriand, is he not?” His piercing gray eyes were locked on Buffy. “If it had not been for my dear friend and cousin, Fingon the Valiant,” he placed his left arm around the dark haired elf’s shoulder, “I’d still be suffering from Morgoth’s torments.”

“Damn,” the Slayer said solemnly. “I’m sorry.”

“What do you have to be sorry for, Lady?” questioned Maedhros. “You are not guilty of committing any heinous crimes.”

“I mean… um, sorry about losing your hand. That’s all,” she responded glumly with a shrug of her shoulders.

The copper-headed elf laughed heartily. “It is but a small price to pay for my folly. I will exact my vengeance upon the Enemy and avenge the House of Fëanor.”

“My guess is that nearly all of us want to ‘exact our vengeance’ on Morgoth,” commented Buffy as she glanced around. “It’s just a matter of who’ll get there first.” She smiled before adding, “And I’m definitely a contender in that competition.”

Maedhros put his arm on his brother’s shoulder. “I like her, brother, the fire of Ilúvatar burns bright within her.”

“Indeed,” responded Maglor. “And it did not take the Lady long to win my heart.”

“How exactly did you two meet?” queried the elf named Fingon.

Buffy wasn’t too keen to discuss her secret visits with Maglor while in the dream state even though it had been many years ago. While the Slayer felt stronger than ever, she had not yet regained that ability. Instead, she focused her energies on more important matters like creating weapons for the upcoming wars.

Luck was on the lovers’ side as the bells sounded that indicated that the feast was about to begin. They were able to dodge Fingon’s question for the time being.

Now Buffy was pretty much a good person, no one doubts that, but when the elves faced West and gave thanks to the Valar before eating, she couldn’t help but feel slighted. For in her mind, she felt that the elves should pray to her and be thankful that she was here to aid them in their fight with the Dark Lord. Did she not help with the creation of Eä, though she had no memory of it? Since she was told to keep her identity secret, that made her all the more envious of her kindred in the Blessed Realm. Would the world ever learn of her deeds of prowess or would she merely fade into obscurity? Suffice to say, the Slayer would have to be content receiving the adulation from those who dwelt in her mystical realms and those of her own Household who already knew her secret.

The competitions started the following morning after breakfast. Among the events that were held that day were archery, wrestling, relay races, javelin, caber (a big log that’s thrown end-over-end) and discus throwing (seriously). Of course, Buffy bested the competition in every event that she participated in. It was too easy for her to defeat her competitors that she actually bowed out early in order to give others the opportunity to win some of Fingolfin’s prizes.

After passing up one of the events, the Slayer fell into conversation with Fingolfin’s younger sister, Lalwen. She immediately took a liking to the dark-haired beauty. She had a rebellious nature, witty attitude and was not at all happy about living in a male chauvinistic society.

“It’s like their obsession with towers,” she had remarked. “It is nothing more than a symbolic reference to the phallus if you ask me. And they compete to see whose is the larger!”

Damn, thought Buffy. I’ve got towers too. What does that say about me?

The elf maiden was captivated by the power and respect that the Lady of Ossir commanded. In Lalwen’s eyes, Buffy was the epitome of ‘woman power,’ for she was the only woman who truly ruled her own ‘kingdom’ in Middle-earth. In her heart, she yearned to join the Slayer’s brigade of warriors and she knew that it time, she would.

After three days, everybody present could attest to Buffy’s affections for the second son of Fëanor. She enjoyed being able to spend so much time with Maglor that she bypassed all opportunities to sleep so they could spend every minute together. Now that they had finally found each other, there was no way they were going to be separated again, regardless of the reason. Buffy knew that she had found the perfect mate for her. She deemed that the time had come in her life where she could say good-bye to loneliness and heartbreak, and hello to companionship and joy. She considered Maglor to be a most wonderful gift from Eru Ilúvatar for all her hard labors thus far, and with him by her side, she could take on the world. It was time for the Slayer to savor the bliss and harmony of a ‘normal’ relationship.

It was when the ‘messengers’ from Doriath showed up that things took an interesting turn. Thingol did not come but sent both Daeron and Mablung in his stead. Buffy had not seen her former lover in a number of years although she was aware that he had paid a visit to Ossir while she was in Folkvang. The former lovers’ eyes had met a couple of times during the day but Buffy managed to ‘get lost’ in the crowd in order to avoid that inevitable confrontation that she knew was coming. She didn’t know why, but whenever she saw Mablung, her spider senses started tingling. And that did not forebode anything good.

After the feast, many of the people congregated into smaller groups throughout the grassy meadow by the enchanting pools of Ivrin. The rushing sound from the waterfalls seemed to provide the melody to the songs sung by the elves, many who danced under the star-studded sky. The air was filled with joy and mirth.

Buffy was sitting with folk from the Houses of Fëanor, Finarfin and with Círdan, and his people from the Falas. She was delighted to meet the ally of Thingol’s that was unfortunately besieged by yrch during the first war in Middle-earth. The Slayer was quite taken aback that the ‘Shipwright’ resembled and old man with lots of facial hair. She had never encountered that ‘aged’ look with an elf before. He reminded her somewhat of Luthor.

It was while Buffy was sitting with her new friends and lover that she heard a song that she recognized from ‘modern’ times. She glanced to her left and saw Mablung, harp in hand, singing a song that she had taught the elves back in her days in Doriath:


“Time, it needs time
To win back your love again
I will be there, I will be there
Love, only love
Can bring back your love someday
I will be there, I will be there

I’ll fight, babe, I’ll fight
To win back your love again
I will be there, I will be there
Love, only love
Can break down the wall someday
I will be there, I will be there

If we’d go again
All the way from the start
I would try to change
The things that killed our love
Your pride has built a wall, so strong
That I can’t get through
Is there really no chance
To start once again
I’m loving you

Try, baby, try
To trust in my love again
I will be there, I will be there
Love, our love
Just shouldn’t be thrown away
I will be there, I will be there

If we’d go again
All the way from the start
I would try to change
The things that killed our love
Your pride has built a wall, so strong
That I can’t get through
Is there really no chance
To start once again

If we’d go again
All the way from the start
I would try to change
The things that killed our love
Yes, I’ve hurt your pride, and I know
What you’ve been through
You should give me a chance
This can’t be the end
I’m still loving you
I’m still loving you, I need your love
I’m still loving you” *



Buffy sat there, completely dumbfounded. Mablung dropped to his knees in front of the Slayer, totally ignoring or unaware of the fact (she didn’t know which), that she was sitting beside the man whom she loved. Thingol’s Captain seemed oblivious to everyone around him.

“Bella, please,” he pleaded. “I need to speak to you.”

The Slayer looked at his tear-filled eyes and immediately got to her feet. “Okay. Let‘s go where we can have some privacy,” she suggested as she grabbed his hand and led him to her tent. She could feel Maglor’s eyes boring through her as she and Mablung walked away.

When they reached her tent, she ordered her servants to leave. She offered a chair to Mablung as she sat on her bed. He pulled the chair closer to her.

“What’s this about?” she queried uncomfortably. She had an notion especially with him singing that song and all.

“Bella,” Mablung started as he grabbed her hands, caressing them affectionately. “You have been in my thoughts of late. Actually, you’re all I think about… I have made a grave mistake by ending our relationship. It was folly, I now see that. It… it was like some madness overcame me and I lost all reason… and made demands upon you that… that I wish to take back. I have acted foolishly… can you forgive me? I love you. It is not too late to end this estrangement of ours… ” He fell to his knees again, sobbing uncontrollably as he placed his head in her lap.

“Oh God, Mablung.” Buffy attempted to console him. She could feel her own tears running down her face. How could he possibly want to get back together after so many years apart? Especially when he was the one who was adamant about ending their relationship in the first place. And how would he take the news that she had already moved on? She had no desire to return to Doriath nor to him. But that didn’t mean that a part of her would always love and care about him.

Mablung continued sobbing, uttering incoherent phrases. Buffy caught the words, “madness” and “lost my mind,“ but not much else. It was then that she heard the malicious laughter of Morgoth in her head. And all became clear to her. She knew at that moment that Morgoth had found another way to mess with her. He had used his powers to bewitch her lover into ending their relationship. And here was poor Mablung, clueless as to what the Dark Lord had done to him, begging Buffy for forgiveness. It was nearly too much for her to bear. The Slayer felt her anger rising as a loud crack of thunder rang out in the night. Morgoth had crossed the line.



* lyrics by Klaus Meine