Full Circle

Author’s Note: These last chapters pertaining to events in the East are based on our own ‘ancient’ mythology. I’ve taken liberties with certain elements in order to fit the context of this story.

Chapter Fifty-Four: Prophecy Girl



It took four months for the allies to defeat Morgoth’s forces in that last battle. Nearly all had perished except for a small band of demons led by Gothmog, Lord of Balrogs. The doves, who acted as Buffy’s spies, informed her that the enemy had fled to the safety of the Iron Mountains. The Slayer showed little concern, for the fugitives numbers were small in comparison to those that had been slain; only fourteen hundred had escaped.

Every muscle in Buffy’s body ached by the time she had finished ‘offing’ her last foe. The sun had just begun to sink behind the peaks of Orocarni after a scorching day on the battlefield. All the combatants would welcome the approaching darkness, it meant that the temperature would soon plummet, bringing them much needed relief from the summer heat. The Slayer rubbed the throbbing muscle at the base of her neck as her eyes scanned the carnage. Already, the dwarves busied themselves by stacking the dead in two separate mounds, allies on one and evildoers on the other. Her eyes continued to search the plains until she saw something glimmering in the fading sunlight - Brokk. Immediately, she disappeared and joined the dwarf; she hadn’t seen him face-to-face since he had arrived with the armies of Naugrim.

The dwarf lord was startled by Buffy’s sudden appearance. He greeted her warmly, the Brisingamen hanging majestically around his neck. Brokk looked like a golden ray of sunshine; the powers of the necklace were still working its magic. The Slayer’s eyes remained fixed on the amber jewels. Without speaking (and with a small smile), she tapped her chest indicating that it was time to return that coveted object back to its rightful owner. The dwarf flushed a deep shade of red before half-heartedly turning it over. That was the first and last time that anyone other than Buffy was to wear that necklace. She clasped the jeweled band around her neck before disappearing to the encampment on the hilltop.

The Slayer bypassed everyone in the sitting room of her pavilion as she made her way towards the comfortable bed in the adjoining chamber. She had no desire to bathe, just sleep. She summoned Kit and Kat and stationed them at the draped entryway, not wanting any to disturb her slumber, not even her children. Buffy collapsed on top of the bed, too exhausted to undress or crawl under the covers. With the worries of war behind her, she anticipated falling into a restful and dreamless sleep. Unfortunately, that was not the case. As soon as her head hit the pillow, she entered the prophetic dreamscape…

Buffy stood alone, atop the highest, snow-capped peak of Orocarni. She was dressed wholly is white except for a magnificent crown of lapis lazuli that rested upon her golden head. Finding the fierce winds unpleasant, she raised her arms and face toward the heavens. Only a moment later the winds died down to a gentle breeze. She shifted her gaze below; the entire land lay shrouded in deep mists that even her Vala eyes failed to penetrate. A faint sizzling sound could be heard amidst the fog.

As the Slayer stood watching, the haze lifted from the land once the crackling sound had dissipated. She now had a clear view of all the plains. Her eyes focused on the vacated mount, the allies’ encampment was no longer there. A large, white marble temple then flashed into being at the midmost point of the hilltop; it was both beautiful and majestic. As the images continued to flash in sequence, additional stone and marble structures appeared until an entire walled city formed on top and below the solitary hill. Buffy looked on in awe; it was breathtaking! Homesteads materialized all over the northern and southern plains, which now appeared lush and fertile. That area had become barren due to the lack of rainfall and the ravages of war, but now she saw rich grasses and rows of crops in all directions. Flocks of sheep, kine, and goats grazed lazily amid the region. From her perspective atop the Red Mountains, it looked as though the two rivers that had run through Bâb-edh-Dhrâ had widened; some areas were now marshy and thick with reeds. Buffy knew that she was witnessing the rise of a new civilization, a nation that would become her kingdom. She had no doubt about it, for on the top of the temple a banner with an eight-rayed star blew in the morning breeze. That symbol not only represented her (it was on her throne in Sussrúmnir), but also the House of Fëanor.

As Buffy continued to drink in the sight, her thoughts were disrupted by the sound of someone gasping in surprise. Turning towards the unexpected sound, she saw a black-haired young man, dressed in white, standing to her right. His wide, dark eyes looked at her with undivided admiration and devotion; even she could see that. He was tall, dark and handsome; the three qualities that Buffy favored when it came to the opposite sex. After a moment, the young man, who looked to be in his early twenties, fell to his knees in homage to the Slayer. Her smile widened at the gesture.

“You may rise,” she said, watching the young man closely. “Who are you?”

“I am but a lowly messenger,” he answered.

“You’re a mortal.”

“Yes. As I said, I am but a lowly messenger sent by The One, Eru,” he humbly replied.

The smile faded from Buffy’s face; her heart felt like it was about to beat out of her chest with excitement or trepidation, she didn’t know which.

“Ilúvatar?” she question apprehensively. “Am I in trouble or something?”

The young man was appalled that she would think such a thing. “Of course not,” he refuted. “You are the beloved daughter of Eru. Of all the Goddesses, he favors you most, for your love of his children surpasses that of the other Gods.”

“Who are you?” she asked again, scrutinizing the black-haired man keenly. For some reason, Buffy sensed something familiar about the young man, as though they had met before, yet she could not recollect his face. He aroused emotions in her that were inappropriate, unnerving her all the more.

“I have no name, for I have not yet been born into the world.” He smiled. “It will be you, the divine Inanna Ishtar that bestows a name upon me.”

“Are you my son from the future?” she asked, shifting her feet uneasily.

“No, no, no,” he chuckled. “I can assure you that that is most certainly not the case.” He paused; his eyes sparkled with loving adoration. “You will come to know me… in time. Many years will pass before I enter Eä.”

“Thank Eru,” she replied with a sigh of relief as she dramatically placed her hand on her heart. “For a second there I thought that you might be Oedipus.” She chortled to herself, finding her own words amusing.

“The time has come for you to realize your heart’s greatest desire,” revealed the young man, oblivious to her joke. In a hushed voice, he continued, “Eru knows of your longing to be worshipped by the peoples of this world. He has felt your agony, your enviousness towards those in the West, the pang in your heart when the Eldar give devotions to your kindred. You have earned the right to be accounted amongst the mightiest of the Mighty, for you toil harder in this world than any.

“Arda is destined to be Mankind’s domain; you know this well, for you have seen it. You, beloved daughter of Eru, have lived in the End of Days, the only God to ever do so. Let the Eldar have whom they will, but Mankind will revere you even after the breaking of the world. Your name will be sacred, and holy days will be devoted solely to you.”

Buffy was shocked when she heard that revelation. She had never shared that dream with any, not even Maglor. Was it true? Was her deepest desire about to become reality? Or was it wishful thinking?

The twosome then vanished from the mountaintop, only to reappear beside a great river. To their east, was a great wheat field, its tall stalks rustled in the breeze. They sat down on the sward of fragrant green grass along the riverbank.

“Do not view the elves as your equal, Inanna,” continued the young man. “Eru deems that it is your love for his firstborn children that compels you to do so. But you are not their equal; you surpass them in every way. You are a Goddess! The Goddess of Love and the Goddess of War.”

“Goddess of War?” she questioned in disbelief. “I’m not known as that.”

“You are now,” he replied with a wide grin. “Since your victory over Illyria, those in the West have bestowed yet another title upon you. You are greater than you know, Inanna Ishtar, you are greater than you know,” he added, his voice full of reverence.

“Why do you call me Inanna Ishtar when that’s not my true name?” asked the bewildered Slayer.

“Those are the names with which you will ascend the throne. Do you not understand the significance of their meaning?” He gave her a warm smile before continuing. “Both names represent who you are, what you are. Inanna can be interpreted as meaning ‘woman-gift’ or ‘wife-gift.’ By either definition, it signifies your status as the Goddess of Love.” The young man gently took both of her hands in his. “You will symbolize the carnal nature that both man and woman possess; the pleasures of the flesh that they share when their bodies are united as one… ”

“Oh, god,” she groaned with revulsion. “Illyria’s right, I am the Vala of Fornication.”

The young man did not understand how Buffy could construe that as being a bad thing. When he resumed speaking, he attempted to reassure her of that. “Do not make it seem shameful when it is not. Without the act of bodily union, there would be no life. Love is your gift… ”

Buffy became somber upon hearing his words. “But I thought that death was my gift,” she uttered softly. A pained expression crept over her face.

The young man appeared troubled by her sudden melancholy state. His eyes searched hers. “Life and death go hand in hand. Mankind cannot have one without the other; death is inevitable. That is Eru’s gift. His will! It is a never-ending cycle… That brings me to your other name - Ishtar. It means ‘king of knowledge.’”

“Queen of knowledge,” corrected the Slayer in a solemn tone.

“No,” he answered as he pulled his hands away, folding them on his lap. “Ishtári means ‘queen of knowledge.’ Your offspring had the foresight to know that you would one day claim the title of king, not queen.” She gave him a peculiar look. “Kings wield more power than queens in this world. The women in this world, including the Holy Ones, tend to be… subservient to man’s will. You, my dear Lady, are the rare exception to the rule. You have truly earned the right to call yourself king.” The young man then fell silent.

Buffy rose to her feet, she looked at the swift stream before them with downcast eyes. She couldn’t help but wonder if she too had a case of penis envy like Illyria. For even her daughter referred to herself as king.

No, she thought to herself. I am the Fëantári in Folkvang, that’s a queenly title.

She stood there, deep in thought. Glimpses of her past mingled with snippets from the future, confusing her all the more. Before she had gone to sleep, she saw things with such clarity, now she felt lost. And alone.

As if he had heard her thoughts, the young man stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. Instinctively, she placed her hands on top of his and leaned against his muscular chest. That tender display of affection brought her much comfort.

“Look to the Oracles for the answers that you seek. They are your link to the All-father,” he whispered in her ear. His lips brushed against her earlobe, rousing her desire. She closed her eyes as the warmth of his touch swept over her.

“Sharru-kin.” The name escaped from her lips before she realized what she had said.

“I am here,” responded the black-haired man.

She turned and looked up into his dark eyes; he still clung to her. “That’s your name, isn’t it? Sharru-kin?”

He smiled. “If that is the name that you bequeath upon me, I will take it gladly, for it’s a lordly name.” Buffy knew that the name meant ‘righteous ruler’ in the language that would become known as Ancient Mannish by the elves in later times. She found Sharru-kin’s eyes mesmerizing; they reflected his love and desire for her.

“I have a husband that I love dearly,” she said as her stomach twisted into knots.

“Indeed, the Elf Lord,” he answered as he brushed a stray hair from her face. “You are the Goddess of Love, Inanna. Your heart cannot be constrained to only one man. Do you not know that?” He tenderly caressed her cheek as Buffy stared blankly at the young man. He pulled her closer before boldly pressing his lips against hers. His kiss was fiery; it awakened the passion in her. She couldn’t restrain herself; she hungrily kissed him back. Instead of falling to the earth in their passionate embrace, the scenery changed once again as they fell onto a large golden bed within an elaborate chamber. That new setting mystified the Slayer, especially since they both found themselves naked. As Sharru-kin’s hands began to explore Buffy’s body, an overwhelming feeling of guilt consumed her.

“NO!” she cried out before pulling away from the young man…



The Slayer rolled off the bed, landing on the carpeted floor of her tent with a thud. The fall jolted her awake; she was both naked (except for the Brisingamen) and out of breath. Kit hastily ran to her side and licked her face as if to tell her that all was well. She affectionately rubbed the lion behind his ears before taking a seat on the bed, wiping the beads of sweat that had formed on her brow with the back of her hand.

Buffy was rattled by the strange encounter with Sharru-kin, she found it most disturbing. She couldn’t imagine any situation that would cause her to take a mortal lover. She absolutely refused to believe his words - her heart was constrained to one man: Maglor. Buffy didn’t want anyone but her husband, whom she loved with all her heart. Yes, she had slept with Morgoth, but there were extenuating circumstances involved. She needed armies. Fast. It was essential to the defeat of Illyria, and deliverance of Mankind from her firstborn’s bondage. Besides, what other choice did she have?

The Slayer pushed that thought out of her mind. She looked lovingly at Kit, who now placed his front paws on her lap. “All that matters is that we’ve won,” she said aloud as she scratched the lion’s head. “Isn’t that right, baby?” She placed a kiss on Kit’s nose before summoning Fulla. It was time for a much-needed bath. As she sat in the tub of lukewarm water, being tended to by her maid, images continued to flash in her mind like a picture show. There was so much that needed to be done. Buffy would see to it that the visions regarding the rise of her kingdom came into being. But where to start?

After dressing, Buffy immediately went to Sussrúmnir; not to pass judgment on those that had fallen but to collect some valuables that she could use to barter with the Dwarves of Orocarni. The Naugrim were imperative to bringing her visions to fruition, and there was no doubt in her mind that they’d charge a great fee, especially when one considered the number of dwarves that she wished to employ. She wanted to put every dwarf that survived the battle to work, but it wouldn’t be cheap, that she knew well.

She walked from chamber to chamber, eyeing the rare artifacts that she owned. Buffy loathed parting with any of her possessions, especially knowing that Úrion and his traitorous followers had cleaned out her vaults in Lindecoa. She was getting sick and tired of ‘flipping the bill’ for everything. The Slayer had always been overly generous in the past, but that was about to come to an end. Perhaps it was time for the mortals to implement some type of monetary system like the Noldor had done in Beleriand. The Red Mountains were loaded with gold and silver for the taking, they just needed to start mining it. Surely, there was plenty of metal for both the Dwarves and Mankind. In the end, she chose a large vase full of gemstones. The dwarves had never seen any before (except for the Brisingamen), and she hoped that they would consider the jewels quite valuable since they were a rarity in the East.

Before she left her mystical realm, she summoned all her Maia councilors, engineers and shipwrights to Sussrúmnir. From the assemblage, Buffy chose fifteen of her most beloved councilors, thirty shipwrights and forty-five engineers to return with her to the East. She felt that their wisdom would be instrumental in establishing her new regime. Once everyone had gathered their personal belongings, they disappeared from that sacred land, only to return to the encampment atop the hill at mid-day.

Little did Buffy know how much her life was about to change. Her dreams were about to come true.

As soon as she appeared with her companions, every single person, whether they be Man, Elf, Dwarf, or Maia, fell to their knees out of love and respect for Buffy and her victorious crusade. Like a wave, people fell on bended knee across the plains, and together they lifted their voices as one, singing her praises. So touching was that moment that it brought tears to the Slayer’s eyes. To see even Luthor on bended knee thrilled her beyond words. The elves then sang Sweet Madam Blue in their mellifluous voices.

“This is the dawn of a new age for the peoples of the East,” she declared once the elves had finished singing. Her booming voice resonated across the land. “I forgive the sins of your past, my people, and from this day forward we shall all start over; we will heal the hurts of the earth and in our hearts. Let us not forget those who have fallen. Let us not let their deaths be in vain. We will honor them for both their service and sacrifice… We have endured the darkness, only to find the Light; through grief and sorrow, we’ll experience joy and bliss as Eru Ilúvatar intended.

“Together, we will build great cities from stone and marble across the plains. I will justly reward you all for your undying faith and loyalty to me. I will summon the flocks to return and the rains will soon come and replenish the lands.” A beaming Buffy paused; she looked at the joyous faces of her devoted followers. The East was Man’s dominion, and she did not totally forget her past life as a mortal, which seemed like ages ago. Considering the fact that she once counted herself as a human being, she decided to re-name that land based on her own ‘mortal’ name.

“Today, I proclaim all these lands in the East to be named Sumer.” Buffy smiled to herself, knowing that she had just made history, Mankind’s history. Sumer was obviously derived from her own mortal surname, ‘Summers,’ and she knew that that name would withstand the test of time. While the name Sumer itself would not be as widely known in the End of Days, the feminized version, Sumeria, most certainly would. Buffy now saw the first link in the chain that connected the First Age to the Fourth Age. Come spring, she would witness the second link, when her death and Resurrection would be declared the holiest of days. That Holy Day stemmed from the name that Brolach gave her long ago, Astarte, but in modern times, her Holy Day would be celebrated as Easter.

Only minutes later, men cried out in fear, pointing to the east. A thick fog, which emitted a faint sizzling sound, was slowly rolling across the plains, heading straight towards the encampment. A smile came to her face when she looked at the billowing cloud. Buffy understood what was happening; Ulmo had sent his enchanted mists to help ‘dissolve’ the corpses on the battlefield. Buffy appreciated the gesture greatly as there were literally millions of bodies in various stages of decomposition throughout that area. The Lord of Waters was merely assisting with the ‘clean up.’ The Vala of Love explained to her followers what was about to happen, and told them to rejoice in the fact that the rains were on the way.

Buffy then summoned all the chieftains from the various races to a council. By the time that the rains had begun, dozens of people had crammed into her pavilion. The Slayer sat at the table and sketched out the beautiful temple that she had seen in her vision: a circular, gleaming white structure with many pillars, a grand stairway of seventy-seven steps and a glass-dome in the center of the copper roof. She knew that it was crucial that the dwarves help bring that building into being since they were exceptional craftsmen and their numbers were by far greater than the other races combined.

The negotiations with the lords from the dwarvish clans, the Ironfists, Stiffbeards, Blacklocks and Stonefoots were not at all what the Slayer expected. The dwarves were infamous for demanding a great fee for their labors and the lords of Orocarni were no exception. Buffy’s frustrations grew. She found these dwarf lords to be greedier than any she had ever encountered before. She argued that she had freed them from the tyranny of Illyria and Melkor and that that should be taken into account as part of their ‘fee.’ The dwarves did not see it that way, which annoyed Buffy to no end. She called for a break in the meeting in order to regain her composure. She retreated to her bedchamber and placed the Brisingamen around her neck; she knew that the mystical necklace would help sway the dwarves to her line of thinking. When they resumed the meeting, the Naugrim agreed to her demands, they would receive a paltry salary for the construction of the first temple.

First and foremost, she instructed the dwarves to construct the mammoth temple in honor of Eru Ilúvatar. For without his blessings, she wouldn’t realize her own dreams. After all, he was the All-father, and truly worthy of worship by all the peoples in the East. Ships would need to be built in order to transport the marble from the north. That’s why she had brought back her Maia shipwrights; their skill surpassed all others when it came to the art of boatbuilding. The Slayer demanded the temple’s completion by the first of the year, for that would be the time when she would appoint the first mortal king of Sumer. That gave the dwarves nearly five months to complete the structure.

“We cannot accomplish such a task in that short amount of time,” said one of the dwarf lords.

“If you work around the clock, you can,” informed Buffy. “You’ve got the manpower. I suggest that you get off your butts and get to work. The clock’s ticking.”

The dwarves grumbled, but set out to start quarrying the marble in the location that she told them. The Maiar were responsible for setting the hallowed foundations of that and all temples that followed.

Buffy then instructed many elves and mortals to collect all the weapons and armor from the battlefield. No mortal was allowed to keep any implement of war except for the weapons that he or she had possessed before the Slayer had arrived. Some of her councilors felt that man should have no weapons, but Buffy vetoed that idea. They were permitted to keep their bows, slings and knives, but all other weapons were to be returned to her, including those of the enemy.

Only a few days later, the construction of new dwellings (both at the top and bottom of the hill) began by those who had remained behind in the encampment. Buffy had envisioned a two-tiered city, the Ainur, Elves and Dwarves would reside within a fenced wall at the apex of the hill while Man would dwell at its base. She hoped that if she limited her contact with the mortals, she would be able to thwart the vision of Sharru-kin. That meant segregating the populace, allowing only certain representatives of Man into the ‘heart’ of the city. It was all part of her grand design for a new civilization.

With the construction underway, Buffy and her Maia councilors sequestered themselves in her pavilion hashing out the new laws of the land. It was a tedious task, but it had to be done nonetheless. The one thing that really caused the Slayer distress was Mankind’s numbers. They had dwindled dangerously low and she considered it of the utmost importance for their numbers to multiply. What was the point in being the supreme ruler if you didn’t have any to rule? She decided to debate this matter with her most trusted advisors.

“Maybe we’re jumping the gun here by enacting all these laws,” she said with a sigh, shifting the topic of conversation from taxation to her new dilemma. Everyone fixed his or her gaze upon her. “I mean, it’s not like there’s hordes of mortals to abide by them… I don’t know if you guys noticed the ratio of women to men, but we’re in desperate need of… people.”

“What do you propose?” questioned Luthor, his eyebrows furrowed in suspicion.

“Well,” began Buffy as she rose from her seat. She started pacing in the small space allotted to her. “I think that man should take multiple wives… ”

An outbreak of rumblings immediately filled the room. Luthor was most outspoken against her.

“That is absolute madness!” shouted the old man, slamming his fist on the table. He couldn’t help but be abashed by her suggestion.

“How so?” she queried, undaunted by Luthor’s outburst.

“How so?” he repeated, his tone revealed his shock. “Polygamy is against all laws of nature, that’s why! Besides, Manwë had decreed… ”

“Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?” remarked a snickering Buffy. “You have some nerve to throw that ‘Manwë decreed’ shit in my face after all you’ve done!” Luthor eased back in his chair; the Slayer’s words cut deep. He thought that they had put the past behind them. “Manwë has no say so here,” she continued, her agitation quite apparent. “When it comes to the fate of Mankind, the Valar have no say. I do. My will reigns!

“Why do you think I was chosen to deliver Man?” She studied the faces of all her councilors. “It’s no mere coincidence that Eru wanted not only the Slayer here but the Vala of Love. Surely, Oromë could’ve stopped Illyria, but that’s not Ilúvatar’s will. This undertaking was assigned to me because of who I am, what I am, and what I represent. Love comes in many forms and I’m the embodiment of all aspects of it.” She stopped and looked directly into Luthor’s eyes. “Man must multiply.” Her lips curled into a small smile. “What’s more, babies don’t grow on trees, now do they?”

“I fear that you will incur the wrath of your brethren for your flagrant disregard for their laws,” replied Luthor solemnly. “I’m only looking after your best interests, Bella… or am I commanded to call you Inanna Ishtar too?”

“You can call me whatever the hell you want, Luthor,” replied Buffy as she plopped back down in her seat. “I do not want Man learning the Elvish languages. Only the monarchs will be permitted to learn and use that tongue.”

Her councilors would soon discover that Sumer was not a democracy; it was a dictatorship. And they’d also hear the word ‘veto’ more times than they cared to.