Full Circle

Angwen endured the torments of Failo for many years. One thing that she came to realize was: Failo’s bark was much worse than his bite! He was an amateur when it came to inflicting pain. She was given food, water and at times, allowed to rest in order to heal from the ‘mortal’ wounds that she had received. Not once, did he ever come close to breaking her. The Maiar at Folkvang did not have a clue about pain, nor how to dole it out properly. She could teach them a thing or two.

The only thing that she feared in that Blessed Realm was the possibility of the Slayer returning. While Angwen felt confident that she would never be found, there was still that nagging doubt in the back of her mind. The Maia did not truly know how many allies that Buffy had in Arda until after she had entered her body. That was the source of all her doubt. Maranwë Luinil had formed many bonds in Middle-earth. A great many people were willing to fight to the death if she gave the word, including some that now dwell in Angband. That’s what infuriated the Maia the most. The “bitch” had allies everywhere.

After she had finished eating, Angwen waited impatiently for one of the Maiar to arrive to take away her tray. She was used to that little ‘ritual’ at this point. For some reason, she had an overwhelming feeling that something odd was about to happen. Angwen could not convey what she felt into words, but it was in fact, what some call déjà vu.

When she heard the sound of the key unlocking the mystical door, she moved to the furthest corner, which was part of the procedure when anyone entered the chamber. To her amazement, Anairë crossed the threshold. She smiled to herself, knowing that her fortune was about to change. Never before had the white-haired Maia entered this chamber. Not once. Quickly, Angwen formulated a plan in her mind.

“I take it that everything was acceptable,” remarked Anairë after she had entered the room, the key clasped in her left hand.

Angwen snickered to herself. The former servant of Manwë spoke to her as though she were a houseguest, not a prisoner. If it were the other way around, Anairë would be damned lucky to receive a hefty serving of warg dung for her meal!

“The food was delicious, as always,” she replied in her kindest voice. Angwen then let out a heavy sigh and leaned her head against the stone wall.

“What troubles you?” asked the ever respectful white-haired Maia. It became apparent to Angwen that Anairë saw her as the ‘good’ Buffy, not as some prisoner that was locked in one of the Queen’s mystical dungeons.

This is going to be too easy, thought the evil Maia. “Oh, what I’d give for a breath of fresh air, or a chance to glance at the stars… or sun.” She shrugged her shoulders and added, “I’m not really sure if its day or night. Don’t get out much, nowadays.”

Anairë’s eyes scanned the room and her heart went out to the woman. She knew that it wasn’t the Queen, but it was still one of her kindred. After all, isn’t it Maranwë’s mantra to believe in forgiveness and redemption? She concluded in her mind. Surely, Folkvang of all places would remain free from evil. Unlike Valinor, Melkor had not marred this Blessed Realm. No blood had been spilled. That is, until now…

“It is not permissible for me to take you from this chamber,” answered Anairë after much thought. “But I will tell you that it is daytime and that the sun shines brightly today.”

Angwen’s face lit up. “The sun!” she exclaimed. “Oh, how I miss the sun! I can’t remember the last time I bathed in its rays.” Her eyes sparkled as she fixed her gaze on the holy Maia. “Do you remember all those times when I used to bathe naked on the roof of Sussrúmnir?” she questioned reminiscently. “It seems like it has been ages since I’ve felt such warmth on my skin.” Angwen held her exposed arms out before her. “And look how pale I’ve become? If I were only a bit taller, people might confuse me for elf… or an elfling,” she added with a laugh.

Anairë smiled. “I suppose there’d be no harm in a quick peek,” she surmised. “You do look rather ashen. A bit of sunshine may be just the thing to rejuvenate your soul.” She offered her right hand to Angwen. The evil Maia smiled warmly before forcefully snatching Anairë’s arm with both hands. She twisted it behind her back causing the holy Maia to cry out and drop the key to the floor. It was only a second later when a loud crack rang out in the chamber. Anairë’s neck had been broken. The limp form of the white-haired Maia fell onto the floor with a thud. Angwen picked up the key and hastily made her way to the door.

“You’re just like Manwë, Anairë. You are naught but a simple fool!” she said with a laugh as she imprisoned the holy fey in the dungeon. She hurried down the corridor, anxious for her magic’s to return. As she rounded the corner, she disappeared in a flash of blue light…



Now Maglor did not sit idly by while his beloved was missing. He and Maedhros had sent messengers throughout all of Beleriand informing them that an ‘evil’ Buffy was on the loose. Since Thingol refused to allow their messengers entry, Maglor sought the aid of his cousin, Finrod, who was always welcomed in Doriath. Finrod’s mother was Eärwen, daughter of Olwë, Thingol’s brother, and the children of his niece were the only Noldor allowed to cross the border of his land.

Both Maglor and Finrod had been close friends since the days of their youth in Valinor. The golden-haired Noldo had not forgotten the horrific deeds that Fëanor and his sons had committed against him and his kinfolk, but he had forgiven them. All of them. As far as Finrod was concerned, all wounds were healed when Maedhros renounced his claim to the kingship of the exiled Noldor. The House of Fëanor was ever after known as the Dispossessed because the lordship passed from their line to the second son of Finwë, Fingolfin. However, not all the Noldor had forgiven the sons’ actions.

“How can this be?” queried a worried Finrod. He had always thought highly of Buffy since their first meeting in Doriath, and their friendship had blossomed over the years. In such a short span of time, he had come to love her dearly.

“I don’t rightly know,” replied a frustrated Maglor. “All I can say is that the imposter is not my beloved Bellaseth. I have sent the doves as messengers, and only hope that they will find Luthor in time.”

“Luthor? Who is this Luthor?” asked the perplexed golden-haired Noldo. He had never heard the name before.

“Oh,” whispered Maglor. He had assumed that Buffy had spoken to Finrod about Luthor. It was now obvious that that was not the case.

“You can tell me anything, Kanafinwë,” reassured the son of Finarfin. “Whatever is said within this chamber will be kept between you and me. No one else will ever know, including my own brothers. That I will swear to you.”

Maglor was reluctant to reveal Buffy’s identity. He felt that it would be best if Finrod heard that revelation from her own lips, if or when that time ever arrived.

“I trust you like a brother, Findaráto,” he finally answered. “I can only tell you that Luthor is one of Bella’s kindred. He is Lord of her realm in the east.”

“I have only heard her speak of the east but I did not know that she had a realm there,” he said with surprise. “Have you ever been?”

“Yes, once,” he answered hesitantly. “But I will say no more. Forgive me, but I cannot betray Bella’s trust. Perhaps one day soon you will be having this conversation with her, not me.”

Finrod smiled. “Be at ease, Maglor. I hold no ill will towards you. Your loyalty to your future wife is both admirable and worthy of praise. We will speak no more of it. Nevertheless, I will speak with Thingol regarding the disappearance of Luinil and the malevolent double that has taken her place.” He sighed heavily before continuing. “Perhaps the wisdom of Melian will aid us in the search for Bellaseth. I deem that I should prepare to depart Minas Tirith as soon as possible.”

Maglor warmly hugged his cousin. “You know how much this means to me. I don’t think I can thank you enough. Bella has many friends in Menegroth, influential friends that will be most grieved to hear such disturbing news. I can only hope that they will put aside their differences and help. For her sake.”

“Where will I find you?” asked Finrod as he placed a comforting hand on Maglor’s shoulder.

“Ossiriand. Bella always comes back to Ossir. Always… or so Orchal says,” answered the dark-haired Noldo. “I will wait for her there.”

“I’ll be in touch,” Finrod said before leaving the chamber.

“Finrod?” called the dark-haired Noldo. “Remember, if any come across either Bella, hold her captive until I get there. I will not be deceived by the false one.” Finrod nodded his head and left the room.

Shortly thereafter, Maglor returned to Ossiriand. He refused to depart that land until Buffy was by his side.

One year turned into five, five into ten. Maglor was filled with such sorrow for Buffy. Often he was seen walking along the shores of Tol Galen, or sitting upon the cliffs that overlooked the mighty Gelion, singing songs of lamentation. He longed to see his beloved once again, to hold her in his arms, to feel her touch. It seemed to have become a fleeting dream, for his anguish grew with each passing year.

Many messengers passed through the doors of Denethor’s Hall in Lindon. It seemed that news about Buffy had indeed reached all of Beleriand. Maglor had spoken with the heralds of every elven realm in Beleriand, as well as the dwarves of Belegost and Nogrod. Never before had all the kingdoms of Middle-earth united for a single purpose. Unfortunately, it would be both the first and last time.



Twelve years after Buffy had gone missing, Luthor finally arrived at Lindecoa. It had taken years for the doves to find the Deeper Well, and he came as soon as he had heard the news. The Maia had left Dvalin in charge, despite his protests. The dwarf wanted to accompany Luthor to Buffy’s lands in Beleriand; he had never been there before. But the Maia knew that he would have to search the darkest recesses in Arda for the Slayer, and that was no place for anyone except himself.

“My dear friend,” said a worried Luthor as he quickly approached a sullen Maglor, and pulled him into a tight embrace. “What is this that I hear about Bella having a double?” he asked.

Maglor looked at Luthor with grief-stricken eyes. “Have a seat, Luthor, and I shall tell you all that I know,” declared the Noldo as they took their seats. While he told the story, many of the green-elves in Buffy’s Household looked at Luthor in awe. They knew of him, but this was the first time that they had actually seen Buffy’s “Middle-earth father,” as she had sometimes referred to him. All present could clearly see that he was truly one of the mighty Lords of the West. His outward appearance of an old man was an illusion that attempted to mask his power and strength. They treated him with the utmost respect, as they knew that his loyalty to their mistress was unyielding.

Luthor’s hands clasped the arms of his chair so tightly that his knuckles had turned white. He found Maglor’s tale most disturbing and could only hope that the ‘real’ Buffy was in Folkvang as Orchal had suggested. Unfortunately, his heart told him otherwise. When the messengers from Maglor had reached Luthor, he knew immediately that something was wrong with Buffy. He sensed that she was alone and in pain, but nothing else. He had no idea where she could be. The fact that there was an evil ‘Buffy’ running around in Beleriand was a secondary concern to him. The Lord of the Deeper Well’s priority was in finding Bellaseth Dagnir.

“I see your dilemma,” said Luthor after hearing Maglor’s story. “None here have the ability to travel to Folkvang in order to confirm that Bella is indeed there.” The room erupted into murmurings of agreement. Twenty-five of Buffy’s top chieftains had joined Maglor and Luthor in the large chamber.

“That is correct,” answered the Noldo. “I only hope that you will be able to verify whether she’s in Sussrúmnir or not.”

“I’m afraid I cannot help you,” replied Luthor somberly. “I have never been to Folkvang and I do not know its location.”

“But you’re an Ainu! Can’t you utilize your magic’s to find it?” queried a heart-broken Maglor.

“It is not that simple, my dear Maglor,” answered the Maia. “You see… ”

Luthor stopped abruptly when Thranduil pushed the door open and came rushing into the room, laughing.

“Damn it, Thranduil!” shouted an angry Úrion. “We are holding a council. Take your mischief-making self out of here!”

Thranduil was out of breath and it became evident why this was so. Only a couple of moments later, Kit and Kat came dashing into the room and pounced on top of the elf. They had been playing a game of chase throughout the many hallways of Lindecoa.

“You’re still angry with me, aren’t you Úrion?” asked the boy. He was sitting on the floor stroking both lions behind their ears. “It was only for a laugh.” A few days before, Thranduil had cut the legs off Úrion’s favorite chair in his study. When Úrion sat down with his cup of coffee, the chair collapsed to floor and the hot liquid scalded him. He was still livid over that.

“GET OUT, BOY!” barked Úrion in a severe tone.

“Let him be, Úrion,” said Maglor firmly. “He is the Prince and heir of the House of Greenleaf and has every right to be here.”

“He is still a child, Maglor. Thranduil has no business… ”

“I’m in agreement with Maglor,” chimed in Luthor. “Come here, young man. Let me get a good look at you.” Thranduil walked across the chamber to where Luthor sat, Kit and Kat were at his side. “Well, now,” started Luthor, as he looked the silver-haired elf over. “You are indeed a little rascal, aren’t you?” he queried with a smile.

Thranduil was puzzled by the old man. Círdan was the only old-looking person that he had ever seen and he was an elf. Luthor was altogether different.

“Who are you?” asked the elfling.

“My name is Luthor,” replied the Maia. Thranduil’s eyes lit up. He was part of Buffy’s Household and he knew about both Luthor and the Deeper Well.

“My Lord,” he said in his most respectful voice. He bowed his head, which was protocol when meeting a mighty lord. “It is an honor and privilege to make your acquaintance.”

A smiling Luthor turned his gaze to Úrion and said, “This is a fine young man. He shall become a great King one day.” He then looked back at the elfling. “I see that Bella’s lions have a new companion.”

“Yes, since Luinil has been gone, I’ve been keeping them company,” responded Thranduil as Kit playful nipped at his hand. “They’ve been great fun.”

“We’re getting off topic here,” interjected a frustrated Úrion. “We’re supposed to be finding a way to get to Folkvang in order to confirm that Bella is there. Instead, we’re watching the antics of the boy and the beasts!”

“Lighten up, Úrion,” spoke up Nestor. “It’s as Maglor said, the boy has every right to be here.”

Thranduil fell back to the floor when Kat threw her front paws on him. He laughed as he nuzzled his face in hers.

“Seems quite obvious to me,” the boy said as he rolled on top of Kat, only to have Kit nudge him off his mate. He laughed again. “Bella’s lions have been to Folkvang. Why don’t you send them?” he suggested as he resumed playing with Buffy’s kitties.

The room fell quiet with the exception of the noises coming from Thranduil and the lions. All the elves and Luthor eyed one another.

“I must say, that is a wonderful suggestion, young man,” laughed Luthor.

“You see, Úrion,” started Maglor. “It appears that young Thranduil was key to solving this riddle.” Úrion stood leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest. He did not hide his scorn for the boy.

“Happy to help out,” the elfling replied. “But I must say that Bella would hate to see all of you moping around here like this. She hasn’t nearly broken her record for being gone the longest yet. We still have another four months, three weeks and two days before she hits that mark.

“And if I recall correctly, I believe the Lady’s birthday is coming up soon. I say that we should throw a feast in her honor. Let us put aside our grief for one day and celebrate her life and heroic deeds. I’m sure that would please her very much,” added the elfling.

Maglor laughed heartily. “Out of the mouths of babes, they say. Indeed!” he laughed. “You are wise beyond your years, young Thranduil.”

“Not really,” he replied. “The lions don’t speak now, do they? I don’t know the runes of Daeron nor do I know the High Elven Tongue, but I reckon a letter of some sort will do the trick.”

Who would have thought that the solution to their problems would come from a forty-eight year old elfling!

Maglor rose from his seat and grabbed some parchment and an ink pen. “I’m convinced that Anno and Mirë will be able to read Quenya. We’ll put our request in writing and have the lions take it to Sussrúmnir,” said the Noldo hopefully.

While Maglor drafted the letter, Nestor left the chamber in order to find a pouch that could be tied to the neck of one of the lions. When he returned, Buffy’s future husband perused the letter one more time before sliding it into the pouch and securing it to Kat’s neck. It was decided that Thranduil should be the one to make the request of the cats since they seemed to be rather fond of him. The young elf did as he was told and soon the lions disappeared in a blink of an eye.

“Now, all we have to do is wait,” stated Maglor as he sat back down in his chair.

While they waited for the reply, Luthor remained at Lindecoa; Maglor gave him the grand tour. He couldn’t help but feel a bit overwhelmed by that place, and a little envious. The fortress where he resided didn’t even come close to matching the beauty of Buffy’s dwelling on Tol Galen.

Two weeks later, the lions returned carrying the response. Maglor summoned Luthor and the chieftains to an emergency council. When all were present, he broke the seal and read the letter aloud:


“‘To Kanafinwë Makalaurë, son of Curufinwë Findaráto, beloved consort to the Holy Queen Maranwë Luinil,

On behalf of my sister and myself, we send our greetings to our future stepfather. Your letter troubles us so, as our mother currently sits atop her throne passing judgment on those that had been slain. She has been in that chamber for the past two years without respite! According to decree number thirty-seven: None may interrupt the Queen while performing her sacred duty unless they are of the race of the Valar or Eru himself! Mother wrote this herself years ago. There is a specific clause attached to this that excludes “all other races, known and not yet known.” We will not be able to speak with her until the last fey has passed through her Hall. We will notify you, at once, after we determine the truth of the matter.

With affection,

Anno Pythius & Mirë Delphi’”


Maglor re-read the letter one more time before placing it on the table. “It looks as if the twins will be of no help to us. Not for a while, at any rate,” he said with a sigh. “What course of action do we take now?”

“Hmm, I believe that the time has arrived for me to begin my search in the east,“ announced Luthor. “There’s a vast world out there, my friends, vast indeed! No easy task will it be to search every nook and cranny in Arda. I deem that it is an impossible feat, yet one that I must undertake.”

“I’m willing to go with you, Luthor,” offered Maglor.

“I know, my friend,” replied the old man. “But I’m afraid that you do not have the ability to travel by the roads that I must tread. Stay here. If the opportunity presents itself, Bella will return to you. I do not doubt that. I must bid you good people farewell as I have need for haste.” He rose from his seat; the others did the same. “A word, Maglor, if you will,” he remarked as he headed for the doors.

“What is it, Luthor?” asked the dark-haired Noldo when he reached the threshold.

Luthor linked his arm with Maglor’s and quickly headed down the hallway. When all were out of sight, he pulled the elf into an empty chamber.

“Why all the secrecy, Luthor?” queried a puzzled Maglor in a hushed voice.

“Who is this Úrion character?” the Maia asked in all seriousness.

“Úrion?” Maglor was quite taken aback by Luthor’s questioning of Úrion of all people. “Well, he is Ossir’s Minister of Finance and he is one of Bella’s most trusted councilors… ”

“I don’t like him,” interrupted Luthor. “I don’t like him one bit.” He locked his brilliant blue, wisdom-filled eyes on the Noldo. “There is darkness in him,” added the Maia.

“You said the same thing about me!” countered Maglor, slightly affronted.

“Oh, that was different,” said Luthor, waving his hand dismissively. “I like you, Maglor, and I trust you. If I did not, I can assure you, that you would not be with my Bella! I know that you have her best interests at heart. But that one… ” He chewed on his bottom lip before adding, “I do not trust him.”

“What do you want me to do?” asked Maglor, still dumbfounded by Luthor’s observations.

“Keep an eye on him,” he answered as he started to open the door. “And keep an eye on the boy, too. My heart forebodes danger for Thranduil.”

Maglor smiled. “Thranduil has a fondness for dangerous escapades,” revealed the Noldo.

“Indeed!” replied Luthor. “Just the same. I’ll be in contact. Should you hear any news concerning Bella, please let me know as soon as possible.” He put his hand on Maglor’s shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “It is not always bliss to love a woman with great power. It will not be long before she earns the title Vala of War,” revealed the Maia. “Do not despair, Bella will return to you!”

“And so my heart tells me. I only fear what torments she’s being subjected to,” disclosed the Noldo sadly. “Every time I bend my will towards her, all I see is darkness.”

Luthor understood Maglor’s pain for he was going through the same thing.

“Then let us bring the Light to her. Farewell, Maglor, son of Fëanor,” said the Maia, as he embraced the Noldo.

“Be careful, Lord. May the blessings of the Valar be with you,” whispered Maglor in Luthor’s ear.

The old man gave a slight nod of his head before he took off down the hallway and disappeared around the corner. Maglor stood there for a moment. He was still stunned by Luthor’s comments regarding Úrion. The Noldo knew that the elf could be a little abrasive, but he had demonstrated his devotion and loyalty to Buffy on numerous occasions. It was her decision to appoint him as the third highest-ranking official in Ossir’s government. Surely, Buffy trusted Úrion implicitly to grant him such power. And who was Maglor to question her authority in her own land? He would heed Luthor’s words but he was not ready to question the appointments made by his beloved.

Maglor acted on Thranduil’s suggestion about hosting a feast on Buffy’s birthday. Even though she was not present, thousands of elves from all over Ossir attended. For one day, everybody put aside their grief and honored Buffy, and all that she had accomplished since her arrival in Middle-earth. There was singing, dancing, storytelling, and contests of strength (another Thranduil suggestion). At the elfling’s urging, this would become an annual tradition in Ossir that would one day spread throughout all of Arda.

In the meantime, it was decided amongst Buffy’s chieftains that half of her Household would remain in Lindecoa and the other half would depart for Lindon. Those were the Slayer’s two favorite places in Ossir and she was bound to return to one or the other. Orchal was still acting as regent and took up her throne in Denethor’s House. Maglor remained behind in Lindecoa and saw to the running of Buffy’s Household on Tol Galen.

As the years continued to pass by, many messengers came and went. None had seen or heard any news regarding either Buffy in all of Beleriand. It would be another eight years before Buffy returned. That day is forever marked in the annals as one not to be forgotten.

Angwen materialized in Buffy’s bedchamber in Lindon. Her heart was pounding in her chest; she couldn’t believe that she had escaped Folkvang unscathed. She stood there, slightly disoriented, longing to speak with Úrion. After she had arrived at Denethor’s house, an ominous feeling crept into her heart. Angwen focused her energies on her lover, but she did not disappear. The residue of Buffy’s essence had in fact, finally left its hröa (body) completely. The evil Maia was stuck.

Knowing that her time was almost up, Angwen began rummaging through Buffy’s things. She wanted to change out of the rags that she now wore. Her anger and resentment grew even more when she saw all the beautiful things that Buffy had in her possession. While the Maia had always thought that she was lucky to have three outfits, the Slayer’s many wardrobes were full to capacity with lovely flowing gowns in a variety of colors and fabrics. Some were even adorned with jewels!

Despite the temptation to dress herself in one of the Vala’s exquisite gowns, she decided to dress entirely in black - leather pants, sweater and boots. The sun was already beginning to set and although the weather was temperate, Angwen felt a chill in the air. It was wintertime in Ossir, after all.

The evil Maia’s eyes scanned the room. She needed to arm herself before leaving the chamber, and what better place to look than the Slayer’s inner sanctum. Even though all of Buffy’s homes had armories and training rooms, she always kept weapons in her private chambers. Life’s lessons had taught her that long ago. Angwen sat on the bed, her eyes fixed on the nightstand. She grabbed the handle and pulled too hard, causing both the drawer and its contents to spill out onto the floor.

“Damn it!” Angwen uttered as she crouched down and began picking up the items. Under some parchment, she found a wicked-looking dagger. “Ah, just what I’ve been looking for,” she said, unsheathing the weapon. Evil Buffy took a closer look at the blade; its beauty captivated her.

“Is someone in there?” she heard a voice call out from the adjoining room, startling the Maia. “Hello?”

It was Orchal! The Maia threw the sheath into the drawer and slid both under the bed. She had safely concealed the dagger in the waistband in the back of her pants as the door opened. “Is someone… ” started the silver-haired elf as he entered the room. He stopped when he saw Buffy jump to her feet. “Oh, my! Look who’s finally come home,” he said sarcastically.

Angwen trembled with fear. Did he know? Could he tell?

A large smile came to his handsome face before he continued. “It’d be nice of you to check in every now and again, you know.”

“Miss me?” she queried innocently.

He crossed the room in only a few strides and wrapped his arms around his dear friend. “I always miss you, you know that. You’ve had all of Beleriand in an uproar! Maglor, not the least!” He pulled out of the embrace, and grabbed Angwen’s hands.

The mere mention of Maglor’s name filled her with fear. She was confused that the elf was in Buffy’s realm. Hadn’t she just left him a few weeks ago at Himring? Did the Vala bestow special powers upon her lover that allowed him to travel by roads not normally taken by the children of Eru? The Maia was beginning to panic.

“Maglor’s here?” she queried uneasily.

“What’s wrong?” asked Orchal. Buffy was trying to free herself from his grip, which he playfully tightened. “Bella?” It was then that the elf saw something in her eyes, a shadow of darkness. It was only for a split second but it cast doubt in his heart. It was beginning to dawn on him that this was not the real Buffy but the imposter.

Orchal’s facial expression must have changed because the Maia became aware that Buffy’s close friend had recognized her for what she really was. Within a fraction of a second, she freed her right hand, grabbed the dagger from her waistband and plunged it deep into the elf’s chest. His face contorted into one of pain and shock, but he did not cried out.

“Guess again!” she mockingly answered before stabbing him again. “Luck is not on your side today, my friend,” added the evil Maia.

He stood there for several moments teetering from foot to foot, gasping for air. The elf’s eyes never left the Slayer and the image of her killing him was forever imprinted on his fey. The Light was quenched from his eyes as they rolled backwards and his body fell on Angwen. She knocked him aside letting his body fall to the floor with a heavy thud.

With her adrenaline pumping, she ran and grabbed some towels from the cabinet in the bathing chamber. Quickly, she wiped off her weapon and returned it to her waistband. Angwen looked down at Orchal’s body as a pool of blood formed beneath him. As she glanced around the room, she noticed that the door was still ajar. Immediately, she dashed across the chamber and closed it as quietly as she could. The Maia jerked up the rug by the door and threw it on the floor beside the dead elf. She then rolled him on to it, grabbed the towels and began cleaning up the mess. When she had completed that task, she tossed the bloody towels on top of Orchal’s body, rolled him up in the rug and slid him under the bed. Angwen returned to the bathroom and washed away all evidence of her evil deed.

The Maia was desperate to find her lover. After this incident, she was unsure about whether Buffy’s people would be able to see through her countenance or not. Angwen preened herself before the mirror, took a couple of deep breaths and then exited the chamber. She had to find Úrion. He was her only hope.

She breathed a sigh of relief every time she passed through a chamber that was unoccupied. The nerve-racking part was walking down the hallway. Angwen would peek in each room that she passed, hoping that Úrion would be behind the door. The Maia did not find her lover on that floor and had no other choice but to descend the staircase to the level below.

As Angwen descended the steps, Thranduil was climbing them. They met half-way up. “Lady Luinil,” he called out with glee.

“Out of my way, boy,” barked the Maia as she quickly pushed the young elf aside. She took the steps three at a time. Thranduil stood there for a moment. His eyes narrowed as he watched the woman disappear. Immediately, he ran upstairs and disappeared into one of the chambers.

Angwen was horrified that the boy would sound some type of alarm. She opened the first door that she came to and crept inside. She closed the door behind her and leaned against it, panting. A smile came to her pasty face when she realized that she was in one of the Slayer’s training chambers. Weapons were everywhere. Some were displayed on the walls, and at one end of the room were several glass cases that were loaded with various tools of the trade. One weapon in particular caught her attention - Buffy’s scythe. It was attached to the far wall in a crisscross pattern with an axe. Without hesitation, she ran towards the weapon.

Only seconds later, the door flew open and Gúrchim along with the two dwarves, Drór and Ordon the Old entered. Buffy’s old friends, in anticipation of her upcoming birthday celebration, had wrought a couple of new weapons as a gift from the Lords of Belegost. There were placing them in her training room as opposed to her armories, to ensure that the Slayer would one day try them. They did not immediately notice Angwen’s presence.

The Maia perceived the intruders first and did not hesitate. In one hand, she wielded the axe; in the other was the scythe. The trio was so engrossed in their conversation that none saw her stealthily approaching. By the time that they had finally become aware of her presence, both the axe and the scythe were flying through the air. The weapons hit their mark and both dwarves fell to the floor.

An angry Gúrchim let out a cry as he picked up one of the axes and charged the evil Buffy.

“Bring it on!” she taunted. Her heart was racing.

“Death is upon you!” shouted Gúrchim as he swung the axe with all his might. Angwen ducked, grabbed the elf around the waist and knocked them both off balance. They hit the floor together, rolling several times, wrestling for the weapon in the councilor’s hand. The Maia managed to get the upper hand and found herself sitting atop the dark-haired elf, the weapon still clutched in both their grasps. Gúrchim had his arms stretched high above his head as Angwen tried to push the handle down to crush the elf’s throat.

All of the sudden, an arrow hit the woman just below her heart. She looked up to see Thranduil on bended knee, re-loading his crossbow. Angwen had to think fast. Her glaring eyes looked down at the councilor for a second before she mustered all her strength and pulled the weapon from his grip. She brought her head crashing down on the elf’s, momentarily stunning him. That allowed her a few seconds to break the arrow that protruded from her chest.

This time, she heard the click of the trigger mechanism of the crossbow and dived on top of the elf as the arrow whizzed over her head. She tried to use her weight to subdue the powerful elf underneath her, but it was impossible.

Angwen managed to get the elf in a chokehold and then positioned him so that he acted as a shield from Thranduil’s repeated attempts to shoot her. She held the axe to Gúrchim’s throat.

“Stop it, boy or the elf gets it!” she shouted.

Thranduil saw the look of terror on the councilor’s face. Even though Buffy’s form was much smaller, the Maia was able to overpower and subdue the elf.

“Put the weapon down!” she ordered.

“Don’t… don’t do it,” sputtered Gúrchim. “I’m good as… dead any way.”

The elfling was frightened. He didn’t know what to do. Everything was happening so fast.

“Put it down, boy!” the evil Buffy barked as she inched forward with her hostage, the blade of the axe now drawing blood. “I’ll kill him!” Thranduil slowly put the weapon on the floor. “Kick it over!” He did as he was told. When he kicked the weapon, it slid across the wooden floor and came to a halt halfway between them.

“Run… ” started Gúrchim before his words were replaced with gurgling sounds. The Maia pushed the blade deeper into his neck, nearly severing the elf’s head from his body. A stream of blood gushed forth from the deadly wound.

“You’re next!” she hissed through gritted teeth as she shoved the elf’s body to the floor. The woman was covered in blood although it was only visible on her hands and face. Blood dripped from the blade as she headed for the unarmed elfling. “Think you’re a man, Thranduil,” she continued.

The elfling was paralyzed by fear. His thoughts turned to the real Slayer and immediately he felt his courage return. He dove towards the dwarves and pulled the scythe from Ordon’s lifeless body. At that moment, the evil Maia was at his feet, the axe was coming down. He flipped onto his back, holding the scythe’s wooden handle in front of him, preparing for the inevitable blow. He faced his greatest fear with bravery.

“I believe in you, oh mighty Maranwë, holiest of the Valar!” cried out the elfling. He knew for sure that the axe would cut the handle in two, and then him!

Suddenly, from out of nowhere, Kit leapt atop the woman sending her and her weapon to the floor only inches from Thranduil’s weapon. The elfling heard the sound of the axe sliding across the floor. He got to his feet and saw the woman wrestling with the lion. Kat then appeared at his side and started pushing the boy towards the exit. Thranduil could not take his eyes off evil Buffy and the lion. He stood there, resisting the powerful nudges of Kat as he saw the woman pull a dagger from her pants. His jaw dropped when he witnessed Kit chomping down on the armed hand and the ear-piercing scream that the Maia let out.

Angwen used her magic’s to summon the axe back in her left and only hand. She was crying in pain as she hit the lion on the side of the head with the broad side of the blade. The dazed lion went flying about fifteen feet. The Maia’s stump was bleeding profusely and with Thranduil still standing; she didn’t have a chance to tend to it.

“No more games, boy. You think you’re a man. Well, then you can die like one,” she hissed as tears streamed down her blood-streaked face.

“I’m… I’m not afraid of you… you… skanky ho!” shouted the elfling. He had heard Buffy use the highly offensive term to describe one of her old enemies, Glory. Kat growled ferociously at the Maia and moved in front of the boy.

Angwen was in so much pain, she just wanted to get out of there. She knew that others had heard all the commotion, and that it would be only a matter of minutes before they arrived in full force. The lioness continued hissing and growling as she protected the elfling. The Maia charged at them both and Kat leapt at the woman. Angwen did a somersault over the creature and landed in front on Thranduil. The boy quickly swung the scythe with all his strength. She ducked, which the elf expected. He then kicked her bleeding stump and the woman instinctively dropped her weapon and grabbed the throbbing appendage.

“Not too bright, are you?” queried Thranduil condescendingly.

The fire within the Maia burned ever the greater at his words. The pain was nearly unbearable and now she was being subjected to the taunts of a mere child. She backhanded the boy with all her force sending him flying a good thirty feet before his head slammed into the corner of one of the cabinets. He fell to the floor unconscious. The lions now stood side-by-side as the Maia backed slowly towards the door. She grabbed the crossbow off the floor and aimed it at Kit. She pulled the trigger; the cats vanished in a blink of an eye. The arrow flew across the room and became imbedded into the wall. Angwen turned round and round, looking for the beasts to jump out at her. They were nowhere to be seen, so she took off out the door.

It was only a few moments later when the whining Maia ran into her lover in the hallway. Úrion nearly fainted when he saw her. His eyes saw the trail of blood on the floor and he quickly grabbed the woman and shook her violently.

“What the hell have you done?” he asked through clenched teeth. His anger surpassed his compassion.

“Help me, Úrion,” she pleaded. “Please! I swear I’ll listen to you from here on out. Just get me out of here. Please!” she cried.

He wrapped an arm around Angwen and quickly took her up the stairs to the floor above. Úrion uttered curses at her as they made their way to Buffy’s private chambers. Tears of pain continued to spill down her face. They had no effect on her lover.

“How dare you show your face here!” he shouted once they were safely locked in Buffy’s bedchamber, the scene of the first murder. He didn’t let her answer. He continued ranting as he threw a small wooden box at her. Angwen hurriedly opened it and smeared the yellowish looking ointment onto her still bleeding stub. Úrion used one of Buffy’s scarves to make a tourniquet. His only thought was getting Buffy’s doppelganger out of the house before anyone could link her to him.

“Maranwë would most definitely kill me if she knew that I gave this to you,” revealed Úrion as he helped put Buffy’s falcon feathered coat on the evil Maia. “Once you do the top button, you’ll change into the bird. Fly south. Far south. And wait to hear from me.” He helped with the buttons. “And Angwen, if I see you in Beleriand again, I will dismember you piece by piece. You cannot fathom the kind of pain that I can inflict!” She saw the fire in his eyes, and only nodded in agreement. A moment later, the Maia transformed into a falcon. Úrion opened the door to the porch and let her fly out. Angwen never set foot in Beleriand again.

Úrion left the door open and walked back to where the blood trail ended. He could hear the sound of a distant scream and then the rumblings of many voices on the level below. He let out a heavy sigh as he unsheathed the dagger on his belt. After taking a deep breath, he thrust the weapon into his own stomach. Úrion moaned slightly before positioning himself on the floor. He smeared the pools of blood on the floor with his legs so that it looked like he had put up a struggle. It would only be a matter of minutes before the others followed the trail of blood that led to his wounded body. Úrion deemed that this stunt would cover his ass…



Meanwhile, the ‘real’ Buffy was still imprisoned in the darkened pyramid in the far east. The suffering that she had endured was a true testament to her strength. With the slow passing of years, the Slayer withered down to nothing more than skin and bones. No matter how much she prayed for death to release her from her current torment, her body still lingered on. She was so weak that she could no longer sit up. Hope had faded long ago, that is, until a strange series of events occurred.

The first thing that the Slayer had noticed, and it was not long before she was rescued, was the cooing of the doves. Her mind was so hazy that she could not clearly make out their messages, but the sound of their voices was like music to her ears. They renewed her hope.

Since Buffy was unable to perceive time in any fashion, it was deemed that shortly after the arrival of the doves, they departed once again. That’s when the violent storms erupted. Buffy could hear the howling of the wind followed by loud rumblings deep in the earth. When it turned into a full blown earthquake, the Slayer’s despair grew even more. Earthquakes always forebode doom for the Slayer.

Fragments of brick that Buffy had at one time loosened had fallen from the walls as the rumblings continued beneath her. That was followed by loud banging noises that came from the chamber below. Someone was in the pyramid! At long last, Buffy felt that the time had finally arrived and someone, perhaps her knight in shining armor, had come to rescue her. Unbeknownst to the Slayer, she had to be imprisoned in this hell hole for 7,326 days, but this would be the last of those days.

A large section of the floor began to rise. A brilliant orange light beam shot through the opening causing Buffy to shield her eyes with a skeletal arm. The light burned her eyes terribly. Regardless of that pain, her heart rejoiced that she was about to be freed. That is, until she heard a voice say, “Melisse… ”