Full Circle

Questions soon turned into accusations as the C-brothers (Celegorm, Caranthir and Curufin), attacked the Slayer’s virtue or lack thereof. Maglor, the twins and Maedhros vehemently defended her honor while Úrion appeared to be amused by this whole new development. Buffy felt a deep sense of shame and embarrassment by some of the things that were being said. The irony of it all was nearly too much for her to bear. How dare the C-brothers make any comment about Buffy’s righteousness! They were miffed by the fact that she had had the children out of wedlock. While it wasn’t her shining moment, they sure didn’t have room to talk. Who were they to say a damn word when they were guilty of the Kinslaying at Alqualondë! They were not aware that the Slayer knew all about their past, although at that very moment, everyone’s dirty laundry was being aired.

Buffy and Úrion, who had remained silent throughout the entire debacle, were the only ones left seated. This whole situation was getting out of hand and the Slayer was at her wits end. This was supposed to be a celebration of her betrothal not the circus that it had now become. Without saying one word, the Slayer closed her eyes and disappeared in a blinding light.

A moment later, Buffy arrived in the entrance hall of Sussrúmnir where her maidens outfitted her in her ceremonial garb. As she climbed the staircase, she moved her hand in a circular motion, uttered a spell and placed a mystical force field around Folkvang. No one would be permitted to enter or leave her realm until she lifted said barrier, including her children. The Slayer needed some alone time in order to think things through. It seemed like something always happened to screw up what should be a happy moment in her life. Did she really deserve all this?

Perhaps her brethren were getting back at her or maybe the curse that was placed on the Noldor had begun to work its spell. She entered her Hall of Judgment and sat upon her throne, but did not bid any to enter. This was her time to reflect upon things that had happened, that were happening and that would someday happen. Part of the Doom of Mandos was that all things that the Noldor did would start out well but then turn to shit in the end. Námo also foretold that there would be those amongst the exiles that would betray their own kin but to what degree, the Slayer did not know. She had no idea that she would be betrayed by her own children. Well, that’s how she felt by their untimely appearance.

After a while, the Slayer summoned all of the dead into her chamber, their number totaled one hundred forty-two. Instead of judging them, she simply sent them all to Mandos. No desire did Buffy have to remain in Sussrúmnir any longer than need be. She only came to her kingdom to find answers, to ‘see’ what the immediate future had in store for her.

“You know what needs to be done,” said a melodious voice after all the spirits of the slain had vanished. She recognized that voice; it was the same one that had told her to build the Deeper Well years ago. The Slayer was quite shocked that ‘someone’ was able to break through her mystical barrier.

“Who are you?” she queried. The sound of her voice echoed within the mammoth chamber.

“The time has not yet arrived for me to divulge my identity. In time, all shall become clear to you, Maranwë Fëantári.”

“Why are you here?” she asked again as her eyes scanned the room. She could feel a ‘presence’ but could see no one.

“It is time for you to plant the seeds of dissention amongst the mortal race. For too long they have been under the influence of Melkor and Illyria. They must know that hope truly lies in the West, that there is hope for a brighter future but they must have faith.”

“Faith in what?” she inquired.

“Faith in you, my dear Maranwë, faith in you,” answered the voice.

“I’m not ready to make war with… with my daughter,” she replied softly.

“I did not say anything about waging war against your firstborn! You must fulfill your destiny, Luinil. Cultivate those seeds of dissention… and hope shall be renewed for you as well!” commanded the voice.

“How?” she asked.

“You must seek the lands of Illyria. Go forth and see what you find!” came the response.

“Why me? Can’t the Valar send someone else? I’m not ready for this,” whispered Buffy uneasily.

“Be not afraid, child. No ill will come to you. You are the one destined to deliver mankind from Melkor Bauglir; no other Ainu has the ability to gain their trust except you. The time has now arrived for you to see what is transpiring in that region.” That was the last that she heard from the voice. The Slayer sat there and pondered all that she had heard. She reluctantly concluded that it was now time for her to pay a visit to Illyria’s realm in order to see for herself just what her firstborn had been up to in the east.

Buffy was contemplating how she was going to accomplish that task when she noticed a persistent banging on the double doors to her Hall. “Maranwë! Maranwë! Open up! I know that you are finished doling out your judgments! Open the goddamn door!” That voice belonged to none other than Marto, who seemed to be highly agitated. She shifted her gaze from the vats of Fire to the double doors and willed them open. Marto entered the chamber in a huff. “How dare you!” he shouted as he crossed the massive room towards her throne. “How can you lock our children out of their home?” Marto demanded angrily.

The Slayer rose to her feet and descended half way down the dais before stopping. She furrowed her eyebrows at the Maia; she wasn’t in the mood to deal with him.

“And was it not you, Marto, that sent them to interfere with my betrothal celebration in the first place?” she asked coldly. Her eyes bore into his. He broke eye contact for a second, which indicated to Buffy that he was the culprit behind the fiasco at Himring.

Marto stood taller. “Indeed, it was I,” he replied. “That Maglor will only cause you pain… ”

Buffy yelled, “Who the hell are you to make a call like that?!” She descended the last few steps. “You have no right… ”

“Yes, I do. You’re the mother of my children… ”

Instead of replying, the Slayer punched him in the face, sending him flying across the chamber. He collided with the wall and fell into a heap onto marble floor as Buffy quickly crossed the chamber.

“How’s that for some pain?” she queried angrily as she pulled him to his feet. When Buffy caught sight of the blood dripping from his mouth, her anger began to ebb. “Don’t you realize that if Melkor discovers them that he will have them killed?” she asked through gritted teeth.

“Then that’s more the reason to bring them home in haste,” he responded dazedly.

Buffy let go of him and ran her fingers through her hair. “I’ve got too much to deal with right now, Marto. You can’t be sending our kids all over Middle-earth like messengers. It’s too risky. I love them and don’t want them to get hurt… or worse, killed.”

“Then bring them home straight away,” he pleaded, rubbing his jaw. “PLEASE!”

The Slayer sighed heavily. “I will. But let me tell you something, don’t ever let them leave Folkvang again! I’ll figure out… Just… keep them here and safe. Promise me,” she ordered.

“I promise,” he answered.

Buffy walked passed Marto towards the doors. She stopped as she placed her hand on the knob, her eyes remained fixed on the door before her and she quietly said, “I know what life has in store for me and Maglor. I see that there will be pain, but that’s part of love. I will relish every moment that Eru grants to us.” She became melancholy and took a deep breath. “It is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all,” she added before leaving the room.

“And what about me?” uttered Marto sadly, his voice echoed in the empty chamber. A few seconds later, his spirits were lifted when the twins entered the Hall. “Mirë! Anno!” he exclaimed as he embraced his only children.

After the Slayer removed her garb, she left for Ossiriand. She had decided that the best way to scope things out in the east was by using her falcon coat. The lions would be too obvious and she had not yet retrieved their mail from Marto’s forges. She didn’t want them to risk injury especially since this was only going to be a reconnaissance mission.

The members of her Household were quite shocked by her sudden arrival. Buffy explained all that had happened at Himring and was already regretting her hasty departure, but under the circumstances, she had to get away from that whole situation. She thought that maybe after some time, the C-brothers would calm down and see that she was merely a victim of circumstance more than anything. She did send messengers (her doves) to Maglor explaining that she had to tend to ‘Slayer business’ in the east and that she would reunite with him at Himring when she had finished. She didn’t expect to be gone for more than a few days.

When she clasped the last button on her magical coat, the Slayer instantly transformed into a falcon. She flew out the opened door and took off towards the peaks of Ered Luin and beyond. It had been a long time since she had last used her coat and she found that flying was as exhilarating as ever. Nothing comes close to the feeling of soaring through the air; it was the epitome of freedom.

The Slayer did not fly all the way to Orocarni and she did make a couple of stops, one at Khazâd-Dum and the other at the Deeper Well. The only reason for her brief visits were so she could enjoy a hot bath and a hot meal. Hunting other birds or small beasts for food was not her favorite aspect of being a bird of prey but it kind of went with the territory.

Illyria’s lands were well over a twenty-four hundred miles from Beleriand. Buffy materialized on a ridge on the eastern face of the Red Mountains so that she could look down upon her daughter’s kingdom. The Slayer was floored by the vast size of the city, which was still under construction. It appeared that she had managed to enslave the entire human race to do her bidding. The sight was reminiscent of hundreds of thousands of worker ants laboring for their Queen, who was at ease within the confines of her citadel. Thousands of men, women and children were busy at work, whips cracked on their backs if they failed to move speedily enough for the demon overlords.

Buffy needed to get a closer look, but was unsure of how to proceed on. She couldn’t ignore the fact that her sweet daughter had an army a half million strong. At the age of fifty-three, she had enough wisdom to know that if she went all Rambo, she’d be killed in a heartbeat. The wall that surrounded the city was not yet complete and easily scalable. Unfortunately, it was well guarded by yrch who were stationed every five feet around the entire perimeter. Dispersed throughout the city were the flaming bodies of the Balrogs; they glowed even in daylight. The Valaraukar, (Quenya name for Balrogs), seemed to be mostly situated within close proximity to the citadel of the city, the home of Illyria. The many pillared stone structure looked to be the only one completed.

The city of stone was built facing the north east between two rivers, one to the north, the other south. Approximately two hundred miles to the east was the Great Eastern Sea. One blessed with good eyesight could see the eastern chain of Morgoth’s Iron Mountains about one thousand miles to the north. But to mortal and elvish eyes, the only mountains that could be seen were the Red Mountains to the west, for the city was built at its feet.

Where the rocky surface ended, arose groves of fruit trees, great fields and farmland that now lay barren with the approach of winter. Oxen, sheep, kine and horses still lazily grazed on the dying grass within their corrals. It was apparent that the beasts were well cared for, at least from what Buffy could see. There were many houses and outbuildings scattered throughout this farming area, which was located about twenty miles from the wall of the city.

As she focused her attention on the ruralists, she couldn’t help but notice that these people were not under the ever-constant eye of the demon overlords. Not one orch or Balrog was stationed in that part of the country. It was apparent to Buffy that she had to somehow get in with one of those farmer types in order to obtain information about the goings on with Illyria. But how?

She supposed that it made the most sense to attempt to eavesdrop while in her current state. Hopefully, the Hildor wouldn’t feel threatened by her presence and kill her. The Slayer thought it was worth a shot so she flew off the ridge towards the nearest homestead. She landed on the limb of an ash tree and watched as a golden haired, broad-shouldered shepherd tended to the sheep. Buffy cocked her head and listened intently to the song that he was singing; the words were in a language different from all others that she had heard in Arda. However, it only took her a few moments before she understood the lyrics. She spent the rest of the day watching this man interact with the others on the homestead.

At nightfall, the smell of roasting meat permeated the evening air making Buffy rather peckish. The thought of having to hunt and kill something to eat was not an option after smelling that aroma, but the Slayer had no idea how to approach the strangers in a peaceable way. She flew to the ground and suddenly found herself in a totally new and unrecognizable form - that of an old lady!

Buffy first observed her hands, which looked bony and wrinkly. As she stood upright, she noticed the long, gray hair that framed her face. The Slayer was stunned by her metamorphosis. She found her new visage to be very disconcerting; Buffy assumed that she would always remain young and beautiful, never would she have imagined herself as an old hag! This was not done intentionally on her part. Even her magical coat was affected; it resembled a black fur cloak.

She decided that this was the work of her brethren and that perhaps this was the best ‘form’ to use when approaching the Hildor. Slowly, Buffy walked from the edge of the woods towards the well-lit house. Her anxiety increased with every step; she had no idea what to expect. The Slayer knocked on the door and a few moments later, it swung open.

A tall dark haired man dressed entirely in black stood on the threshold. “What can I do for you, mother?” he asked in a friendly manner.

Buffy kind of played the part of someone with Alzheimer’s; she acted confused and lost. The stranger looked at her with pity and invited her in. Bingo! It looked like her plan was going to work. She was seated at the table with the fifteen other people that resided there and her hosts graciously offered her both food and drink. All were dark haired, grey eyed except for the matriarch and one of her sons (the golden-haired man that Buffy had seen earlier.)

Brolach was the name of the lord of the homestead. It soon became apparent to the Slayer that despite their fair facade, a shadow lay upon these mortals. They were devout followers of the “King,” - Illyria. Buffy found it rather odd that her daughter would take a title of masculinity, but then again, Buffy referred to herself as Dagnir, which was a masculine form of ‘Slayer.’ Regardless, it looked like her beloved daughter had a bad case of ‘penis envy.’

The family happily conversed with Buffy as they ate their meal but the more she heard, the more disturbed she became. Wickedness ruled in these parts, and man had already been corrupted to do evil, one onto the other. All those that had passed through Sussrúmnir so far, had been killed for the sole amusement of the King. In essence, they did die on the battlefield although they were battling each other as a form of entertainment. It was very much like the gladiators in ancient Roman times. Buffy’s appetite quickly diminished and it took everything she had not to weep as she heard the stories that the people of Brolach had told.

The Slayer spent the next three days with these individuals. It was on that last night, after all had gone to bed, that Buffy sat in a rocking chair in the main living area, weeping uncontrollably. She was unsure of what to do next. Mankind worshiped Illyria and Melkor and the things that they had done in their name were horrendous. She was definitely not ready to attack Illyria; that was quite obvious to her, but she had to do something to create some type of rift between man and the ‘gods’ that they revered. But she had no idea about how to do it. She prayed for guidance from above.

Orran, the eldest son of Brolach, entered the chamber and found the Slayer in tears. He attempted to comfort her but had little success. Before long, she woke the entire household with her wailing.

“What is it, mother?” asked Brolach, who crouched before her chair. “It disturbs me to see you anguish so.”

Buffy looked deep into the man’s grey eyes and knew now was the time to act. She had to reveal herself and see if she could convince these people to change their ways. With a wave of her hand, all the curtains in the house closed. The occupants gasped in shock to see such magic’s from an old woman. Little did they know that they hadn’t seen anything yet. The Slayer started to emit a soft light that gradually became brighter and brighter until all were blinded and had to shield their eyes from her radiance. When the light faded, Buffy stood there in her ‘normal’ youthful form. The words that came out of her mouth were spoken with such authority that even the Slayer was amazed to hear them.

“Ill deeds you have committed people of the house of Brolach. Now is the time for you to change your evil ways or you will suffer horrible torments for the rest of eternity. For I am Maranwë Fëantári, and all who die must pass through my Halls and face my judgment!” The people fell to their knees, trembling in fear. Buffy’s power radiated from her, they knew that she spoke the truth. “Only through me can you find salvation,” she continued as she conjured images of her Blessed Realm before their eyes.

“Great rewards await those who join with the forces of Light,” she began again. “I believe in repentance. I believe in second chances when others do not. Illyria and Melkor have enslaved you; they have taken control your will and tainted your fey’s. The path that you have chosen leads only to Darkness.” Buffy’s eyes burned with an intensity that filled all present with love, hope, and fear.

“Do you wish to sacrifice your firstborn in the name of evil?” she asked the pregnant daughter of Brolach. She then looked at the others. “Do you desire to slaughter those of your own bloodline? Or do you wish for your line to continue unsullied through the ages of the world?” she asked.

The sobbing pregnant woman crawled on all fours towards the Slayer. She grabbed the bottom of Buffy’s feathered coat. “Forgive us, Lady. Show us mercy. Please! Forgive us!” she pleaded. Buffy looked at the woman sympathetically.

“Rise, my child,” she heard herself say, much to her own surprise (the woman looked to be a few years younger than the Slayer). “I will pardon the sins of your past… all of you, but in return you must help me.”

They all groveled at her feet. Brolach then tearfully spoke up, “My dear Lady, we will do as you bid. None of us want to be cursed to eternal damnation. We want our line to continue through the ages of the world. We repent of our past deeds, Lady… Lady Astarte.” Yes, Buffy was given yet another name.

“Rise. All of you,” she commanded. They did as they were told. “Atonement I will grant unto you when I deem that you have proved your faithfulness to me. It is always easier to take the road of hatred and evilness than it is for love and goodliness. But the rewards are just for whichever path you choose; the Light or the Dark.”

They all cried out, “The Light! The Light! The Light!” Buffy answered their prayers by filling the room with the essence of her fey. All felt the warmth of her love and the faith that she had in them. They vowed not to let her down. The Slayer then gave a sapphire cross to the patriarch of the family.

“Keep this hid from the eyes of the enemy. It has been blessed by me and is a token of my House. Spread the word of love and hope, but be weary of those who are truly wolves disguised in sheep’s clothing. The enemy runs rampant throughout this entire region, so use care. But rejoice in knowing that there are others out there that are seeking the Light as well. Find them. Unite. And be prepared to fight. When the appointed time comes, I will gather my armies and together we will defeat this power and bring back the Light.”

Before Buffy departed, she told Brolach and his kinfolk that she would return from time to time to check on them and their progress. She enjoyed one last home cooked meal with the Hildor and asked many pertinent questions that she was unable to before. One of the most important things that she had learned was that the overlords checked on the farmers once a week and that tomorrow would be the day that they would paying a visit to the homesteads. The Slayer made a mental note of that, she hoped that she would be able to keep track of the overlords’ schedule once she returned home. She had now been gone for nine days and was quite eager to get back to Himring and Maglor.

It was late at night when she finally left the homestead. She transformed within the house of Brolach before disappearing in a blinding light. The Slayer reappeared just west of Ered Luin, close to the borders of her own land. She felt that her trip was a success even though she really didn’t accomplish much. Her faith was placed in man and she hoped beyond hope that they would not disappoint her.

Buffy was in a fantastic mood and soaring through the cool night air invigorated her spirit even more. It was then that she noticed a group of people far below about ten miles north of the River Ascar. Since they were so close to Ossir, she thought that she’d take a closer look and began to descend from the sky. The moon was out in all its glory and from that height, the Slayer could only make out shadows and nothing else. Her excitement grew when she realized that these were dwarves, probably her friends from Belegost or perhaps Nogrod, on their way to visit her land.

The Slayer’s eagerness to see her friends was ill-fated, because these were not the dwarves from Belegost or Nogrod. She was unaware that this was a wandering band of petty dwarves, evil and greedy beings that were banished long ago by their kin in Orocarni for committing atrocious acts against their own kind. There were nearly seven hundred of them in this group from what Buffy could see with her keen eyes, yet she continued to descend even lower.

The petty dwarves beckoned the falcon to come closer and Buffy, thinking that they were friendly, obliged. When she was only fifty feet above them, one of the evil dwarves hurled a throwing axe at her. The Slayer was so shocked that had no time to react. The axe met its mark and imbedded itself into her chest. She squawked in pain as she ascended towards the heavens in an attempt to escape the other objects that were thrown at her injured form. Her thoughts immediately turned to Maglor and that’s when she vanished within a brilliant blue light.

Things only got worse for the Slayer when she reappeared in a burst of blue flame outside the gates of Himring, while mid-air. Her magical button that caused her mystical transformation had come undone and Buffy was now plummeting to the earth in her wounded mortal body. She tried to prepare for the impact as best she could, all the while keeping an eye on the axe in her chest. Her inner voice told her to leave it alone and the Slayer could only hope that she landed on her back.

CRASH! Buffy landed against the slope of the adjoining hill, knocking the wind out of her. Her body rolled about thirty feet before coming to a halt. The pain was excruciating! She then heard the sound of a single horn blast ring out in the cold night air. Her glazed over eyes looked up at the moon above, it seemed to be snickering at her new misfortune. The words that the Voice had spoken earlier echoed in her mind: No ill will come to you. Buffy saw that as treachery, her feelings of hostility towards the Powers had now been ignited. And then she saw no more…