Full Circle

The mortal lords had pleaded with Buffy to allow them to rest for a time until their people grew hale again. The journey had greatly affected the health of Man and many were still reeling from the shock of those that fell along the way. Forty-four hundred men, women and children had perished as a direct result of the blizzards of Morgoth. While that number may seem small compared to their overall numbers, to the Slayer, it was an enormous amount of people to lose in the span of five months. In the end, she consented.

Buffy then sent the Valkyries to Folkvang to retrieve much needed supplies including the livestock that she had sent back earlier fearing that Man would eat them. The Enyd had an abundance of seeds for planting, and as luck would have it, groves of fruit trees were a short walking distance from the camp. The only stipulation that the Slayer put upon mankind was that they could not cut down any trees along the Great River. The last thing she needed was to incur the hostility of Amdír and the people of Lindórinand, who were especially fond of the trees that bordered their territory.

Only a couple of days after they had come to a halt, fifty Wood-elves, led by Amroth, descended on the camp and welcomed the newcomers. The Green-elves were overjoyed to see their kinfolk; many had not seen each other since the Great March ages before. Buffy and her councilors spoke long with the elves of Lindórinand, telling them of the many trials that they had faced since their exodus from the East.

“You have indeed made good time despite all the hurdles you’ve had to overcome,” remarked the impressed golden-haired son of Amdír. “Grief weighs heavy on your people, and now we see why. Curse the Dark Lord in the North!” he growled, shaking his fist in the direction of Morgoth’s realm. Amroth paused. Taking a deep breath, his expression softened. Shifting his gray eyes back on Buffy he continued, “We Wood-elves will do whatever we can to ease the heaviness that has befallen you and your people.” His lips curled into a warm smile. “I must admit, Lady Luinil that we were not completely ignorant of the fact that you’d be passing close to our borders. The Lord Ulmo informed us that you’d be leading the Hildor into the west.”

That stunned the Slayer, causing her jaw to drop. “Ulmo,” she finally said. “He told you we were coming.”

“Yes,” answered the elf Lord. “Very seldom does the Lord of Waters visit these parts, mostly Salmar comes in his stead. However, after Olofin had left our lands, he came to us, and said that the Vala of Love and her train would be in need of succoring once they had reached these parts. He asked us to prepare for that day, and as you can see, that day is finally upon us.

“My father is especially eager to meet the Blue Lady of Ossir, the savior of the Green-elves, our kinfolk. Many tales have passed over Ered Luin, and to have a Vala visiting our lands would be an honor beyond measure. Lord Ulmo has asked that we provide you with lodgings along the banks of the Celebrant, which is located northwest of here. There, you and your kin will find peace, as the sweet sounds of that stream melt all weariness away.”

Buffy accepted Amroth’s gracious offer. It seemed like ages ago when she had last slept in a warm bed with a roof over her head. Before she set out, she ordered most of the Maiar to remain behind with the mortals, to protect them from a sudden attack from Morgoth or some other unknown enemy. Only the Green-elves, her Valkyrie chieftains, Olofin and Luthor accompanied her into the woodland realm. Half of the Wood-elves stayed at the camp, while others returned to Lindórinand to retrieve the supplies that they had readied long ago at the urging of Ulmo.

Nothing could have renewed the Slayer’s spirit more than entering that forest. It reminded her so much of Ossiriand, her favorite place in all Middle-earth. When they were crossing the Anduin River, she could hear the enchanting melody of Ulumúri, having heard it long before. Her heart beat frantically in her chest, knowing that the Lord of Water’s presence lay about the land. Even as they marched through the heart of the forest, she could still hear the sweet music from the Horn of Ulmo.

After meeting with the King, she and her companions were taken by boats to an enormous house built on a huge talan that overlooked the rushing stream. For the first time since leaving the slopes of Orocarni, Orchal was not at Buffy’s side. He had decided that it was safe for him to remain at Amdir’s Halls and visit with his old friend for a while since mortals were forbidden from entering the elvish realm.

Word of Buffy’s arrival spread like wildfire throughout Lindórinand, and many elves sought out the Vala of Love, curious to lay eyes upon the leader of their kindred. Many gifts they brought her, and for a time, she delighted in the visits from the Silvan Elves, especially the elflings. While members of her Household found the peace which Amroth spoke of, the Slayer did not. She still suffered from fits of melancholy, locking herself within her chamber, refusing to see any, including her son. Her behavior upset the Valkyries greatly and they turned to Luthor for counsel.

“Let Bella be,” advised the old man, slowly rocking in his chair overlooking the Celebrant.

“But Luthor,” protested Vórëa, “our Mistress is exhibiting the same signs as she did before she went mad… ”

“This is not the same thing as before, my good woman,” interjected Luthor. “Is it not obvious what troubles her? Are you women that blind?” he queried incredulously. “Bella suffers from guilt, nothing more, nothing less.”

“She has done nothing to feel guilty about!” cried out Laurië. “She is the most benevolent Vala to ever set foot in Middle-earth.”

“And you Ladies claim that you truly know your Mistress,” said the old Maia with a shake of his head. “You know nothing! You’re foolish if you think that we tarry in these parts for the mortals’ sake alone… Bella must deal with the misdeeds of her past before she can face the future, which is full of uncertainty for her. She has violated her sacred vows to Maglor, and I daresay that is now causing her great anguish.”

“And do we do nothing?” asked a heartbroken Feawë. “Do we sit idly by and watch her wither away?”

“Time heals all wounds, and that applies to Bella as well. We must be patient while she works through her inner turmoil,” answered Luthor in his most comforting voice. “No words of consolation will ease her despair. She must do it on her own! All you Ladies can do is keep an eye on her. If you push, she will pull further away, and none of us wants that. Bella will find healing in these lands, just give it time.”

The old Maia knew Buffy better than most, and his assessment of her current situation was on the mark. She was quite anxious to return home to the life that she had had before she left for the East, but was unsure whether that was possible. Could she carry on as though nothing had happened in Sumer? Should she tell her husband that she had fallen in love with a mortal, and seduced him while in his youth? Does she mention the other numerous affairs she had during that time? All those questions went racing through the Slayer’s mind, but the one thing that she feared Maglor finding out more than anything was her sleeping with Morgoth. That was, by far, the worst thing she could have ever done to the Noldo. Bitter was the hatred that the sons of Fëanor had for the Dark Foe, Maglor included. That betrayal was unforgivable. And Buffy was beginning to realize that.

The Slayer’s depression soon passed, and she emerged from her chamber as though nothing had ever happened. Often, she and her maidens walked along the river, talking about the events that had transpired in the East. She expressed her concern regarding the fate of her marriage, and the Valkyries were willing to help in any way they could. They offered to cast a disremembering spell on all the people including the elves, but Buffy felt that that was unnecessary. Instead, she finally gave the order than none in her Household was to speak of Melkor, Sauron or the assistance of the demonic armies in Dagor i Thelaith Thrynin. She didn’t care if any spoke about the war, but they could not mention the involvement of the Dark Armies to any in Beleriand.

When twenty-eight years had passed, half of the elves in her Household asked permission to return to Ossir. They were eager to return to Tol Galen and prepare for Buffy’s eventual homecoming. She agreed, knowing how badly the Green-elves wished to look upon the fair woods of their homeland. Her people left Lindórinand early one summer morning, escorted by scores of Maiar, at the Slayer’s insistence. It would be decades before she set eyes upon them again.

Oddly enough, not once in all those years had Buffy left the realm of Amdír. She had not visited with the mortals or held any councils. All communication was done through elvish messengers as she was doing her best to distance herself from mankind. She believed that it was time for them to stand on their own and not depend on her any more.

It was only a few days later when Buffy and her Valkyrie chieftains were swimming in the stream that Rainë arrived with sad news.

“My Lady,” she announced from the shore, “I bring grim tidings. It appears that Mansur passed away during the night from some sudden ailment. His kinfolk ask that you come say a blessing and anoint his eldest son as lord of the First House.”

“Damn,” replied Buffy. “I hate to hear that.” She swam to the shoreline. “Does anyone know what happened?” she asked, as she dried off.

“None can truly say.”

“Hmm, send my condolences to the family, Rainë. But I’m afraid that I won’t leave the forest until it’s time for us to return home. I told the mortals that I’m no longer anointing any more of their lords. They don’t need my blessing.”

“Oh, you’ll want to go this time, Maranwë,” said the beaming Maia, her eyes twinkling.

“Why?” asked the Slayer, giving the woman a suspicious look.

“Mansur’s son is the spitting image of Sargon, although a bit smaller in stature.” She shook her head. “The resemblance is uncanny.”

“Sargon?” queried Buffy with raised eyebrows, her mouth going dry at the mere mention of his name.

“I jest not, my Lady. You’ve got to see to believe.”

Immediately, the maidens retreated to the house and changed into more appropriate clothing. Orchal was not happy about Buffy’s decision to meet with those from the First House. He was doing everything in his power to keep her away from them, fearing that she would do something ‘stupid.’ The Slayer assured him that that was not the case and told him to accompany her and the Valkyries.

“I had no intention to stay behind,” remarked the elf. “I’m not about to let you do something foolish.” The Slayer chuckled at Orchal’s words.

Shortly thereafter, an embassy of twenty left their abode by the banks of the Celebrant for the daylong trip to the encampment on the eastern side of the Anduin. They rode their horses all day, arriving at the camp well after nightfall.

When Buffy set eyes on Mansur’s son, she felt the hair on the nape of her neck stand on end. Rainë was right, he looked like a mini-Sargon, except for the eyes (his were gray; her former lover’s were brown). At his side was his wife, who clutched a sleeping infant in her arms. The Slayer locked eyes with the young man for a moment, causing her heart to skip a beat. For the first time ever, thoughts of reincarnation entered her mind. The resemblance was indeed extraordinary. She glanced over her shoulder at her maidens. Her eyes widened as she mouthed the words ‘Oh my Eru,’ without Orchal noticing. Buffy tried to play it cool despite the fact that her heart was pounding wildly in her chest. Her attraction to him was immediate, and would cause her great grief for the duration of her stay in that region.

Before being introduced to the heir of the First House, the Vala Queen said a prayer over the empty hröa of Mansur. His fey was long gone, having been summoned to the halls of her brother, Mandos. After offering her condolences to the family, Mansur’s widow introduced Buffy to her eldest child.

“This is my son, Balan, great-great grandson of Sargon the Great.”

Following Sumerian protocol, the soon-to-be lord of the First House fell to one knee, and kissed the garnet ring on her left forefinger. “My Lady, what an honor it is to meet you at long last.”

Buffy smiled in spite of the numerous mourners surrounding her. “You may rise.” The young man, who appeared to be in his early twenties, rose to his feet. She studied him for several minutes, the shadowy flames of the torches danced upon his face. “After the burial, I will anoint you as lord of the First House. You, dear Balan, shall be the last of Sargon’s children that I proclaim as lord.” That would prove to be a false statement, as the Slayer would anoint another of her former lover’s heirs before completing the last leg of their journey. Marach, son of Rimush, would succeed his father as lord of the Third House several years later.

As soon as Mansur was buried, the people turned their attention to Balan and Buffy. The heir of the First House asked that she anoint him beside his father’s grave. She agreed. The young man fell to his knees as Vórëa uncorked a small crystal teardrop bottle and handed it to her Mistress. As the Slayer said the blessing, Balan fixed his smoldering gray eyes on her, causing her to become weak in the knees. When she placed her trembling finger to his forehead, both let out a gasp of surprise. Buffy found herself paralyzed by a warm tingly sensation coursing throughout her body. By Balan’s reaction, he felt it too. His body gave a sudden jerk, his eyes widened as he stared transfixed at the Vala Queen. Both were spellbound. It took the prompting of Orchal for Buffy to finish the ceremony by marking a cross on the young man’s forehead with oil and presenting him with the Cross of Brolach.

“I wish you good fortune, son of Sargon,” she said, her face flushing in the dim light. Balan started to speak, but Buffy swiftly turned and made her way through the crowd, horrified by the feelings that the young man aroused in her. She and her party quickly left the camp for Lindórinand despite the late hour.

Orchal applauded the Slayer’s shunning of the mortal lord and told her so repeatedly on the trip back to their dwelling. “It’s a testament to your true strength, Bella. You do possess the ability to resist the temptations of your heart.”

Buffy made no reply. It took everything she had to maintain her composure on the trek back.

By the time they made it back to the house, it was mid-morning. Everyone was utterly exhausted and ready for bed. Orchal wearily followed the Slayer down the corridor leading to her bedchamber. As soon as she stepped over the threshold, she insisted on sleeping alone. She then shut the door in his face, leaving the elf both hurt and confused. It then occurred to Orchal that Balan was the mortal in his vision that Buffy would become enamored with, if she hadn’t already. That sudden realization provoked him to action. He hurriedly took off down the hallway, summoning all the elves and Valkyries in the house. He stationed guards strategically throughout their halls so that the Slayer could not sneak out without any knowing.

Buffy collapsed onto the bed and wept. She felt as though life was playing yet another cruel trick on her. Not only was she struggling with her current dilemma regarding Maglor, now she had to contend with her romantic feelings towards Balan. To make matters worse, seeing one that so closely resembled her former lover, rekindled the guilt she had been harboring about the late King of Sumer. She had never forgotten that she wasn’t there for him during his final hours.

After several days, the Slayer overcame her latest bout of depression, thanks in part to Nestor’s hul-gil tonic. She did her best to resume her normal routine but found that to be a challenge. Everywhere she turned, she saw Balan’s face. It didn’t matter if she was walking along the riverbank, or through the woods, somehow his face constantly came to her mind. At nighttime, it was much worse. She’d close her eyes only to see his handsome form invading her dreams, some that were quite erotic by nature. It unnerved her. She had no idea how to push the mortal from her thoughts.

In the ensuing months, things had gotten so bad that she even broached the subject with her councilors (minus Olofin). After hours of discussion, two conclusions had been reached: either Buffy could flee Lindórinand for Ossir, leaving the mortals behind, or she needed to stay and confront her fears, letting the proverbial chips fall where they may. Neither option appealed to her, as she feared going home, and feared staying. It was moments like that that really made Buffy yearn for Folkvang. She would’ve given anything to escape to her mystical realm.

Since she was undecided, she chose to remain where she was, as it required the least amount of effort on her part. Furthermore, both Amroth and Amdír had said that Ulmo was expecting her, and she was hoping that he or Salmar would attempt to contact her while she was in Lindórinand. She knew they were nearby, as the melodious music of the Ulumúri could still be heard faintly throughout the land.

The Slayer’s fits of melancholy became more frequent as she wrestled with her desires for the moral lord. She found herself suddenly bursting out in tears or snapping at loved ones without provocation. Those outbursts led to her locking herself away in her bedroom, consuming large quantities of herbal remedies to calm her frazzled nerves.

“Why me?” she sadly asked her reflection in the mirror after one of those episodes. “Why can’t my fey master its hröa like my brethren? Why do I keep yearning for another when I shouldn’t, when I don’t want to?” She turned her tear-filled green eyes towards the heavens. “Why are you doing this to me? Why have you put this curse on me? Please, Eru, give me strength! I don’t want to do wrong… I really don’t.”

Buffy received no visitors or visions to aid her with her current situation. The lack of help, especially from Ulmo and Salmar, was driving her crazy. She did her best to keep herself distracted, devoting hours on end to meditation and prayer in hope that she would find her inner strength. As the years passed by, the young mortal lord consumed her thoughts to feverish new heights. Nothing she did could push Balan from her mind, not even the thought of Maglor waiting back home at the Gap.

Before she knew it, five years had gone by. That’s when she decided to hold a council with the Lords of Ossir, informing them that the time to leave for home was fast approaching. She commanded half of the remaining Green-elves to begin their journey home so that they could ready her Halls in Lindon, which would be her first stop once she returned to Beleriand.

The same day that the elves departed Lindórinand, the Slayer was stunned to receive a letter from Balan proclaiming his love for the Vala Queen along with an urgent plea to see her. The more she re-read the message, the warmer her heart became. Balan proved himself to be a descendant of Eshnunna, as he was able to rouse such deep emotions within her by mere words alone. To her dismay, Buffy found herself falling in love with the lord of the First House. She did write back, however, declaring that she too, felt the same way. But she stressed the importance of not succumbing to their desires, as it was morally wrong. Both she and Balan were married to other people and the pain they would cause their significant others would not be worth it. Despite her trepidation, she and the moral continued to correspond in secret.

By the time Yr 299 had arrived, Buffy had quite a stack of love letters from the mortal. Every time she re-read one of his poems or letters, she melted. It was during the latter part of that year that the Slayer decided that she could no longer deny her heart’s longing. For the first time in decades, she would join the mortals in welcoming not only the New Year but also the New Century.

With the arrival of fall, Buffy announced that it was time for the remainder of her Household to leave for Ossir. That sent many of the elves into a tizzy, as these were her closest and most trusted confidants. They did not want to depart Lindórinand without her, especially Orchal. They had assumed that they would remain by the Slayer’s side throughout the duration of the trip, including the last leg. An argument erupted between her and her dearest friends. It had gotten so bad that Buffy relented, allowing them to remain until the New Year.

In the meantime, she began to distance herself somewhat from the Green-elves, and spent more time in the company of the Valkyries. She went to such extremes that she even permanently banished Orchal from her bedchamber, which only increased the elf’s uneasiness.

“You’re up to something, Dagnir. I know it,” he said, eyeing her with suspicion.

“No, I’m not!” she protested, her face a mask of innocence. “We need to start getting used to… not sleeping together any more. What happens when we get back to Beleriand and you end up crawling in my bed out of habit? What would Maglor have to say about that?” Buffy gave the elf a reassuring smile. “I have to start thinking about the future, Orchal. I don’t need anything else to jeopardize my relationship with Káno. I love you and I always will, but just do this for me. Please.”

“Alright, Bella,” he answered with a nod, keenly searching her eyes. “Although my heart tells me that you and your maidens are up to some kind of mischief. I can only hope that you do not do something stupid that will come back and bite you on the ass.”

“Me? Do something stupid?” she queried with an impish grin. “Never!”

“I’ll be keeping my eye on you, my dear,” answered the elf, narrowing his gaze on the Slayer. “My heart does not betray me that often.”

A couple of days before New Year’s Day, Buffy and her entourage, which included many of the noble Moriquendi from Lindórinand, left for the mortal’s encampment. Once they had reached their destination, they set up their tents in their designated areas. While the Wood-elves chose to stay amongst the kindred of Man, the Green-elves continued to segregate themselves by residing with the Maiar, Buffy included.

Only a few minutes after arriving, a Maia messenger came from the mortals’ camp bidding her and her people welcome. The lords of the Three Houses wished to greet the Vala Queen personally and kindly asked permission to do so. Despite Orchal’s grumblings of protest, Buffy readily agreed.

“Bella is not to be left alone with any mortal man under any circumstance,” she overheard the silver-haired elf proclaim to the other members of her Household outside the pavilion. “If she objects, notify me at once.”

The Slayer sighed, now wishing that she had never said anything to Orchal in the first place.

The lords of the Three Houses arrived shortly afterwards under heavy elvish escort. Buffy was taken aback when she saw how much the mortals had aged since the last time she had seen them, especially Rimush. It was obvious to her that the gray-haired lord of the Third House was nearing the end of his days. Even though she was saddened by the frailty of the old man’s condition, seeing Balan in his prime gave her butterflies. He was more handsome than she had remembered. His black hair was now streaked with gray, giving him a more kingly appearance. She spoke long with the men, even inviting them to dine with her, much to Orchal’s annoyance.

Rimush entreated Buffy to allow them to integrate some of the old rituals into the festivities. Of all the mortal lords, he was the only one that recalled how New Year’s Day was celebrated by the Sumerians in bygone days. He was crestfallen when the Vala Queen had recanted nearly all the religious teachings that the old man had learned in his youth. His desperate pleas did not change the Slayer’s mind.

“I have decreed that we’re not to speak of those things that had happened in the East, and that includes the rites that we once practiced. We can celebrate the bounty that Eru has given us over the year, but nothing more.” A pained expression came to Buffy’s face before she faintly added, “I’m a fallen Vala, Rimush. I don’t deserve any type of tribute, not after everything that I’ve done.”

“That is not true, my Lady!” countered the old mortal, aghast at her words. “You are our savior and… ”

The Slayer held up her hand, stopping the old man mid-sentence. “I must ask you to speak no more of this, Rimush. I know that your heart’s in the right place, but I forbid any ceremonies that revolve around me.”

Early morning on the last day of the year, the masses assembled on the misty plains in silence, waiting for the sun to rise in the east. Gradually, the fog dissipated as the orange orb ascended into the crisp clear sky. The Maiar then led the people in the singing of the Psalm of Ilúvatar, which all knew by heart. When the song ended, the first of three feasts began.

The celebration became much livelier after the waning of the sun and the final feast. Of course, the introduction of large quantities of ale, wine and spirits played a major role in the revelry. People became rowdy, singing songs at the top of their lungs and dancing wildly around the many bonfires. While Buffy did not witness any debauchery first hand, it did become clear that some were still practicing the old traditions of Sumer within the confines of their private quarters. The cries of ecstasy that one heard when passing by some of those tents indicated that the devotees of the religious practices of Inanna Ishtar had not completely given them up. As long as they didn’t behave that way in the open, the Slayer didn’t care. Besides, she was too tipsy and preoccupied with other things to give a damn.

As the night wore on, Buffy managed to coax Orchal into providing his own brand of entertainment - singing with the elvish band. When the elf Lord started to sing his rendition of The End by The Doors, the Slayer disappeared into the crowd of revelers, making her way to the cluster of trees that bordered the mortal lord’s dwelling place. There she met a waiting Balan, who then took her by the hand and led her deeper into the wood.

“How did you ever manage to escape the ever watchful eyes of Orchal?”

“Do you hear that?” she asked.

“Hear what?” queried Balan, coming to a stop and facing the Slayer.

“Listen.”

Even over the din, one could hear Orchal’s beautiful voice.

“That’s Orchal?” questioned the mortal in disbelief. He couldn‘t believe that the elf that always scowled at him sang so beautifully.

“Yep. That’s my silver-haired, pointy-eared friend,” answered the Slayer with a chuckle.

“Well, then,” he continued, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her closer. “Since the elf is distracted we can pursue greater pleasures than singing or dancing.”

“Hmm, what do you have in mind?” asked Buffy seductively, pressing her body against the mortal’s.

Balan’s response came in the form of a passionate kiss, a kiss that caused her to melt in his arms. That was her first intimate contact with a man in nearly half a century and the Slayer had no regrets whatsoever. As her senses came alive at his touch, she knew that they were meant to be. It was destiny. Buffy had accepted that her yearning for Balan was much the same as it was with Sargon - it was Eru’s will. He sent the mortal to her. But for what reason, she did not yet know.

Unfortunately, their make-out session was short-lived. Once Orchal had finished his song, he went in search of the conspicuously absent Slayer. If not for the vigilance of Laurië and the other Valkyries, the elf would have discovered the secret lovers. It was the golden-haired maiden that warned them that he was on his way. Buffy cursed in frustration. She could kick herself in the butt for having asked Orchal to help her with her ‘campaign to remain celibate.’ She had already accepted that some things were beyond her control, and Balan was one of those things. How she wished that Orchal could see that too.

The lovers took off in opposite directions. The elf Lord caught up with Buffy as soon as she had cleared the woods.

“I’ve been looking for you, Bella. What were you doing amidst the trees?” His suspicious gray eyes darted back and forth between the Slayer and Laurië.

“We had to pee,” answered both ladies in unison.

He studied the women for a few moments. His lips slowly curled into a smile. “Alright then. Come on ladies, we have much to celebrate.” He linked his arms with both Ainur and they soon joined the others from their Household in the merry-making. Buffy didn’t see Balan for the rest of the night.

Come morning, the Slayer called a council with the Lords and Ladies of her Household. She informed them that she would not be returning to Lindórinand and would remain at the encampment until it was time for her to leave. She then announced that it was time for her elvish Household to return to Lindon. Of course, that set the elves off, once again.

Since Orchal was the most vocal in protesting her decision, Buffy decided it was best to try to reason with him in private. They went for a walk despite the cold and drizzly weather. She tried to explain herself the best she could without revealing too much information, but there was no fooling the elf. He understood her true motivations and that’s what riled him. He was trying to protect her from the heartache that would inevitably come with her ‘relationship’ with the mortal.

After a long discussion, Buffy reached an agreement of sorts with Orchal. The Green-elves would leave for Beleriand, and the silver-haired elf would have complete control over the affairs within that land in her absence. The Slayer also reluctantly agreed that no mortals would be allowed to set foot in Ossir under penalty of death. She wasn’t too crazy about that, but it’s what he wanted, so she had to agree. Orchal still held a grudge against the mortals, blaming them for her downfall in the East.

A week later, the elves began their march, with Orchal at the forefront. The silver-haired elf looked lordly indeed driving Buffy’s lion-drawn chariot. He felt confident that the Slayer would soon be following since he not only possessed her beloved pets, but also her copper trunk, which contained some of her most precious treasures.

Buffy was overcome with emotion as she watched the train moving north. The Green-elves had remained by her side, through thick and thin since they had departed Ossir one hundred and forty years before. When they began singing Sweet Madam Blue, tears streamed down her face. Olofin, (who had adamantly refused to leave without his mother), wrapped his arms around the sorrowful Slayer, doing his best to comfort her.

Even with her Household gone, Buffy remained segregated from mankind. She was doing everything in her power not to draw any unwanted attention her way. When the elves became minute in the distance, she then sent two hundred Valkyries to Greenwood. It was their duty to prepare a retreat for the Slayer by the northeastern eaves of that forest. When things were readied, the Slayer would whisk Balan away to that locale where they would consummate their relationship once and for all.

When spring arrived, Buffy sent a very detailed letter to the lord of the First House. She instructed him to tell his family that he had received a vision, commanding him, and him alone, to make a pilgrimage to the site where his kinfolk had perished at the crossing of the river during the Fell Winter of 257. She had enclosed a map, which showed the route he needed to take to reach his destination. Balan followed her orders to a T.

While the mortal began his trek, the Slayer informed her son that she was going to visit the dwarves of Khazâd-Dum. Since Olofin was unaware of what his mother was up to, he bid her farewell and decided to return to Lindórinand with Amroth. Buffy started her journey north, accompanied by scores of Valkyries, before turning due east. Her maidens knew exactly what was going on and were her accomplices in that scheme of hers.

As soon as they had entered the wood, several women took off in search of the mortal lord. Unlike Buffy and her Valkyries, Balan was traveling on foot, not horseback. The maidens were instructed to find the man and bring him to their Mistress’ camp which they had readied for her.

The Slayer was pleased when she arrived at the site. Dozens upon dozens of pavilions in blue and white dotted the glade that the women had carefully cleared months earlier. Utilizing their special abilities, they covered the earth with a thick blanket of lush grass that felt like carpeting beneath one’s bare feet. Strategically planted throughout the area were thousands of blooming flowers and plants, some towering over the pavilions, emitting a variety of scents that soothed the soul and tantalized the senses. The maidens led Buffy to her three-chambered dwelling beside the crystal-clear spring. One could not mistake Buffy’s abode as the Valkyries had attached a large sapphire cross to the roof of the structure. It gleamed and bedazzled the eyes beneath the rays of the sun. The inside of her rooms were decorated with furnishing that the women had brought back from Folkvang, including the lapis lazuli bed that Balan’s forefather had made for his lover long ago. To the Slayer’s surprise, Antamo was there, to serenade the lovers with his mellifluous voice.

A couple of days later, Balan arrived. He was quite anxious to see the Vala of Love, and was greatly disappointed when he was ushered to a separate pavilion. There, he was fed a delicious hot meal with only the Valkyries as his companions. Once he had finished eating, the mortal was taken to another room where he was bathed and garbed in a long white tunic. The women then escorted him to Buffy’s private quarters. They waited outside while Balan entered alone.

When the mighty lord stepped into her domicile he was completely dumbfounded. He expected the interior to resemble her pavilion by the Anduin, but this one far surpassed anything that he could’ve imagined. It was both opulent and elegant, from the white marble slabs that formed the floor to the magnificent, intricately carved furnishings. Balan remained frozen to the spot, as his eyes scanned the room, stopping on the mammoth candelabra that hung above his head. Instead of candles, it housed glowing orbs, the like he had never seen before.

Slowly, he made his way across the room, taking in all the wonderful things that surrounded him. He stopped and inspected the roses that seemed to grow from the stone floor, winding up the tall wooden support beams located every few feet within the chamber. The mortal was blown away to see that they were actually real. He pulled a red rose from its thorny stem and deeply inhaled its fragrant scent before making his way to the Slayer’s sleeping chamber.

He pulled aside the curtain, his jaw dropping, his eyes widening, to nearly twice their size as he beheld the vision of loveliness that was Buffy. She was lounging on her enormous bed, scantily clad in a silky blue gown that took his breath away. Balan tried to say her name, but no sound came out. The Slayer’s smile widened. That was the reaction she was hoping for. She motioned the mortal over. He crawled up on the bed, looking much like a predator stalking his prey, turning the Slayer on even more.

“For you, Luinil,” he finally said, presenting the flower to her. She took it from his hand and deeply inhaled the fragrant blossom. The scent immediately brought to mind the time that she and an aged Sargon had sat in the garden of Eanna just before his death. “I thought that this rose was perfect, both in beauty and scent when I had laid eyes upon it. But seeing it in your hand, I now see that its beauty pales when compared to yours. You are my meril, Luinil.”

Buffy felt her eyes welling with tears. So many emotions were running through her: fear, anxiety, worry, desire, love. She carefully placed the rose on the nightstand beside the bed.

“Do you love me, Balan?”

“With all my heart,” he replied, tenderly kissing her on the lips.

“Would you die for me?” she whispered, drinking in his scent.

“In a heartbeat.”

“Love me, Balan. Love me like you’ve never loved another.”

Buffy allowed her lover to be the dominant one, something that she had never done when having her first sexual encounter with a mortal man. Any reservations she may have had dissipated with her lover’s touch. After all those years of waiting, she expected their first fleshly experience to be wildly passionate, but it wasn’t so. Balan was one that preferred to take his time. He would prove to be a gentle lover, loving her as though he were taking her virtue for the very first time.

When, at last, the couple cried out in the throes of passion, something extraordinary happened that neither had expected. A brilliant white light flashed from Buffy’s fey, illuminating the entire chamber for several seconds. The intensity was so great that Balan, shielding his eyes with the crook of his arm, rolled off the Slayer.

“What is this? What’s happening to you, Luinil?” asked the baffled mortal breathlessly.

Buffy lay there, delighting in the blissful wave of pleasure that washed over her. It seemed like ages ago when her fey had last reacted in such a way. When the flash had subsided, her body began to glow with a soft red light. She gasped, bolting upright, surprised by the sudden change in color radiating from within her. She closely examined her luminous appendages, elated that she was exhibiting some form of magic, although, she wasn’t sure why her fey was emanating red. That had never happened before.

“Luinil? Luinil?” Balan sat up. He hesitantly placed his hand on the Slayer’s naked shoulder. “Is this a good thing?” He wasn’t sure if her radiant glow was normal for a Vala after sex or if something else was happening. His wife had never reacted in such a manner after their acts of bodily union.

Buffy faced her lover, a look of ecstasy on her face. “It’s good, very good.” She smiled broadly, placing her hand against his bearded cheek. The light of her fey was beginning to dim. “As a matter of fact, I think it’s wonderful! I feel wonderful! You’re wonderful. The world is wonderful!” She leaned over and gave him a kiss. “And I owe it all to you.”

“I do not know what I’ve done, but I hope that I do it again!” he chuckled, wrapping his arms around her once again. The Slayer pressed her lips against his, pushing Balan back onto the bed. No matter how many more times they had sex, her fey did not illuminate as it did that first time. She was hoping that her powers would return, but she didn’t feel or experience any other changes to her body or fey.

The following day, Buffy decided to take her lover on a trek to where his kinfolk had perished at the crossing of the river. Since she had never really properly paid her respects to those that had died, she now felt the overwhelming need to do so. The Slayer found it amusing that she had to teach the mortal how to ride a horse. Of course, elvish horses were very easy to handle and responded wholly to verbal commands. Balan turned out to be a quick learner and mastered his steed with ease. When they reached the river, they were stunned to see eight huge willow trees growing along the banks where the mighty had fallen. Buffy thought that perhaps the Valkyries had planted them in remembrance, but she would find out centuries later that it was Ulmo. The couple decided to picnic beneath one of the trees on the edge of the river.

Once they had finished eating, Buffy wanted to walk off their meal by taking a stroll along the shore.

“Help me up,” said Balan, offering her his outstretched arms.

The Slayer grabbed his hands and much to her surprise (and his, as well), as she heaved the mortal to his feet, he went soaring through the air, over her head, landing with a plop in the chilly waters. Buffy remained motionless for a few seconds, shocked by the sudden return of her slayer strength. It wasn’t until her lover cried out that she turned her attention to the river. The current was taking Balan downstream.

“I’m coming, Balan!” she exclaimed before diving into the water. Buffy quickly caught up with her lover and brought him back to shore. “I can’t believe it! I can’t believe my strength has finally returned,” she said once they had reached dry ground. The drenched mortal sat there, astonished by her demonstration of strength. He had never seen one so small with such brawn. Buffy was overjoyed that one of her powers had returned and attributed it to her carnal act with Balan. She believed it was only a matter of time before her other gifts were restored.

For six weeks, they remained hidden away in Greenwood. While the Slayer didn’t gain any more powers, she did enjoy spending all that time with Balan. When they returned to the encampment, they went their separate ways. It was imperative that none discover their secret trysts, which became more frequent over time. The only time that they met in public was at the funeral of Rimush and the appointment of Marach as lord of the Third House in Yr 303.

Over the years, Buffy explained away her long absences to her son by saying that she was visiting with Durin’s folk in Khazâd-Dûm. Her son had no reason not to believe her, that is, until the summer of Yr 309. The half-elf happened to come across a group of dwarves on their way to visit the Lord of Lindórinand. When he introduced himself to the Khazâd, they were delighted to meet one of Buffy’s children. Of course, the conversation turned to the Slayer, and that’s when Olofin learned of his mother’s deception. She had not visited with the dwarves since the days when Durin was Lord, over one hundred years before. That half-elf’s heart sank when he learned that his mother had been lying to him all those years. He immediately took off for the encampment to question the Maiar on Buffy’s whereabouts.

Now, the Maiar of his mother’s Household were solely devoted to their Mistress, and their loyalty to her was unwavering. They refused to say a word to the half-elf, who then turned to Luthor for counsel. The old man was troubled when he had heard what Olofin had told him.

“Look for her, my son. I’ll see if I can find out anything from my brethren.”

“But Luthor,” said the worried half-elf, “they won’t say a word.”

“Leave that to me,” answered Luthor with a devilish grin. “I have my own special way of getting to the bottom of things.”

Olofin changed into falcon form and flew high above the encampment. When he spotted one of the Valkyries disappearing into Greenwood, he decided to start his search there, following the maiden. It wasn’t long before he came upon the hidden camp along the eastern eaves of the forest. The half-elf easily recognized the pavilion that belonged to his mother. He flew into a nearby tree and waited. To his dismay, Buffy came out of her pavilion on the arm of the lord of the First House. He watched in horror as they undressed and jumped into the spring located next to her dwelling. While that was bad enough, Olofin was further traumatized when the lovers began copulating out in the open. He had never seen his mother behave in such a manner, not even with his father. Sickened by their lack of decorum, he flew off the limb he had been perched upon, heading west. Once some distance separated him from the hidden camp, he landed, returned to his mortal form, and wept. Olofin was unsure of how to confront Buffy with her infidelity or even if it was his place to do so. His heart broke knowing that the rumors of his mother’s celibacy proved to be false. He now knew it was just another lie. The half-elf changed form and took off for the encampment. Surely, Luthor would know how to handle the situation.

When the Slayer returned to the encampment on Midsummer’s Day, she found both Luthor and Olofin waiting inside her pavilion. She smiled at the men before noticing that many of her belongings were gone.

“What’s… what’s going on? Where’s all my stuff?” she asked as she glanced around the near empty chamber.

“Sit,” answered Luthor, gesturing towards the vacant seat.

“O--kay,” she drawled, plopping down heavily on the chair. Olofin sat with his head bowed, playing with a ring on his index finger while the old man fixed his scrutinizing gaze on her. “Is something wrong? Are you alright, Olofin?” Her son shook his head, but spoke not one word. Buffy was beginning to sense the tension in the room when Luthor spoke.

“Where have you been?”

“I’ve been with the dwarves.” Buffy turned to her youngest child. “I told you that I was going to Khazâd-Dûm.” She shifted her gaze back to the old Maia. “What’s the big deal?”

“We have reason to believe that you were not visiting with the Naugrim,” continued Luthor, tapping his fingers on the arm of his seat, his narrowed gaze boring into her.

Before she could respond, Olofin lifted his head, a look of disappointment on his face. He fixed his teary green eyes on his mother and whispered, “I saw you, nana. I saw you in a… in a compromising situation with Balan.” Buffy’s face turned a deep shade of red. She didn’t know what to say.

“What were you thinking?” chastised Luthor, leaning forward in his seat. “Or were you not thinking at all?” The Slayer shifted her eyes to her lap, uncomfortable with her current predicament. She remained silent and deeply embarrassed. “Come daybreak, we set out for home. The mortals may not come along.” Buffy’s head shot up, her mouth agape. She felt blindsided by Luthor’s announcement. “Are you understanding me, Bella?” Buffy felt like a child. She found herself speechless, simply nodding in reply. She glanced at her son, who sat there with his face buried in his hands.

“I thought you were beyond this,” Luthor lectured. “I cannot tell you how utterly disappointed I am in you… ” Buffy couldn’t take it any more. With her eyes welling with tears, in the middle of the old man’s speech, she fled the chamber for Feawë’s dwelling. She knew in her heart that she would not be able to delay their departure for any reason, not even death.

“I want to see Balan one more time,” she cried to her Valkyrie chieftain. “Help me, Feawë! Help me do this!”

“Of course, I will,” answered the woman, patting her Mistress reassuringly on the back. “Stay here. Let me get Vórëa.” She then hurriedly left the room in search of her sister.

Buffy nervously paced back and forth while drying her eyes on the back of her hand. As she avoided the piles of stacked boxes, she wondered how long Feawë had known that they would be leaving for Beleriand. It seemed obvious to the Slayer that her servant knew Luthor’s mind, her packed belongings were evidence of that.

“Ow! God damn it!” she yelped, accidentally walking into a stack of boxes. She continued to utter curses under her breath, rubbing her shin feverishly when the topmost box teetered off the stack, spilling the contents to the floor. “Oh, great! Just my luck,” she moaned, stooping down to pick up the items, which consisted mostly of writing implements. As Buffy shoved rolls of parchment in various sizes and colors back into the box, an idea suddenly came to her. She sat on the floor, grabbed some parchment, a quill and a near empty bottle of ink. She then found herself scribbling out detailed instructions in the runes of Daeron.

“Can you believe the old coot has stationed himself outside?” said an irritated Vórëa upon entering the chamber.

“Who? Luthor?” queried Buffy, blowing on the wet ink on the document.

“Who else?” Vórëa replied with a roll of her eyes, sitting beside her Mistress on the floor.

“We’ll have to wait until nightfall,” said Feawë, taking a seat opposite the other two. “Would you Ladies like some wine to help pass the time?”

The women remained seated on the floor, discussing their strategy for the evening. Every thirty minutes, Luthor peeked inside the draped doorway, making sure that Buffy was still inside. It was during one of those inspections when Laurië swapped the old man’s water skin with one that contained a strong dose of sleeping tonic. Once they got him out of the way, that only left Olofin. The Slayer didn’t want her son drugged by any means, just distracted for an hour or so. She knew better than to offer him one of her maidens, having learned that lesson long ago. As it stood, Buffy had positioned sentinels strategically around the half-elf’s quarters. It didn’t appear as though he was keeping watch on her, only Luthor. She was to be notified at once if her son left his pavilion.

As soon as Luthor was asleep, Buffy and a dozen of her maidens left Feawë’s abode for the mortal side of the camp. One of her Valkyries had already alerted Balan of the urgent meeting. With so little notice, the mortal lord needed the help of some of his most trusted confidants in arranging the secret rendezvous. By the time the group of women entered mankind’s section of the encampment, Balan was waiting in a nearby structure.

“Luinil!” exclaimed the distraught mortal when she entered the tent. He hurried across the room and pulled his lover into a tight embrace. “What is this I hear? You’re leaving? Without us? Without me?” His glistening gray eyes revealed his anguish.

Buffy had begun to speak when Rainë’s head suddenly appeared through the flap of the tent. “My Lady, Olofin has just left his quarters and is coming this way!” She then disappeared.

“Shit!” Buffy was furious. She had just gotten there. Grabbing her lover’s hands, she said, “Listen Balan, turns out, I’ve only got a couple of minutes before I’ve gotta go, so we’ve got to make this quick, unfortunately... ”

“I don’t understand,” he interrupted, a look of confusion on his face. “What has happened to cause those of the mighty House of Luinil to flee these lands so unexpectedly? Why is Olofin… ”

“He saw us, Balan!” she interjected. “And when I say he saw us, I mean, he saw us!” The Slayer knew her time was dwindling and didn’t want to waste it on needless explanations. “Listen, there’s no way out of this. We leave tomorrow, I can’t change that.” She reached in the pocket of her cloak and pulled out a small scroll, placing it in her lover’s hand. “Take this,” she began again. “Guard it with your life. Show it to none.”

“What is it?”

“You’ll see later.” She placed a hand on his face, tenderly caressing his cheek. “I’m so grateful that I found you, Balan, son of Mansur. You’ve truly renewed my faith in mankind and for that, I bestow what blessings I have upon you and your seed. I’ve made some bad choices in my past, but you and me; we weren’t one of them. Sometimes, I think Eru gives us second chances, and I think that you’re my second chance, son of Sargon. When you find yourself growing weary with age, follow those instructions and I’ll come for you. I don’t know how or when, but I’ll find my way back to Folkvang again. I’m gonna bring you there, Balan. I’m gonna take you to my Blessed Realm to live out all of eternity. There will be no dark halls of Mandos for you, my beloved. I will make that happen. I swear.”

“My Lady, Olofin approaches,” said Rainë, sticking her head in the tent once again.

“It’s not enough time,” cried out the mortal. “You cannot leave just yet.”

“I have no other choice. I have to go. You cannot follow me, Balan. This is the end, for a while anyway.”

“No, I refuse… ” Buffy shut him up by kissing him. She could hear her maidens arguing with her son outside the tent.

“I’ve gotta go.”

“I love you, Luinil.”

“I love you too.” A teary-eyed Buffy then left the tent. Her lover fell to his knees and cried out in despair. Any hope of secrecy was lost, as the Valkyries were wrestling with Olofin on the ground, drawing the attention of many mortals. “For Eru’s sake, get off him!” shouted the Slayer. She reached down and helped her son to his feet.

The half-elf brushed the dirt from his clothing, shaking his head in disgust. “I cannot believe that you would resort to having your women attack me! That’s a new low, mother, even for you.” Buffy tried to argue, but Olofin would hear none of it. He snatched her hand and led her through the crowd of people with the Valkyries following behind.

By the time they reached the other side of camp, Istahiro had roused Luthor from his slumber. While the Slayer thought that Olofin was furious, that was nothing compared to Luthor. His eyes were ablaze with rage, his face stern.

“We will not wait for morning. We’re leaving right now!” barked the old man. Buffy felt so horrible that she wasn’t about to contest the angry Maia’s will. She had made her bed, and now she was going to have to lie in it.

So it was on that Midsummer’s evening, that most of the Vala of Love’s Household left the encampment. Those that remained behind were to pack up their things and join the others on their journey. It would be a miserable trip for the most part as Luthor refused to allow the Valkyries any contact with their Mistress for several days.

When the group had reached the waters of Kheled-zâram in the valley of Azanulbizar, they stopped and rested for a while. Olofin and Luthor had decided that they, along with Buffy, would visit the dwarves under the Misty Mountains since she had never done so in all the years that they dwelled by the banks of the Anduin. They felt that that was necessary in order to maintain good relations with the Naugrim, especially since Durin had died fighting in the Slayer’s war. Hearing from the Vala Queen herself about the mighty deeds of their forefather would aid the long overdo healing process for those people.

Before Buffy left with Olofin and Luthor for the Halls of Durin, she had her first opportunity to speak with the Valkyries in private. She instructed them to leave their hröas in Folkvang and to travel with mankind in spirit-form. It was her maidens’ responsibility to guide the kindred of Man into Beleriand.

The Khazâd loved Freya, as they still called her, and insisted that she and her two companions stay for a time within their Halls. Durin’s grandson, who was now lord of those goodly people, eagerly wanted to show her the Seventy-Seventh Hall that his forefather had made in her honor. Buffy declined, wanting to wait until Durin was reborn so that the dwarf lord could personally show her the results of his labor.

Several weeks later, they left Khazâd-Dûm and continued their trek north. In the distance, they could see the caravan of mortals trailing behind, which delighted the Slayer to no end. It seemed like the mountain chain would never end as they rode west of the mighty peaks for months, or so it seemed. The tension between Buffy, Luthor and Olofin had abated after a time, and they spent many nights talking into the wee hours of the morning beneath the starlit sky.

A few weeks after the arrival of the New Year, the company reached the hilly regions of northwestern Eriador. At that point, Luthor and Buffy’s demonic offspring (who had remained cloaked throughout the journey so as to not frighten the mortals) were to part from the rest of the Household. They would continue on to the Deeper Well, which was northeast from where they now stood, while the Slayer and her kinfolk would head due west towards Ered Luin. Before the old man left, he took both mother and son aside, speaking to each in private.

“You have impressed me so much over the years, Olofin,” he said to the sorrowful half-elf as they walked amongst the hills in that area. “You are a decent, honorable man and I deem Maglor will be proud to hear of your valiant deeds in the East.” The old man reached in his cloak pocket and pulled out something wrapped in a blue cloth. “This is for you,” began Luthor again, revealing a vial of blood hidden in the material.

Olofin wore a puzzled expression on his face. “What is it?”

“This is a vial of blood I took from your mother back in the days of Angband. Its properties are untainted and pure, and I daresay possess magical qualities as well. Take it,” he continued, placing the wrapped vial into the elf’s hand. “Do not tell your mother that I gave this to you, as she would be most angry with me.”

“Luthor, what am I supposed to do with this? I’m not a master of potions,” said the perplexed half-elf.

The old man chuckled as he placed his hand affectionately on Olofin’s shoulder. “You will know what to do with it when the time arrives, my son. You are a great man, Olofinwë Tirnon, and you have abilities far greater than you know. In time, you will come to see this.”

“Come with us to Beleriand, Luthor,” pleaded the young man. “I hate to think that I won’t see you again for a long while.”

“My dear boy, you know where I live. Come visit me at the Deeper Well when your heart so desires, for that is where I shall be.” Luthor turned his gaze to Buffy, who was feeding her horse handfuls of grain. A worried look came to his face. “Look after your mother.” He shifted his tear-filled blue eyes back to Olofin. “She may drive me mad with her behavior at times, but she’s a good woman, one of the best that’s out there. But I fear for her, my son. My Eru, how I worry about her! Dark times await her, and I fear… ” He paused, nervously chewing on his bottom lip. “I fear what may happen in days to come. Be her rock, Olofin. Be the voice of reason when she needs to hear it. Alas, I foresee much heartache in Bella’s future,” admitted the Maia, choking back his tears. “I love you, my dear Olofin. If I had a son, I could only wish for him to turn out as well as you. Be strong. Don’t let the pride of your kin lead you astray. Follow your heart, for it is pure, and will not lead you to folly. Take care, my boy, take care.”

Olofin was heartbroken. He wandered off to deal with his grief alone while Luthor pulled Buffy aside and spoke with her for a long while. Whatever he had said to the Slayer, she would not speak of it for many, many years. The Maiar watched as their Mistress collapsed to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably. The old man held her in his arms, trying to reassure her that things would be alright.

At nightfall, Luthor and his companions continued on their way while the others remained where they were, hunkering down for the night.

It was a fine spring morning when the group finally entered Beleriand. Buffy let out a joyous shriek when they encountered Kit and Kat on the Dwarf-Road that lead through the pass in the Blue Mountains. Her lions pounced on their Mistress, licking her face in greeting. Olofin lifted his voice in song when he saw the tall trees of Ossiriand to their south. He and his mother stood side-by-side looking at the fair lands before them. After all those years, they finally made it home…