Full Circle

“We finally made it, nana,” declared Olofin, drinking in the beautiful scenery. “Beleriand.”

Buffy looked upon the valley below them, absently rubbing the lions on either side of her. “What a long, strange trip it’s been,” she sang under her breath. Chuckling, she turned towards the Maiar. “Let’s take a break, guys.”

“What?” exclaimed the half-elf, facing his mother with a look of disbelief on his face. “We’re less than a league from the ford. We can be at Lindon Hall by noon.”

“Oh, come on, Olofin. Look at the view,” said Buffy enthusiastically, stretching her arms widely. “We’ve been gone for nearly a century and a half, let’s take a few minutes to enjoy this momentous occasion.” That’s all the Maiar needed to hear. Those on horses, dismounted, eager to walk the stiffness from their limbs.

The Slayer left the Dwarf-Road with her kitties and took a seat on a nearby shelf on the mount’s shoulder. It was a surreal moment for her, and demanded much reflection. Buffy’s stomach felt twisted in knots with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. She had longed to come home for so long, but now that she was there, it terrified her. Doubt, once again, found its way into her heart. The Slayer didn’t think she was ready to face Maglor. She feared his finding out about what she had done not only in Sumer but back at the encampment too. It didn’t help matters any, knowing that the people of Balan had managed to pass those of Marach in their fervor to follow. That made her second guess whether the Hildor would remain silent about the things that had transpired in the East. The elves, the Noldor in particular, were a pretty perceptive folk and had a talent for reading people’s hearts. The possibility that they’d be able to discern the truth by merely searching some vulnerable mortal’s eyes was quite real.

The pressure was too much for Buffy to bear. She cried, not knowing what she should do. The lions attempted to console her by rubbing their heads against her, but that only knocked her from side to side.

“Kit! Kat!” called out Olofin, slapping his thighs repeatedly. “Come here, kitties.” The beasts leapt off the ridge, allowing the half-elf room to sit beside his mother. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled Buffy close. She buried her face in Olofin’s tunic, as the tears continued to stream down her face. “It’s alright, nana. Everything will be alright.” He spoke in his most soothing voice, affectionately stroking her long hair.

“Do you see that?” she sniveled. “I mean, do you really see that?”

“What is it that troubles you so?” Olofin queried, resting his chin on her head. “Is there anything I can do to ease your sorrow?”

“No one can help me,” replied Buffy dismally, “but me. And I’m afraid… afraid of what the future has in store for me.” She shifted upright, wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her shirt.

“You must confront your fears head on, mother.”

“You think?” She turned her weepy eyes to her son.

“Absolutely.”

The Slayer took a deep breath, stifling her tears. Fixing her gaze to the west, she said, “If you think so, then we need to continue west, crossing Sarn Athrad… ”

“But that is not the way home,” interjected the half-elf, slightly taken aback. “Where is it that you wish to go?”

“If we continue west, crossing the Gelion, we’ll eventually meet up with your father on the outskirts of Amon Ereb.”

“Father?” exclaimed Olofin, his brows raised. “Father is in southern Beleriand? How do you know this?”

She faced her son. “I know more than I let on… sometimes. Káno, Russandol and Finrod are traveling east as we speak. If we leave now, we’ll catch up to them in a couple of hours, if you want to.”

Olofin excitedly leapt to his feet. “Of course, I do. Let’s go!” He helped his mother up before they made their way back to the Dwarf-Road where the others waited.

“It looks like this is the end of the road for us,” Buffy said to the waiting Maiar. “You guys can go back to Folkvang now. Olofin and I are going to continue the journey on our own. But I need someone to do me a favor.” Istahiro immediately volunteered. “Go to Orchal. Tell him that I need the Carnimír and my belt from my copper trunk. Bring them to me.” She handed the healer the key. He nodded his head before disappearing in the blink of an eye. “No, no, no,” she then said, turning to her son, who was about to mount his steed. “We won’t be traveling on our horses. Get our bags. Kit and Kat will be our transportation. We’ll get there faster that way.” The half-elf nodded, before carrying out his mother’s orders.

Ten minutes later, Istahiro returned carrying a blue sack with the requested items, a note from Orchal, and the key. Buffy took them, placing them in her satchel. She gave her people some last minute instructions while Olofin eased onto Kit’s back. She then bid farewell to the remaining members of her Household, as she climbed on Kat’s back. The lions took off down the Dwarf-Road, gradually ascending into the air, higher and higher.

As they soared above the River Ascar, they could hear the sweet voices of the elves singing from the depths of the wood, breaking Buffy’s heart. She desperately wanted to tell the lions to turn south, to return to her magnificent Halls on Tol Galen, but she knew that it would be unwise for her to do so. During the Slayer’s illness, she had experienced many visions. Some were the direct result of the malady and would not come to fruition, but others were, in fact, prophetic in origin. The Veil had temporarily unraveled; there was no doubting that. The difficult part was the discerning of actual future events from the delusions brought about by the disease. One thing Buffy knew for sure: she needed to avoid Ossir for several decades, if she could. If she did that, it would not only strengthen her relationship with Orchal and the other Green-elves, but it would also strengthen the forces of the Noldor, something that Buffy knew was imperative to future events. The animosity that the elves of Ossir had for the mortals was integral to Ilúvatar’s designs; she saw that now. Mankind had to encounter one from the House of Finwë, but the Slayer would do everything in her power to make sure that it wasn’t a son of Fëanor. After her recent affair with Balan, she had had to distance the brothers from the Hildor so that they could not discover her secret. At least a couple of generations needed to pass on before the brothers could forge a friendship with the Second-born, when Buffy would become nothing more than a mythological figure from the past, a rumor from bygone days.

“Look!” shouted Olofin, only an hour later. “There they are!” The Slayer looked in the direction that her son was pointing, but saw nothing but the plains dotted with trees. With the loss of the greater part of her powers, she no longer had the ability to descry things from afar, as she once did. Even when she squinted her eyes, she couldn’t make out the small shapes in the distance. “Faster, Kit, faster,” he said, encouraging the lion to increase his speed. Surprisingly, Kit did just that, leaving both Buffy and Kat in the dust.

“C’mon, girl. We can’t let the men folk beat us in this race.” Kat let out a low growl as she suddenly increased her pace, nearly sending Buffy flying off the cat’s back. The Slayer shrieked, grabbing hold of the lioness’ flesh in order to remain seated. She quickly adjusted her position, hunching down so that the force of the wind wouldn’t knock her off the beast. She wasn’t in the mood to die again. Kat’s swiftness allowed them to catch up with both the half-elf and Kit.

“Can you see them now?” asked her son, his excitement growing with every passing minute.

Buffy looked hard, but still saw nothing. “Nope,” she replied. “I’ve got the eyesight of a freakin’ mortal, damn it! I can’t see anything.”

“We’re getter closer, mother.”

Olofin then began singing a lighthearted song that his father had sung to him as an elfling. Buffy laughed, recalling those joyful times from their past. It seemed so long ago. All of a sudden, she heard a faint voice carrying on the wind, gradually becoming louder and louder. Her heart nearly stopped before it began pounding so hard, she felt it in her throat. It was Maglor, singing along with his son. The Slayer’s eyes scanned the landscape, but she saw neither her husband nor his two companions.

“Oh my God!” cried out Buffy, her eyes stinging with tears. “I hear him, I hear Maglor!” Any reservations she had about seeing her beloved Noldo vanished the moment she heard his melodious voice. “C’mon, Kat, faster.” Olofin was already waving to his kinfolk on the ground even though his mother still hadn’t caught sight of them. Her tears turned into outright sobbing when she finally saw three tiny dots moving slowly from the west some twenty minutes later. “I see ‘em, I see ‘em,” she yelled to her son.

The lions then slowly began to make their descent. The trio was still some distance away, but Buffy’s eyes remained fixed on the middle figure, recognizing her husband even if he was minute from her viewpoint. A quick movement from the corner of her eye distracted the Slayer for a moment. Turning her teary eyes to her son, her jaw dropped when she saw that he had changed into a falcon and was plummeting to the earth below.

“Hey, that’s not fair!” she shouted after his speeding form. She then grumbled, “Why does that boy of mine have to show off his powers? I hate being the weakling.”

With Olofin gone, Kit swerved closer to his mate, flying beside her. Buffy started waving and shouting when she saw the now distinctive figures on the ground greeting each other with hugs and kisses. In her eagerness to see her loved ones, she leapt from Kat when they were about fifty feet from the ground. Unfortunately, her legs were like jell-o. When she landed, they gave out, causing her to take a terrible tumble.

Looking up, she saw a smiling Maglor standing over her, his hand reaching out for her. “So much for dramatic entrances, huh?” she quipped, taking his hand.

“Bella,” he said with a laugh, pulling her to her feet. “Oh, how I’ve missed you.” He wrapped his arms around her, lifting her off her feet in a bear hug.

“I missed you too,” cried Buffy, burying her face in his long dark hair. She felt herself drowning in his manly scent.

It was a joyous and unexpected reunion for the Slayer and the sons of Finwë. The three Noldorin Lords had left their realms in the north to enjoy a bit of hunting in Taur-en-Faroth (“Forest of the Hunters”) when they decided to visit the fair lands of Ossir, which was a place of extreme beauty, especially in springtime. Their meeting only confirmed to Buffy that it wasn’t mere chance; it was fate. At that moment, she knew that Finrod was the one, the one who would discover the Hildor. A destiny that would, in times to come, prove to be a double-edged sword for the golden-haired son of Finarfin.

After exchanging more hugs and kisses, the group sat around in a circle, drinking wine and nibbling on lembas bread, as the Noldo Lords bombarded both mother and son with questions. They were anxious to hear about the younger children of Ilúvatar and their adventures in the East. Olofin fielded most of the questions, while Buffy and her husband sat snuggled up together, whispering sweet nothings into each other’s ears.

Only a few minutes later, Maglor pushed aside her golden locks, eager to plant kisses on the delicate skin of her neck. “Where are your scars? The vampire bite marks, they’re gone,” gasped the baffled Noldo overly loud, drawing the attention of their companions. Buffy felt her blood run cold. Her gaze quickly shifted to Káno’s hand that she clutched in her own. Her death was something that had been off limits to discussion since the days of Sumer. And having it brought up after all those years brought to the surface the pain and agony that she thought she had buried long ago. “Oh my Eru!” he exclaimed, his voice full of shock. “Luinil, you died, didn’t you?” He turned his stunned gray eyes on his son. “You never mentioned that your mother had died in any of your letters… ” The Slayer’s heart dropped to her stomach. She was unaware that her son had been corresponding with his father, and was unsure of how much her beloved actually knew about her deeds in Sumer.

“Letters?” interjected Buffy nervously. “What letters?” She too fixed her gaze on her son. “You never mentioned writing any letters!” The speed at which she spoke revealed her anxiety.

“You died!” cried out Maedhros and Finrod in unison, floored by Maglor’s deduction. The Slayer hung her head, her body started to tremble, knowing that she was about to relive that whole terrible ordeal again. She could feel the penetrating gaze of her companions, increasing her discomfort. Káno rubbed her back reassuringly, as he looked to Olofin for details.

“Úrion killed her,” revealed their son, his eyes welling with tears at the memory.

“Úrion!” exclaimed the Noldo Lords in chorus.

“He was the mole,” answered the grim-faced half-elf.

“I… I can’t do this,” sobbed the Slayer, quickly getting to her feet. “I don’t want to… I can’t… ” She attempted to wander off from the group, but Maglor leapt to his feet and stopped her.

“Don’t flee! You’re amongst loved ones, my darling,” he said comfortingly, his face fraught with worry. “I haven’t seen you in so long… I just want to know what happened.”

“Then hear it from Olofin, ‘cause I can’t… ” She shook her head as tears continued to roll down her cheeks, “I can’t relive it again. I… just… can’t.” Buffy pulled free from her husband’s grasp and hurriedly walked away. Kit and Kat rushed to her side.

“Maranwë!” called out Maglor, flummoxed by her reaction.

He went to follow, but was prevented from doing so by a strong hand gripping his shoulder. Turning, he saw his only son standing there, his green eyes glistening with tears. “Let her be, adar,” said Olofin, giving Maglor’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Nana has not yet dealt with her grief and forbids any to speak of her crucifixion.” The half-elf glanced at his mother, who plunked down in the tall grass several yards away, burying her face in Kit’s mane. “She wants me to be the one to tell you. Come,” instructed Olofin, guiding his father back to the two Noldor that remained seated, talking in hushed voices. “It’s a woeful tale and I’d rather only tell it once.”

While the half-elf recounted the tribulation of his mother, Buffy continued to bawl. She never thought it possible to cry so much. In the span of thirty minutes, she had gone from crying tears of joy to tears of despair. She never thought that her death would become a topic of conversation so soon after returning. The Slayer had assumed that when her Household returned to the Gap, then and only then would she have to deal with Úrion’s absence and the story of his betrayal. Truth be told, she’d rather discuss her numerous affairs than her horrific demise. She had never gotten over it, and didn’t know if she ever would.

“Stop it! You’ve been acting like a blubbering fool for too long,” she chastised herself. Buffy sat upright, wiping her face dry on her cloak. The lions cocked their heads, their yellow eyes looking at her with confusion. Upon noticing their expressions, she gave them a small smile. “I’m not talking about you guys, I’m talking about me.”

Buffy was desperate to find relief from her latest bout of melancholy. Unfortunately, the hul-gil she had brought with her was in her bag where the others sat. There was no way that she wanted to get within earshot of the men’s conversation. Even from where she sat, she could hear gasps and cries of “What!” coming from the Noldo Lords. The Slayer lounged on Kit’s outstretched form, hoping the warmth of the sun’s rays would rid her of the chill that had overwhelmed her. She began breathing slow, deep breaths in an attempt to calm her rattled nerves.

She didn’t know how much time had passed when she felt a presence, Maglor’s presence, standing over her. Her eyes darted open, only to see the Noldo falling to his knees, tears streaming down his handsome face. His deep, gray eyes revealed much sorrow. Without saying a word, he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly, and wept. Now that he had heard all the details of his wife’s death, he couldn’t blame her for not wishing to speak or hear of any mention of it. To know that she had died in such a brutal manner by someone’s hand that she had dearly loved, left the elf horror-struck. He couldn’t believe that Úrion had deceived her, deceived them all. It clearly showed what lengths Morgoth was willing to go to in order to achieve his greatest desire - Buffy. That frightened the son of Fëanor. How does one thwart the greatest and most evil Vala to ever set foot on Arda in his attempts to woo your beloved, a woman that happens to have a history with him, as well as a child?

“It’s okay, Káno,” whispered the Slayer, pulling out of the embrace. She tenderly wiped his tears away with her fingers. “Maybe now you can see why I don’t want to talk about what happened in the East. I just want to put it behind me.”

“You must deal with it at some point, Luinil. When you’re ready, I’m here.”

“I know. And that means a lot to me. But right now, I just want to resume my life, our life.” She kissed him softly on the lips, her fingers caressing his cheeks. “I’ve waited a hundred and fifty long years for this moment… ”

“One hundred fifty-one years, my love,” corrected the Noldo with a small smile. “It’s been one hundred fifty-one years, five months and ten days since you left.”

“You sound like Thranduil,” Buffy chuckled.

“Perhaps,” answered Maglor, looking lovingly at his wife. He pushed a strand of hair from her face, his fingertips tracing the skin on her neck where her scars once were. A wistful look came to his face before he added, “I remember it so, as it was the day I lost both my wife and son.” The Noldo sighed heavily. “How can one forget the day when his heart was broken?”

“Then we need to work on mending our broken hearts, don’t you think?”

“I deem we’ve already started that,” he replied, kissing her sweetly on the lips. The chill that had enveloped the Slayer’s heart dissipated, although her craving for a good dose of hul-gil had not.

“They’re not gonna keep talking about my… death, are they?” she asked, casting a glance over her shoulder at the other Noldor.

“No. Olofin has told us what we need to know. We shan’t speak of it again until you’re ready.”

“Good,” she answered, rising to her feet. She pulled her husband to his as well. Kit and Kat followed suit, waiting patiently for their Mistress’ next move. “I need to take my medicine.” Buffy linked her arm with Maglor’s, and started back towards the others.

“Medicine?” queried the son of Fëanor, his brows furrowed with concern. “Are you ill?”

“Kinda.” She felt her cheeks flush. “I’ve been diagnosed with melancholy and take an herbal remedy to… you know, help.”

“I see.”

The couple rejoined the others. Despite the looks of pity Buffy got from her husband’s kin, she smoked two bowls of opium before she felt more at ease. She was still concerned about the content of Olofin’s letters, but after the Noldo Lords learned of her death, the conversation quickly turned to the goings-on in Beleriand. The big news was that Turgon’s sister, Aredhel, had set out from Gondolin (Turgon’s hidden kingdom), to visit Celegorm and Curufin more than a decade earlier and had never returned. Many believed that she had died while trying to pass through Nan Dungortheb, a place that Buffy recalled all too clearly. That was where she had first arrived in Middle-earth, the land of the humongous spiders, and the hideous offspring of Ungoliant, Melkor’s co-conspirator in the destruction of the Two Trees. Even though the Slayer had only met the elleth once, long ago, she was saddened to hear the news.

Finrod lightened the mood by telling Buffy about the completion of his own hidden fortress, Nargothrond, which mirrored Menegroth in both beauty and impenetrability. He was eager for her and Olofin to visit his Halls, as he now made that his permanent home, having given control of Minas Tirith to his brother, Orodreth.

“After we visit your fair lands, Bella, I’d like for you to return with me to my Halls beside the River Narog,” proclaimed the golden-haired Noldo.

“I have no intention to go to Ossir, Finrod… ”

Olofin choked on his wine when he heard that. “What?” he coughed. “We’re not going to Ossir!”

“Nope,” answered Buffy. “I, like Aredhel, wish to visit Himlad.”

“You wish to visit my brothers. Why?” asked Maedhros, a curious expression on his face.

“Actually, I need to see Curufin. I want to see if he can help me with something.”

“But mother,” started her confounded son. “You had said that your heart’s greatest desire was to return to your fair Halls on Tol Galen. Long we’ve dwelled in the plains of the East with promises from you that we’d all return first to the fair woods of Ossir once we entered Beleriand. Why so anxious to journey to the northern plains without as much as an overnight stay in the land of my birth? Great welcome will we get from those that stayed behind. It is your kingdom, after all.” Olofin was quite anxious to sail upon the waters of Gelion and Adurant, to walk amongst the towering trees, and to hear the sweet voices of the Green-elves singing from the treetops in the realm of his mother.

“My greatest desire was to be reunited with your father, Olofin,” she answered, placing her hand atop her son’s. “And that has come to be.” Buffy gave her husband a quick smile before continuing. “We’ve been gone from the East for a long time now, and we did spend a lot of time with Amdír in the fair woods of Lindórinand. If living amongst the mortals taught us anything, it’s that time is a gift that shouldn’t be overlooked. I’m willing to forgo visiting Ossiriand for a while longer in my urgency to speak with Curufin.” The half-elf looked longingly at the woods to their south, a look of disappointment on his face.

“I’ve selfishly taken you away from you father for more years than he’s known you, my son,” she continued, her heart aching for her youngest. He faced his mother. She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “Ossir can wait. Do this for me, please.” Buffy looked pleadingly at her son. His eyes widened as he suddenly realized that his mother was keen to depart southern Beleriand before the mortals passed through the Blue Mountains that bordered her realm.

He nodded his head. “If that is your wish, nana, then I will do as you ask. Who am I to break up our family reunion so soon after returning?”

“Thanks, honey,” she answered with a sigh of relief.

“So you will not be going on to Ossir then,” remarked Finrod.

“Not right now.”

“If I have your leave, Bella, I’d like to continue on to your kingdom and visit a while. I have no desire to return to Nargothrond at this time.”

Buffy smiled. “Of course you can. I’ve told you before, Finrod, that you’re always welcome in my lands. But know that Orchal now calls the shots in my absence. Whatever he says, goes.”

The son of Finarfin gave her a peculiar look. The twinkle in her eyes suggested that there was something more behind her comments than she let on. Yet, whatever it was, she would not say.

“Let’s be on our way then,” said the Slayer, getting to her feet.

“So soon?” queried Finrod, surprised by her eagerness to leave.

“I’m afraid so.” The others rose from the ground. Olofin dutifully began gathering their belongings as Buffy pulled Finrod aside. “We’ll see each other soon, I’m sure,” she started. “I can’t wait to see what you’ve done to your Halls.”

“What do you know?” he asked, arching his brow, his voice full of suspicion. The Noldo knew that the Slayer was holding something back from him and was determined to find out what.

Buffy laughed, an uplifting laugh, no less. “You will soon see, my dear friend.” She placed her hands on either side of his face. He bent down so that she could place a kiss on his forehead. “Your destiny awaits… Nóm,” she added with a wide grin.

Finrod took her hands in his. “What does that mean - Nóm?”

“You’ve inherited the wisdom of your father,” she answered, her smile widening. “You’ll figure it out soon enough.” She gave him one last hug.

“You are speaking in riddles, my Lady,” remarked the Lord of Nargothrond.

“Hmm, I guess spending all these years in the company of elves has finally rubbed off on me,” she laughed. “Farewell, my friend. We’ll see each other soon.”

“Take care, Bellaseth Dagnir. My heart rejoices in knowing that you’re back. May the Valar protect you and your loved ones on your journey, although I daresay you don’t need their protection.”

The smile faded from Buffy’s face. She nodded curtly to the golden-haired Noldo before turning away. Not only did she still have bitter feelings towards her brethren in the West, but it also seemed rather obvious that Olofin had not told his father and kinfolk about her lack of powers. Since she wasn’t ready to reveal her inadequacies as a wielder of magic just yet, she told her husband that she wished to travel to Himlad by normal means - on horseback.

As she and the sons of Fëanor took off for the northern regions of East Beleriand, Finrod headed northeast towards the Dwarf-Road. Buffy wasn’t too keen to ride on the back of Maglor’s horse, but since she could no longer open portals or teleport, she had no other choice. She looked at Olofin with envy. He flew above them in falcon form. Oh, how the Slayer missed the freedom that comes with flight! While she could have ridden atop one of the lions, she wanted them to run freely beside the galloping steeds.

Their small group rode non-stop, well into the night, not stopping until they reached the Dwarf-Road, some sixty miles east of the River Celon. There, they would rest for the duration of the night.

While the group pulled their blankets from their bags, down in the valley north of Ossir sat Finrod amongst the First House of the Edain. After watching the younger children of Ilúvatar from a distance all afternoon, he waited until they fell asleep before entering their camp. He looked upon the Second-born with much wonderment. Picking up the crudely made harp that Balan had wrought in the days of his youth, the Noldo began plucking the strings, singing a song of Valinor. The enchanting melody roused the mortals from their slumber. They looked upon the Noldo with great love, for in his face they saw the Light that Buffy had spoken of in the past. Before the rising of the sun, Balan would name the Elf Lord Nóm, which meant “wisdom” in the Mannish tongue. Thus, the will of Ilúvatar was coming to fulfillment.

Now, it has already been mentioned that Buffy and Maglor had been separated for more than one hundred and fifty-one years, and in all that time, not once did the Noldo violate his marital vows. Therefore, when the opportunity presented itself, Kanafinwë was most eager to enjoy some ‘quality time’ with his wife while his brother and son lay sleeping beneath the stars of Varda Elbereth.

The couple quietly left the camp, leaving the lions behind to keep watch. Their shadowy forms disappeared into a grove of oak trees several hundred feet away from their sleeping kindred. Buffy had nearly forgotten how great a lover Maglor was. After all those years of being with mortal men, the elf’s fiery passion was rivaled by none… save Morgoth. While the Dark Foe proved to be a proficient lover, the Slayer didn’t love him, and love made all the difference when it came to the act of bodily union. Loving your partner wholly and completely increased the bliss one experienced threefold, as it’s not just about pleasing the needs of the body, but the heart and soul too.

As they lay together, wrapped in each other’s arms, Buffy couldn’t help but think of how different elvish men were from mortal men. The main difference was body hair. Elves were nearly hairless (except for their nether regions), their skin smooth and silky to the touch while mortals tended to have vast amounts of body and facial hair, at least her past lovers did. It was nice being with Maglor, and not having bristly hair scratching not only her face, but also other sensitive parts of her body. It was a most welcomed change.

About mid-morning the following day, the group packed up their stuff and continued on their journey. After crossing the River Celon, they veered off the Dwarf-Road and headed due north across the plains to Himlad. Both Curufin and Celegorm warmly greeted them when they arrived later that afternoon.

Before getting down to business, Buffy wanted to bathe, and asked the brothers if any in their Household had any garments that she could wear. She had only two outfits in her possession, and after several days without washing, her clothing had become soiled and stank to high heaven. The brothers were quick to accommodate their sister-in-law and many maidens from their Household offered dozens of their finest dresses.

The Slayer slipped into the steamy tub of water before her husband joined her. She had always loved bathing with Maglor in the past, and enjoyed doing so once again. It was the first time that the Noldo had seen her completely naked, and immediately he noticed a change to her body.

“The Mark!” he exclaimed, sliding across the tub, spilling water onto the stone floor. “It’s gone!” he continued, examining her breast.

“Um… yeah,” answered Buffy hesitantly, her mind trying to come up with some plausible response. “I guess when I remade my body, I somehow managed to… you know… remove it.”

Stupid answer, she thought to herself. He’ll never buy it!

“That is wonderful indeed!” Maglor said joyfully. His eyes looked over her exposed skin, noticing that all her former scars were gone. “Your flesh is unmarred. You must have decided, deep down, that you no longer wanted those reminders from your past.”

“Yeah, that must be it,” she answered with a forced smile. She wasn’t about to touch that topic.

With the Noldo now noticing her unblemished skin, the Slayer feared that it was only a matter of time before he asked why he hadn’t broken her hymen as he had before. That was something that she had no answer for, so she quickly did her best to divert their conversation to something other than her physical attributes, or lack thereof.

Buffy experienced a sense of relief once they had finished bathing and had finally dressed. Her desire to speak with Olofin about the content of his letters was driving her mad. She had to know how much Maglor knew. She assumed that since her husband didn’t know of her death, than perhaps her son didn’t tell him about the other things she had done in the East. But she needed confirmation of that. Fast. She would find no peace until she had spoken with her youngest. Unfortunately, she’d have to wait a while longer before that opportunity presented itself.

While Maglor stood before the mirror brushing the tangles out of his long dark hair, Buffy spilled the contents of the blue sack onto the bed. She glanced over the note from Orchal, which didn’t tell her anything she didn’t already know. Apparently, her dear friend was mortified to discover that her treasuries had been cleaned out while they were in the East. His message was yet another reminder of the unscrupulous nature of Úrion. She quickly shoved the parchment back in the sack along with her key. She was most concerned with the jewel of Fëanor, as that was why she had come to Himlad to see Curufin.

A few minutes later, she and Maglor joined Olofin, Maedhros, Celegorm and Curufin in the library. Buffy, clutching the red jewel in her hand, took a seat next to her beloved on one of the couches. By the looks of pity on two of the C-brother’s faces, she could tell that either Russandol or her son had informed them of her grisly demise at the hands of Úrion.

“Ah, the Carnimír!” said Curufin with delight, trying to keep their conversation as lighthearted as possible. “How did it do in battle?”

“Not too good, I’m afraid,” replied the frowning Slayer, running the gold chain attached to the gem through her fingers. “Unfortunately, there was no sunlight to activate it. Illyria had cast all the East under a cloud of blackness for years. It wasn’t until… ” Her words trailed off, a sad expression came to her face. Buffy eyes quickly shifted to the precious stone in her hands, avoiding the stares of the brothers. Maglor placed his hand comfortingly on her knee as Olofin picked up where she had left off.

“By the time the clouds had broken free, the tides had turned,” said the half-elf, intently watching his mother as he spoke. A pale faced Buffy nodded. She was unhappy that her death seemed to come up in nearly every conversation, something that had not happened for a long, long time.

“Oh, I hate to hear that,” replied Curufin, shaking his head disappointedly.

“Thank Eru, father doesn’t know that,” commented Celegorm. “He would be greatly disappointed that Muinthel wasn’t able to utilize that special gemstone to her advantage.” His brothers agreed.

“Any way,” started Buffy again, looking at Curufin, the blood flowing to her cheeks once again. “I was hoping that maybe we could do something different with the Carnimír.” Her eyes briefly scanned her companions’ faces; all wore curious expressions, eager to hear what she had in mind. “Please don’t think that I don’t love this marvelous heirloom, I truly do… but I was wondering if it would be possible to use the ruby as part of a scepter.”

“A scepter?” queried Maedhros before the others could speak.

“You want to use the Carnimír as your scepter in Folkvang. I bet that’s it, right?” said her husband excitedly.

Buffy gave a quick look to Olofin, who sat there with his mouth slightly agape. She turned her gaze to her husband. “You know me so well, Káno,” she said with a smile, taking his hand in hers.

“May I see it?” asked Curufin, reaching for the jewel of Fëanor.

“Sure.” She placed the gemstone in his hand. “I was hoping that we could maybe enhance its magical properties, if we can… I mean, I just don’t want it to be a scepter. I want it to be a weapon too… ” The men gave her a peculiar look. “Well, it’d be nice if it could do stuff if, I don’t know, an unpleasant situation suddenly arose or something.”

“Hmm,” sounded Curufin, twirling the heirloom of their House in his hand. “So you want to imbue it with your magics then.”

“Oh, um, well, er,” she stuttered, shifting uneasily in her seat. “I can’t,” she answered with a sigh.

“What do you mean by that?” asked Celegorm, leaning forward in his seat with his brows drawn together.

Buffy’s eyes darted from face to face as she answered, “I lost my powers.”

All the men gasped, except for Olofin, before bombarding her with various one-word questions like “How?” “When?” “What?”

“It was a plague… a disease I caught that… ”

“The Valar are immune to disease,” interjected Maedhros adamantly. “They cannot have their powers taken by illness.”

“I beg to differ,” answered Buffy with a wave of her hand. “Believe me, I wish it wasn’t true, but it is. I only recently got my slayer strength back.”

“Why didn’t you say anything before?” asked Maglor with concern. “How could something like this happen?”

The Slayer shifted her gaze to her son, who sat there with his jaw clenched tightly closed. She went to speak, but before any sound came out, Olofin said, “There is a renegade Vala on the loose… No, not Morgoth,” he said responding to the looks of his uncles. “Amarutu Marduk he is called in the Mannish tongue. He’s a Vala from Aulë’s House and possesses great abilities. He used his skill to create a disease for the sole purpose of destroying mother. The bastard nearly succeeded. He even managed to suppress my magics for a time, and the lions still cannot teleport because of his dark spells.”

The half-elf’s words shocked the sons of Fëanor. Buffy was relieved. She could tell by the look in her son’s eyes that he wasn’t about to reveal her secret. That meant that he hadn’t revealed anything to Maglor in his letters that should cause her to worry. Her son was covering for her. The discussion then turned to Marduk. They were still talking about the renegade Vala when the dinner bells rang. As the men started out of the room, the Slayer pulled her son aside.

“I appreciate your discretion regarding… things,” she said gratefully. “Thanks.”

Olofin fixed his green eyes on his mother, his face stern. “You know that I’ve never approved of your… lifestyle whilst we were gone. I found your behavior both deplorable and shameful.” Buffy felt her heart drop; her mouth went dry. “But who am I to interfere with your relationship with father? It is not my place, and I only hope that both the Moriquendi and the Hildor prove to be faithful and speak not of the situations that you found yourself in while away from home.” His expression softened.

“Yet I do believe that an evil lurks throughout the lands in the East and that you’re not entirely responsible for your actions. I deem that lingering darkness seized you in its grasp and led you to folly. My heart tells me that you wish to redeem yourself, and who am I to deny you that? The scepter. That is for Luthor, is it not?”

“Yeah, but I don’t…”

“Want my uncles to find out,” he said, finishing her sentence. “I understand that. It’s an heirloom of our House, and very precious indeed. Your giving the Carnimír to Luthor after destroying his scepter is highly commendable, and a fine way to redeem yourself in the eyes of your father figure. I do not doubt that he will appreciate the gesture. I will see if Curufin will allow me to assist him in devising that most glorious gift, as Luthor is most deserving of it.”

“So you don’t hate me for doing that,” she said meekly, her eyes looking questioningly at her son.

“No,” he answered with a shake of his head. “I think it is a mighty gift and shows how much you truly love him.” A smile came to Olofin’s face. “And I think that he’ll be pleased to see what powers it possesses.”

“What do you mean? I can’t imbue it with my magics, remember?”

“No?” he chuckled. “Let’s just see about that. Come now. I’m famished and eager for a hot meal.”

They then left the library. Buffy had no idea that the new scepter would be much greater than Luthor’s old one. Olofin would indeed work with his uncle to make that mystical rod, imbuing it with the untainted blood of his mother. It would come to represent hope and love but also death and destruction, the characteristics that defined Bellaseth Dagnir.