Full Circle

After a hot meal and bath, the Slayer remained in her bedchamber with Maglor. They lay on the bed kissing passionately. Despite her numerous attempts at seducing the elf, he was not receptive.

“What’s wrong?” asked the dejected Slayer.

“You have suffered a terrible wound, Maranwë. I don’t think you should exert yourself just yet,” he replied with concern.

“I feel fine, Maglor,” she whined as she tenderly caressed him. “The only thing I’m feeling is amorous.”

Maglor rolled out of bed. “I’m sorry, my beloved, but I really feel we need to wait until you’re better.” He seemed restless. “It has occurred to me that I need to discuss something of the utmost importance with Russandol.” He placed a kiss on her forehead. “I will be back soon.”

“So, that’s it!” she said with an air of annoyance in her voice. “You don’t care about my needs, do you?” she queried as Maglor was about to leave the chamber.

The Noldo stopped. “That is not true, Maranwë. I love you but you need to rest.” He smiled before leaving the room.

Buffy was not happy that her feminine wiles had not worked on Maglor. She got to her feet and looked at her reflection in the mirror. How vile, she thought as she studied the numerous scars on her naked body. The Slayer opened a drawer, pulled out a small box that contained her miracle salve and began applying it to the various scars. No wonder the elf doesn’t desire me, she thought. The salve removed all the scars that she could reach except for the mark on her breast, no matter how hard she tried that one would not come off. Since she was unable to remove the marks from her back, she decided that she would need a little assistance. Buffy pulled on her robe, put the box in her pocket and left the room.

A few minutes later, she arrived outside Úrion’s bedchamber. She knocked on the door.

“Enter,” said the voice of Buffy’s confidant. She entered the room and saw the elf sitting in a chair perusing one of the books from Maedhros’ library. When he saw the woman, he immediately put the book to the side as a huge smile came upon his face. “You were successful, I take it,” commented a hopeful Úrion.

The Slayer’s lips curled into a mischievous grin as she disrobed and walked seductively towards the ‘elf’. Without saying a word, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him passionately. “Take me, now,” she purred.

“I have been waiting for this day for so long,” he replied as he carried the Slayer to his bed. It had been too long since Úrion had last experienced the simple pleasures of the flesh. His excitement grew even more when she literally tore the clothing off his body. Nothing brought him greater satisfaction then reuniting with his long time love…

When they finished their passionate lovemaking session, Úrion held his lover tightly in his arms. “Oh, how I’ve missed you, my sweet Angwen,” he whispered breathlessly in her ear. “So, tell me, is Maranwë safely back in Angband?”

“No! She is far, far away where no one will ever find her,” she replied as she placed many kisses on his chest.

“You did not send her back to Melkor?” he queried. “That was part of the plan.”

The woman sat up and looked at her lover. “Hmm, that’s right,” she said as she ran her fingers through her hair. “You didn’t hear my little speech that I had with the sons of Fëanor. We have a change of plans, love. To hell with what Melkor says. This is our only chance to bring Middle-earth to its knees,” revealed Angwen excitedly. “I do not understand why our Lord is so infatuated with Maranwë. It is folly but he does not see it, does he?” She shook her head in disgust before she continued. “My dear Úrion, it’s time for us to claim the Lordship over this world. No longer will I heed the words of our Master nor anyone else… ”

“You fool!” barked the enraged Maia as he leapt out of bed and began to dress. “You cannot go against the will of Melkor. What were you thinking?”

Angwen looked at him sheepishly. “I’m doing what’s best for us,” she said as she crawled out of bed. “It is unfair that Maranwë wields so much power yet she does not properly put it to use. With me in her body, we’ll be able to gather the strength of these elves and dwarves and make war with Melkor… ”

Úrion backhanded the woman, sending her to the floor. “You’re a stupid bitch!” he said through clenched teeth.

“That sounds like something that Luinil would say,” she whimpered.

The Maia seized the woman by the hair, bringing her back to her feet. Her left cheek was already turning deep red from the slap. He grabbed her by the shoulders, his fingers dug deep into her flesh.

“You are a fool! I will not stand by and allow you to thwart the plans of my Lord. I’ve worked too hard to earn the trust of Bella… ”

“So, its Bella now, is it? I’m beginning to think that you have more on your mind than just Melkor’s plan. It sounds like you’re infatuated with the Vala as well… ”

Úrion slugged her this time. Blood spewed from her nose. “I’ve always found you to be rather endearing, Angwen, but now, it appears that I am having a change of heart. For fifteen hundred years we’ve been together, and now, I deem that you are devoid of all common sense!”

Angwen mopped the blood up with one of her lover’s tunics. “And it seems that you’re ready to toss me aside in order to cozy up to Maranwë,” she spat out angrily.

Úrion did his best to regain his composure. He poured them each a glass of miruvóre. “Your assignment is to wed the elf and bear his child. Those are Melkor’s orders! And that is exactly what you will do!” he declared as he handed her a drink. The Maia sighed heavily before he continued in a much calmer tone of voice. “Listen to me, Angwen. I don’t want to hurt you, but you must do as you’ve been told. I command it.”

“The elf rejected my advances,” she whispered with shame.

“Then you will continue to try. I have a backup plan if all else fails,” replied Úrion.

Angwen sat on the bed, nursing her miruvóre. “You have no idea what it’s like to be in this… this shell,” she confessed solemnly. “No matter how hard I wash, I’m covered in Maranwë’s scent and it repulses me to no end. I have all her memories… I know her desires, her fears… ” She smiled when she said the word ‘fears.’ “Her essence has left behind traces of love and goodliness. It makes me want to vomit. I’m the one who’s suffering here, Úrion. I do not understand why I can’t wreak a little havoc in her life. It’s only just, if you ask me.”

The Maia sat beside his beloved. “If you run afoul, you will leave me no other choice but to kill you,” revealed Úrion coolly. Angwen looked at him with an appalled expression on her face. “Melkor has labored endlessly to see that his designs come to fruition. He had the foresight to coordinate everything from the vampires in Brethil to Maranwë’s break up with Mablung. Our Lord knew exactly how she would react to every situation, and the outcome has always been as he expected. Do not think that he doesn’t have the ability to see what you are up to, my dear. Melkor is the greatest Vala of them all. None can surpass him when it comes to deception and deviousness.

“You must carry out his orders! I cannot stress that enough, Angwen. I do not want to lose you, but we must follow his orders… Now, tell me, where is Maranwë?”

“She is locked away in a mystical prison,” she replied with a laugh.

“Where is this prison?” he queried. His annoyance was apparent.

Angwen got to her feet. “I’m afraid I cannot tell you that,” she answered. “No, I think that Maranwë should suffer. It has not been nearly long enough.”

“What has she done to you to cause you to hate her so?” asked a perplexed Úrion.

“It is not what she has done but what she will do,” replied the worried woman. She glanced at the ‘elf’ and added, “Her elven lover needs to die.”

Úrion threw his glass across the room; it shattered against the wall. “Damn it! I’m not playing games here, Angwen,” he growled as he got to his feet. “If Maglor dies, I will see to it, personally, that you are taken back to Angband where you will suffer horribly at the hands of Melkor. Do not doubt my words. My loyalty to my Lord bests my love for you on any given day.”

His words frightened Angwen. She knew in her heart that he spoke the truth.

“I am imbued with all this power, which is new and extraordinary to me. It will not be long before the residue of Maranwë’s essence fades. I will not sit idly by and not put it to proper use. Farewell, my love. Until we meet again,” she said with a wicked grin, before vanishing in a blinding blue light.

“Shit!” exclaimed an infuriated Úrion. What the hell was he going to do now?



Maglor found Maedhros in his private chambers. “Russandol? Russandol?” he called as he went from room to room.

The copper-topped elf stood in the doorway between one of his sitting rooms and his workout room. He was wearing only breeches and his upper body glistened with sweat.

“What is it, Maglor?” queried Maedhros, as he entered the chamber. “You do not look well. What troubles you?”

“It’s Maranwë,” he said nervously. He started pacing. “I know my beloved, Russandol. I am no fool. But that woman in there is NOT my future wife,” he disclosed as he pointed towards his chamber. “She may look like her, and speak like her, but the words that spew out of her mouth… that is not my Maranwë. It is an imposter!”

“Surely, you jest,” laughed Maedhros. A moment later, the elder brother realized that Maglor was speaking the truth. It was not in his nature to lie. His mirth was quickly replaced with distress. “How… how can that be? I have not heard of a Vala being… possessed by another fey.”

“Until now,” replied Maglor.

“You’re trembling,” remarked Maedhros as his eyes scrutinized his brother carefully. “Come, sit down,” he instructed, as he walked his brother to a chair. “Let me get you a drink,” he continued as he prepared them both a glass of wine. “What do we do? Should we inform our brothers and Úrion?”

“NO!” exclaimed the dark haired Noldo. “No one can know save you and I,” he stated nervously. “I don’t know what’s going on here or what to do… We need to think this through before we do anything rash.” His gaze met his brothers. “We don’t know who we’re dealing with here, or what she hopes to achieve by impersonating my lover.”

Maedhros handed his brother a drink before taking his from the crook of his arm. “Bella is the most powerful woman in Middle-earth,” stated the copper-topped elf as he took a seat on the settee. “It appears that someone is trying to usurp that power. Does she have any enemies?”

“She’s the Slayer. Of course, she has enemies,” answered Maglor. “This has to be the work of Morgoth… or possibly Illyria. That would make more sense since she is female.”

“If this demonic fey is possessing Bellaseth’s body, where is Bellaseth?” asked Maedhros.

Maglor looked up with tear-filled eyes. “That’s what frightens me the most, brother,” whispered the dark haired Noldo. “My heart aches when I think of the torments that await her. I would freely exchange places with her, if I could. She is good, Russandol, and filled with such joy and love,” sobbed Maglor into his hands. “I fear the worst is yet to come.”

Maedhros was saddened by this whole ordeal. And it did not help matters any, that one of Morgoth’s minions was currently residing within his own Halls. He found that to be quite unsettling.

“What of Luthor?” he queried, in an attempt to find a possible solution to this dilemma. “Is there any way that we can send a messenger to him?”

“I do not know where The Deeper Well is located,” answered Maglor as he wiped his eyes on the cuff of his tunic. “Bella transported us there by means of magic. I’m afraid we can rule out that option.”

“Very well,” replied Maedhros, as he rose to his feet and began to pace. “Let me think… How about the doves? Surely, the birds that Luinil holds dear will be able to find her,” suggested the copper-topped elf.

Maglor snorted in frustration. He appreciated his brother’s good intentions, but winter had already arrived in full force. No birds were to be found this far north at this time of year. However, that gave Maglor another idea; Buffy had taught him how to summon the doves. Surely, if they heard it, they would come, especially for him.

With his hope renewed, Maglor and his older brother quickly grabbed their cloaks, and climbed to the top of Maedhros’ tower. The dark haired Noldo surmised that the sound of his call would travel further if he climbed to the highest point of Himring. He knew that the doves were many leagues away, nesting in the mammoth trees of Ossiriand. Using the gift that was bestowed unto him, Maglor’s voice then traveled far and wide over Beleriand. In time, the doves would answer that summons.



Angwen was of the race of the mighty Maiar, and was one who did not normally possess the ability to teleport herself. She was quite shocked when she arrived at Folkvang. Immediately after her arrival, Buffy’s handmaidens dressed the Queen in her ceremonial garb in order for her to pronounce her judgments on those that had been slain. A wicked smile came upon Angwen’s face as she ascended the staircase leading to the Hall of Judgment. She saw this as an opportunity to exact her vengeance upon the Slayer.

The Maia relished the power that she commanded while she sat upon that throne of lapis lazuli. She had the ability to do whatever she wanted to with those that had been slain. Angwen was held in awe as she watched each individual’s life unfold before her very eyes. That was something that she had not yet experienced in her many years of life. Good men she left to sit in waiting, fearing that if she sent to them Mandos, Námo would discover that she had infiltrated his sister’s body. All those that had committed evil deeds in their past lives, were re-embodied and free to live life once again. Angwen was assured by the wicked men that they would run amok in the Blessed Realm, which meant more sorrow for Maranwë and her people. So enthralled was she with this power, that she gave little consideration to time, and to how swiftly it moves in Folkvang.

When the Maia finished proclaiming her judgments, she was stunned by the sudden arrival of the twins. She knew who they were from the memories stored in Buffy’s mind, but she truly did not understand the powers that they possessed. She found them to be strange yet beautiful, and their essence was filled with both joy and sorrow. To her dismay, she also noticed that they were very wise and quick to anger, especially Anno.

“Well, if it’s not my two favorite children, Anno and Mirë,” she said sweetly as she descended the steps of her dais. “They have come to welcome me home.” The siblings eyed each other.

“How dare you speak to us as though you’re our mother,” declared an angry Mirë. At that moment, the twins used their magic’s to ensnare the woman in a mystical net. She was suspended above the floor, uttering curses under her breath.

“Have you gone mad?” asked an alarmed Angwen. She tried her best to hide her fear, but the twins were very perceptive and not easily deceived.

“Do you think that we do not recognize our mother?” yelled Anno. “She gave us life!”

“I am your mother!” proclaimed Angwen. “Someone must have cast a spell of enchantment upon you, which is causing your ignorance. Can’t you see that?”

Anno walked up to the captured Maia. He violently grabbed her by the face, and looked into her eyes. She could now feel his power and his ire.

“You reek of foulness,” he said with contempt. “Mother had the foresight to prepare a special place in Sussrúmnir for the likes of you.”

“You will reveal our mother’s whereabouts, one way or another,” declared Mirë, who now stood beside her brother.

In an instant, the trio disappeared, only to reappear a moment later, in one of Buffy’s ‘Dungeons of Doom.’ The empty chamber was located in the bottommost level of Sussrúmnir. The room itself looked to be constructed from large blocks of black shiny stones. On the western wall was a large icon of a lion constructed from copper and gold. There were no windows, the only light came from a single moonstone, (a device wrought by Aulë and his people in Valinor that gives off a dim light), mounted to the ceiling.

Angwen was not at pleased to find herself in this situation. She had enough foresight to see that things did not bode well for her at the moment. Yet, she continued to proclaim that she was the ‘real’ Buffy and mother to the twins.

Buffy’s children stood on either side of an enmeshed Angwen. Their calm disposition frightened the Maia even more; she frantically tried to break out of the mystical net.

“You will not harm me!” she cried out fearfully. “It’s not in your nature, I know it isn’t.”

“Your conclusion is correct,” replied Mirë. “We are seers, not torturers.”

“That is why Failo will assist us in this matter,” informed Anno.

Suddenly, a tall, broad-shouldered man, nearly eight feet tall, sprung from the mouth of the lion on the wall. He was dressed completely in black and had a hood pulled over his head that concealed his face. On his hands were wicked-looking gloves that most surely were meant to inflict pain. It was covered in numerous little, sharp spikes from the knuckles to the elbow.

“We will return in one hour,” declared Mirë. She then took her brother’s proffered arm, and together they left the chamber. When the door closed behind them, both it and the net that ensnared Angwen, disappeared. The evil woman trembled in fear knowing that her own magicks were useless as long as she remained confined in that tomb-like room.

“As you’ve heard, I am Failo the Just, and I will be the one to extract the information that the Lord and Lady have requested of me,” revealed the huge man. The woman cowered in the corner as the huge form of Failo descended upon her…



Over one thousand miles to the west of Hildórien is a region known as the Hither Lands; the place that now comes into this tale, lies over one hundred miles to the south of the Inland Sea of Helcar. There, the region is barren and devoid of all vegetation and streams. It was a vast desert that stretched as far as the eye could see. This was the home of Thurin, a former ally of Melkor’s that revolted against the Dark Foe ages ago. So great was his fear of the wrath of Morgoth, that he hid himself in this desolate wasteland, demanding tribute from any that wished to cross his territory. Great and turbulent sandstorms are his specialty, the kind that can bury any man in a matter of seconds.

Seldom, did any wander into his domain, but those that attempted to undermine Morgoth’s reign of power were always most welcomed. That is why long ago, he allowed entry to a group of wicked Maiar that planned to seize the lordship of Endor (Middle-earth) from Melkor. Thurin liked the idea of distributing the power amongst many smaller kingdoms as opposed to the tyrannical regime that was now in place.

There were no structures located in this arid region except for one - a pyramid. The tall menacing building was, in fact, a tomb. It contained many chambers on several levels, but it was in the deepest subterranean vault that the ‘real’ Buffy had been imprisoned for many years.

She remembered nothing after getting hit by the dwarf’s throwing axe. When she awoke, she found herself naked and alone on the dust-covered floor of the pitch-black chamber. All the magic’s that Buffy had possessed had been quelled, and she could find no means of escape. She attempted to use her slayer strength to punch an escape route through the thick brick wall and was quite successful. That is, until she reached the wall of iron, something that her strength alone could not penetrate. The floor was made of thick stone that she only had the might to crack, but could not break through. The room was sealed shut.

Buffy sat on the floor, exhausted. Her knuckles were swollen, bruised, bleeding and probably broken. Without food and water, she no longer had the energy to continue to ‘beat’ her way out. All hope in finding a secret passageway had faded. She collapsed onto the ground, the realization that she was really trapped finally sinking in. If she had had the strength, she’d cry, not for herself, but for those that would inevitably suffer by her absence. Surely, Melkor was behind this new torment.