Full Circle

Once Nestor had given the Slayer a clean bill of health, she resumed her workouts with many from her Household. She had packed on nearly twenty-five pounds during her pregnancy, and found that the flab was a constant reminder of her failure as a woman. She was most eager to shed the extra weight as quickly as possible, and devoted several hours a day to strenuous workouts.

A few weeks after Melian had left; Buffy began receiving many letters from her friends in Beleriand and from loved ones in the East. She had received a rather harsh letter from Marto, which brought her to tears every time she read it. The Maia was enraged that she was responsible for the cursing of his children, and by the tone of his words, the Slayer did not think he would ever forgive her, as the twins had. While her loved ones in Ossir tried to comfort her, (Olofin even burned the letter!), Marto’s words affected her deeply, and would weigh heavily on her mind throughout the duration of the First Age.

One thing that amazed Buffy was how quickly word had spread throughout Beleriand regarding the debacle with Sauron. She had thought that those from the House of Fëanor would keep her past quiet, yet the exact opposite turned out to be true. She was unsure whether they were attempting to alienate her from the other Noldor or were just being vindictive. Regardless, not one letter expressed any negativity towards her, only words of condolence, support and understanding. Both Fingolfin’s and Finrod’s words touched Buffy the deepest. She was saddened though, having not received any communication from the House of Fëanor, and that her letter to Maglor had gone unanswered.

Instead of dwelling on her many misfortunes, the Slayer kept busy. She stepped back into her role as the ruler of Ossir, and began to give more thought to her country’s economic future. Since the Green-elves had returned from the war, they were slowly replenishing their coffers but not to the degree that she would’ve liked. Yes, Ossiriand was still suffering from the aftermath of Úrion’s betrayal. Moreover, with an enormous Household that had to be paid, Buffy needed to think of ways to bring more money into her kingdom.

At one time, Ossiriand had been the largest supplier of agricultural products in Beleriand, but having taught the Noldor the secrets of farming, the Green-elves no longer derived much revenue from foodstuffs. Wine and rare fruits (brought in from Folkvang) were their primary exports to the northern kingdoms. If not for having been the sole providers to the dwarves of Belegost and Nogrod, their country would have been bankrupt long ago.

Buffy needed to find a profitable niche in the market since the craze with the war machines had fallen flat years before. Besides, the Noldor had already purchased many of the contraptions, most of which were collecting dust or had fallen into disrepair over time. No, Ossir needed something different, something that the populace of Beleriand would be eager to buy, and without question, that something had to center around food which everyone needed.

As fall turned into winter, the Green-elves diet shifted mostly to meat and meat by-products, as the colder months were the peak time to hunt. The meat was then dried, salted or smoked and either shipped out or housed in the larders until summer, when hunting was a no-no in their realm. (Wild game tended to be ravaged by parasites during the heat of the summer, and the Green-elves had learned long ago, that it was best to avoid killing and eating any wild animal during that time unless absolutely necessary).

On the cusp of the New Year, an idea finally struck the Slayer. After eating the last of the vegetables in a pork stew, she concluded that Ossir needed to introduce canning to Middle-earth. That way, everyone could enjoy fresh tasting meats, fruits, vegetables, etc. at any time of the year. The process was a rather simple one, requiring only extreme heat, and surprisingly, no one in Beleriand knew of it.

Immediately, she set her people to work, making sealable jars in pint and quart sizes. That winter, they began the canning of meats and gravies. The Green-elves busied themselves by making thousands of jars in anticipation of the first crop that spring. Buffy made all those involved in the process promise to keep quiet about that new method of preserving food, as it would guarantee that Ossir would once again become a prosperous nation.

All were forbidden to sample the product until at least one year had passed. The tasting would be done in stages over ten year’s time. When it was determined that the canned goods retained their fresh flavor, as well as being bacteria free, then and only then, would they introduce their foodstuffs to the peoples of Middle-earth.

When spring had arrived, the Slayer had the Green-elves begin constructing even more glasshouses to prolong the growing season of their more exotic fruits and vegetables. By the end of summer, the residents of Ossir already had a great store of canned food in their larders.

Despite the pleasant façade Buffy wore, her thoughts constantly revolved around Maglor. After ten months time, she had not heard from any of the House of Fëanor, save the twins, Amrod and Amras. Shockingly, the youngest sons of Fëanor had not heard about what had happened at the Gap nearly a year before. The Slayer took it upon herself to tell them everything that had happened, leaving out not one sordid detail. While all they heard dismayed the twins, they did not turn against her, as their siblings apparently had.

When spring of Yr 406 had arrived, and she still hadn’t heard from Maglor, Buffy began to fall into the abyss of despair. Olofin had convinced her that it was unwise to journey to the northlands in any attempt to woo her husband back, and told her that she needed to exercise patience, a quality that Buffy was not known for possessing. Having the foresight to see that it would still be a few years before Maglor would send word to Ossir, the half-elf needed a way to distract his mother. After much debating, the mighty Lords of Ossir decided that now was a perfect time for the Slayer to take a holiday. Since the Green-elves were Teleri by birth, and loved navigating the waters, they wanted to take their Mistress on a trip to Belegaer, the great Sundering Sea.

On the morning they had planned to set sail, a falcon messenger arrived from Lindon, alerting Buffy that Finrod Felagund was on his way to Tol Galen. With their voyage delayed, she waited anxiously for the golden-haired Noldo’s arrival by ship. At dusk, the following afternoon, Finrod arrived. While the Slayer had thought that he had come on behalf of Maglor, it turned out that his visit was purely a social one.

Many of the Green-elves grumbled, knowing that their trip would be delayed for some time. Finrod usually visited their lands for a year or two at a time, and they were most eager to depart as soon as possible. When word reached Buffy of her Household’s discontent, she invited the Lord of Nargothrond to join them on their leisurely cruise to the sea. The Noldo enthusiastically accepted her offer.

The following morning, they took off down the Adurant, coasting on his waters until they reached the mighty Gelion. From there, they went south, following the watercourse for miles, stopping here and there along the way to explore the woods on either side of the river.

It was while on one of those expeditions into the thick forestlands that Finrod found himself walking alone with the Slayer, allowing him the opportunity to talk with her about what had happened in her past. For the first time, he brought up his overhearing of her conversation with Bëor on the day that the Adan had passed on. After apologizing for not having told her sooner, he asked about his former vassal.

“I’m sure he’s doing well,” she answered, ducking below a thick vine strung across her path.

“Forgive me,” answered Finrod, catching up to her, “but do you not return to Folkvang every night? I would assume that you would see Bëor on those occasions.”

“I haven’t seen Bëor in nearly twenty years. I thought it best that… we stay away from each other.”

“Why would you do that, if you’re destined to be together?” queried the puzzled Noldo.

“Wanna stop and rest for a while?” asked Buffy when they had reached a small clearing in the wood.

“Sure.”

Buffy sat on an old log, pulled the water skin from her belt, and took a long drink.

“Are you avoiding my question?” asked Finrod, taking a seat on a bed of dry leaves.

“Of course not,” she answered, wiping her mouth on the sleeve of her shirt. “I thought that I’d try to save my marriage, by, you know, avoiding the temptation altogether.”

“But if Ilúvatar Himself said that you’re destined to be together… ”

“No, it’s not like that,” she interjected, slightly defensive in tone. “Eru said he doesn’t want me to be alone after… ” She stopped speaking mid-sentence, biting her bottom lip. Quickly she shifted her gaze to the dry leaves and broken tree limbs that littered the forest floor. She cursed herself for having nearly revealed the dismal future in store for the Noldo and his kinfolk.

The golden-haired elf was quite perceptive, and noticed her sudden uneasiness. “You are speaking of the Doom of the Noldor, are you not?” said Finrod with a sigh, watching her reaction carefully.

Buffy turned her sorrowful eyes to the elf. While she neither confirmed nor denied his question verbally, her facial expression said it all.

“I know that my doom is drawing near.”

The Slayer raised her brow at Finrod’s words, shocked by his statement.

“I do have the gift of foresight, Luinil,” he continued, giving her a quick smile. He broke eye contact, fiddling with a twig he had picked up off the ground. “I did not repent and return to Tirion as my father had done,” Finrod continued softly.

The Slayer didn’t know what to say. What was she supposed to say? She kept quiet, not knowing where Finrod was going with the conversation.

“What does it feel like?” he whispered, still playing with the small stick.

“What does what feel like?”

“Death,” answered the Noldo, meeting her gaze. His grey eyes welled with tears. “Does it hurt?”

Buffy looked away, becoming increasingly uncomfortable by the questioning.

“I do not mean to dredge up dark memories, but you are the only one that I know of that has experienced death firsthand, multiple times even, and yet lives to tell the tale… Is it painful?”

The Slayer could feel Finrod’s penetrating grey eyes boring into her. She picked up a dried leaf and nervously started tearing it into tiny pieces.

“Once your fey leaves its hröa, the pain stops,” she answered after thoughtful consideration. “Although,” she lifted her eyes, meeting the elf’s gaze once again, “quicker is better. No one wants a long, agonizing death. The pain… ” She paused, shuddering at the memory of dying at the hands of Úrion, “the pain is indescribable. The enemy will always make you suffer. It’s part of their evilness, I suppose.”

Images of Buffy’s own torment of the elves that had betrayed her flashed in her mind as she spoke those words, making her think that that statement applied to her as well. She averted her gaze, looking up at the white puffy clouds in the otherwise blue sky.

“When Úrion crucified me, the pain was horrific. I prayed for death to quickly take me, for my fey to leave its house, but that came all too slowly.” Her own eyes began to tear up as she recalled her past torments. “I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy.” She looked back at the elf, who sat there, watching her with sorrowful eyes. “For me, the greatest pain was having someone I love betray me. That hurt more than any torment Úrion could’ve devised, and believe me, he made me suffer.” A tear escaped her eye before she added, “Losing someone you love to the dark side… it stays with you, it makes you question so many things in your life, especially in regards to whom you can trust.”

“Alas! That sounds like the doom of Mandos at work, Bellaseth,” answered the grief-stricken Noldo. “I deem that you have been caught in the net of the Curse that has been placed upon my kin. My heart tells me that all who come in contact with the Noldor shall suffer terribly, whether by the Doom of the Valar or the guilefulness of Morgoth.”

“My guess is that they go hand in hand. Morgoth is a Vala, and I think he’s the one who’ll see to it that the will of the Valar is carried out. Your people cannot defeat him. You know that, Finrod, I know you do,” answered Buffy, wiping the tear from her face. “I don’t care about curses or, or whatever.

“My life has been enriched since the Noldor came to Middle-earth, and I know that the same holds true for the Edain. We’re all meant to be here, in this place, at this particular time, for whatever reason. It all boils down to everything being Eru’s will. We all serve some purpose in this world whether we see it or not.”

“So then the Doom shall fall upon all the races that inhabit Middle-earth,” proclaimed the disheartened Noldo Lord.

“That doesn’t mean we stop fighting, that we surrender to Morgoth. Good and evil will never wholly overcome the other. No matter how hard we try, evil will still exist. That is Eru’s will. Sometimes, sometimes we may have the upper hand and other times, he will… ”

“But we can only maintain peace for so long,” interjected Finrod. “At some point, Morgoth will unleash his armies on Beleriand… ”

“And when he does, we’ll be ready. We’ll do what we can to thwart him,” she added with a look of determination on her face.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. The stillness was broken by the voices of the other members of their party as they approached.

“The Noldor will never reclaim the Silmarils, will we?” he asked, locking his grey eyes on Buffy.

“I don’t know,” she answered with a shake of her head. “It’ll be no easy task, that’s for sure. Morgoth covets them more than anything else.”

“Even more than you?” he queried, his brows raised in question.

The Slayer chuckled before replying, “Yes, even more than me.”

They fell quiet, each deep in thought, as the sound of men’s voices drew nearer. The sound of crunching dead leaves and fallen limbs beneath the others’ feet seemed to carry on the cool breeze that moved through the small glade.

Buffy turned her head when she heard Thranduil’s cursing. The Green-elf found himself tangled in some brambles and was trying to pull free from its thorny clutches. She smiled, amused by the elf’s predicament.

“I better go help Thranduil,” she said with a laugh, thus bringing an end to their conversation.

Only a few days later, they reached Belegaer. The Slayer’s enthusiasm for seeing the surf quickly diminished once they had reached their destination. Seeing the ocean again, after so many years, she was reminded of her first meetings with Maglor in the dreamscape. How she wished that she still had the ability to enter other peoples dreams, especially those of her beloved.

Unfortunately, the trip to the sea did not distract the Slayer as Olofin had hoped. In fact, his mother fell into such a deep depression that she refused to speak with any, often wandering along the shore alone, singing songs of lamentation of her lost love.

Finrod was dismayed by Buffy’s continued bouts of melancholy. Her behavior convinced him that he needed to help her repair her relationship with Maglor. After speaking with her closest confidants, it was decided that they should end their trip early and return to Tol Galen for the Slayer’s sake.

The Lord of Nargothrond stayed with Buffy in Lindecoa for two years before leaving for the northlands. Instead of returning to his own Halls, he went to Himring, determined to talk some sense into Maglor. It proved to be no easy feat. The second son of Fëanor was still deeply hurt by his wife’s infidelity, especially with Morgoth, and the signing of the Covenant which had sealed the fate of their only child.

Maedhros sided with Finrod on the matter, and after many months time, he summoned Caranthir, Curufin and Celegorm to his fortress in an attempt to help persuade Maglor to give the Slayer a second chance. The C-brothers were of like mind with their oldest brother, although their motivations were altogether selfish. They were of the opinion that Buffy was the only one that had the ability to retrieve the Silmarils from the Dark Foe, and that if she were no longer a part of their House, the Silmarils would be lost to them forever.

In the spring of Yr 410, Gildor Inglorion arrived at Tol Galen, bringing with him a letter from Finrod Felagund. Gúrchim took him to the cooling porch where Buffy sat writing in her journal. The Noldo then presented her with the letter from his Lord. The Slayer eagerly broke the waxy serpent seal, reading the message from the Lord of Nargothrond:

To my dear friend, Bellaseth Dagnir, the Lady Luinil of the Land of Seven Rivers:

Greetings and well wishes! Long have I been with my kinfolk in Himring and send tidings that will surely interest you. After much effort, the sons of Fëanor have agreed to meet with you in hope of reconciling your relationship with Maglor. It has been decided (at my request) that this meeting shall take place on neutral ground - Nargothrond.

Bring with you no more than five members of your Household, so that your numbers correspond with that of the members of the House of Fëanor. I do not need conflict on my hands between the two Houses! Come as quickly as you may, for my heart tells me that together we will be able to mend the friction between the House of Fëanor and the House of Luinil.

May the One protect you and yours on your journey!

With deepest love and respect,

Finrod Felagund, son of Finarfin, Lord of Nargothrond



When the Slayer had finished reading Finrod’s letter, she leapt from her seat and hugged Gildor, planting a wet, sloppy kiss on his lips.

“You’ve made my day, Gildor!” she exclaimed excitedly, on the verge of tears. “Thank you,” she smiled.

The Noldo blushed, bowing his head in reverence. “No need to thank me, my Lady. I’m merely the messenger.”

“Yeah, but you’re a messenger that has brought good tidings indeed,” she answered, clutching the letter tightly in her hand. “Rest a while. Whatever you need, my people will see to it that you have it. We’ll be heading out in an hour or so.”

Buffy then left the porch, seeking out the five people that would accompany her to Nargothrond. Without question, Olofin would be going. Surely, Maglor would want to see his son. It had been ten long years since they had last seen each other. The other four seemed rather obvious: Luthor, Orchal, Nestor and Thranduil.

Two hours later, they boarded the ship that would take them to Lindon. Once they had reached the chief city in the north, they continued their journey on horseback. From Lindon, they rode east through the forest until they had reached the ford that allowed them passage across the River Ascar. They continued north, up the sloping lands to the Dwarf-Road, turned west, and backtracked along the northern fences of Ossir. After crossing the Gelion, the company rode hard and fast along the open plains of Eastern Beleriand, stopping only at nightfall, and starting again at sunrise.

After resting for the night beside the majestic Falls of Sirion, they carefully lead their horses across the slippery rock wall, hoping and praying that none would lose their footing on the slick surface to plummet to a sure death into the Great River of Western Beleriand.

Everybody breathed easier once they had safely crossed The Long Wall. They had had a few close calls, but thankfully, they had reached the other side without incident. They rode on just north of Andram as it led to Finrod’s Halls, Nargothrond. It took them five days to reach the Hidden Kingdom, where they were welcomed by the Noldo Lord and his people.

Buffy was quite eager to see her husband, but unfortunately, he wasn’t ready to see her just yet. Maglor had demanded to see Olofin, and no one else. Hearing that broke the Slayer’s heart. She didn’t see how they could end their estrangement if the Noldo wouldn’t even speak to her.

“What the hell kind of bullshit is this?” she queried angrily, tired and sore from their journey. “You said that Káno would meet with me, and now he won’t!”

“Calm down, Bellaseth,” replied Finrod. “Maglor wants to spend some time with his son first.” He looked over the Slayer’s disheveled appearance before adding, “How about a nice, hot bath? Perhaps that will help relieve the stiffness in your weary limbs.” The Noldo couldn’t help but notice Buffy’s rubbing of her buttocks, which always hurt when she spent too much time riding bareback. “Once refreshed, I’m certain that you’ll feel much better, and will be ready to hear our counsel.”

Before she could protest, Finrod linked his arm with hers, and led her down one of the many passageways. In an attempt to prevent her from continuing her rant, he pointed out the many changes to his Halls since her last visit. Once they had reached her quarters, the Slayer felt as if her heart had dropped to her stomach. Apparently, she wouldn’t be sharing a room with her husband, a fact which upset her greatly.

While Finrod’s maidens tended to Buffy, both Maglor and Olofin left Nargothrond for Taur-en-Faroth, which was a short distance from the Halls of Felagund. Maglor wanted to question his son, in private, about what had happened in the East concerning the things that his wife had done, and what role the half-elf had played.

When Buffy had finished dressing, the women escorted her to a chamber where she found many from the line of Finwë sitting on stone chairs arranged in a semi-circle. Her companions from Ossir sat opposite the Noldor in tall wooden chairs. The Slayer was taken aback to see Fingon, Aegnor and Angrod in attendance, together with four of the sons of Fëanor (Maedhros and the C-brothers). She couldn’t help but notice that her House was outnumbered by the others.

“What the hell is this, the court-martial of Bellaseth Dagnir?” asked Buffy sarcastically, her suspicious eyes darting from face to face.

“Of course not!” said Finrod, handing her a glass of wine. He motioned towards the vacant seat between the Green-elves. “You’re amongst family here, Bella. Do not hastily jump to any conclusions.”

“Oh, no, of course not,” she snickered with a roll of her eyes, making her way to her chair. “Funny how I thought this trip was an attempt for me to reconcile with Káno, yet he’s conspicuously absent.” She plopped down on her seat and murmured, “Imagine that.”

“Come now, Bella,” said Luthor, patting her knee comfortingly. “Surely, you can see how the whole ordeal with Sauron would raise questions with those from the House of Finwë.”

“So, I am on trial!”

“You’re not on trial,” assured Maedhros. “As Luthor has said, we have questions. We are willing to hear your side of the story. What you say to us will determine whether or not Maglor will meet with you.”

“You mean there’s no guarantee that I’ll even see him!” said an outraged Buffy, her face contorting with anger. “Then what the hell am I even doing here?” She made a move to get up.

“Stay, Bella,” said Luthor, calmly yet firmly, placing his hand on her arm. “If you wish to mend your marriage, you need to stay in that seat. Otherwise, leave.” The Maia’s declaration kept the Slayer firmly in place, although she grumbled her discontent under her breath.

“We will evaluate whether your relationship with my brother is repairable, Luinil,” began Maedhros, fixing his grey eyes on Buffy. “The things that Gorthaur said, trouble not only Maglor, but all of us as well. Since you are a member of our family, we all have the right to know the truth of the matter, as it affects the entire House of Finwë.”

“Fine,” she replied sulkily, crossing her legs. “What do you want to know?” asked Buffy, before taking a sip of her elvish wine.

“Is it true that you have seduced Morgoth since wedding Maglor?” queried Maedhros, unconsciously grabbing hold of the stub where his right hand used to be.

The Slayer choked on her drink. “Since when is my sex life your business?” she coughed bitterly.

“Then it is true,” remarked a shocked Caranthir, his hands gripping the arms of his chair so tightly that his knuckles were turning white. “We thought that Sauron had said that as a means of stirring up trouble.”

The looks of appall on the faces of the Noldor made Buffy feel the need to justify her actions.

“There were extenuating circumstances,” she found herself saying defensively.

“How could you?” queried Maedhros in a pained voice. He shook his head slowly, his face a mask of sadness. “Morgoth killed our father. He stole the Silmarils and our other treasures.” He lifted up his right arm. “I lost my hand because of him.” He narrowed his grey eyes, the mere memory of his torments inciting his ire. “Need I remind you that I was chained to the crags of Thangorodrim for two years because of him,” he said between gritted teeth.

“Because of him, not me!” she shot back, still in defensive mode.

“He is the enemy!” shouted Celegorm, jumping to his feet. “Any that consorts with the enemy shall be construed as one… ”

“Who the fuck are you to talk?” demanded the belligerent Slayer. “At least, I never spilt innocent blood.”

That was it. Buffy’s mention of the Kinslaying at Alqualondë, however vague, roused the animosity of both Aegnor and Angrod at the sons of Fëanor. A heated argument broke out amongst the elves. The Green-elves were defending Buffy’s actions, while the sons of Finarfin (whose mother was Teleri by birth) verbally attacked the sons of Fëanor. Poor, old Finrod buried his face in his hands, dismally shaking his golden head at the turn of events. While Fingon and Maedhros tried to restore order, Buffy leaned back in her chair watching the exchange with a smug look on her face, happy that the focus was no longer on her.

“Why did you have to exacerbate the situation?” chastised a frowning Luthor.

“What?” replied the Slayer, feigning innocence.

The old man shook his head. His blue eyes revealed his utter disappointment in Buffy, triggering a pang of guilt within her.

“You are making me begin to doubt that you want to fix things with Maglor,” he said reproachfully.

Buffy bowed her head in shame, regretting the fact that she instigated the row within the House of Finwë.

“You cannot keep running away every time thing do not go your way, Bella. Your past has caught up to you and you must face it. Be done with it already! And let the pieces fall where they may,” sighed Luthor heavily. He turned his gaze to the ruckus taking place before him. Both Fingon and Maedhros were now restraining family members, as they were nearly coming to blows.

“Sorry,” said a moping Buffy, drooping in her seat, staring down at the amber liquid in her glass.

“ENOUGH OF THIS MADNESS!” bellowed Luthor, rising to his feet. Immediately, the arguing stopped. Finrod raised his head, grateful that the Maia had intervened, bringing an end to the quarreling. “Sit down! All of you!” continued the old man, his voice so commanding that all did exactly as he had said. “The lot of you are acting like a bunch of children.” When everybody had taken their seats, the Maia stood in the gap between the chairs of the Noldor and those of the Green-elves.

“You all have demonstrated that dissension still lingers within the Houses of Finwë, and let me tell you, my good fellows, that is not a good thing. Clearly, time does not heal all wounds.” He let out a heavy sigh. “Whatever grief divides you, I ask that you put it aside, for a while. We have not gathered here to argue the past deeds of the House of Fëanor or the House of Finarfin… ”

“It’s actually the House of Finrod,” corrected Buffy. “You know, Finarfin never set foot… ”

“Not… one… more… word… Bella,” said Luthor threateningly, waving his finger in her direction. “You instigated this whole thing in an attempt to draw the attention away from you! I may be old, but I’m no fool.”

The Slayer pouted, slumping in her chair more so, her head bowed even lower. She could feel the many eyes upon her, making her self-conscious. Her face turned beet red.

The Noldor were stunned to see the influence that Luthor wielded over the Slayer. They could never imagine a Maia speaking to a Vala in such a way. None knew the old man as well as Buffy and the Green-elves did, and it was the first time that the Noldor had actually witnessed the familial bond between the two. It was apparent that Luthor played the role of father to Buffy, and that she allowed him to say and do things that the Noldor would never dream of doing, like putting the Slayer in her place.

“I now have a better understanding as to why you have avoided speaking of the events that transpired in Sumer. I deem it to be akin to adding salt to the wound,” continued the old man, turning his gaze to Buffy. That time, his tone was filled with empathy. “Nevertheless, I’m afraid that if you do not reveal those things, the animosity between the Houses will grow, and I need not tell you, that’s exactly what Morgoth wants: to divide the Houses, to stir the pot of dissension amongst the Noldor. That plays right into his plans.”

The Maia shook his head before walking over to Buffy. He crouched down in front of her, placing his hands on her knees.

“You must tell them what happened, Bella.”

The Slayer shook her head, terrified of revealing the events that had happened in the East. After seeing how easily she had stirred things up amongst the sons of Finwë, the thought of talking about what she had done made her sick to her stomach.

“They must hear it from you, not anyone else.”

She shook her head again, desperately holding back the tears that were forming in her eyes.

Luthor then whispered something in her ear.

“No,” she answered softly. “It’s too personal. I can’t.”

The old man lifted her chin, meeting her gaze. “You must. One way or the other. You have no choice.”

“I can’t Luthor. Please, don’t make me,” she cried, tears streaming down her face.

“Deal with it now, and you won’t have to deal with it again. Be done with it, Bella.” He nodded encouragingly. “Do it for the old man,” he said, giving her a reassuring smile.

Buffy glanced at the faces staring at her, wiping her tears on the sleeve of her dress.

“Call her,” said the Maia, standing upright. “Call her and I’ll take care of the rest.”

“Okay,” sniffed the Slayer. “Vórëa. Come forth, Vórëa,” she said, her voice cracking as she spoke.

A second later, the Valkyrie chieftain appeared within the circle of chairs, startling the Noldor. She fixed her gaze on her Mistress, and seeing her distress, quickly went to her side.

“My Lady, what is wrong?” she asked with great concern.

“Talk to Luthor. He’ll tell you what I need.”

Vórëa’s eyes scanned the elves within the chamber before Luthor pulled her aside, whispering instructions to her.

“As you wish, Luthor,” said the Valkyrie in a voice that all could hear. “It will take me a while, but I shall return shortly.”

“Thank you, my dear.”

Vórëa then disappeared in the blink of an eye. Those not from the House of Fëanor were shocked by the Valkyrie’s ability to teleport. They had never witnessed any performing that type of magic before, not even in Valinor. They continued to stare blankly at the spot from which the woman had disappeared.

“Luthor,” started Orchal, breaking the silence. “What is it that Vórëa is doing?”

“I have sent her to Folkvang to retrieve our diaries,” replied the old man. “If Bella cannot tell her story in voice, then the Noldor shall read of her deeds, written in her own words. That way, they will see her mindset at the time when those events unfolded, they will see the motivations behind the choices she made.”

The blood drained from the Green-elf’s face. “Then why is she bringing back all our diaries, if the Noldor are only concerned with Bella’s?” he asked nervously.

“Because I deem that seeing things from different perspectives will give them a better understanding of what happened and how it affected those around Bella.”

All three Green-elf’s appeared disturbed to hear that. They, too, solemnly bowed their heads, like Buffy, uncomfortable that their deepest darkest secrets would soon be exposed to the Noldo Lords.

Thranduil summed it up best with the one word he uttered, “Damn!”

The tension in the room grew with the silence. Luthor paced back and forth across the chamber, chewing on his bottom lip, while the others remained quiet, anxious for the Valkyrie to return. After witnessing not only Buffy’s discomfort, but her people’s as well, the Noldor were most eager to read the books that Vórëa was retrieving. They were anxious to discover the long kept secrets of those that had gone off to war in the East.

A half an hour later, Vórëa returned with the rest of the Valkyrie chieftains, each carrying three large crates, one stacked upon the other.

“My Eru, Luthor, did you have my Valkyries bring everything from the library?” asked the Slayer in a stunned voice.

“These only contain your diaries, Maranwë,” announced Feawë, carefully placing her boxes on the floor. “We have to go back and collect the rest.”

“My diaries,” repeated the Slayer, getting to her feet. She placed her empty glass on the table and walked over to the nearest crate. She opened the box and gasped. “Luthor!” she called, as she pulled out a red volume from the neatly stacked books inside.

“What is it, Bella?”

Buffy opened the journal, flipping through the pages. “These are from my personal library,” she whispered fretfully to the Maia. “These are not meant to be read by any save me and my maidens.”

“Are these not the texts that contain the true tales in their unaltered original form?” queried the old man in a hushed voice.

“Luthor, these contain… very intimate details that are not meant to be read by… ” Her words faltered, as she glanced over at the Noldor, who were scrutinizing her every move. “They’re too explicit in content to be read by… any one, much less… family.”

“Yet these books hold the truth, and that is what this council is all about - the Noldor learning the truth… ”

“The Noldor do not need to read about my… sexcapades in the East!” she declared loudly, her temper flaring.

“Perhaps if you had given thought to that before you committed those… sexcapades, it wouldn’t be an issue right now.” Luthor placed a hand on her shoulder. “You didn’t listen to me then, and look what happened. Heed my words this time, Bella: let those from the House of Finwë read your journals. They’re not as bad as you think…”

“Not as bad as I think,” she repeated, her tone now desperate. “I’m trying to save my marriage here, Luthor. How in Eru’s name is everyone reading my innermost thoughts gonna fix anything? These contain things of a very personal and intimate nature, not meant to be seen by any. It’s a written account for me, for me, Luthor, not the Lords of Finwë.”

“It’s a living history, Bella,” he said taking the book from her hand. “You do not realize the significance of these diaries of yours just yet. This book, along with the others, shows your motivation behind every battle, behind every decision you ever made… ”

“But…” she said in an attempt to counter the Maia’s claims.

“These are a tool that the Noldor can learn from,” he replied, waving the journal in his hand. “You’ve shown some undesirable traits, make no mistake about that. However, you have also done many great things whilst in Mesopotamia. None can deny that.

“If, by sharing these journals with others, you could save just one soul, one from the line of Finwë perhaps, from plunging into the same pitfalls, would it not be worth it?” He never gave Buffy the chance to respond, but continued to do his best to convince her that he was right.

“Maglor has always been honest with you, even when it grieved him to do so. Do not underestimate the love he has for you. He has asked that his kinfolk help him get through this ordeal. By being honest and forthcoming, you demonstrate your love and respect, not only for your husband, but for his family as well. Just let them read the diaries, Bella. Get it out in the open, and be done with it. I promise, as a result, the burden of keeping all those secrets will finally lift from your shoulders.”

Buffy turned, her eyes scanning the fair elvish faces of those waiting with nervous anticipation to hear her response. Two of the Valkyries had just returned, each carrying a crate of journals belonging to the others in the room. Her jaw dropped. Only two crates contained the diaries from her Household, while thirty-nine contained her records. That surely didn’t seem fair. Instead of arguing, the Slayer went over to the table, picked up a half-empty bottle of wine and chugged it.

While Buffy was guzzling her wine, a troubled Orchal grabbed Luthor and pulled him out of earshot of the elves and Valkyries. He whispered in the old man’s ear. When he had finished speaking, Luthor stared at the Green-elf, stunned by what he had heard. He then nodded. Immediately, Orchal ran to the last two crates that were brought in, digging out his own personal diaries.

The Slayer belched after she had emptied the container. “What the hell is he doing?” she asked, displeased to see Orchal removing his green journals from the crates.

“Orchal’s diaries won’t be needed after all,” answered the old man.

The Green-elf lifted his head, holding several books in his arms. “I’ve sided with Bella on everything,” he announced to the others. “Any decision that she made, for good or for ill, I supported. That’s all any need to know.”

“That’s bullshit!” said Buffy, putting the empty bottle down, and grabbing another. “He was a main player in my regime. He should have to suffer the same embarrassment as me!” She started swigging from the other bottle.

“Just leave it alone, Bella,” said Luthor, his voice full of warning.

“Yeah, well,” she started, feeling the effects of the alcohol. She turned her gaze to the Noldor. “Orchal participated in the orgies too! Just remember that!”

As Orchal fled from the chamber carrying his books, Curufin turned to Maedhros and asked, “What are orgies?”

The eldest son of Fëanor shrugged his shoulders in reply.

“Well then,” said Buffy, smacking her lips. “Who wants to get drunk with me? Hmm.”

“Count me in,” said Thranduil.

“Me too,” answered Nestor.

The Green-elves leapt from their seat, each grabbing a couple of bottles of wine. Together with Buffy, they left the chamber.

Luthor dismissed the Valkyries before explaining to the Noldor the numerical system of the diaries. The Lords of Finwë were nearly salivating to read the books. The old man made the men promise that they could not share the information contained within them with any outside of their line. He vowed to rip their tongues out if word spread throughout Beleriand. After the Noldor agreed, they carefully used the time-chart that the Valkyries had brought as a guide to determine which volume they wished to read first. With over four thousand books packed into the crates, it would end up taking a few years for the elves to read them all.