Full Circle

Buffy leaned against the railing of the balcony off her bedchamber, nursing her fifth glass of wine as she stewed over the events that had transpired earlier that night. Nothing infuriated her more than discovering that the twins were aware of the existence of that Marduk character. The Slayer had reproached the children of Marto for withholding valuable information from her. She continued to brood over the tirade that she had had not an hour before:

“… He waltzes into my halls and humiliates me in front of my Household,” she ranted. “The disrespectful bastard!” She stopped in front of the Oracles, her eyes bore into theirs. “What the hell is he? A Maia? Vala? A hybrid?”

The twins warily eyed one another before Anno answered, “He is a Vala, akin to Aulë.”

“A Vala?” queried a stunned Buffy. She really wasn’t expecting to hear that. A wistful expression came to her face as she resumed pacing, nervously twirling a lock of her golden hair. “Why is he here? Irmo told me that only Melkor and I are supposed to be in Middle-earth, and now I have to contend with this… Marduk.”

“He is a renegade Vala, mother,” answered her daughter.

“Renegade?” repeated the Slayer, turning towards the twins. “Oh, that’s just great! Here I thought we’d earned the right to have some peace, and now I have to deal with an intruder who, do I need to remind you people, calls himself King of the East! If you’ve paid attention, you’d know that’s MY title! MINE!” she snapped, no longer able to curtail her anger.

Luthor stepped forward from the throng of spectators and said, “Calm down, Bella… ” When Buffy turned her dark eyes on the Lord of the Deeper Well, he reconsidered sharing his thoughts and returned to his spot amongst his kindred.

The agitated Slayer plopped down upon her throne before draining the contents of her glass. With a snap of her fingers, someone came rushing forward, refilling the cup with red wine.

“Leave the bottle,” she instructed, swigging the second glass faster than the first. Buffy turned her attention back to the twins. “So, am I supposed to make war with Marduk or what?”

“As long as you leave him in peace, he will do the same,” answered her oldest son. “He is not a warmonger, unless provoked to action.”

“He’s not gonna attack me at unawares, or attempt to infiltrate my cities with his spies?” questioned the Slayer skeptically.

“Not that I can see,” replied Mirë.

“Well, I don’t trust ‘em,” slurred Buffy before replenishing her glass and taking another long drink. “I’d rather bring him down before he has a chance to do the same to me.” She shook her head, loathing the disquiet that Marduk’s sudden arrival had brought about…



As the Slayer drained the contents of her glass, she couldn’t help but wonder why she had never heard about Marduk before. Irmo had never mentioned him, nor had Melkor. Why would they not tell her about that enigmatic Vala, especially Morgoth? Were they protecting him? And what role was Marduk destined to play in the big scheme of things? She desperately wanted to know that, in particular. From Buffy’s perspective, he was an interloper in her realm, regardless of how long he had dwelt in the East. He wasn’t supposed to be there! She would overthrow him the first chance she got. But right now, she had to be patient. She wasn’t ready to wage war on Marduk or anybody else for that matter, man’s numbers had to increase considerably before she would even consider challenging the renegade Vala.

“It’s cold,” said Thranduil, who had come up behind her, wrapping a blanket around her shoulders. “I’d hate to see you catch a chill.”

“Thanks,” she replied gratefully, still watching the merrymakers below. “How come you’re not partying with everybody else?”

“Not in the mood,” answered the forlorn elf.

“C’mon, let’s go inside. It’s getting too chilly for me.” They returned to the warmth of her bedchamber. Both Buffy and Thranduil curled up on her bed. “What’s wrong, little man?” He shrugged his shoulders in response. She locked eyes with the silver-haired elf, attempting to perceive his thoughts. After a few moments, a smile came to her face. “Cahal is fine, Thranduil. In fact, when I brought him back, he asked to be re-embodied as a boy, and he’s not the only one. I’ve never had any ask to be brought back as a child before, not until my last visit.” The elf glanced up at the chuckling Slayer. “He’s running around Folkvang in the guise of a twelve year old. It’s kinda nice, you know, hearing the laughter of children there.”

“He is well then,” he said in a tone that revealed his fondness for the boy.

“Yep. You don’t need to worry about him. He accepted his death, and is relishing his rebirth.” Buffy gave the elf’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “You’ll see him again, I promise. It won’t be for a long while, but… ” She smiled warmly as her words trailed off.

“That’s good to hear. He’s a very brave young man,” he answered with a sigh. Thranduil had wanted to know the status of his young friend for some time, but the opportunity to ask Buffy had never presented itself until that moment. He felt better knowing that Cahal was enjoying the bliss of Folkvang. “We’re going to be here for a while, aren’t we? In Sumer, I mean.”

“Why? Are you ready to go home?”

“No, not really. I miss the fair woods of Ossir, is all.”

“Well, maybe we can remedy that.” He gave her an inquisitive look. “In a few days, I’m gonna start searching the lands for desirable and strategic locations for our new city-states. I’ll definitely find a place that reminds us of Lindon.” She folded her arms behind her head, looking up at the ceiling and added dreamily, “Perhaps somewhere along one of the rivers where the trees are so tall that their shadows reach across the river.”

“Can I go with you?”

“Only if you can sprout wings and fly,” she answered with a laugh. “I intend on going in falcon form. I wanna check out Marduk’s realm while I’m gone, see what the bastard’s up to.”

“You better be careful on your journey then. I don’t much like that Vala. He appears to be in cahoots with Morgoth and I fear that he’ll retaliate against you on the Dark Lord’s behalf,” stated Thranduil gravely.

“I guess that’s always a possibility. But rest assured, little man, I’ll be vigilant!” They fell silent for a few minutes. Buffy scrutinized the elf; he still seemed glum to her. “Is something else bothering you? You seem… sad or something. I can’t quite put my finger on it.”

“I’ve grown up.” Buffy found his response amusing. She nearly burst out laughing, that is, until she noticed that Thranduil was serious. “Dagor i Thelaith Thrynin was the first real war that I’d ever fought in,” he continued morosely. “It’s one thing to hear tales about great battles; it’s altogether different to be a part of it. Somehow, the pain and terror of it all cannot be appreciated unless one experiences it firsthand. Watching those that you love and care about falling at the hand of the enemy is horrifying… the cries of anguish, the stench of death that lingers in the air… ” The elf shuddered. “I had no idea what warfare was really like… I feel that I’ve acted like a foolish child for far too long. I’m a man, the future king of the Laiquedi; I need to start acting the part.”

“War’s never pretty,” remarked the Slayer, “but sometimes it’s necessary, a necessary evil as the wise say.”

“How do you do it?” he asked. Thranduil looked imploringly at her, hoping that she would speak some words of wisdom to ease his worried mind. “How do you go back to living your life as you did before after witnessing such atrocities?”

“Life goes on,” she replied with a forced smile. “We can’t stop living because those that we love perished in battle. That would make their deaths meaningless, hollow… Don’t think for one second that it doesn’t affect me, it does!”

“Yet you’re somehow able to resume your life again with some semblance of normality.”

“What other choice do I have? Listen, I never signed up for this gig, I was chosen. I was no older than Cahal when I learned that I was the Slayer. And believe me; I wanted no part of it! I’ve been slaying demons for two hundred and twelve years now. Over time, you learn how to separate the warrior you from you as a person.”

“In other words, you adapt.”

“Exactly!”

“I don’t know if I can adapt, Bella,” he continued softly. “After witnessing so much death… and the deviousness of Úrion… I’ll never be the same.”

Buffy let out a heavy sigh. “Well, war has a way of changing people, unfortunately. But you can’t dwell on the past. Learn from it, take that knowledge with you into the future, you’ll be a better man for it.”

“Perhaps.”

“Hey, believe me; I know what I’m talking about.” The Slayer shifted to a sitting position, deciding that she desperately wanted to lighten the elf’s mood. “Do you know that your defeat of Goliath will be remembered throughout all the ages of the world?” Thranduil’s eyes lit up when she said that.

“You’re jesting!”

“Nope. Our battle and victory will become legendary. None in the East will ever forget it, and by the Forth Age, all the world will know of it. You, my dear elf, are a living legend although the world doesn’t know it just yet.”

That revelation appeared to lift Thranduil’s spirits, even though Buffy wasn’t entirely truthful about it. She didn’t have the heart to tell him that mankind would alter the story, naming one of their own as the slayer of the Lord of Giants. She knew that the distorting of history tends to happen over time. Even her own position in the story would evolve into something completely different. The Slayer had never recalled any stories from mythology or otherwise, that mentioned a daughter of Eru being sacrificed on the cross, only ‘the son’ of God. Did that mean that there was no Jesus Christ? That it was always she, but man altered her tale as well.

Whilst sitting upon her throne at Sussrúmnir, Buffy had also seen the historical impact that the destruction of Bâb-edh-Dhrâ and Numeira would have on the world. She knew that the tale of the fall of those two infamous cities would endure as long as the world did. As the languages of mankind evolved in later ages, those cities would be widely known by their Hebrew names, Sodom and Gomorrah, which meant ‘Burnt,’ and ‘Buried,’ respectively.

Thranduil ended up falling asleep in the Slayer’s bed. While he slept, she contemplated her next move. Before she left on her long journey, a few things had to be addressed, namely the situation with the elves of Doriath. Buffy knew that it was of the utmost importance that they return to their home before Thingol held his council. While she wasn’t looking forward to the extreme measures that she’d have to employ, it had to be done nevertheless. At first light, she would put her plan into action.

Once the Sindar were gone, Buffy intended to deal with the Green-elves in front of the multitudes of people. She believed that if the good people of Sumer witnessed the punishment of the traitorous elves, it would discourage them from following in their treacherous footsteps. She hated to admit it, but Melkor was right about one thing: a good leader can lead with love alone, but a great leader must instill fear into the hearts of his followers. The Slayer had the foresight to know that mankind had to be watched closely for he could easily be lured to the dark side with false promises, more so than the elves and dwarves.

None truly understood how deeply Úrion’s betrayal had affected her. He had single-handedly managed to turn her fear into paranoia, especially when it came to his successful corruption of the Green-elves. It was important to Buffy that she make an example of the traitorous elves. Their punishment had to be as horrific as what Úrion had done to her. Within twenty-four hours, she would proclaim that the traitorous elves were to be executed in the most heinous manner possible. Their deaths had to be brutal enough so that none would even entertain the thought of betraying her. She needed her big gun for the job - Failo. Yes, she would need to bring the masochistic Maia from Folkvang to inflict the most unimaginable torments upon the traitorous elves.

Unable to sleep, she let Thranduil be as she left her bedchamber for her throne room. Buffy immediately summoned all the Maia men that were present in Eridu to meet her in the courtyard behind the palace. When they arrived, she asked forty-four hundred of them to volunteer for an important mission, a mission that would require them to stay in Middle-earth for an undetermined amount of years. All the men were willing to aid their mistress in the hour of her need. After much debate, the forty-four hundred were selected.

Buffy then performed one of the greatest spells that she had ever done in all her days. One by one, she approached each man and gave him an open-mouthed kiss. The kiss was by no means done out of affection or passion, it was purely magical. Her kiss transferred the remnants of each fallen man of Doriath’s essence into a Maia so that he became the spitting image of the dead elf, complete with memories and mannerisms. None would be able to discern that they weren’t the ‘real deal,’ including Melian. Buffy’s men would then be sent back to Doriath to fulfill their roles in Thingol’s regime.

However, changing the Maiar to elves was the easy part for the Slayer. It was altering the memories of the survivors of Doriath that caused her much distress. There was no way that she could risk their exposing the truth to Thingol. Buffy had to protect Melian at all costs. That was extremely important to her. All the elves that were disfigured in the war would be made whole again, courtesy of the magics of Istahiro. The memories of the past four years had to be erased and new ones implanted. Instead of the elves battling the forces of darkness in the East, they would believe that they had been hunting bands of yrch on Doriath’s borders. When Buffy summoned the Moriquendi to her halls, she put them into an enchanted sleep. She and her chief healer wielded their magics before sending the elves back in groups to different locations along the western borders of Thingol’s kingdom. Once they had arrived, they would wake, feeling completely refreshed; the memories of the East long gone.

Buffy refused to allow herself to become consumed by guilt. She had made up her mind that that was the best thing to do. When Luthor learned what the Slayer had done, he was horrified. He condemned her actions and told her that she was heading down a dark path that would ultimately have disastrous results. She took his warning with a grain of salt. Buffy was beginning to tire of the old man’s critical attitude. Who was he to say anything to her after all that he had done in his past? The Slayer wasn’t ‘acting the fool,’ she was protecting those that she loved. She felt that her actions were justifiable.

Shortly thereafter, she returned to Folkvang and gathered another one thousand Maia men, fifty Valkyries and her chief torturer, Failo. Once the group was assembled, she brought them back to Eridu where they were assigned various tasks. She and Failo then retreated to her private chambers where they discussed various means of tormenting the traitors.

Later that evening, Buffy pronounced her judgment on the Green-elves in the presence of hundreds of people from all the races. She looked like a mighty queen, dressed in her ceremonial dress, the crown of lapis lazuli on her golden head, a ruby scepter clutched in her hands. Despite her petite size, her presence alone commanded the respect one would give a Vala King. At that moment, she no longer concealed the power of her divine race, it radiated from her very essence.

Orchal, who had become her chief herald in Sumer, stood at the bottom of the dais. He was responsible for formally naming the accused and the charges brought against them.

“The act of treason is the most abhorrent sin that any can commit in my kingdom,” she declared to the condemned. “I will not tolerate it in any way, shape or form.” She turned her wrathful gaze on each of the ninety elves, most trembled when her eyes fell upon them, while a few remained undaunted by her glaring look. “I hereby find all of you guilty of the crimes that you’ve been accused of committing: murder and treason. My judgment is thus: each of you will be subjected to the most horrific torments that we can devise until it results in your death. That is the only reward for disloyalty. Rejoice in knowing that your torments will be similar to those that your lord inflicted on me. These death sentences shall be carried out at sunrise in two days time.”

Buffy then commanded all to witness the executions of the traitors, whether they be man, woman or child. The punishments would take place at various locations along the bottom of the mount, so that the traitors’ blood couldn’t sully the sacred mound of Eru. Besides, the willow saplings, which grew in abundance on the eastern side of the mount, played an integral role in one of the methods of execution that Failo wanted to test.

Once again, Luthor went ballistic. When he ran into Buffy in one of the corridors of the palace, the Maia grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into a deserted room.

“What is wrong with you? Have you gone mad?” questioned the exasperated old man.

The Slayer shifted her eyes to Luthor’s hand, which remained clutched to her left arm. “I advise you to get your hand off me.”

He released his hold and quickly added, “What madness has overtaken you?”

“They betrayed me,” she hissed, folding her arms across her chest defiantly, “and they must be punished accordingly.”

“That’s something I’d expect to hear from Melkor, not you, Bella,” admonished Luthor.

Buffy’s face contorted to rage. It took everything she had to restrain herself from unleashing her anger on the Maia. With her fists balled at her sides, she barked, “Don’t you EVER compare me to him!” Her eyes were alit with fury. “I’m nothing remotely like Morgoth.”

The old man couldn’t help but notice the Slayer’s aggressive posture. “What’s with all the rage? I’m not the enemy here.” He attempted to place his hand lovingly on her shoulder, but she pulled away, taking several steps backwards. She then walked over to one of the tall windows and looked at the workers who continued their labors by firelight. Luthor was confused and hurt by her behavior; it was so unlike her. “Why won’t you talk with me?” he continued as he took several cautious steps towards her. “What have I done to offend you so?”

She faced the old man; a look of sadness replaced the rage that she had had on her face only moments before. “You called me mad… and you compared me to Melkor,” she whined. “Melkor, Luthor! How can you compare me to the likes of him?”

“When you speak of killing the elves, what am I to think? What happened to redemption and forgiveness?”

Buffy sighed heavily as she glanced back out the window. “They went out the door when the elves conspired against me. I can’t forgive any that aided Úrion,” she answered softly before shifting her gaze to Luthor. “You tell me how you could forgive someone for nailing you to a cross and setting you aflame. You tell me how to forgive someone who did that to you.”

“Úrion was the one responsible for those deplorable deeds, not the Green-elves.”

“They helped him!” she protested, her temper rising again. “Aiding and abetting a murderer makes you as guilty as he. I died, Luthor! Yeah, I came back, but you can’t imagine the pain that I had to endure. Turn about is fair play. Death is the only appropriate punishment, whether you agree or not. I don’t care. My word’s law, not yours.”

“That’s rather harsh,” commented the old man.

“That’s life.”

“I fear for you, Bella,” started Luthor somberly. “A dark shadow lies over these lands and I fear it has already begun to consume you. You have ousted Illyria from her seat, only to take her place as the new Dark King.”

“I’m not evil!”

“No? And slaughtering the firstborn of Eru demonstrates your righteousness?”

“Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth.”

“What exactly does that mean?”

“You call yourself wise, you figure it out,” she answered with an air of annoyance in her voice. “I don’t have time for this; I’ve got things to do.” She began walking off.

“Bella?” called Luthor. She stopped in her tracks, refusing to face him. “Why don’t we forgo things here in the East and return home? Surely Maglor would love to have his family back.”

“And let Man be corrupted by Marduk? I don’t think so. This is where I’m supposed to be. This is home.” She marched out of the room, leaving the crestfallen Maia alone.

Luthor was beginning to see that the more he pushed the Slayer, the further she pulled away from him. It broke his heart. But what bothered him most was her eagerness to execute the elves. She had always been a firm believer in redemption and second chances. The fact that Illyria still lived was proof of that. The old man knew in his heart that Buffy’s firstborn would one day reemerge from a Hellmouth and seek vengeance on her mother. He loathed the thought, but deemed that it was inevitable. If only she would listen to reason, it would save her much heartbreak in the future.

“She’s as stubborn as they come,” uttered Luthor before leaving the chamber.



The following morning, Buffy’s people quickly went to work setting up the ‘stages’ where the executions would take place. Barricades were set up around the various sites to prevent any curiosity-seekers from meddling with the various torture devices. Over the course of the day, processions of people departed the city and gathered around the barred areas so that they could get a clear view of the slayings that would take place the next morning. The mortals viewed the ‘rituals’ as a form of entertainment, and were quite excited to see what kind of punishments that the Vala King would inflict on the betrayers. They were of the opinion that the elves’ reprehensible deeds warranted the cruelest of death sentences.

On the morning of the executions, just before sunrise, the chiming of the bells of Eridu alerted the residents that the guilty had begun their death march. Both elves and Maiar, garbed wholly in black, escorted the lawbreakers to the various sites. At Buffy’s insistence, the executioners wore hoods that covered their faces so that none knew their identities.

Most of the people gathered at the bottom of the mount were mortals, dwarves and some of the elves. Buffy, the Maiar, and most of her Household watched the events unfold from the top of the hill since their positions provided them with an unobstructed view of all the sites. The Slayer couldn’t help but notice that two people had defied her direct orders and refused to be present at the executions: Luthor and Olofin. Both were appalled by her decision to torment the elves in such a ruthless manner.

Failo was anxious to try out a means of execution that he referred to as ‘Death by Saplings,’ which required two of the flexible willow trees. He instructed an elf to climb each sixty-foot tall tree, securing the topmost branches with two ropes. The other ends of the cords were tossed to the ground; one was fastened to the harness of oxen while the other would be tied around the victim’s legs. As the Maia’s assistants led the beasts of burden away from the trees, the saplings began to bend towards the ground. Before the ropes were released from the harnesses, they were anchored deep into the ground with large wooden stakes. It was now time for the evil elf to take his position.

Two of Failo’s masked assistants then grabbed one of the criminals. The ominous looking contraption terrified the elf so much that he wet himself. He struggled with his captors as they dragged him towards the spot where two more executioners stood waiting. All the while, the spectators taunted the petrified elf as he passed them by. The four-cloaked figures threw the lawbreaker onto the ground, momentarily knocking the wind out of him. While stunned, he was pushed down flat on his back, spread-eagled, as two of the executioners tied each leg with the remaining ropes. The crowd stopped jeering and waited impatiently for the finale. The only sounds heard were the howling of the elf and the moaning of those waiting their turn with Failo’s torture device.

Two of the cloaked figures stepped away, while the other two grabbed the axes embedded in the ground. They readied themselves beside the ropes attached to the stakes. The tall, dark form of Failo then raised his arm high above his head. When he brought it down, the executioners hit the cords with their blades, snapping them in two. The elf let out a blood-curdling scream as his body suddenly began to soar through the air. A loud popping sound echoed in the early morning light as his right leg ripped not only from its socket but from his torso as well. A river of crimson poured from the wound as the elf let out another shriek. Like a catapult, the elf was launched over the treetop and slung violently to the ground before the force pulled him back, separating his other leg from his trunk. The whole ordeal lasted only a matter of seconds. The crowd roared with delight, cheering the macabre sight.

The anguished cries from another stage diverted the Slayer’s attention from the gory scene that she had just witnessed to yet another one. Fifteen elves had been stripped naked and were laid on stone tables as a different set of executioners inserted blunt tipped poles, about four inches in diameter, into their anuses. Once the wooden rods were shoved nearly a foot into their rectums, the cloaked figures carried the ‘elfsicles’ to a clearing where the poles were fixed upright into the ground. The more that the elf wiggled and squirmed, the quicker his body slid down the post. It was, by far, the most excruciating form of torture used on the traitors.

Failo had told Buffy that the elves torment was increased by using a blunt ended object instead of a pointed one. A pointed spear, for example, would quickly pierce all their internal organs, bringing death swiftly. By using a blunt ended pole, the internal organs would be pushed aside as the rod made its way through the body, thus prolonging their suffering. The master torturer told Buffy that it would take a couple of days for the evildoers to die by that means of execution.

Buffy’s eyes went from stage to stage. She watched as a few men were buried neck deep in the earth, only to have honey poured over their heads. The sweet nectar would attract a variety of bugs, especially ants; it was not a pleasant way to go. One of the forms of execution that the people enjoyed immensely was the torment known as ‘stoning.’ That was the only punishment in which the Slayer allowed any type of ‘audience participation.’ Those selected were able to throw rocks of various sizes (depending on ones strength) at the villains, who were bound to a tree. Those individuals that participated in inflicting torments on the elves did so in Buffy’s name. They glorified and praised her before throwing their stones. All considered the elves betrayal an abomination. And since Buffy was their chief God, the Deliverer of Mankind, they felt it was befitting that they could unleash some of their own hostilities on those that had caused her great pain.

The executions would go on throughout the day and night.

After a couple of hours, Buffy had seen enough. She was ready to leave on her journey while the others were left to see the executions through to the end. There was no doubt in her mind that her message had come through loud and clear. Any that betrayed her would be subjected to the torments that they had witnessed or perhaps something even worse. Her plan had served its purpose: it instilled fear into the hearts of her followers. While the Slayer remained in the East, she never encountered any disloyalty from her people. In fact, they loved her even more.