Full Circle

“Out! Both of you!” shouted one of the nurses.

“I don’t want to leave Bella alone,” protested Thranduil.

“I’ll be with her,” said Nestor reassuringly. “We’re not quite finished here, yet, and believe me, Thranduil; I don’t think you want to see what comes next.”

“See what?” questioned the naive elf.

“We must expel the afterbirth… ” stated one of the nurses, who was then abruptly interrupted by Buffy’s chief advisor.

“That’s all I needed to hear,” remarked Úrion. “Come, Thranduil. Let us see if we can get a turn holding the babe.” He grabbed the young silver-haired elf by the arm and led him out of the room. “We’ll just be outside, Bella.” She nodded and gave them a half smile before they left.

When the door closed, Nestor took a seat next to Buffy as one of the nurses pushed on her abdomen while the other pulled the placenta from her body. It wasn’t a pleasant sight.

“You did well, Luinil. I take it that this delivery was much easier then your last,” he commented.

“In some ways,” she answered sadly.

The golden-haired healer studied her for a few minutes. “Do not dwell on what you cannot change,” he said with concern. “Maglor loves you dearly, my friend, and I daresay that he’ll forgive your… lapse in judgment. You have given him a son! And I can tell you that that child is no mere elfling!” He smiled and shook his head. “No, he’s much more than that.”

“As long as he has no plans on taking over the world,” she mumbled under her breath.

“Oh, Bella, now you’re being ridiculous,” answered the healer. “That child is in no way, shape or form remotely similar to Illyria; even I have enough foresight to see that!”

“I know,” she replied as she pushed a tuft of damp hair behind her ear. “This should be one of the happiest moments in my life, but I feel like Maglor ripped that away from me.”

“As far as I’m concerned, you’re both to blame for this,” chastised Nestor. Buffy leered at the healer. “Oh, don’t give me any of that, Bellaseth Dagnir! You were the foolish one to mention Morgoth’s name!” He shook his finger at her as he spoke. “Have you forgotten that he has slain Maglor’s father and grandsire? Do you know how that must have made Maglor feel?”

“Technically, Morgoth didn’t kill Fëanor,” she mumbled.

“It’s semantics and you know it,” countered Nestor. “And why does it seem like your hostility towards Morgoth has lessened? Have you forgiven his past deeds since he rescued you from that mystical prison?” he queried with his eyebrows furrowed and his arms folded across his chest.

Buffy immediately broke eye contact when she heard his questions. It made her feel very uncomfortable. She uneasily began pulling the creases out of her blanket.

“He may have scored some points with me,” she answered softly, refusing to look at her dear friend. “He took care of me, good care, no less, and I’m supposed to act like that never happened.” She finally raised her eyes to meet his; Nestor sat there with his eyes locked on her.

“I can’t explain away Morgoth’s strange obsession with you, but that’s what it is. I cannot fathom that Vala comprehending what love is… ”

“I think he knows,” she answered quietly. “He’s demonstrated it to me before… ”

“When? When he bewitched you in order to have you carry his seed. Or was it when he slaughtered the entire House of Denethor? Or better yet, his love for you led him to kill Finwë and his kinfolk?” queried an upset Nestor.

“That’s kinda harsh, Nestor,” countered an agitated Slayer.

“He’s the villain, Luinil, and it would do you good not to forget that,” added the peeved elf.

“So, now you’re gonna turn on me, too,” she said meekly.

“No, of course not,” he answered in a much calmer tone of voice. “I can understand why Maglor is wroth is all. And I can also see things from your perspective as well. If my wife demanded my presence at the birth of our child, I would most definitely be there. I hate to compare myself to Morgoth, but yes, I would even bring the child into the world myself. But you have to remember that you are no longer living in the world that you came from. Things work differently here as you should be well aware of by now. It is not custom for a husband to be present at the birth of his child. That’s not the way it works. In all my years of life, I have yet to deliver an elfling in the presence of the father, and believe me, my dear; I have delivered many an infant!” He placed his hand comfortingly atop hers and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Perhaps you can convince him to be present next time.”

Buffy looked up at him, her eyes welled with tears. “See, that’s the problem. There won’t be a next time. This was the only time.” She took a deep breath; she didn’t want to cry any more. “There will be no more children for us in the future.”

“You have foreseen this?” questioned a shocked Nestor. “Why have you not said anything about this before?”

She shrugged her shoulders and replied, “I don’t think it would’ve made a difference.”

“I’m sorry,” apologized the golden-haired elf. “I feel even worse for saying all that I have said to you.”

“You’re my friend, Nestor,” said the Slayer as she placed her hand on top of his. “It’s your duty to tell me when I’m being an ass.” Buffy forced a smile. “That’s what friends are for.”

“Well, you know me, I’ll always be here to call you an ass… when necessary,” he chuckled in response. Buffy actually did too.

Nestor then took her on a trip down memory lane, and they spoke fondly of earlier days with Orchal. Not one day passed by when the Slayer didn’t think of her old friend. It was times like these when she missed him the most. At least the healer did his job; Buffy no longer felt saddened by Maglor’s absence during the delivery. At least her husband stayed until the last minute, and returned shortly thereafter. In the big scheme of things, it really didn’t seem that important.

With the placenta purged from her body, the Slayer asked, “Can I take a bath now? I feel kinda nasty.”

“Of course,” answered Nestor. “However, I do have one request. This might sound somewhat strange, but… ” the healer’s words trailed off.

“What is it?” she asked, her interest peaked.

“I would like your permission to keep your afterbirth,” replied Nestor. His request stunned the Slayer. “Since your blood has such unique magical properties, I deem that the same could be said for your placenta. I would like the opportunity to see if I could utilize it in some potions and such… Of course, it would be used strictly for healing purposes.”

That made Buffy laugh, which she really needed at the moment. “Knock yourself out,” she answered as she sat upright. “You know, they say that it’s good for ones complexion.”

Nestor laughed. “I have bigger things in mind than keeping one pimple-free,” commented the healer. “Let me instruct your maidens to prepare your bath,” he added before leaving the chamber.

Buffy’s caretakers would not let her leave until they had the blood flow under control. They placed a bundle of linen between her legs that fastened to a belt that had been secured around her waist. That was the elvish version of the dreaded maxi-pad. It made Buffy even more thankful that she wasn’t subjected to the monthly curse like every elleth in Middle-earth. She made a mental note to discuss with Nestor the possibilities of making the tampon for the women of her Household.

The nurses helped the Slayer to her feet. “How do you feel, Bella?” one of them asked.

“I’m a little dizzy. Gimme a second,” she answered as she closed her eyes for a moment, waiting for the ‘head rush’ to subside. “I’m okay now,” she added before they wrapped a robe around her.

“Take it slowly,” instructed the other nurse.

When they left the room, the antechamber on the other side of the door was packed with elves and dwarves. So many people came up congratulating Buffy with hugs and kisses.

“There’s mommy,” said Maglor, who refused to let anyone hold his son. “How do you feel?” he asked when he had reached his wife.

“Icky… and hungry,” she replied as Olofinwë’s little fingers grasped her much larger one. She planted many kisses on his tiny hand. “I need a bath,” she said, before starting to walk off.

“Bella?” called Maglor after her. She glanced over her shoulder. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” responded the Slayer, who then disappeared down the hallway, assisted by the nurses.

Nothing felt better than submerging herself into the steamy bath water. Buffy allowed her maidens to tend to her. She was tired and grateful that she didn’t have to expend any more energy at the moment. If she hadn’t been so hungry, the Slayer could’ve easily fallen asleep in that marble tub.

After she dressed, Buffy left for the porch off the dining hall. The storm had abated and the sun shone brightly through the boughs of the trees. It was a beautiful day. The Slayer ate her meal in the company of her maidens, and no one else. She especially enjoyed drinking wine again. Once her belly was full, the Slayer deemed that it was nap time, so she took off to her private chambers.

Buffy had no idea how long she actually slept before Maglor came in with a crying Olofinwë. The sound of her baby’s wailing jolted her awake.

“I think he’s hungry, Bella,” said Maglor as he handed the infant to his mother, who still lay in bed.

“Oh, okay,” she replied. As her son suckled her bosom, she asked, “Are you still angry with me?”

“Your words cut like a knife, Bella. The last thing I wanted to hear as you’re delivering my son is how Morgoth was with you when you delivered… his child,” the Noldo answered as he crawled in bed and lay next to her. He caressed her arm and added, “But no, I’m no longer angry at you, just hurt.”

She lovingly placed her hand on his cheek. “I just wanted you in there with me, Káno, to experience the birth of our child,” she said in earnest. “It was important to me… Besides, men from my world don’t think twice about it. It’s normal.”

“But this isn’t your world, nor am I from the race of Man. I am an Elf. And we do not watch our wives giving birth to our children, no matter how much we love them. It is elvish custom,” countered the Noldo.

“It’s a stupid custom,” uttered a sulking Buffy under her breath as she readjusted Olofinwë in her arms.

“Perhaps to you, but it’s the way of my people. And if you cannot respect our laws and customs, then you do not respect me,” stated Maglor reservedly.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that,” apologized the Slayer. “I totally respect you… but what’s done is done. I can’t undo any of... ”

“I know,” he interjected, as he started twirling some of the Slayer’s hair with his fingers. “I suppose it has to do with my own insecurities.”

Buffy’s glance shifted from the baby to her husband. “What insecurities?” she asked, her facial expression reflected her surprise at hearing such a comment.

“All my fears revolve around you, my love,” confessed Maglor. “I fear the day when the Veil is removed from you and all those memories of times of yore are restored, will you still love me as I love you? Or will your heart turn back to Ulmo, or even worse, Morgoth?” he questioned in a voice full of sorrow. The Noldo became teary-eyed as he continued. “I am but an Elf, I cannot compete with a Vala, whether he be good or evil.

“And no words you speak can reassure me, as you don’t wholly know who you are. I have taken a leap of faith with you, Maranwë Luinil, and only time will tell if my choice was sound.” A stream of tears ran down his face. “As far as I’m concerned, I will never regret taking that leap, and I would do it all over again, if given the opportunity, for you complete me. You make me whole as no one has ever done before.”

The Slayer felt the tears running down her own face. She affectionately cupped his cheek with her hand, her fingers caressing his smooth skin. “I love you Kanafinwë Makalaurë and, no I can’t make any promises… none of us truly knows what the future holds, but as long as there’s a part of me in here,” she pointed to her heart, “I will love you and no one, not even Eru Ilúvatar, can take that away.” She pressed her lips against his, tasting the salt from his tears.

“We’ll always be haunted by our pasts,” she began again softly. “That’s our fate. What matters is how we deal with it when confronted by it. We can conquer our fears because we’re champions, and that’s what we do. We’ll overcome the odds even when it seems impossible. As long as we’re together, we can get through anything.”

Maglor wiped the tears from his wife’s face. “I believe you, Bella,” he answered with a smile. “Let us put this whole ordeal behind us and let no new grief divide us.”

“United we stand, divided we fall,” she added.

“From this day forward, we shall always remain united,” pledged Maglor. He kissed his wife passionately; nearly forgetting that little Olofinwë was still clutched in her arms. He glanced down at his son, who had fallen asleep a few minutes before. The Noldo carefully took the sleeping baby from Buffy, and placed him in the cradle next to the bed. Now he was given the opportunity to embrace his wife properly and to feel the warmth of her body next to his. That’s what wedded bliss was all about.

It was later that evening, when a great feast was held to welcome the child of Buffy and Maglor’s into the world. The festivities started with a ceremony that was held dear to all the Eldar, Essecarmë, which meant ‘Name-Making’ in the high-elven tongue. In keeping with elvish tradition, the father decided the child’s first and most important name (known as the father-name.) Olofinwë, which meant ‘Dream of Finwë,’ was the name that Maglor chose for his son. Although most in Middle-earth would come to call him Olofin in the language of the ‘dark-elves.’ The child’s second name was referred to as the ‘mother-name,’ or Amilessi tercenyë, and hinted at some unique quality that he possessed. Buffy had not yet devised the ‘second’ name for her son. It would be many weeks later before she declared publicly that her son’s second name was Tirnon, which meant ‘Watcher’ in Sindarin.

Over the next few days, Buffy savored every moment of motherhood. She refused to allow the nurses to tend to her son and didn’t mind getting up every two hours for feedings. The Slayer had not experienced that whole bonding thing with Illyria or the twins, so this was completely new to her. However, after only one week, certain changes began to take place with her son.

The first ‘weird’ thing that Buffy encountered was waking up to find her son suckling on her breast. She hadn’t gotten up and brought him to bed nor did Maglor. When Olofin noticed the bewildered look on his mother’s face he said, “I was hungry, mommy.” That totally floored the Slayer and her husband. Her child did not have a first word, but a first sentence!

“Did you get out of your crib all by yourself?” asked a shocked Buffy.

Olofin removed his lips from her nipple, causing milk to drip down her chest and simply answered, “Yes,” before he resumed nursing again. She turned towards Maglor, who sat there with his jaw hung open.

“I suspect he gets that ability from your side of the family,” said the dumbfounded Noldo with a shrug. “None of my kinfolk talked or walked at that age!”

“Expect the unexpected,” she heard herself mutter under her breath. “Something tells me that little Olofin has some more surprises in store for us,” she added in trepidation.

At one year, one month (as defined by the Eldar, the child is one year old at birth), Buffy’s son had a dramatic growth spurt. He now ate solid food (although he still took a nip of mother’s milk); he could carry on a conversation with an adult and was now potty trained. Olofin, in appearance, resembled a two-year-old mortal child.

Buffy had always heard about how fast children grew, but this seemed preposterous. After residing nearly fifty-five years in Middle-earth, she still wasn’t accustomed to the concept of ‘anything can happen’ in that world. One would think that Buffy, of all people, could keep an open mind when it came to the unfolding of the future. Yet something always seemed to amaze her when she turned a corner in Arda, especially when it came to her children. She found it remarkable that even though her blood ran through all their veins, they all looked so vastly different (save the twins.)

It was not long after this time that Buffy awoke early one morning to find her son missing from his bed. She quickly alerted her Household and a massive search ensued. Hundreds of people searched the city, the rivers, springs and forests. The Slayer was nearly at her wits end. She had almost reached the point of jumping into the mystical spring, so she could search the lands in fey form.

Maglor was the one that finally found Olofin in the forges beneath the city. He nearly fainted when he discovered what his son had accomplished during the night. The youngster had been up all night devising a new musical instrument, thrilling his father beyond words.

“You’ve given us a terrible fright, Olofin,” scolded Maglor as he lovingly picked up his son. “Your mother has been worried sick.”

“I’m sorry, daddy, but I wanted to make a different kind of music,” replied the boy, clutching the wooden device in his arms.

Maglor carried him out of the forges as one of the members from the Household blew two blasts on the horn indicating that the boy was no longer lost.

“You can’t leave your bed without informing a member of the Household,” warned the Noldo. He was relieved that Olofin seemed to be in good health. “What did you make there, my son?” he asked, curiosity getting the best of him.

“I call it a lyre, daddy,” replied the boy. “I can make beautiful music on it.” Maglor placed the child on the grass as his son showed him the instrument. “I made it from a tortoise shell that one of the lions left behind,” added Olofin proudly. “It took me all night to finish it. Why don’t your try it?”

“Nothing would please me more, son,” answered the Noldo, as he began to strum the strings on the lyre. “It’s lovely, Olofin, just lovely.” Maglor was grateful that his passion for music had passed on to his son.

Buffy and nearly two dozen people of her Household then appeared in that small grove. She held everyone back as they watched that tender moment of bonding between father and son. It brought tears to her eyes, watching her son showing his father how to play his new ‘toy.’ She was reassured in her heart that all was well, so she and her friends backed away allowing Maglor to enjoy that bonding experience with his only son. There was no doubt that Olofin inherited that skill from his father, Buffy only hoped that he possessed her skill for warfare as well. Only time would tell…