Full Circle

It took eleven long, torturous months for the company to reach the outskirts of Borsippa. Buffy’s nerves were nearly shattered from the experience thus far, and they hadn’t even crossed the Red Mountains. The last time she had spent that much ‘quality’ time around mortals was during the war nearly a century before. She wasn’t used to whiny children running amok and the incessant shrill cries from what seemed to be a choir of babies. What’s more, the winter rains, combined with the floods that had taken place months earlier, had saturated the ground so much, forcing the caravan to trudge along for hundreds of miles in ankle-deep mud.

It was for those reasons, among others, that Buffy didn’t show outright elation upon meeting Luthor and the multitudes of people gathered around him on that late autumn morning in Yr 246 F.A. The mortals in the north, like those in Eridu, refused to forsake the gods that they’d come to love and adore. They refused to be left behind.

A weary Buffy threw her arms around the old man, glad that he hadn’t abandoned her as she had thought. The Maia pulled her into an embrace, immediately sensing that her magics had diminished. When he questioned her about it, she told him everything that Marduk had done to her, Olofin, the twins and the lions. Luthor was disturbed to hear such news. He was confounded by the renegade Vala’s talent at inhibiting another Ainu’s powers. He had no idea how the Vala Lord had been able to accomplish that feat.

Not wanting to waste time, the host, whose numbers now swelled to over two hundred thousand, turned west, and began the trek towards the mountain chain. After nearly a year of searching, the Valkyries could not find the dwarvish doors into Orocarni. Buffy could have kicked herself for not having visited with the Naugrim when invited years ago. The only entrance she knew about was on the western face of the mount, not the eastern.

“Have you given any thought as to how we’re supposed to get to the other side of Orocarni?” asked Luthor. The terrain was becoming more rocky and the ground more uneven, slowing the train even more. “We cannot scale that mount, not with this many people, nor with all the wagons and carts laden with goods.” The Maia glanced up at the imposing snow-capped peaks that formed the barrier before them. “Should we go south and turn west along the shores of Cuiviénen?”

Buffy gave the old man an incredulous look. “We just traveled seven hundred and fifty miles to get here! There’s no way I’m gonna turn around and head back the same way we’ve come.”

“Then what do you suggest?” She shrugged her shoulders in response. The Maia glanced around, making sure that no one could overhear what he was about to ask next. When he deemed that it was safe to continue, he whispered, “Do we dare enter Melkor’s secret door?”

The Slayer raised her brows, flabbergasted at the suggestion. “No! I don’t trust that to be the safest avenue,” she answered, slowly shaking her head. Long ago, Morgoth had had his servants dig a passageway within Ered Engrin that stretched from Thangorodrim in the west, all the way to the East, just passed Orocarni. Only three sets of doors opened from the Iron Mountains into Middle-earth: one at Angband, the one that Buffy and Luthor had used to escape, and the third, which was located a few hundred miles north from where they now stood. “I know Melkor hasn’t stationed men there in the past, but a lot can change over time. Especially since he knows we’re here.” She turned her gaze to the north and mumbled, “I know that’s how his minions escaped the East after the war.” Buffy faced Luthor, shaking off the thoughts that had invaded her mind. She resumed speaking in her normal tone. “I’m sure Morgoth’s got them guarded. No, it’s not worth the risk.”

“Then what do you suggest?”

“We keep walking until I figure it out. I just need time to think.” In other words, the Slayer didn’t want to talk any more. She still had a couple of weeks or so before they would reach the foot of the mountain.

Buffy’s current dilemma stymied her eagerness to speak with Luthor about more intimate matters. With even more people’s lives resting on her shoulders, she could think of nothing else but crossing Orocarni. She remained aloof during the march, testing her powers nearly every minute in hope that she’d find that it suddenly returned. The Slayer’s anxiety increased a few days later when the fierce winds began to blow out of the north, bringing with it the torrential downpours that signaled the approach of winter. The fungus-covered rocks that formed on their roadway became slick causing man, beast and vehicle to slip and slide along its surface. As a result, scores of people were injured during that part of their trek.

It was during a break from the rains ten days later that Buffy finally had that moment of enlightenment that she had been waiting for. She ordered both Vórëa and Feawë to go to Sussrúmnir and retrieve her copper trunk. Her heart nearly pounded out of her chest in anticipation as she nervously fiddled with the key in her hand. The group had come to a halt about nine miles from the base of the mountain. Nobody had any idea that the Slayer was about to perform a ‘miracle’ that would amaze the masses and increase their reverence for the Vala Queen.

The Valkyries returned fifteen minutes later, placing the trunk on a tarp at Buffy’s feet. The Slayer unlocked the box and swung open the lid. Peering inside, she pulled out a long item wrapped in some red velvety material. A warm smile came to her face as she continued to examine the contents of the trunk. She reached back inside and retrieved the crown of luinil flowers that Illyria had given her years before. Her smile broadened as she placed the circlet of fragrant blossoms on her golden head. Buffy then unveiled the Trident of Ulmo amidst ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ from the elves and Maiar that had congregated around her.

“You’re about to witness history in the making, my dear friends,” she announced with an air of confidence. As soon as the words had left her mouth, she felt a twinge of doubt. “At least, I hope so,” she uttered under her breath, her voice now full of uncertainty. Buffy climbed onto her chariot, hoping beyond anything that her hunch about the Trident was right. After enduring the humiliation of Marduk, she desperately wanted to leave the East on her own terms, to go out with a bang instead of a whimper. “Hold back! I don’t want anyone moving from this spot.” Kit and Kat then took to the air, heading towards the plateau on the shoulder of the mount.

The Slayer glanced behind her at the thousands of people milling around below. Some were watching her with keen eyes while others attended to menial chores that had become ritual during breaks from the march. She turned her gaze back towards the mountain, the winds whipping her hair wildly about her head. She focused all her energies on getting the masses to the other side of Orocarni. If there was even a remote possibility that she had some residual magics left in her, she was sure that the Trident would amplify them. Already, she could feel her arms tingling from handling the mystically enhanced weapon.

When the lions had landed on the rocky ridge, the Slayer took a deep breath before she stepped off the chariot. She looked at Kit and Kat, their yellow eyes fixed on their mistress.

“I should say something poignant and memorable, shouldn’t I?” she said with a nervous laugh. She pondered what she might say as she glanced up at the snow-capped peak. “What the hell am I doing?” she spoke her thought aloud. She quickly shifted her gaze back to the kitties. “That doesn’t count!” Kat yawned in reply. Buffy rolled her eyes. “Fine, let’s just get it over and done with.” She lifted the Trident with both hands. “How stupid can I be - I can’t even come up with something clever or witty to say… like… ” She rammed the prongs into the stone floor. It went through the rock like a knife through butter. “Like, I came, I saw, I kicked ass!” The Trident emitted a bluish-white light that engulfed the Slayer in its holy rays. The euphoric feeling that surged through her body reminded Buffy of what she was missing - power.

She clung to the three-prong spear as it began to vibrate violently within her grasp. A low rumbling sounded deep within the earth, gradually increasing in pitch. Kit let out a loud roar, his agitation apparent, as the ground started to tremble and shake violently beneath their feet. Both kitties were anxious to depart the rocky ridge. The Slayer yanked on the Trident, freeing it from the stone floor. She leapt back onto the chariot as Kit and Kat took off into the overcast sky, towing the chariot and Buffy behind. She had the lions remain within a mile of the plateau, circling a few hundred feet above the ground.

The grumblings from within the earth became louder and louder, shaking the ground for hundreds of miles around. The air became abnormally still as a thunderous cracking sound resonated throughout the entire region. The cats distanced themselves further from the mount, as mammoth chunks of rock, weighing thousands of tons each, broke asunder from the rock wall. By the time the fragments had hit the ground, they had somehow pulverized, covering the ground with a thick dust. Everyone looked on in awe as a cleft, nearly a half-mile wide, began to form between the towering peaks of the Red Mountains. The deafening noise did not cease until the gap went completely through the mighty peak. When it finally stopped, a calmness fell upon the land for several minutes. Buffy had the lions move in closer so that she could inspect the enormous fissure more closely. As they neared the opening, the winds picked up from the north, blowing thick clouds of dust to the south. Kit and Kat attempted to outrace the gusts of powdery rock, but the winds were so strong that they soon were engulfed in the tiny particles.

When they landed, all the people, including Luthor, fell to their knees, singing her praises at the top of their lungs. They couldn’t believe that they had just witnessed her parting of the Red Mountains in order for them to pass through. The Slayer was moved to tears by their gesture. Even though she didn’t want them to revere her in such a manner by the time they reached Beleriand, they were not yet there. She was beginning to see that deposing her holy status was not going to be as easy as she had thought. Buffy loved being idolized by the masses. It was what she ended up becoming in the end that she wanted to forget. She had no intention of letting any mortal set foot in the west until they had stopped speaking about the things that had happened in Mesopotamia. She was determined that the elves in the west would not learn of all the things that had transpired in the East, especially where she was concerned. The Slayer was willing to go to extreme measures, if necessary, to ensure that her life and everyone else’s lives in the East were kept secret.

As soon as the dust cloud had settled, the group set out once again. Buffy led the train with the Maiar and elves while mankind trailed behind. She ordered some of the Valkyries to continue the journey in fey form so that they could keep an eye out for any enemies daring to catch them at unawares. Others were positioned strategically along the caravan. At the Slayer’s insistence, only the Maiar and elves were permitted to bear arms. By the time the group had reached the cleft in the mountain wall, the rains had begun again. An earthy smell filled the air as they crossed the pathway between the towering peaks. It would take the group nearly ten days to reach the other side. Sadly, the company came to a standstill on the western slope. The fissure opened to a vast, dense forest. They could not continue on their trek until they built a road. That alone, would cause a several year delay.

The Slayer took to the air with Olofin, inspecting the lands below for the best possible route and the nearest water source. Ideally, she wanted the road to run parallel with a river so that they would always have a consistent water supply on their journey. They were very fortunate to find a fountainhead less than a mile from where the masses were setting up camp. Once they had determined which way the road was to go, the men commenced to hacking down the mammoth trees. In the meantime, Buffy instructed the Maiar and elves to use the wood to construct a massive log home for her and her Household.

Luthor also wanted some acreage cleared for planting the seeds that he had brought with him. He thought that that should take priority over the road since they had over two hundred thousand people to feed, and already some were complaining about their diet of lembas. In the end, they divided men into groups, some worked on the road, some the fields, and others on the dwellings. The women were primarily responsible for hauling water from the stream and tending to the camp, children and livestock.



Before Buffy knew it, spring had arrived, ushering in the most pleasant weather they had had in a long time. Often, she would wander off alone, eager to escape the noise of so many people gathered in too small of a place. She had discovered a small clearing along the wooded slope of the mount some distance away from the chaotic camp that offered privacy and seclusion from the others. It became her sanctuary, her place to think, and to sunbathe in the nude as well. Nothing relaxed her more than being alone at that spot, savoring the warmth of the sun’s rays on her pale naked skin.

“Make yourself decent,” she heard Luthor say, startling Buffy from her semi-conscious state. Lying on her stomach, she lifted her head, and turned in the direction of the voice. “I’ve brought some food,” he continued showing her the satchel slung over his shoulder.

The Slayer yawned as she grabbed her dress and pulled it over her head. “Please tell me that it’s not lembas!” she grumbled.

“I promise. No lembas. I’ve got a special treat for you - fresh ox,” he said with a smile, stepping out from the trees.

“Ox? Don’t tell me that things have gotten so bad that we’re already slaughtering our beasts of burden for food,” remarked the grim-faced Slayer.

“No,” answered Luthor. “One of the oxen broke its leg so we put it out of its misery.”

“Remind me not to break my leg,” she snickered, pulling her hair into a ponytail.

The Maia’s smile widened. “Come over here to the shade. I’m too old to be sitting in the sun without any protection.”

“Too old?” Buffy rose to her feet, grabbed her stuff and walked over to Luthor. “I’m older than you!” she added with a wry grin.

“Well, I haven’t been blessed with youthful skin,” he said, helping the Slayer lay the blanket beneath the boughs of a towering oak tree.

“Why is that?” she asked, an inquisitive look on her face. “I mean, you’re a Maia. You can change your appearance if you want, can’t you? You haven’t always been old-looking.” Never, in all their years together, had she ever asked him that question.

They took their seats on the blanket, as the old man started emptying the contents of his bag. Buffy immediately went for the wine while Luthor laid out the victuals.

“I suppose I could. I never tried, to be honest.” The Maia glanced up when he heard the popping of the cork. He frowned as he watched Buffy swig directly from the bottle. “I did bring goblets, you know.”

“Sorry, but my whistle needed wetting.” Buffy furrowed her brows, pondering her words. “Does that even make sense? My whistle needed wetting,” she repeated.

“Yes, my dear. It does,” he answered with a heavy sigh. Luthor retrieved their drinking vessels from the sack, and handed them to the Slayer.

Buffy crossed her legs and poured them each a cup of the deep red beverage.

“So, why do you choose to stay old?” she asked again.

“I don’t know if it’s something I chose… It sort of happened over time,” he answered, picking up a knife. “I believe that my inner conflicts with Melkor precipitated my aging.” A puzzled expression came to the Slayer’s face. Luthor paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts. “When one toils under pressure or great duress, it has a tendency to change one’s hröa. It ages the body,” he explained, cutting thick wedges of yellow cheese. “I really don’t know what would have become of me if you hadn’t come along. You, my dear Bella, were my saving grace.”

“Some saving grace I turned out to be,” she answered with a moan. “I was nothing more than a self-absorbed bitch.”

The Maia looked up, waving the knife as he spoke. “We all make errors in judgment. You, not the least. Be thankful that your wits returned sooner rather than later.” Buffy shifted her gaze to her goblet, her finger tracing the rim of the cup. “Listen to me.” Luthor raised her chin so that their eyes locked. “I’ve spent ages upon ages in Melkor’s service doing things that I wish I could forget. Your fall from grace was short-lived and for that, I am truly grateful. Things could have been much worse. Believe me!”

Luthor’s words did little to comfort the Slayer. She couldn’t help but feel guilty for her mistreatment of him over the years. After all the time they had spent traveling together, not once had she apologized for her atrocious behavior. Being alone with the Maia for the first time in what seemed like ages brought to mind all the pain and grief she had put him through. Luthor was the closest thing she had to a father and to know that she was the reason for their relationship becoming strained caused her great sorrow. A surge of emotions suddenly overwhelmed the Slayer. She had been harboring such guilt and despair for so long that she couldn’t hold back her feelings any longer.

“I’m sorry, Luthor. I really am,” she said, choking back her tears. She bowed her head in shame, pushing his hand to the side. The old man sighed, dropping the knife onto the wooden plate with a clatter. He leaned across their spread, placing his hands on her shoulders.

“I know, my child… ” he said, giving her arm a reassuring squeeze.

“I didn’t mean to treat you the way I did… ” she interjected, shaking her head from side-to-side. “I didn’t mean to break your scepter… I didn’t… I didn’t… ” Her words turned to sobs, tears streaming down her face.

“Bella,” he said in a soothing voice. He began to gently stroke her arms. His sad blue eyes looked at her with understanding. “You’ve been through a lot… ”

“No!” she exclaimed, shifting her teary eyes to the old man. “There’s no excuse for what I’ve done… ” She licked her lips, suddenly aware of the dryness in her mouth. “Luthor, I’m a monster… ”

“No!” he answered firmly, shaking his head. “You’re nothing of the sort.”

“I am. Look what I’ve done… Look at what I’ve become. I’m no better than Melkor or... or Marduk for that matter.”

The old man narrowed his eyes; a stern look coming to his face. “I don’t want to ever hear you say that again! Do you hear me? You’re nothing like either of them. They’re both a waste of space… ”

“And what am I?” asked the sniffling Slayer. “How many innocents did I kill? What kind of person am I that I can’t show another mercy?” She wiped her tears with the napkin clenched in her hand. “I’m as evil as they are.”

“That’s far from true!” countered Luthor. He paused, his expression softening. “You may have done some questionable things in the past, but you have a good heart, Bella. I’ve seen it. They’ve seen it,” he said, pointing a finger towards their encampment in the southeast. “Do you think all those people would follow you if you were evil? Do you think the Green-elves do not know the difference? Do you think that I cannot tell the difference?” Buffy looked down at her goblet, swirling the contents with one hand while wiping her runny nose with the other. Luthor watched her closely, allowing the Slayer a moment to pull herself together.

“We’re all capable of doing good and evil,” he began again, leaning against the trunk of the oak. “The potential to wreak great evil on the world and its inhabitants dwells within each and every one of us, whether we’re an Ainu, Elf, Dwarf, or Man. If you truly believe that everything is the will of Ilúvatar, then you must understand that the things that have happened were also His will. What matters now, is what you take from those experiences, what you learn from them. Never forget the past, my child, for if you do, then you will be doomed to repeat it.” Buffy sat there in silence, staring down at the contents of her cup while Luthor opened the tin that contained their main course. Immediately, the smell of roasted meat, garlic and onions wafted from the container, filling the glade with a wonderful aroma. The Maia then began cutting thick slices of the tender roast.

“Eat!” Luthor ordered, offering her the plate of warm meat. The Slayer waved her hand dismissively at the proffered food. “You need to eat. We may not get the chance to eat fresh meat again for a long while,” he said, attempting to entice her by waving the plate beneath her nose. He smiled. “Just smell that delicious aroma. Take a whiff, Bella. ‘Twas made by the elves, and I know how much you love their cooking.” It did smell yummy. Buffy’s mouth was beginning to water. “Come on, now. Eat.”

“Yeah, okay.” She tossed down her napkin as Luthor pushed a pile of meat onto her plate. She shoved a forkful of the tender roast into her mouth. It was to die for. The Slayer couldn’t remember anything tasting so good. It had been nearly eighteen months since she had last eaten fresh meat. The old man leaned back against the oak, scrutinizing the golden-haired woman as he slowly chewed his food. They remained fairly quiet throughout the meal. Luthor could tell that something was on Buffy’s mind. She seemed preoccupied by her thoughts.

When she had finished eating, he asked, “What is it? What’s bothering you?”

“I remember, Luthor,” she said in a low voice, looking up at the old man as he shoved a chunk of honey cake into his mouth. Her green eyes glistened with sorrow. “I remember the times… when we dwelled with Eru in the Timeless Halls, before the making of Arda.” The old man gasped causing him to choke on his food. Coughing, he reached for his wine. Buffy made a move to help but Luthor gestured her to stay put as he took a drink, draining his goblet.

“Are you alright?” she asked with concern, refilling his cup before doing the same to her own.

“Fine, fine.” Clearing his throat, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Once he had caught his breath, he fixed his blue eyes on the Slayer. “What was it you were saying about your memories?”

“I said that I remember my past, my real past.” Her voice softened, “The past of Maranwë Luinil.”

“The veil of concealment?” questioned Luthor, his frown lines deepening.

“It’s intact, again, but when I got sick, it started to unravel or something. I saw lots of things in my past, Luthor.” A look of confusion came to her face. “It’s… it’s like I relived those experiences all over again. The feelings… the loneliness… the bitterness… ” She took a quick sip of wine before placing the goblet on the grass.

“What’s to say that you weren’t experiencing hallucinations from your illness? Delirium is one of the effects of the malady, is it not?”

“It is. But what I experienced was… different. It felt… it felt familiar, for lack of a better word.” A thrush then swept through the clearing, momentarily distracting the Slayer. Her eyes followed the bird as it perched itself on a limb in a neighboring poplar tree. It then began to sing, filling the glade with its enchanting melody. “I loved him, didn’t I?” Buffy asked in a mere whisper, her gaze still fixed on the thrush.

“Hmm, whom?” asked Luthor, his attention also diverted by the songbird.

“You know who,” she answered, still watching the bird, but listening hard for the Maia’s response.

“Melkor?” Buffy nodded. “Well, yes, I suppose.”

She turned, locking her eyes on the old man. The color was rapidly draining from his face as he nervously chewed on his bottom lip.

“And he wasn’t the only one, was he?”

“Um… no,” he answered hesitantly, unsure where the conversation was heading.

“Well, there goes your whole hallucination theory,” she snickered. “Oh, God!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands over her face in melodramatic fashion and falling backwards onto the blanket, knocking over Luthor’s drink in the process. “Why me?” she queried with her arms outstretched to the heavens. She let out a heavy sigh, dropping her arms to her side. Buffy continued to stare at the puffy white clouds in the otherwise clear blue sky while Luthor busied himself by blotting the spill. She really didn’t expect Eru Ilúvatar to answer her prayer, but now, more than ever, she wanted to know why the Valar felt it was so important to conceal her memories from her.

“Why me - what?”

“Huh?”

“I assumed you were asking me why you have had so many lovers,” replied the Maia, spreading the soon-to-be stain even more in his efforts to clean it up. “If that was your inquiry, then I deem it’s because you’re the Vala of Love.”

“Actually, it was a rhetorical question.” She rolled onto her side, propping her head with a bent arm. “But it’s nice to know that that’s your answer, though. I mean, how many times did I use that same logic, only to have you tell me, and I quote, “being the Vala of Love is no excuse,”” she said with a snort.

“What else do you expect me to say? You’re bringing up things that, quite frankly, I thought you would’ve asked ages ago.” He refilled his goblet, his eyes darting from the cup to Buffy. “What did you see or should I ask whom did you see?”

“I remember seeing Melkor for the first time.”

“And… ” he replied wide-eyed, waiting expectantly for more details.

“I loved him. I loved him from the moment I set eyes upon him.” Her lips curled into a half-smile. “Well, figuratively speaking, of course.”

“Of course.”

She rolled onto her back, staring up into the greenery of the tree. “He was so dark, like a thick cloud of blackness. I coveted that. I longed for him.” She chortled under her breath. “He was the one thing I had been searching for. When we combined our essences, I felt whole, complete. I was no longer blinded by the radiance of my fey. I had found peace and contentment at long last.”

“And what happened to change all that?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

She turned her gaze towards the Maia and sadly replied, “He left me.” She shifted her gaze back towards the boughs hanging above them. A second thrush appeared and began to sing merrily along with the one in the poplar. “My lovers always leave me. Funny, huh?”

“Well, from what I’ve heard, he merely continued on with his search for the Imperishable Flame. At least, that’s what he had told me.” Luthor took a sip of his drink before he added, “He said he would come back, didn’t he?”

Buffy shrugged. “I didn’t know it’d be thousands of years later. I really didn’t understand the concept of time back then.”

“He did come back, Bella,” revealed the Maia. “He came back and found you with Aulë.”

“What?” she queried, quickly bolting upright into a sitting position. “He saw me with Aulë?”

“Did you not see that in those visions of yours?” She shook her head. “Why do you think Melkor has sought to destroy all of Aulë’s great works?” Buffy stared at Luthor with her mouth agape. “It was out of his jealousy… and his rage at seeing another with his beloved Melisse.”

“I guess I didn’t see as much of my past as I thought,” she said, picking up her goblet. “I didn’t know he knew about us.”

“Not only does he know about him, but he knows about Ulmo as well.” He gave Buffy a sympathetic look. “And I don’t have to tell you that he has no love for that Vala either.”

Buffy drained her cup upon hearing that. “Then it’s my fault, isn’t it?”

“What’s your fault?” he asked, the creases between his brows deepening even more.

“Melkor’s marring of Arda.” She was becoming teary-eyed again. “He did it because of me.”

Luthor broke eye contact, shifting his gaze to the third thrush that suddenly flew across the clearing. Dare he confirm her suspicions? Or should he downplay her role in the darkening of the world? It seemed obvious to the Maia that Buffy had not seen everything that had transpired in her past, only some. Was that what the Valar wanted to keep from her? Was it her role in the corruption of his kinfolk? Should he lie to protect her? Or would it be in her best interests for him to be the one to tell her the truth?

Why, o, why, he thought to himself, do I have to contend with matters of this nature. How I long to return to my Halls in the Deeper Well where I’m not forced to deal with situations such as these. Eru bless Aulë for making the Naugrim the secretive type of folk that they are.

“Do not go blaming yourself for the atrocities committed by Morgoth Bauglir,” proclaimed Luthor, his voice full of conviction. “You were an innocent, corrupted by… ”

“What?!” Buffy felt her heart drop into the pit of her stomach. “He… he corrupted me?”

“My child,” began the Maia, leaning forward. “You were the first thing that Melkor marred. He used you to bring him the others. The Maiar that fell from grace did so because of the love they felt for you.” Luthor’s own eyes started to well with tears as he stared into the distance as the memories of the past came rushing into his mind. “Surely, if the holy Maranwë Luinil saw something great in Melkor then we too would see it in time.”

“You… you… fell into darkness,” she gulped, “because of me!”

Luthor turned his eyes back to the Slayer. “I was deceived, as were you.”

She gave him an incredulous look, shocked to learn that she was merely a pawn in Morgoth’s game of corruption. For some reason, hearing that broke Buffy’s heart. She wept. Her reaction confounded the old man. He couldn’t understand why she was reacting that way.

“Holy Eru! Don’t tell me that you’re still in love with him!” exclaimed the Maia in disbelief. The Slayer tried to voice her objection, but only babbling sounds came from her mouth. Luthor pushed the remnants of their feast aside before pulling Buffy into his arms. She curled up on his lap as she had many times in the past when going through some type of emotional turmoil. “Oh, my child. I didn’t mean to upset you so. Shh… ” The Maia spent the next twenty minutes holding the Slayer, doing his best to comfort her.

“Do you want to talk some more about this?” he asked after she had calmed down. Buffy remained quiet, staring blankly into the woods. “What’s happened to you, Bella?”

“Do you believe it’s possible to love more than one person at the same time?” she whispered faintly.

“It depends on the context in which you are speaking. I love many, but none have won my heart, in a romantic sense.” She made no comment, causing Luthor to sigh heavily. “Yes, my dear. I do believe that one can love multiple people at the same time, even romantically… I do not doubt that you loved Sargon, and I most certainly know that you love Maglor. But Melkor? That’s a hard one to accept.”

“I never said I loved him,” said the disheartened Slayer.

“Hmm…” sounded the Maia. Buffy lifted her gaze, meeting his. She waited for the question she knew was coming. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.”

“Why did you want to be addressed as Inanna Ishtar? It seems rather strange that you would choose to have the mortals and everyone else for that matter, call you by the name that Morgoth bestowed upon you. And Ishtar, well, I daresay that name comes directly from… ”

“My offspring,” said Buffy, finishing his sentence. “Ishtar’s the name that my demonic offspring call me. It came from them.”

“Is that so?” His tone revealed his skepticism.

“Why?” asked the shocked Slayer, the blood quickly draining from her face. “What do you know?”

“Ishtar is the name that Sauron calls you. He’s the one who came up with that name.”

“Oh.” Somehow, hearing that caused her to shudder, the hair on her arms and the nape of her neck stood on end. It wasn’t a pleasant thought knowing that both of her ‘kingly’ names came from the enemy. And the worse part was that she had no idea why she chose those names. Looking back on it, she could only assume that she had had the foresight to not tarnish her more respectful names: Maranwë Luinil and Bellaseth Dagnir. Buffy rubbed her arms feverishly in an attempt to rid herself from that sudden chill.

“I shouldn’t be here,” she said, wrapping her arms tightly around herself.

“Why’s that?”

“I don’t know. It’s just a feeling.” Buffy licked her dry lips. “I thought I had learned a lot more about me in those visions, but I really haven’t. It’s so weird, Luthor. I see all this stuff that seems new to me, but it really isn’t. It’s like… it was only a confirmation of things that I already knew. Like Melkor. I knew he and I were… together, but seeing it, feeling it. It made it real.”

Sorrow crept back into her green eyes. “Things are gonna get bad. Real bad. And I’m the one that’s supposed to maintain the balance between good and evil! Luthor, there’s too many villains out there for one person to handle. How the hell am I supposed to fight when I struggle to lift a sword? I’m weak. I couldn’t fight my way out of a paper bag.” She shook her head, glancing down at the wine stain on the light green blanket. “Tulkas was the one who should’ve taken care of this mess.” She looked up at the Maia. “I remember when he volunteered to come in my stead. I didn’t want to enter Eä. I wasn’t willing to do it for Melkor or Aulë or Ulmo.”

“What changed your mind?”

“Ilúvatar. He wanted me here. Said I was needed.” She then repeated Eru’s words that had prompted her to leave the Timeless Halls:

“The world will be in peril if you do not intervene, Luinil. You weep for my children, but are you willing to fight for them?”

“What was that about Tulkas? Eru had asked you to come sooner?” queried Luthor, quite interested in the turn of the conversation.

“Yeah, right after you guys came. I was enjoying my… well, newfound freedom, and thought that I’d check out the Void, when I was summoned to His Halls. I pleaded and cried not to go. That’s when Tulkas stepped up and said that he’d go in my place.” Buffy remembered it like it was yesterday. “I begged Eru to let him go in my place and eventually He agreed. So Tulkas came, and well, screwed up royally, so now I’m here. Me!” She rolled her eyes in disgust. “This world, this life… it’s complicated and it’s hard. I never know what to expect. Friends turn out to be enemies, enemies come to my rescue.” She shook her head. “It’s confusing. I don’t know who to trust, if anyone… ”

“You can trust me, Bella. I’ll always be here for you, even in times of crisis.”

“I’d like to think that,” she said, forcing a smile. “Unfortunately, being crucified at the hands of Úrion proved that even those that I’ve come to love and respect can turn on me.”

Luthor was hurt by her words and it showed. He turned his head downward, absently fiddling with his hands.

“It grieves me to hear that,” he said softly. “I’d like to think that you know you can depend on me.” He lifted his gaze. “I’m always looking out for your best interests, Bella. I can only hope that you believe me when I say that.”

The old man’s reaction to her statement upset the Slayer. “I’m sorry, Luthor. I meant no offense.” Buffy sat there for a few moments watching as Luthor began packing away the dishes and empty cloths that littered the blanket. She felt horrible about the whole situation.

“I do trust you, Luthor,” she finally said, breaking the silence between them. “And I’ll prove it.” The Maia stopped what he was doing and listened attentively to what the Slayer had to say. “I have no idea how long I’m gonna be in this state of feebleness. Since I am in a weakened condition, I think it’s important that someone within my camp knows some of the spells that I’ve learned over the years… spells that I wouldn’t dare share with anyone unless I trusted them completely - like you.”

“What kind of spells?” he asked, raising his brows with interest.

“Well, the spell to open the Hellmouths, for one. And there’s the spell that unlocks the invisible doors that lead to the other dimensions, dimensions that exist on different planes. Things of that nature.”

“Bella, that’s dark magick!”

“I know. But the enemy can’t be the only one to know about that stuff. We have to know too. How else can we fight them if we don’t employ the same magicks as they?”

“I suppose you have a point there,” he answered, his mood improving.

“You mean a lot to me, Luthor. I swear, on all that’s holy, I’m gonna make things right between us if it’s the last thing I ever do.”

The old man chuckled. “I believe you, child.”

It was then that Buffy noticed the dozens upon dozens of thrushes that had flown into the glade.

“What’s the deal with the birds?” she queried, rising to her feet.

“Help an old man out, will you?” asked Luthor, holding his hands out. She took them and pulled the Maia to his feet as well. They looked up at the sky. Multitudes of doves were coming from the direction of their encampment. “I wonder what’s going on?”

“Yeah, me too.” Buffy whistled loudly. Gradually, the doves circled lower and lower until they reached the clearing.

“My lady, my lady,” squeaked one of the doves. “The armies of Marduk approach, most Holy One.”

“What?” queried the dumbfounded Slayer. “Where?”

“They’re approaching the Red Mountains as we speak.”

“What’s their numbers?” asked the Maia.

“Two legions,” answered the dove.

“Oh, crap,” said the Slayer.