Full Circle

Maedhros wandered the halls of Nargothrond, checking the various rooms as he passed, in search of the Slayer. He knew that she was still reeling from the shock of Maglor’s reaction to his reading of her diaries. The eldest son of Fëanor felt that his brother had overreacted and had been overly harsh with his wife. The copper-headed Noldo tried his best to convince his younger brother that he and Buffy should start over with a clean slate, but Maglor, in a demonstration of his stubborn side, would hear none of it. While all lay sleeping in their beds, he fled the Halls of Finrod during the night for his own home at the Gap.

The Lord of Himring’s search proved futile. He decided that the Slayer did not want to be found, that she wanted to be alone. His heart ached for her, knowing that her loneliness could cause her to plummet into the pits of despair. Someone needed to save her before that happened, and Maedhros had decided that he was the one to do so.

A few days later, he finally found Buffy, sitting on the embankment overlooking the river, far from the doors of Nargothrond. She strummed the strings of a harp, producing music that was slow and melodic to his elvish ears. He remained transfixed to the spot as her hair shimmered in the silver light of the moon, captivating the Noldo. She then began to sing a song unfamiliar to him:

“Rhiannon rings like a bell through the night
And wouldn’t you love to love her?
Takes to the sky like a bird in flight
And who will be her lover?

All your life you’ve never seen a woman
Taken by the wind.
Would you stay if she promised you heaven?
Will you ever win?

She is like a cat in the dark
And then she is the darkness.
She rules her life like a fine skylark
And when the sky is starless… ” *

Buffy stopped, sensing that she was no longer alone. She turned, and seeing Maedhros standing there, put the harp aside.

“There’s no need to stop on my account,” said the Noldo, closing the gap between himself and the Slayer with only a couple of strides.

“It’s okay,” she replied, her voice distant.

“May I?” he asked, gesturing to the spot beside her.

She nodded in reply.

Maedhros sat down next to her. “Was that a psalm of Ishtar you were singing?”

“No,” she answered with a snicker. “Just a song.”

“It sounds like it was written about you.”

“Well, it wasn’t,” she sighed.

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking at her with sorrowful eyes. “Maglor, at times, can be rather stubborn. I deem that to be a quality he inherited from our father… ”

“It doesn’t matter,” she replied dismally. “He’s gone. My marriage is over. I should’ve known.” She slowly shook her head. “I always knew this day would come.” Buffy turned her gaze to the elf. “I just thought it would be later.”

“You knew that Maglor would leave you?” questioned the stunned Noldo.

“We all have the gift of foresight,” she answered, turning her gaze back to the swift moving stream below. “We weren’t meant to be together, you see. At least, not permanently.”

“Would it be wrong of me to say that I think it’s for the best?” queried Maedhros softly, watching the Slayer from out of the corner of his eye. “I do not think he’s your type - based on what I read in your diaries. You seem to have a fondness for warriors, men skilled in battle… ”

“And you don’t think Káno’s a great warrior?” she asked, facing the copper-haired elf.

“He certainly does not possess the abilities that I have,” he answered, flashing a quick smile. The Noldo fixed his grey eyes on her. “Can I ask you something?”

“I guess.”

“Why him and not me? Why not love me?”

Buffy appeared neither surprised nor shocked by his words. In fact, she showed no emotion whatsoever, but stared deeply into Maedhros’ eyes.

“I know you’re not of elven-kind, and that your grief will never cause you to fade like the Eldar,” he continued. “But your loneliness, your pain, it cries out to me. I can mend your broken heart, Bella.” He placed his hand on her cheek, gently caressing her soft skin with his fingertip. The Slayer closed her eyes, drinking in his touch. “It was supposed to be me, not Maglor. You were supposed to love me.”

Buffy opened her eyes. “I know,” she whispered in reply. “I made a mistake.”

Maedhros drew himself closer to her. “Do you love me, Luinil? Do you love me as I love you?”

Her breathing came in rasps, as her eyes searched his. “Yes, yes I do.”

The Lord of Himring’s eyes fell to her lips. How he longed to kiss them. He had fought his feelings for her for so long, but now that things were over between Buffy and Maglor, he found himself unable to restrain his desire for her.

Maedhros softly kissed her lips. She kissed him back! Their kiss deepened, awakening the passion that they had hidden for all those years.

“Take me, Russandol,” Buffy moaned, wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders. “Take me here and now.”

The Noldo was only too happy to oblige, as he gently laid her on the ground, his hands eagerly exploring her body…

Maedhros shot up in bed, panting, his face glistening with sweat. The dim light of the candle beside his bed burned low in the otherwise darkened chamber. The diary that he had been reading fell to the floor with a dull thud. He ran his fingers through his long hair, greatly disturbed by the dream he had just had. Then he felt it. The aching in his loins that screamed for release.

What new devilry is this? he thought to himself. The Noldo tried to relax, to catch his breath. He leaned against the pillows, attempting to calm his bodily desire, to put the Slayer out of his mind. Those damned journals! Why do Luinil’s words entice me so? Closing his eyes, he saw her face, her naked body straddling his, her mouth on his, kissing him hungrily. He couldn’t shake the image from his mind; the throbbing in his loins was proof of that. No greater doom could find me than coveting my brother’s wife. Having access to the Slayer only in his dreams, he was left to his own devices to relieve his body’s longing…



As the days turned into weeks, and the weeks turned into months, Buffy began to seriously doubt the wisdom of Luthor, and her own judgment. She found herself regretting her decision to allow the sons of Finwë to read her innermost thoughts. The more time she spent thinking about the actual content of her diaries, the more she thought that she had made one of the biggest mistakes of her life. Who in their right mind would allow their husband and his kinfolk to read about their sexual exploits, in graphic detail no less, in an attempt to save their marriage? It was asinine! And unfortunately, it had taken nearly a year before the Slayer would realize that.

Adding to her misery was the fact that not once, in the three hundred and forty-six days since she had arrived at Nargothrond, had she seen Maglor. Not once! Not at meal times, nor in the labyrinth of passageways that ran throughout Finrod’s hidden fortress. Olofin had assured her that his father was indeed present, but had confined himself to his chamber, voraciously reading her diaries from the first volume on.

Yet time continued to roll by, sometimes rather slowly, other times quite swiftly. The more time that passed without her seeing her beloved, the more heartbroken Buffy became. When twenty-four months had passed, she began to distance herself from her closest friends, preferring to wallow in a solitude of self-pity. Often, she was seen wandering sadly down the passageways, rarely smiling to those that greeted her in passing. It seemed rather obvious to the Noldor that there were problems with the Slayer’s marriage, yet none knew the reason why.

It was during one of those strolls that she found herself stopping outside the door of Bëor’s old room. She pressed her ear to the door, listening for any sound. Finding all silent, she turned the knob, only to discover that it had been locked. She glanced up and down the corridor, and finding it deserted, turned the knob until a cracking noise sounded, indicating that she had broken the lock. The Slayer then quietly slipped inside the pitch-black chamber, closing the door behind her.

After lighting several candles, Buffy looked around the room, surprised that Finrod had kept Bëor’s sleeping quarters exactly as it had been at the time of the Adan’s death. The charcoal circle that her lover had drawn on the floor was still faintly visible, the items for the summoning spell now neatly arranged on the tabletop in the corner.

The Slayer walked over to the wardrobe and threw open the doors. Her eyes scanned the contents before she pulled out a green tunic that Bëor had favored during the end of his mortal life. She placed the garment to her nose, inhaling deeply. Even after all those years, she could still smell the Adan’s heavenly scent. Oh, how she missed him. Clutching the article in her arms, she curled up on the couch, remembering brighter days in the company of her mortal lover. Buffy buried her face in the cloth, wishing that the Adan was there to comfort her, to tell her that everything would be okay.

Her internal struggles worsened when she found, tucked away in one of his dresser drawers, the numerous letters she had written Bëor during her stay in Lindórinand long ago. Re-reading them again stirred her longing to see her lover again. She recalled those days vividly, remembering how his words had mesmerized her, how he had swept her off her feet with his poetry and proclamations of love.

No matter how much she pushed him away, how many leagues or dimensions separated them, he remained a constant in her thoughts. She loved him; there was no questioning that, yet she also loved Maglor. Buffy felt that that was her doom, her curse: loving two men, so profoundly, at the same time. She gave thought to inviting the Adan to come back to Sussrúmnir, to his home in Folkvang, but she felt that would only make her situation worse with Maglor. No, she’d have to keep her avowal and wait until the Curse had claimed her husband, something that she had no power to prevent.

By the time that autumn of Yr 413 had arrived, the Slayer had spoken with nearly all those that had read her journals. She was taken aback by the reaction of the C-brothers. They seemed to have a newfound respect for her.

“I admire that you had the gumption to seize what your heart desired,” Caranthir had told her. “You built an empire worthy of praise and freed the Second-born from the thralldom of the Evil Ones. I commend you, dear Muinthel. In fact, my brothers and I look at you with an even greater esteem than before. We are proud that you are a part of the House of Finwë.”

Little did Buffy know at the time, that her actions in the East, no matter how deplorable, would heavily influence not only the C-brothers, but also Maglor and Maedhros in future days. And that the sons of Fëanor would justify their evil deeds, as the Slayer had done in Mesopotamia, causing her great sorrow.

As winter began to wane in Yr 414, Maglor had finally finished reading all the diaries brought from Folkvang and had sent word to his wife that he wanted to meet with her in private. After reading all the things that she had kept from him, the Noldo did not want to have their initial conversation in the presence of his kinfolk, preferring to speak with her one-on-one.

Olofin accompanied his mother to his father’s chamber. While walking down the many passageways and stairways, Buffy’s legs felt like lead, her heart pounded frantically in her chest with nervous anticipation. She didn’t know what to expect.

When they reached their destination, the half-elf knocked on the door, a door that the Slayer had passed on numerous occasions, unaware that her husband had been on the other side. A few moments later, Maglor opened the door. Olofin nodded curtly to his father and gave his mother a reassuring smile before taking off down the corridor.

Buffy watched as her son disappeared around the corner. She then turned her attention to Maglor as he opened the door wider, motioning her inside. She entered. Her eyes scanned the rather messy room as she heard the door close behind her. Her stomach twisted into knots when she saw many of her journals scattered about the room, some piled on various pieces of furniture, others strewn across the floor. Ribbons, in various colors, marked certain pages in the books, increasing the Slayer’s discomfort.

“Let me clean this up real quick,” Maglor said, grabbing scraps of parchment and books from one of the chairs, freeing up a place for her to sit. Apparently, her beloved had been taking notes, as evidenced by the stack of parchment written in the Noldo’s handwriting.

“Thanks.” Buffy took a seat, the contents of her stomach churning uncomfortably.

Maglor took his place on the couch between piles of notes and journals. He locked eyes with her, holding her gaze for several minutes before asking, “How are you doing?”

“Honestly?” she queried, nervously licking her lips.

The Noldo nodded.

“I feel like I’m waiting for the executioner’s axe to fall.”

“There’s no need to feel that way.”

“Really?” she asked doubtfully. Her eyes scanned the scores of diaries within the chamber. “Somehow, I find that hard to believe.”

“We’re here to talk, Bella. That’s all.” He picked up her blue journal, number 163. “I’ve read all the diaries brought from Folkvang,” he continued, tracing with his fingertip the gold cross embossed on the cover. “I noticed that there are still a number of them missing, that not all were brought here.” Maglor lifted his gaze, meeting her eyes once again.

“Luthor decided which diaries to bring back, not me,” she answered, eyeing the volume in his hand with trepidation. “If I had my way, none of them would’ve been brought here. I now know that that was a mistake on my part. These were not meant to be read by any, save me and my Valkyrie chieftains,” answered Buffy, gesturing to the journals that littered the place.

“I must say, that I was not expecting the content to be so… ” Maglor paused, searching for the right word.

“Graphic?” suggested the Slayer nervously.

“Yes, graphic,” he answered uneasily, before clearing his throat. “I cannot tell you how many times that I’ve wept reading these,” continued her husband, shifting his eyes back to the book in his hand. “I felt like… I felt like my heart was ripped out of my chest, that you gave no consideration to me when you did… those things with all those mortal men… ”

“Káno,” she interrupted. “Let me explain. I… ”

“There’s no need, Luinil,” answered Maglor, holding up his hand, stopping her mid-sentence. “Your diaries explain everything. I’ve read them. I know what you were thinking when you did the things you did. You may feel the need to justify your actions, but your written words come through loud and clear. There is nothing that you can say… ”

“I love you, Káno!” Buffy interjected. “I never stopped loving you.” She could feel her throat burning, the tears welling in her eyes. She was desperate to keep it together, to not fall apart during their conversation. The room fell silent for a few moments, as the Slayer turned her watering eyes to the ceiling, which sparkled like numerous stars in the candlelight.

“I believe you,” he answered softly, before grabbing one of the pieces of parchment. “You love me, yet you violated our wedding vows with,” Maglor glanced at his notes, “eight hundred and thirty-eight different men!” His tone revealed both his shock and disgust.

Buffy’s face reddened when she heard aloud the actual number of lovers which she had bedded. Was it really that many? Yes. Unfortunately, she had kept track of them all… for posterity’s sake.

“You took husbands on their wedding night,” he continued, still looking at his sprawled writings. “You bedded them before their wives did.” He lifted his troubled eyes, looking at his wife, who continued to stare up at the ceiling. “Why would you do that?”

Buffy felt her nose beginning to run. Sniffing, she shifted her gaze to her husband and replied, “Because I could.”

Maglor snorted in response. “Yes, I suppose that the Supreme God of the East could do as she wanted,” he said with a derisive laugh. “It’s amusing, you know. I was so concerned that you and Marto would get together during your time away, that he would find his way into your bed once again. I even had you promise me that you wouldn’t rekindle your romance with the Maia before you had left… and he’s the only one you didn’t bed! Is that irony or what?”

The Slayer broke eye contact, turning her gaze to her lap. She ran her hands along the soft leather material of her breeches, feeling deeply ashamed.

“Surprisingly,” Maglor began again, “I do not wholly blame you for the events that transpired.”

A stunned Buffy looked up at her husband, her mouth agape. She couldn’t believe the words that just came out of the Noldo’s mouth.

“After reading the diaries of Luthor and Olofin, I deem that they are correct in their assessment that the lands in the East are cursed, that the evil that has lurked there for millennia somehow had the ability to corrupt those in power.”

“I believe that too,” agreed the Slayer.

“Yet, that evil did not affect Luthor or Olofin as it did you and your most loyal followers,” he added, causing the glimmer of hope in Buffy’s eyes to fade with his pronouncement. “You shunned our son, sending him far away when he disagreed with you. Same thing with Luthor… Perhaps that was a blessing in disguise, that your distancing him from yourself prevented him from falling from grace. I don’t know. I find these journals disturbing… and sad.

“The desperation that you felt, your turning to Morgoth in your hour of need, is understandable, although that hurts me deeply,” he continued, his grey eyes glistening with tears. “How am I supposed to feel about that? He is a murderer, a thief, the greatest enemy of all that dwell in Arda, yet, there is no doubt in my mind that he loves you, that he will do anything in his power to get you back. I cannot help but think that you and he are somehow bonded together, and I deem that is not a good thing. I do not understand why the Valar chose to place the Veil of Concealment upon you, but my heart tells me that it has something to do with your past with Morgoth. You and he are unlike those in the West, you’re both capable of doing great evil, which you both have done, together and separately. Eru only knows what would happen if you were to reunite again, if you fell under his thrall… ”

“That won’t happen,” said Buffy with conviction, narrowing her eyes at her husband. “I won’t let it happen.”

Maglor leaned back, sighing heavily. He turned his gaze to the ceiling before asking, “What am I supposed to do, Luinil? What am I supposed to do?”

The Slayer wasn’t sure if she should answer that question. Instead, she stared at her husband, nervously twirling a lock of her golden hair.

“I have to wonder if this is all part of the Curse, the Doom of Mandos,” he continued in a mere whisper. “Perhaps the Valar deem it just that the one woman that I love will never be wholly mine.” He snickered. “Even Eru has sent you Sargon to ease your loneliness after I am… ” His words faltered. The room fell silent.

“I’m sorry, Káno,” started Buffy in an attempt to justify her actions. “I know that words aren’t good enough. But I’m really, really sorry. I don’t know what happened to me. I just… I just lost my mind while I was gone. Everything I had always wanted, I got. I’ve always been jealous of my brethren, of the love that you elves have for them. You all never showed me that kind of love and reverence when you came back to Middle-earth. You all prayed to them! Even after they cursed you all - you still revere them, hoping they’ll love you as they once did. What about me? Why didn’t anyone look to me? I’m here! I’m the one fighting evil, but no one seems to care… The mortals are the only ones that showed me that love, that respect… and yes, I rewarded them richly for doing so. I may be a Vala, but I’m not perfect. None of us are. But we learn from our mistakes, we pick up the pieces and move on… or at least, try to.

“I don’t want that kind of power again. I can’t handle it. I’m woman enough to admit that, that that power was too much for me. I just want us to be like we were before… When I came back, we picked up where we had left off. Our love blossomed once more. Don’t throw that away, Káno. I beg of you! Don’t throw it away.”

Maglor faced his wife. She looked imploringly at him with tear-filled eyes, her bottom lip trembling.

“My brothers’ feel that I should give you another chance, that I should overlook the sins you have committed in the East. In the end, you hurt yourself more than any other,” he revealed solemnly. “Who am I to pass judgment on anyone? I, Kanafinwë Makalaurë, son of Curufinwë Fëanáro, who had sworn the dreaded Oath in Tirion, who participated wholeheartedly in the Kinslaying at Alqualondë, who deserted my uncle and his people at Helcaraxë by burning the ships at Losgar… I cannot help but think that I’ve committed greater sins than you, Bella. I am truly remorseful of the atrocities I have committed in my past. I cannot undo what has been done… and in spite of that, you loved me. You did not turn away from me when you learned of the misdeeds of me and my people. You embraced us, you loved us. It would be unfair of me to not do the same for you.”

“What are you saying?” queried Buffy, a look of confusion on her fair face.

“I’m saying that you deserve a second chance, that we deserve another chance,” he replied, giving his wife a quick smile. “We shall put the past behind us, and start anew, although there are still some things that we still need to work out.”

Buffy leapt from her seat, ran to her husband, and threw her arms around the Noldo’s neck, grateful that their estrangement had finally come to an end. They spent the greater part of the day talking about various things that had been recorded in her diaries. It was Maglor that pointed out that Morgoth seemed to be the culprit behind every disastrous situation in her life (save the antics of Daehir, Úrion, and Marduk). He reminded her that Sauron was the one responsible for prompting her to take action in the East, and that perhaps the evil Maia and his Master knew beforehand what would befall the Slayer if she made that journey. Realizing that for the first time angered Buffy even more. It made her more determined to bring Morgoth down, if it was the last thing she’d ever do.

With peace restored to her Household once again, Buffy summoned the Valkyrie chieftains, and had them take all of her diaries back. A few days later, she, Maglor, the Green-elves along with Luthor, and the sons of Fëanor left Nargothrond for Ossir. After all the emotional turmoil the Slayer had been through, she needed to return to the beautiful woods of her homeland to recuperate, before journeying to the north…

*lyrics by Stevie Nicks