Full Circle

While in Belegost, Maglor demanded to know why Buffy fled from Oromë. The elf was born and raised in Valinor and knew the lore regarding the Vala Lord’s horn. According to the tales of old, the sounding of Valaróma strikes fear into the heart of the enemy. After witnessing his wife’s reaction, he couldn’t help but think that she had committed some great evil during her absence from Beleriand. She was definitely hiding something, that much the Noldo knew, but he couldn’t perceive what it was by searching her eyes alone. Even in a weakened stake, the Slayer had the ability to close herself off from others, revealing only what she wanted one to see, which in this case, was nothing.

Buffy knew that she owed Maglor some type of explanation, especially after the many weeks they spent traveling stealthily across the southern regions of Beleriand. While she wasn’t about to tell her husband everything that she had done, she decided for the sake of their relationship, she had to tell him some things. She began her story with the destruction of Numeira and the removal of Illyria and Bâb-edh-Dhrâ from Middle-earth. She conveniently omitted the part about Melkor’s forces’ participation in the war as well as the appearance of the Dark Foe himself. That would never have sat well with the Noldo.

She glossed over the details of her own death, refusing to discuss any aspect of it, other than stating that it was the turning point in all her actions afterward. With the loss of trust, she became paranoid and fearful that someone else would challenge her for the seat that she had fought so hard for: Supreme God of the East. Buffy played on her husband’s emotions by comparing herself to Fëanor, his beloved and misunderstood father, and that all her actions thereafter were a direct result of her grief and anger at having those that she loved betray her. In her need to exercise her newfound position of power, she had to inflict fear in the masses so that none would ever consider being disloyal to her or her regime.

Olofin remained silent as the Slayer recounted how she had had the traitorous elves tortured and executed by the most heinous means that she and Failo could devise. Maglor was shocked to hear of the various methods employed by his wife in tormenting the elves. He couldn’t help but think of Morgoth when she told him that part of her tale, and that perhaps she and the Dark Lord had some things in common after all.

Buffy stressed her pivotal role in re-populating the dwindling race of mankind by having men take multiple wives and permitting those thirteen and older to wed. That, too, shocked the Noldo. Thirteen was considered extremely young to the elves, and he couldn’t fathom any at that age taking a spouse, much less bringing forth children, mortal or not. Of course, the Slayer never mentioned any of her lovers, mortal or otherwise, deeming that that would be too much for the elf to handle at that time. By the look of horror on her husband’s face, she felt that she had said enough to warrant her running away from Oromë.

When five years had passed, Buffy’s doves returned and informed her that they could not find the Vala Lord or his men. She assumed that the Hunters had gone further east, perhaps even to Mesopotamia, to oust the renegade Vala from his seat. Believing that, she decided that it was safe for her and her family to return to Ossir.

She, Maglor and Olofin arrived at Lindon on the cusp of winter in Yr 319, much to the jubilation of the Green-elves. There was much celebration in the Land of Seven Rivers upon their return, and the merry-making lasted several days. Nothing made the Slayer happier than being home again. No matter how many places she had visited over the years, or how many cities she had formed from the ground up, nowhere else did she consider home, except for Ossiriand. As she re-acclimated herself to living in the treetops of Lindon, Olofin took off down the Gelion in one of his boats. Unbeknownst to his loved ones, the half-elf was about to embark on an adventure that would change the course of history.



Olofin delighted in traveling alone, very much like Finrod, his kinsman. Like most of the Noldor, he possessed an innate need to explore unfamiliar regions and the restlessness of his fey often took him in search of new and wonderful places. On this particular occasion, he went further down the Gelion than he had ever before, passing the swift stream, Adurant, which flowed from the shoulder of Ered Luin in the east. The river gradually arched to the east, where the half-elf encountered a couple of rapids, which only made the trip more challenging and exciting, before bending back to the west. Two hundred and fifty miles past the place where Adurant emptied his waters into Gelion, he felt compelled to bring his boat ashore on the western banks of the river. Finding the nearest shoal, Olofin pulled his vessel from the chilly waters and onto the rocky sandbar. There, he would rest for the night.

As the half-elf slept under the star-speckled sky, he was plagued by strange dreams sent to him by none other than Ulmo himself. Waking before sunrise, disquiet fell upon the young man as he sat eating his lembas beside the mighty Gelion. Forgoing another day on the river, Olofin felt himself being drawn towards the vast forest to his west. Hiding his boat in the brush, he grabbed his pack, girded his sword around his waist, and set off on foot through the mammoth trees.

When he had gone ten miles, he came upon what looked like a cleared pathway, nearly a mile wide. The half-elf kept to the woods, concealing himself amidst the cedar trees, his eyes scanning the site. Even from a half mile away, he noticed the ruts made by wagon wheels in the earth. That seemed odd to Olofin. He wasn’t aware that any dwelled in those parts save for the malevolent beasts of Morgoth. Moving in for a closer look, he climbed over old timbers, hewed in two, that lined the edge of the wood on either side of the barren strip. Every hundred feet lay a rectangular slab of limestone about eight feet long and four feet wide, its surface rough and cold to the touch. Several holes had been bored into the face of the rock, puzzling the young man. Sensing a foulness about it, he quickly withdrew his hand from the accursed object. As he continued to inspect the block with his eyes, he saw three sets of holes that went from one side of the stone to the other.

Perceiving an unwholesomeness about the area, he returned to the cover of the wood, walking some fifty miles further before the clearing ended at a rock wall. Stopping for the night, the half-elf lit no fire, as there was a heaviness on the air, a foulness of sorts. His trepidation grew when he heard wargs howling in the night, their shrill cries foreboding no good. That’s when Olofin heard the drums. At first, the rhythmic beating was slow, gradually increasing in tempo, almost to frenzied levels.

Curiosity getting the best of the half-elf, he grabbed his bag and hung it on a limb of a birch tree before changing into falcon form. He took off into the night, eager to see the commotion, not far from his campsite. He went no more than a mile or two before he settled himself on a bough of an oak tree, amazed to see that some from the kindred of Man dwelled in those parts. Olofin had never encountered mortals of the like before. Their skin was black, most had short curly dark hair while some wore theirs long and bushy, giving them a wild appearance. Those dancing around the fire had covered their faces in mud, which had dried, making their faces appear grey and vampire-like in the firelight. Most were garbed in strips of cloth or tattered garments, while a few, the elders, the half-elf supposed, wore long tunics in bright colors with many strings of beads around their necks.

Olofin flew to yet another tree closer to the action, just beyond a line of burning torches. He landed on a twisted limb of a cypress tree that grew awkwardly out of the cliff beside a swift stream that flowed some fifty feet below. Cocking his head, his left eye surveyed the village and the many rudely constructed huts scattered throughout the area. To the west of the dancing mortals, he saw a series of blocks, arranged in a circle, six in total, similar to the ones he had encountered earlier in the day. On one side, many people sat on the half logs, which were set up in several rows. Some wept, while others sat perfectly still, showing no emotion on their faces as they stared blankly at the slabs of limestone. On the other side of the block were many empty chairs, some more elaborately carved than others. The strange scenario mystified the half-elf.

The drumming suddenly changed tempo again, the sound of tom-tom-tom played slowly and repetitively. Olofin turned his eye to the west and noticed a procession of people walking down a pathway through the wood. Despite the numerous flickering torches, both planted in the earth and carried by many of the marchers, the faces of those entering the village were in shadow. As the people walked past the half-elf, he recognized that those at the forefront more closely resembled the Edain and Elves, their skin ashen in comparison to the race of Man that dwelled in the village.

Olofin nearly lost hold of his perch when he saw the tallest man, an elf, lean down whispering to a small, thin woman with long golden-hair. His mother! He flapped his wings, regaining his balance, his talons digging deep into the bark of the branch. He fixed his eye on the woman, his beak slightly open, his breathing quickening. He was shocked and dismayed to see his mother in such company. The half-elf was about to reveal himself when he noticed that the woman was missing her right hand. He gasped, knowing that he had just seen the Witch that had impersonated his mother long before he was born, the evil Maia, Angwen. He was amazed at how much the woman resembled his own mother, not only in appearance, but in mannerisms as well.

The sound of lashing whips diverted his attention from the Witch to a group of black mortals, a family by the looks of it, tethered together with ropes. Many guards taunted the group as the leather straps tore away at the prisoners’ flesh. Their wailing cries rang out in the night over the continuous drumming, tom-tom-tom. Olofin was aghast to witness such cruelty, especially to the children. There were four, aside from the parents, who ranged in ages from about six to sixteen. One of the youngsters stumbled to the ground, causing the others to fall, except for the eldest child who managed to maintain her footing. Olofin fixed his eye on that girl. She spoke words of comfort in a dialect of the Mannish tongue to those that she helped back to their feet. Despite the horror of the situation, the eldest girl seemed more poised than the others. She faced her imminent death with a courage that the half-elf had not witnessed before, save for in his mother.

Olofin’s eyes scanned the marchers, whose numbers surpassed one hundred. There were no obvious symbols or crests to indicate who they might be, only the stench of death, which emitted from their bodily forms, and exposed them for who they really were. Vampires.

He watched as the victims approached his perch. His initial thought told him to save them, to save them all, but the half-elf was greatly outnumbered, and unarmed. He would not get very far pecking out the eyes of the enemy, something that would have only roused their ire, surely bringing about the young man’s early demise. No, he’d have to wait and watch. He would have to formulate a plan and more importantly, he needed back up. Everything seemed to be moving so quickly, yet so slowly. Olofin remained where he was.

The prisoners were tossed around a bit for the amusement of the vampires. The youngest child could no longer stand on his own. Two of his older siblings had to hold him up. One of the guards yanked hard on the rope, sending the entire family flying through the air, their limbs becoming entangled in the bindings. The father landed against one of the torches, causing it to fall backwards, nearly touching the ground. One of the vampire captors backhanded the man hard before thrusting the burning stake back in its upright position. As the prisoners struggled to untangle themselves from the twisted ropes, the mother’s foot hit the same torch, shifting it forwards at a forty-five-degree angle. The guards were ordered to unravel the ropes so that the mortals could get back on their feet. The poor people were violently smacked across the head if they moved too slowly in following the directions of the brutish guards. Once untangled, the family was lined up a few feet from the half-elf’s tree, as one vampire began cutting the bindings on the youngest child with his blade.

Olofin stared, beak agape, as the eldest daughter carefully shifted her position, allowing the flames of the tilted torch to lick away at the rope that bound her hands behind her back. She remained just as poised as ever, despite the fact that fire was searing her flesh as well as the rope. He was amazed by her boldness, and immediately felt drawn to her. The girl possessed something that the others did not. Whether it was her will to live, or just plain strength of character, the half-elf couldn’t decide. All he knew was that the fire of Ilúvatar burned brighter in her than any other in that village.

The drumming stopped as the elf-looking vampire began his speech. Apparently, Olofin was about to witness the ritualistic Bloodletting Ceremony, as the Vampire Lord called it. The half-elf kept his eye on the young woman as the rope burned in two. She caught the ends of the cord before they could fall to the ground, extinguishing the burning ends with her hands. Olofin shook his head. He couldn’t believe that she showed no reaction to the flames. From where he was, he could already see the blisters on her hands, yet she remained stoic, unmoved. Her dark eyes darted from guard to guard as she reached for the burning stake behind her.

In a split second, the girl grabbed the torch, pulling it from the ground in one swift, graceful motion. She twirled it in her hands as the charred ends of the rope fell to the ground. She then shoved the pointed end of the torch through the back of the guard that was working on cutting the ropes from her little brother, piercing his heart. The vampire let out an earsplitting shriek before turning to dust. Immediately, the vampires stormed the girl. She set fire to another before stepping away from her family. Her father placed his naked foot on the knife that fell to the ground after the first vampire turned to dust, sliding it closer to him as his eldest daughter kept the others distracted.

The girl used her torch to block the blades of her attackers, who were rapidly closing in on her, forcing her backwards. As she pondered her next move, an arrow came whizzing by, striking the girl in the shoulder. She took another step backwards. The ground gave way beneath her feet and she disappeared over the edge of the cliff. Olofin quickly ran across the bough, looking down upon the river. He watched as the girl, still clinging to the flaming torch, plummeted towards the water below. He heard a faint plopping noise, and then nothing more.

“FIND HER!” barked the elf-vampire.

Olofin wasted no time. He flew into the darkness in search of the girl. When he had caught sight of her bobbing in the water, he nose-dived into the stream beside her. Immediately, he changed back into elf-form, and pulled the girl securely into his arms. He swam to the opposite shore and carried the unconscious woman up the embankment and into the woods. Knowing that the enemy would be searching for the girl downstream, he quickly took her back to his camp upstream where he would be able to tend to her wounds.

When the half-elf arrived back at his campsite with the girl, she was moaning softly. While he was able to remove the arrow from her body, the girl was still bleeding. The sound of howling wargs increased his eagerness to find some type of shelter where he could care for the girl properly. Olofin searched the rock wall for an opening. Pushing aside thick vines, he found a narrow fissure leading to an enormous cave. He carefully eased through the opening with the girl in his arms. Wrapping her in his cloak, he gently placed her on the stone floor before he went to retrieve his pack.

When Olofin returned to the cave, he made a small fire with some of the sticks he found within the chamber. The young man then began dressing the young girl’s wounds. To his dismay, she was burning with fever. He wondered if the arrow that she had been stricken with had been poisoned or if her exposure to the cold waters had triggered the increase in her body temperature. He did what he could for the girl with the medicines that he had in his pack. After covering her with his blankets, he could do nothing more but wait.

While the girl slept, the young man dug around in his bag for a package of lembas. When his hand brushed against the vial of his mother’s blood, he pulled it out, staring it at as if seeing it for the first time. The words of Luthor came rushing to his mind:

“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… 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.”

Olofin studied the vial, turning it in his hand, so that the blood flowed back and forth in the glass tube. He was wondering how Luthor had managed to preserve the life force of his mother, without it spoiling, when the girl began to go into convulsions. He crawled beside her jerking body, the vial still clutched in his hand. He felt her forehead. Her skin was much hotter than before. The girl’s eyes rolled back, as she made a series of strange guttural sounds. The half-elf could tell that she was dying.

“No!” he said aloud, his voice full of despair. She didn’t deserve death, not after all she had been through. “Stay with me, child.” Without realizing what he was doing, Olofin pulled the stopper from the vial and poured a bit of the crimson fluid in the spasming girl’s mouth. As soon as the blood ran down her throat, she ceased her jerking movements. The half-elf placed the stopper back in the vial, and continued to watch the girl. He pushed her coarse black hair from her face as he uttered an elvish prayer over her still form.

He remained seated beside the girl while she slept. Every now and then, he placed his hand on her cheek or forehead, checking her fever. His heart rejoiced, when a short while later, her skin felt cool to the touch.

It was many hours later, in the middle of the night, when the girl finally awoke. When she opened her eyes and saw a smiling Olofin leaning over her, she assumed that he was a vampire, and acted accordingly. She head-butted him with all her might, leaving the poor half-elf momentarily dazed. She rolled out of his reach, and with a vigor she never knew she possessed, she managed to get from her back to her feet in one swift movement.

“I’m not the enemy,” groaned Olofin in the Mannish tongue, rubbing his forehead. He looked up at the girl. She stood in a fighting stance, her narrowed gaze locked on the half-elf. “Do you understand me?” She remained motionless, her dark eyes fixed on him. “I’m not the enemy,” he repeated, slowly getting to his feet. “Your hands,” he pointed to her bandaged hands, “I did that. I’m here to help. That’s all.”

When he said that, the girl’s eyes shifted to her hands. While she examined them, Olofin continued, “What is your name?” She didn’t answer. “Do you remember what happened?” He took a step towards her; she took a step backwards. “I mean no harm. I swear. Do you remember falling into the river? I was the one that pulled you out.” He spoke in his most soothing voice, not wanting the girl to feel threatened.

“You… you saved me?” she finally said, eyeing him incredulously with her dark, piercing eyes.

“Yes,” he answered with a nod of his head. “The vampires had you and… ”

“Vampires?”

“Yes, vampires. Apparently, there’s quite a few of them in these parts.” Olofin shook his head. “I was not aware of that until this evening, when I saw… ”

“Mother? Father?” she cried out, the memories flooding her mind all at once. “My family! Where are they?”

Olofin bowed his head. He didn’t want to answer that question, knowing that they were most likely dead.

“The vampires… they killed them, didn’t they?” she asked in a broken voice.

“I cannot rightly say, but I deem that they did. I am truly sorry.” Olofin turned away from her and went back to his pack beside the dwindling fire. He wanted to give the girl some privacy to grieve in the manner that was custom to her people. Sitting with his back towards the girl, he tossed the remaining twigs onto the fire. He then reached into his bag and pulled out two packages of lembas. He placed one of them to the side, along with a water skin, while he began nibbling on his food.

After several minutes, the girl said, “Sineya,” her voice echoing within the chamber.

“I’m sorry,” replied Olofin, his eyes remaining fixed on the flickering flames.

“My name,” she was now standing beside him, “my name is Sineya.”

“Are you hungry, Sineya?” he asked, offering her the leaf-wrapped package. “I’ve got food. And water,” he added, motioning to the water skin.

She eyed him for a moment before taking the package from his hand. She sat down in the shadows several feet away from Olofin and tore into the elvish way bread.

When she had finished eating, she joined the half-elf. She helped herself to the water, nearly emptying the container. She then sat down beside him, staring into the small flames of the fire.

“Thank you,” she said softly, “for everything.”

“I wish I could’ve done more.” He turned his green eyes on the girl. “Can I check your wounds?”

She nodded.

As Olofin unwrapped her bandages, he asked her how she and her people came to be in Beleriand. The half-elf had seen a lot of the world and had never encountered black-skinned people in the East or anywhere else for that matter.

Sineya then told him the story that had been passed down from generation to generation. Evidently, her people had originated in the East, but further south than the others of their kindred (they were one of the twelve tribes of Man). After being discovered by the God, Marduk, they were forced into bondage, to toil in the mines for precious metals in place of the rebellious Anunnaki. Under the command of the Anunnaki, their race had multiplied. That’s when their ‘masters’ took to hunting the men for sport and molesting the women for pleasure. In time, many from their race were sold to the vampires as if they were livestock. Daehir, their Vampire Lord, had purchased them and had them shipped from the Underworld to the woods where they now dwell. The vampires had continued the practices that the Anunnaki had started in the East, breeding the mortals for food, and having them carry out the backbreaking labor that the demonic beings were unwilling to do for themselves.

Sineya’s harrowing tale disturbed the half-elf greatly. He only wished that he had an army of elves at his disposal to eradicate the vampires in Taur-im-Duinath. But he didn’t have the option of elvish warriors to aid him in combat, only the young girl that sat beside him.

“What of the rest of your kin?” he asked when she had finished her story. “Would they be willing to fight to break free from the vampires’ yoke?”

She shook her head. “They fear them too much,” she replied, examining her newly healed hands. “How is this possible? How is it that my hands bear no scars from the fire? And… and my shoulder, the wound is closed.”

“You have been healed,” answered Olofin with a warm smile.

“How?”

“I deem it was the blood of my mother that healed you.” Sineya looked at the half-elf strangely. “You went into convulsions earlier,” he continued. “I think that the arrow that hit you was poisoned. You lay here dying. I gave you a bit of her blood and… ”

“You had me drink blood!” exclaimed the girl, her eyes widening in fear. “You have turned me into a… a creature of the night.”

“No, no, no,” said the half-elf reassuringly. “My mother is a Vala, a God. Her blood has healing properties as you can see.” Sineya still looked unconvinced. “I promise you, child, you are no vampire or demon of any sort.” Olofin wasn’t exactly sure what the effects of giving his mother’s blood to a mortal would have on Sineya. He knew that Buffy had the elves of her Household drink it to ensure their immortality, and it did the same for the dwarves. He could only assume that the same gift would pass on to one from the mortal race. “How do you feel?”

Sineya balled her fists and opened them several times before replying, “I feel strong, stronger than before.” She turned her gaze to the half-elf. “How can this be?”

“I told you, it’s the blood of my mother. She is not only the Goddess of Love, but also the Goddess of War. She is the Champion of Ilúvatar.”

“Ilúvatar? I know not that name.”

Olofin let out a heavy sigh. “Well, that’s a long story, and one that I’m afraid will have to wait. I wish to learn more about Daehir and the town where he dwells. Tell me what you know.”

He listened intently as Sineya revealed all that she knew about the Vampire Lord, which, unfortunately, wasn’t much, and his town. The half-elf decided that it was best for him to do a little reconnaissance on his own. He instructed the girl to remain in the cave while he went in search of the town where the vampire and his clan dwelt. He left his sword with Sineya in case any should discover their hideout.

“Vampires can only be killed by beheading, a wooden stake in the heart, or by fire. Remember that, Sineya. Do not leave the cave while I’m gone. I shall return before sunrise.”

He climbed through the fissure, turned into a falcon and ascended into the darkened sky. Sineya was amazed to see the elf change forms. Whilst he was gone, she practiced handling the sword. It was the first time in her life that one had ever been placed in her keeping. For the first time ever, she felt powerful, so powerful that she was anxious to avenge the death of her kinfolk.

Olofin scouted the lands below as he headed west, flying above the treetops. As he soared over the village from which Sineya had escaped, he saw that the feeding frenzy of the vampires was still taking place. He continued west, as the girl had instructed, following the roadway through the trees. Nearly five miles away, the pathway went through an arched opening in a rock wall that formed the entrance to a natural walled ravine that Olofin estimated to be around twenty acres in size. The Vampire Lord had chosen to erect his town in the center. It was surrounded on all four sides by sheer walls that varied in height from two hundred to three hundred feet. Olofin circled above the small town, which consisted of four dozen or so buildings. He was stunned to see that Daehir had not learned his lesson from long ago. After Buffy had burnt down his home in Brethil, the vampire still elected to build his halls and the entire town out of wood. While that seemed foolish in itself, the trees and brush that had been removed to allow room for the buildings were piled high on the edge of the town. Olofin landed on the heap of debris, amazed at the stupidity of the inhabitants of that place. He would’ve laughed hysterically had he been in elven form. The tinder was so dry that a single torch tossed on the stack would ignite it instantly, easily spreading to the dwellings in the town within a matter of minutes. After witnessing the dimwittedness of Daehir and his people, Olofin had formulated his plan. He flew back to the cave eager to put his designs in motion.

When the half-elf pushed the vines aside, a blade pressed against his throat. “I see that you’ve been familiarizing yourself with my sword,” he remarked with a grin. He carefully eased the weapon away from his body before entering.

“I like this blade,” said Sineya as she made a series of jabbing and slashing motions. “I’ve been practicing since you left.”

“Good. We shall see how proficient you’ve become.” Olofin wished that he had come more prepared, that he had more weapons with him. Aside from his sword, all he had was a dagger. He was slightly amused that he intended to engage the enemy with an army of two. Yet the half-elf had proved in the past that he didn’t necessarily need anything more than his voice and the power of song to unleash his wrath on his foe.

As he demonstrated various tactics, both offensive and defensive, to Sineya, the sun began to rise in the east. Knowing that vampires loathed sunlight, he intended to make his move later that morning while the demonic creatures lay sleeping in their halls. He understood that the probability of killing them all was slim to none. His goal was to decrease their numbers as much as possible without the enemy harming him or his young companion.

Once the young girl had demonstrated her competence with the sword, they both set out for the vampire town, stealthily creeping through the woods, avoiding those of Sineya’s kindred. Aside from their weapons, the only other item that Olofin brought with him was some rope, something that no elf traveled without.

When they reached the south side of the rock wall, he said, “Your position will be atop the wall… ”

“How am I to get there? I cannot climb that,” said a dumbfounded Sineya, glancing up at the height of the wall. “It is too steep.”

“Leave that to me.” The half-elf handed her the rope.

“What is this for?” she asked, eyeing the coil apprehensively.

“There is one that dwells with the vampires that I wish to capture. It is a woman, short, long golden hair… she’s missing her right hand. No harm is to come to her… ”

“But she is one of the most wicked of them all!” whispered the girl anxiously with raised brows.

“She is not to be slain. At least, not by your hands. She is to be my prisoner to take back with me to face the judgment of my mother.”

“Why?” she queried, narrowing her eyes at the half-elf.

Olofin paused for a moment. “That Witch hijacked my mother’s body long ago.”

Sineya’s jaw dropped. “How is that possible?”

“There’s far greater magicks in this world than you’re aware of, child. Under the guise of my mother, that… that woman has done great evil, only to have my mother suffer the consequences of the Witch’s actions.” He shook his head, a flicker of hatred flashed in his green eyes. “No greater gift could I give my mother than bringing the doppelganger to her. The Witch will make a mighty birthday gift for my nana. Yes, mighty indeed!” Olofin looked up at the top of the stone wall before turning his gaze back to Sineya. “This is what we’ll do… ”

After a few minutes, the half-elf changed into a great eagle, large enough for the girl to climb on his back. She was completely astounded by Olofin’s ability to change his form at will. While she had been greatly impressed when he had changed into a falcon, to see him change into a bird of that size floored her. It almost seemed dream-like. She had never encountered one with such an ability before. If she hadn’t seen the half-elf change form with her own two eyes, she would never have believed it. Never!

Once she had climbed onto Olofin’s back, he flew to the top of the shortest part of the wall. As soon as Sineya dismounted, he changed his bodily form again, turning into a much smaller falcon, before taking off towards the piles of tinder. Landing behind one of the stacks, he turned back into his elvish form. He used his flint to set the debris aflame. He blew on the smoldering tinder until he saw flickering flames. It then made a whooshing sound as it continued to grow and spread. Pleased by that, he grabbed a burning limb and took it to the adjoining pile, setting that on fire as well. Grayish-black smoke began to rise thickly under the morning light. He then turned back into a falcon and flew to the top of the archway.

By the time he had landed on the wall and changed back into his mortal form, several inhabitants of the town were already running towards the fire, eager to extinguish the flames. Olofin raised his hands towards the heavens and began singing his song of enchantment.

An awe-stricken Sineya watched the half-elf perform his spell. To her, he was the most magnificent being that she had ever encountered. He was beautiful, powerful, and holy, but more importantly, he was good. Kindness and love emitted from his spirit, the like she had never felt before. She reveled in the fact that out of all her kindred, he chose to save her, a simple girl with no gifts other than the will to live. And he had imbued her with strength, power that she could never have imagined possible. As she watched his long dark hair billowing behind him while he stood on the wall, a shaft of light from the sun fell upon the man, causing her heart to skip a beat. She became enamored by the half-elf; she felt her heart turning towards him. From that moment on, she loved him and would do anything for him, including die for him. He was her savior, her hero. If only he could be more.

The wall began to shake, causing the young woman to fall on all fours. When she lifted her gaze back to the archway, she saw that Olofin was gone. In that split moment when she had looked away he had moved to another spot along the wall. The archway crumbled before her eyes, the walls on either side filling the only exit from the town. She scanned the wall until she saw Olofin in another position; a bright white light radiated from his bodily form, revealing him in all his glory.

The wind suddenly picked up from the west, spreading the flames from the burning piles to the nearby structures. The thick plume of smoke moved with the winds, engulfing the town in a cloud of darkness. Burning ash rained down upon the buildings furthest from the fires, igniting the shake shingle roofs. Screaming and yelling came from those running from their dwellings, cursing their misfortune. They were trapped in the tomb of their own making. Some tried to climb up the sheer walls, but to no avail.

Wargs, their bodies consumed by flames, ran yelping towards the pool of water situated beside the largest building, and home of Daehir.

The Vampire Lord was furious when roused from his slumber by the chaos of his people. “This is all your fault!” he barked at Angwen, looking out the window of his chamber. “The prophecy is coming to fulfillment. All that I’ve worked hard for is gone because of you.” He turned his angry gaze to his lover, who was attempting to flee by slipping on the falcon coat that had once belonged to Buffy. She had it halfway on when the vampire seized her roughly by the arm. “And what is it that you intend on doing, my darling? Leave me behind while you flee to safety?”

The woman stopped; her eyes wide with fear under the glaring look of Daehir. “I must go, my Lord.”

“I don’t think so,” he answered with a sneer, stripping the garment from her. “Fate has caught up with you at last, Angwen, but I’ll be damned if it catches me in its grasp as well.” He slid the coat on as the woman fell to the floor, groveling at his feet.

“Please, Daehir,” she cried. “Do not leave me. I love you. Everything I’ve done, I’ve done for you.”

“I’m no fool, Angwen. I deem that you had said the same to Úrion. As far as I’m concerned, it’s good riddance!”

“But Lord, you cannot leave your people to deal with the wrath of Dagnir… ”

“Watch me!” When he had buttoned the topmost button, he turned into a falcon, and flew out of the window into the thick haze. He would eventually return to the lands of his brother, Gurthor, who dwelled in the East.

Olofin’s song continued to wreak devastation. Huge chunks of rock broke off from the wall, crushing those running below. When Sineya caught sight of the short, golden-haired woman that Olofin had mentioned earlier, she followed the crazed woman running across the barren land with her eyes.

When the woman neared Sineya’s position, the girl peered over the edge of the rock and shouted, “Mistress! Up here!” She lowered the rope, as Angwen looked up in wonder at the black girl kneeling on the wall. Sineya motioned for the woman to grab the rope and climb.

As soon as Olofin saw the rope drop, he changed into falcon form and flew on the outskirts of the wall to Sineya. He changed back into his elvish form and crouched behind the young girl, much to her delight.

“Do not let her know that I’m here,” he whispered in the girl’s ear. She nodded in reply.

Sineya grunted as the weight on the rope began to strain her. “It’s heavier. I think there is more than one climbing up, Olofin.”

The half-elf grabbed the end of the rope. “Peek over the edge and tell me what you see,” he instructed, wrapping the rope around his hands.

The girl looked down and through the smoke saw a ruckus on the ground. Two men were climbing up while a couple more were fighting with the woman over who would be next to climb the rope. Sineya informed her companion of what was going on.

“Alright,” answered the half-elf, dropping to his knees. “As they come up, cut their heads off, but not the woman. She’s mine!”

Sineya’s excitement grew when she heard his orders. She beckoned the men to climb faster. “Come, Master, come.” She remained on her knees, both hands clutching the hilt tightly, her heart thumping wildly in her chest. She waited impatiently, eager to strike down the first foe. She first saw a hand reaching for the next portion of rope before the head of the silver-haired vampire popped into sight. Her lips parted, her muscles tensed, as she swung the blade, decapitating the first foe. Blood sprayed on the young girl before both the head and body turned to dust.

She turned to Olofin, looking for approval.

“Excellent. Keep up the good work, child. You’ll get another chance to exercise your swordsmanship in a minute, I deem.”

She quickly wiped the blood from her face, and got back into position. Sineya licked her lips, tasting the blood of the enemy, which only increased her desire to kill more of them. A few moments later, a dark-haired male vampire’s head came into view. Once again, she cleaved his head from his body, both instantly turned to dust. The girl couldn’t believe how asinine the enemy was.

“Stay alert,” whispered Olofin, as they waited for the next one. He could feel the weight on the rope, but after a few minutes, no head came into sight. Sineya noticed too. She peered over the edge. A hand suddenly appeared, grabbing her by the hair, and pulled the girl over the side of the wall. She let out a shriek as she fell towards the earth, the sword still in her grasp.

The half-elf felt his heart drop. He immediately let go of the rope and changed into falcon form. His little legs ran swiftly to the edge of the wall before he nose-dived to the bottom. Three demons, including Angwen, were also plummeting to the ground below.

Sineya landed hard, leaving her dazed and reeling in pain. The sword had gone flying out of her hand upon impact, landing some ten feet away. A vampire quickly snatched the weapon and approached the helpless girl with the blade raised over his head.

“Kill our kind, will you?” he growled, as he brought the weapon down.

Olofin pulled out of his dive, changing form mid-flight and blindsided the vampire before he could deliver the fatal blow. Both tumbled to the ground, the blade flying from the vampire’s grasp. The two rolled through the bracken and thorns that covered the ground, exchanging blows. The vampire managed to gain the advantage, or so he thought, by being on top of the half-elf. He delivered a punch to Olofin’s right eye, causing the poor Noldo to see stars.

“This is one prophecy that I will thwart, you des-” The vampire’s words were cut off. Olofin had grabbed a fistful of the demon’s hair, yanking his head back as he ran the blade of dagger across the creature’s neck. Blood cascaded down upon the half-elf as he sawed his way through muscle, ligaments and bone, severing the head from the vampire’s body. Dust rained down on the Noldo as he rolled onto his stomach, looking for Sineya.

Wiping the vampire’s remains from his eyes, he watched as another vampire sank her teeth into the delicate flesh of the young girl’s neck. “No!” He shifted to his knees and threw his dagger at the evildoers head. The dark-haired woman never saw it coming, the blade embedded in the top of her head. She screamed; letting Sineya’s body fall to the ground as Olofin scrambled to his feet. Through the smoke, he saw Angwen wielding his sword in her only hand. As the other vampire woman pulled the dagger from her head, the half-elf leapt through the air, nearly fifteen feet, before dropkicking the wicked creature in the face, shattering her nose. He crawled on all fours, quickly grabbing the fallen vampire, using her body as a shield as Angwen made a slashing motion at the half-elf. The vampire woman let out an ear-piercing shriek as the blade split her gut open, spilling her intestines from the open wound.

“You’re not about to get me, wretched half-elf!” cackled Angwen, her face contorted in rage.

“Hey, dearest Angwen, take a look behind you,” said Olofin mockingly as he tossed the vampire in his arms to the ground.

“Oh, I’m not about to fall for that, elf!” she snapped, surveying her foe with the same green eyes that looked upon her. “What do you think - I’m thick?”

“As a matter of fact, yes,” snickered Olofin.

WHACK! A loud cracking sound pierced the gloom. Angwen stood there for a moment, teetering from foot to foot. Her eyes crossed before she fell face-first to the ground, unconscious. Standing behind her was none other than Sineya, brandishing a timber that she had pulled from the wreckage of one of the buildings.

“I did not kill her, as you ordered,” said the young girl, a look of satisfaction on her face.

“Well done, Sineya, well done. How’s your neck? Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.”

Olofin grabbed his sword and approached the wailing vampire on the ground. The woman was actually trying to put her innards back into her stomach. When she saw the long legs in front of her, the vampire slowly lifted her gaze. “Don’t bother. It won’t help any.” He then swung his blade, taking her head off in the process. Both parts of her body turned to dust.

The surviving vampires and demonic creatures fled from Olofin and Sineya, terrified that they would lose their heads too. “So what do you think, Sineya, our work done here?” he asked, his eyes scanning the ruins.

“Should we not go after the remaining demons?” she queried, her eyes following those running away.

“The enemy cannot escape. My heart tells me that they will kill each other off,” the half-elf replied with a shake of his head. He turned his gaze to the unconscious form of Angwen. “Besides, I need to get that one back to my lands. The winter rains will soon be upon us and I must start my journey home.”

Olofin’s words dismayed the young girl. Even though they had only just met, she felt like she had always known him, that he was always a part of her life, and her heart. She dreaded their parting. Sineya watched as the half-elf grabbed the rope that lay on the ground, cutting off appropriate size pieces to bind the Witch’s feet and hands. He then cut the cord a third time, making a noose, and slipped it around Angwen’s neck like a leash. Gathering up the rest of their things, Olofin handed them to the young girl, along with the rope attached to the evil Maia. He then changed into an eagle so that he, his companion, and prisoner could leave the burning ravine. Sineya flung the unconscious Angwen onto the back of the half-elf before she climbed on. They then set off, soaring high in the air, leaving the realm of Daehir behind, never to return again.

By the time they had reached the cave, Angwen was awake and alert. Olofin gagged her, already tiring of her rambling pleas for mercy. Before setting off on foot with his prisoner, he turned to Sineya, tears already welling in her dark eyes.

“My heart is glad that we met, Sineya,” he said, placing his hand on her shoulder. “I hope that you use the powers that I’ve bestowed on you well. Evil lurks in many a place. Be vigilant. Expect the unexpected, as my beloved mother always says.” He smiled at the girl, as a tear escaped her eye. “Perhaps our paths will cross again one day.”

“Please, Olofin,” pleaded the girl, grabbing his hands in hers, “don’t leave just yet. Can you not stay a bit longer? We could search the wood for more of the enemy?”

“Oh, my dear Sineya,” he answered, his eyes full of sympathy. He cupped her dirt-covered cheek with his hand. “It is time for me to return home. But before I go, I would like to give you something.” He undid the belt that held his sheathed sword, and handed it to the girl. “This was wrought for me when I was but a boy. It is dear to me, as it was made by the Maia, Marto, father of my half siblings. I want you to have it. I have slain many beasts with it over the years, and I deem that you will do the same in days to come. Be safe, child.” He kissed her on the forehead. “Take care and farewell.”

Olofin then grabbed the end of the rope attached to Angwen before cutting the binding on her legs. Sineya wept as the half-elf and his prisoner started through the dense trees.

“I love you, Olofin,” she whispered between sobs, clutching the sword to her bosom. She remained standing on that spot until she no longer saw the half-elf and his captive.

Sineya then returned to her village, only to find that she was no longer welcomed. The inhabitants believed that she had returned as a vampire since the elders sensed her newfound power, and banished her from the only place that she had called home. Her love for Olofin led her to wander alone in the wild, searching out the creatures of darkness, slaying all that she encountered.

It would be nearly two years later when Sineya realized how precious a gift that the half-elf had bestowed upon her. Near the shores of Belegaer (“the Great Sea”) far south of the forest, she encountered none other than Ungoliant, who had fled the northern regions of Beleriand for the lands in the south after her tussle with Buffy long ago. While bathing in the waters under a moonlit sky, the enormous spider attacked the girl, paralyzing her when the beast’s stinger pierced her flesh, unleashing its venom. With her body paralyzed, the spider wove her web around Sineya, sealing her in a cocoon of doom. Confronted with death, numerous images flashed in the girl’s mind. She now understood that she had been chosen by Olofin for a greater purpose, even though the half-elf didn’t know it at the time.

Sineya was the first, the first in a lineage of mystically enhanced girls that possessed the strength and skill to hunt vampires and stop the spread of evil in the world. She was the Slayer, the Chosen One, the only mortal girl in the world possessing the powers of the Vala Queen, Bellaseth Dagnir. Upon her death, those powers would pass mystically to the next girl, who would suddenly have the insatiable desire to fight the creatures of darkness, to slay the enemy. She would die knowing that she was the first of that line.

Sineya’s last thought was that of Olofin, and the pain and sorrow that her unrequited love had caused her. As Ungoliant took her sealed body away, the sword of Marto remained by the shore. It would be neary two centuries later when Eärendil, the greatest of mariners, came across that blade and claimed it for his own.