Full Circle

That feeling of triumph in which the group had basked since leaving Nan Dungortheb faded the moment they passed through the gates of Himring. Though very late, with most sleeping in their beds, the air about the city was one of mourning, of great sadness, instantly diminishing the joy the warriors had felt with their successful campaign against the offspring of Ungoliant.

As soon as they entered Maedhros’ Halls, each went their separate way. Some were exhausted, in need of sleep, while others were eager to wash off the filth of many days travel.

Buffy, on the other hand, felt a sudden pang of foreboding in her heart, an ominous feeling that drove her to forego a much-needed bath to seek out Luthor. Searching from room to room, her heart became heavier when she approached the chamber referred to as the Blue Parlor. Inside, she found both Luthor and Kat, and an unexpected surprise that she hadn’t foreseen.

Ten days earlier, Kat had bore four cubs: two males, and two females. One, a female, was stillborn, and had been placed beside her father in the barrow outside the gates of the city.

Despite the loss of the one cub, such a happy occasion would normally give cause for celebration, regardless of the hour. Yet the look in Kat’s eyes marred the moment, for they were not filled with the joyful bliss of motherhood but with much sorrow and pain.

As the Slayer affectionately stroked the lioness, things began to make sense to her. She now understood that Kat would have succumbed to her grief sooner if it had not been for her babies. And having the litter while Buffy and her loved ones were away, made her kitty cling to life a bit longer, to hold on until they had returned home so she could say a final farewell before releasing her fey from its hröa, allowing her to reunite with her mate.

Immediately, Buffy had Luthor summon Maglor, Olofin and Thranduil, those that the lioness loved most that dwelled in Himring. When the Maia had left the chamber, she tried to talk her kitty into staying in Middle-earth, at least long enough until her babies were of weaning age. But, as she sat there with her beloved cat, she gradually saw the spark of life in her eyes begin to wane, stirring Buffy to tears.

By the time the men had arrived, Luthor had already informed them of what he and Buffy believed was happening. It was a bittersweet moment for them, and one that had brought her boys to tears. Kat nuzzled each one of them, giving them one last affectionate lick of her tongue before lying back down. She let out one last moan as she yielded to her grief, the light fading from her yellow eyes altogether.

Buffy dried her tears before removing the cubs from the lifeless body of their mother. She handed the large male to Olofin, the female to Thranduil and clutched the runt in her own arms.

“You know, we’re responsible for caring for these babies now,” she said to her grieving boys, who tenderly stroked the kitties that they held. “They’ll need to be fed at least every two hours, if not more.” She glanced at the cub in her arms. “I’m afraid for this one though. I don’t think he’ll make it. At least, not here in Beleriand.”

“Nana,” her son started, looking pleadingly at her. “Don’t break up the siblings. They belong together.”

“Look at him, Olofin,” she replied, holding the runt next to the cub that he clutched. “He’s half the size of his brother… and sister. He can’t survive here. He needs to be in Folkvang where he can flourish, for none truly ever die there.”

“Your mother’s right, son,” agreed Maglor. “Kat already lost one cub. Let us not let her lose another.”

The half-elf sadly relented, agreeing with his parents.

Luthor, Maglor, Olofin, Thranduil and Buffy remained seated on the floor around Kat’s lifeless body until the Slayer was summoned to Folkvang thirty minutes later. She took the runt with her.

The Valkyrie chieftains were excited when their Mistress arrived holding the lion in her arms. They cooed at the little fellow as if he were a newborn child. The Slayer refused to let her maidens garb her in her finery, deciding that she wished to take a bath before pronouncing her judgments. As she climbed the stairway, she summoned Sargon. She intended to present the cub to her mortal lover as a gift. Knowing how lonely the Adan was, she thought that rearing the runt would be a great distraction for him.

Before slipping into the tub, she handed the kitty over to her lover, who was thrilled and honored to raise the little lion. While the Slayer bathed, the Adan took the runt to those Maiar most knowledgeable with rearing beasts of that nature in hope that they could advise him on the feeding and caring of his new pet.

Under Sargon’s loving care, that lion would go from runt to the largest and noblest of his kind. Soon, he and his siblings would reveal that they had a skill that neither of their parents had possessed.



“Please, Bella,” pleaded Thranduil the following morning. “Don’t give the kitties those horrid names!”

“What’s wrong with Hershey and Nestlé?”

“Nana,” began Olofin, holding up the two little lions. “Look at them! Surely, these noble creatures deserve names more befitting than those strange names you have devised.”

“In ages to come, you’ll have a greater appreciation for those names!” she countered, disappointed that her boys were so quick to dismiss her choice of names. “I just thought I’d stick with the chocolaty goodness theme in naming them. You know, Kit and Kat were named after a delicious chocolate-covered cookie that I loved in my childhood… ”

The looks of revulsion on their faces caused Buffy to cave.

“Fine, fine. You guys win,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “You name them then.”

“How ‘bout we name them after the Two Trees?”

That mere suggestion caused the Slayer’s blood to boil, although she didn’t know why. “It’ll be a cold day in Hell before I name anything of mine after the creations of Yavanna!” she hissed, startling the young men by the sudden hostility in her voice.

They sat there with their jaws dropped, speechless over the enmity of her words.

“Just name them something else, okay?” she said, stunned by her own behavior. Feeling uneasy, she quickly left the chamber, leaving the young men with the cubs.

In the end, Olofin named the male Barathalion and Thranduil named the female Noeriel. Neither name appealed to the Slayer. She would very seldom call them by their ‘given’ names, instead, referring to them as ‘my babies’.

Buffy, Maglor and the young men were to be the primary caregivers of the lions. They each took turns keeping them for the night; feeding them milk with a bit of honey through hollowed out reeds every couple of hours.

Two days after Kat had died; she was placed in the barrow beside Kit and her baby.

As the weeks turned into months, Barathalion and Noeriel flourished under the loving care of the Slayer and the elves. Thranduil enjoyed working with them on stealth, teaching them to creep up on their prey, (which was usually unsuspecting servants of Maedhros’ Household), and pounce on them at unawares. Many an elf grew weary of the lions’ behavior, but since they were the beloved pets of Buffy, they could do nothing but avoid the beasts the best they could.

It was during the spring of Yr 456 that the lions finally revealed their new attribute, much to Buffy’s surprise.

One morning, as she and Maglor readied themselves for breakfast, the cats came bursting into their bedchamber, screeching, “Bella! Bella! Olofin wants to give us a bath! Hide us!” The lions then crawled beneath the bed in an attempt to hide from the half-elf.

The hairbrush fell from the Slayer’s grasp. She stood there, totally shocked by what she had just witnessed.

“Did you know they could talk?” asked Maglor, not as surprised by the lion’s ability to talk as his wife was.

“No,” she said, half-dazed. She shook her head. Squatting down, she peered under the bed. “Get out from underneath there, babies. Come here!” Buffy tapped her hands against the floor, encouraging the lions to come out.

They came darting out from beneath the bed and into the Slayer’s outstretched arms.

“You’d think I wouldn’t be so surprised to hear my babies talk, especially after encountering so many beings that do,” she said, looking up at Maglor with a smile. “Color me surprised!” She turned her gaze back to her lions, rubbing them affectionately.

“Please don’t make us take a bath, Bella,” pleaded Barathalion, rubbing his head against the Slayer in a desperate attempt to have her ‘veto’ her son.

“It’s unnatural!” whined his sister.

“Oh, come on now,” said Buffy with a chuckle. “Bathing is a good thing! Cleanliness is next to godliness, after all.” After catching a good whiff of her beasts she wrinkled her nose and added, “Ew! You two stink. Have you been rolling around in feces again?”

The lions decided that they weren’t getting anywhere with the Slayer, so they immediately leapt over to Maglor, pleading with him to help sway their Mistress from making them take a bath.

“Oh, no, don’t try that with me,” said the Noldo, waving his finger at Barathalion. “Just last week you peed on my pillow! And I can’t count how many times you’ve both left your kill in our bed… ”

“I was only marking my territory!” answered the lion in his defense, his tone quite serious. “It is instinct, you know.”

“And we just wanted to show your our prey!” chimed in Noeriel. “We thought you’d be proud of our kill.”

“Not when it’s in a pool of blood on our bed… ”

“Or half eaten,” interjected Buffy with a shudder. “You guys know the rules: no dead things in the House. Eat outside. Pee outside. Crap outside.” She thought for a moment. “Anything else, honey?” she queried, looking to her husband.

“I think you about covered it,” he replied with a chuckle. “Although I deem that most in Himring would not like you two jumping out at them when they wander through these Halls or in the streets. You might want to use a bit more care or you might get hurt. Some of these men still suffer from the war. It’s not a good idea to jump out at them when they least expect it.”

An out of breath Olofin then came dashing into the chamber. He had been chasing after the kitties throughout Maedhros’ Halls. Only moments later, he had the lions march out of the room and into their waiting bath.

As soon as the room was cleared, Buffy returned to the topic of the conversation that she and Maglor were having before the lions came rushing in. After fifteen months, she desperately wanted to escape the darkness that hovered over northern Beleriand and visit Ossir, to return to her spectacular Halls on Tol Galen, to feel the sun’s warmth on her skin. Not only that, but she really wanted to speak with Orchal in person, and see for herself how well their new enterprise was doing.

Maglor was quick to accommodate his wife, doing his best to make up for his standoffish behavior prior to the war. Therefore, the following morning, they left Himring with a caravan of Green-elves and Noldor, among them, Olofin, Thranduil, Luthor, Lalwen, Maedhros and the Slayer’s babies.

It was with great joy that they arrived in Lindon several days later. Buffy was delighted with the profits that the Green-elves were making, although slightly peeved at Orchal for charging the mortals more for their canned goods than the elves or dwarves. Despite the sacrifices and loyalty of the Edain, the Regent of Ossir still harbored a deep resentment for mankind. He still held them responsible for the Slayer’s downfall in Sumer and forbade any to set foot in the Land of Seven Rivers, unless they were conducting business.

Visiting Ossiriand was great for everyone, especially the lions, who now had the opportunity to practice ambush tactics and climb the towering trees in the forest.

During their stay in Lindon, Buffy encountered the Enyd, led by Fangorn, who always enjoyed visiting her realm in springtime. The Shepherds of the Trees loved to hear the enchanting melodies of the Green-elves, and smell the heavenly scent that wafted throughout the land at that time of year. The Enyd would prolong their usual stay and remain in Ossir for many decades, playing a major role in events to come.

After spending a few weeks in Lindon, the group leisurely sailed down the Gelion before turning east, traveling upstream on the River Adurant.

When Buffy caught a glimmer of Lindecoa, the topmost of the blue tower twinkling beneath the fading sunlight, she went to the prow of the ship, eager to enter her Middle-earth sanctuary. A huge grin came to her face when she felt Maglor wrap his arms around her waist. She placed her hands atop his, leaning against his muscular frame.

“I can see the Tower of Luinil already,” he whispered, playfully nibbling her ear.

“It’s good to be back home,” she sighed, drinking in the scenic beauty that surrounded them. She loved Ossir, the woods, the rivers, the peacefulness. She loathed being anywhere else. “I don’t understand how you Noldor can love the open plains over this. This is what natural beauty is all about. Just look around, Káno,” Buffy said enthusiastically, holding her arms wide open before them. “Look at the ferns, their rich green color, and the flowers that fill the air with their fragrance… and the trees towering above us, protecting us, shielding us from the weather and unfriendly eyes… ”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were one of the Laiquendi,” said her husband with a chortle. “Indeed there is no fairer place in Endórë during the spring.” His smile widened, as he pressed his cheek against hers. “Although the beauty of Ossir pales when you are in its midst.”

Buffy faced her husband, smiling. “You’re such a sweet talker,” she giggled, throwing her arms around his neck. “I’m hoping that our visit will be like a second honeymoon. We have a lot of… things to catch up on.” She kissed her husband, elated that her life seemed to be back on track once again.

In the days that followed, the Slayer and her beloved Maglor took off by themselves, wanting to spend some alone time beside the falls of Lanthir Lamath. There, beneath the stars one night, they exchanged wedding vows again, declaring a new start to their marriage. They each placed a golden band on top of the silver ones they already wore on their fingers, signifying that their bond was twice as strong as it had been before.

Those were blissful days for the Slayer and she would cling to the memory of them for many years afterward. It was at that time that she renewed her determination to thwart whatever fate had in store for her and her Noldo husband. She would somehow figure out a way to foil the Doom placed upon her beloved, for she could not see herself with anyone else. Even though she had had many lovers in her past, her love for them, including Sargon never came close to her love for Maglor. He was everything she could ever ask for and proved to be a great companion and a passionate lover. She could spend every moment of every day with him, and never tire of his presence. That’s something that not many could say about their spouse.

Lindecoa hosted numerous parties during that summer. There was much merry-making, great music, lots of dancing and feasts fit for a king. Olofin had finally shown his father the mandolin (“prison-song”) he had made during his captivity in Egypt long ago. He played the instrument by strumming the strings with his plectrum, filling the gardens of Lindecoa with its sweet melody.

The elves remained on Tol Galen until the third month of Yr 457. It was at that time that Maedhros announced that it was time to head back to Himring. Since he was Lord of the House of Fëanor, his word was law.

As they boarded the ship that would take them back to Lindon, Buffy took a long look at Lindecoa sparkling beneath the early morning light.

“My heart aches at leaving,” she said with a frown. She turned her glistening green eyes to her husband. “I have this strange feeling that I won’t be calling this place home for many years.”

“Do not fret about that, darling,” said Maglor, pulling her into his arms. He held her, giving her a reassuring kiss. “We’ll be back, soon perhaps.”

“I hope so, Káno. I hope so.”

Together, they gave one last glance at the towering blue castle before embarking on the boat, and sailing down the Adurant.

When they reached the port at Lindon, Orchal was standing on the dock, waiting for the ship to glide next to the platform.

“Ah, you received my message, I see,” he said, as Buffy exited the vessel.

“What message?” she asked, slightly baffled.

“Oh,” said Orchal, his brows raised in surprise. “The Hildor that you had spoken of, the ones that Fingon’s son had seen, they’re here.”

“Here is Ossir?” she asked, her eyes wide with excitement.

“No! I would not let any of those strange-looking folk into this land!” he replied with a sneer. “They are north of our borders, waiting for you, for you are the reason why they are here, or so they say.” Orchal cast a skeptical glance toward the northern fence of Ossiriand. “I detest the lot of them,” he grumbled, before taking off down the path leading to the nearest lift that took one to the city in the trees.

“I’m amazed that after all these years, Orchal still loathes Man so fervently,” commented Maglor, as they started down the same pathway as the Green-elf.

“He’s slow to forget,” answered Buffy. “Hopefully, he’ll come around one day. He needs to remember that there’s bad in every race, not just mankind.”

After mounting their horses, the group took off toward the ford that allowed them passage across the Ascar. Along the southern banks were many Green-elves, standing upon talons in the trees, preventing any of the newly come people into Ossir.

As the Slayer crossed the stream with her companions, they saw the newcomers waiting on the other side. They looked much different than the Edain, who possessed a natural beauty reminiscent of the Eldar race. These mortals were much shorter than those of the Three Houses, their shoulders broad, hair black, eyes dark, and their skin color ranged from sallow to swarthy, indicating that they were from two distinct Tribes of Man. They looked to Buffy to be of Asian and possibly Egyptian decent.

In times to come, the Edain would look upon them with suspicion and disdain, referring to the newcomers as Swarthy Men. Buffy, who hated that term, simply called them Easterlings, for they came out of the East in search of their God, Inanna Ishtar.

When the mortals caught a glimpse of the Vala Queen, they gasped, dropping to their knees. They then bowed their dark heads in reverence to the one whom they had journeyed by perilous roads to find.

“Blessed be Inanna Ishtar, the God of Love and the God of War,” the mortals said in unison.

Buffy’s smile broadened at the gesture. A part of her really missed the adoration that the mortals had shown her in Sumer, and she was only too happy to experience that feeling yet again.

“Rise, my friends,” she had said, knowing that the Second-born were waiting for her command to arise. However, they did not move at her words. The Slayer had spoken a tongue foreign to their ears - Sindarin. Chuckling to herself, she then repeated her words in Sumerian.

The mortals rose.

When Buffy and company dismounted from their steeds, the chieftain of the Easterlings slowly came forth from the throng.

He was an older man, maybe in his late fifties. His shoulder-length hair was mostly grey with flecks of black. Wrinkles graced the pale, yellowish skin of his face, especially his forehead. He kept his dark eyes fixed on the Slayer as he approached. As he took each step, he walked with a slight hunch, from age, she supposed. The long, twisted-looking staff that he grasped in his right hand provided his only support. Three younger men (who had to be his sons by the look of them) followed behind him. They appeared to be in their late twenties, early thirties (in mortal years).

The mortal chieftain greeted his God properly in the Sumerian tongue, before explaining to her the dream that had prompted him to rally his people for the long trip to Beleriand. He spoke of finding himself in a desert, surrounded by many dunes. Beneath a blazing hot sun, he climbed to the top of one of the hills and saw a blood-red sea that stretched out before him. Overhead flew thousands of doves, some white, most grey. For some unknown reason, the birds suddenly plummeted into the crimson waters. Their lifeless bodies floated to the surface, moving with the current. Scanning the shoreline, he saw Buffy’s body floating face down on the crimson waters. Running to her, he pulled her from the sea, desperately trying to revive her.

She coughed, spraying both blood and mucous from her mouth and onto the man’s shirt.

“It’s coming,” she sputtered.

“What is coming, my Lord?” asked the mortal anxiously.

“It’s coming,” she repeated, her voice distant. She turned her bleary eyes toward the sea and softly whimpered.

Without warning, a loud roaring sound emanated from out of nowhere. Turning his gaze toward the sound, the man’s eyes widened when he saw a crimson wave so large in size that it literally blocked out the sun, bathing the entire landscape in an eerie red glow.

Panic-stricken, the mortal struggled to pick up his blood-soaked King. Pulling her into his arms, he tried to flee the tidal wave, but to no avail. The enormous breaker hit with such a force that the Vala Queen was ejected from his grasp. The last thing he saw was red, and then nothing more.

Buffy was slightly unnerved by the mortal’s ‘vision’, as she believed it to be, especially since she had experienced the very same one on more than a few occasions. To her, it reaffirmed that that group of seventy-five hundred mortals was guided to her by a higher force, perhaps even by Ilúvatar Himself. She welcomed them, and invited them to dwell in Himring.

The chieftain gladly accepted. In return for her generosity, every man, woman and child pledged their fealty to her, vowing to protect her with their lives and limbs.

The Slayer then anointed the mortal with wine, marking a red cross on his wrinkled forehead. She gave to him the Sindarin name, Bór, and gave him the title, Lord of Easterlings. She then did the same to his three sons, giving to them the elvish names, Borlad, Borlach, and Borthand.

Once the impromptu mini-ceremony was completed, Buffy finally realized what she had done. Without thinking, she had stepped back into the role of God, blessing the newcomers under the name she was attempting to distance herself from, Inanna Ishtar.

What the hell was she thinking? Was a shared vision and looks of adoration from the new come Hildor all it took to have her revert to her old ways? She had vowed to end that part of her life, never to allow it to rear its ugly head, yet now she was eagerly embracing a sacred ritual performed often long ago.

No, she said to herself. I did the same thing for the Edain.

But not in Beleriand, said her inner voice in opposition.

She turned her gaze to her companions, having been totally oblivious to them, except those few Green-elves that assisted her in the anointing ceremony, as they had many times before. Her eyes scanned the faces of the elves, more particularly, the Noldor. They stared at her with stunned expressions on their faces, having never witnessed any of her ‘ceremonies’ from the East.

Buffy’s face flushed under their scrutinizing gaze. She took a swig from the same bottle of wine from which she had anointed the Easterlings. As she drank, it suddenly dawned on her that the newcomers were most likely still practicing some of the old rites from Sumer, rites that she didn’t want to be brought out in the open in Beleriand. While she knew that Maglor and Maedhros had read about some of those rituals, it was altogether something else to witness them firsthand, and she sure didn’t want the Eldar to be exposed to some of those practices.

Instead of addressing the people as a whole, Buffy pulled Bór and his sons off to the side, questioning them about their devotion to her. As she had suspected, they were still practicing the old rites from Sumer. The Slayer did her best to convince them that she no longer believed in the ‘sexual’ aspects of those rites, and that the Easterlings had to stop performing them. That took the lords aback, as that was a part of their religion, and their forefathers’ religion, as well. They could not simply turn their backs on their religious practices, as that would mean turning their backs on her.

Buffy could’ve argued until she was blue in the face - she wasn’t about to change their minds, even though she herself wished it to be so. She’d have to compromise, allowing them to continue their ‘acts of devotion’ but keeping it behind closed doors, like many of the Edain continued to do.

She then did something that none expected. Fearing that she might fall into her old ways again, she had the Easterlings pledge their loyalty to the House of Fëanor, to swear to defend those from that House. She then proclaimed that the mortals were to follow the wisdom of Maedhros and Maglor, as they were the heads of the family. The Hildor were once again shocked by her words, but Buffy felt it was best that she step out of the driver’s seat. After everything she had been through, she didn’t want to be the leader. She didn’t want that responsibility on her shoulders any more. It was time for the sons of Fëanor to step up and come into their own.

Shortly thereafter, the caravan began the march to Himring. It was to be a slow journey, as the mortals were nearly all traveling on foot. At dusk, they hunkered down for the night.

The Slayer slept fitfully that night, waking well before dawn with an overwhelming desire to visit Nargothrond and her old friend, Finrod Felagund. She woke Maglor, telling him of her urgent need to go see the Noldo.

“Then I shall go with you. Russandol can lead the Hildor north,” he said.

They then packed up what provisions they would need, and informed their loved ones that they would meet up with them at Himring. Buffy and Maglor both rode atop Rocco for she had an inexplicable need for haste. They then speedily took off, heading southwest toward the Dwarf-Road.

It took the couple two and a half days to reach Nargothrond. Upon their arrival, they were ushered to a private chamber where Finrod awaited them. Unfortunately, he had dismal news.

“Orodreth and his people were driven from Tol Sirion not two days ago,” Finrod told them, absently fiddling with his bejeweled necklace, Nauglamír. “It appears that Morgoth has sent out his most vicious of servants, Sauron, and he has seized Minas Tirith. The wolves of Angband now run freely on that isle.”

Buffy and Maglor were dismayed by that revelation.

“If you had only arrived a bit sooner, perhaps Minas Tirith could have been saved,” continued the Lord of Nargothrond sadly.

Finrod’s words cut through Buffy like a cold winter’s chill. She rose to her feet, fervently rubbing her arms to keep warm. “I’m afraid I’m no match for Sauron, not any more,” she replied. “I don’t have the strength to defeat him. He’s got powers nearly as great as Morgoth’s.” She turned her sorrowful gaze to the golden-haired Noldo. “This isn’t good, Finrod. Can you not rally your men and take it back?”

“Why bother?” he answered with a shrug.

The Slayer looked at Maglor, who sat there, shaking his head in disbelief.

“Káno, why don’t you go find Celegorm and Curufin. I’m sure they’d like to see you. I’d like to speak with Finrod alone, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course,” answered her husband, getting to his feet. “If you need me… ”

Buffy nodded in reply. When Maglor left the room, she sat beside Finrod. “What’s wrong? I’ve never seen you so down before. Is it your brothers? Fingolfin?”

Finrod raised his head; his grey eyes welled with tears. “I feel like a shadow has crept into my heart, Bellaseth. I feel… I feel like my doom is upon me,” he continued with a shudder. “I can’t shake it. I can’t rid myself of this feeling. My heart tells me that Nargothrond will soon fall… that I will soon fall, and join my brothers in the Halls of Mandos.”

“Don’t talk like that,” said Buffy, placing her hand comfortingly on his arm.

“But it’s true. You know it as well. Is that not what brought you here?”

“I came because you were in my thoughts. I needed to see… ”

“That I was still alive?” he interjected. The Noldo shook his head. “I deem that the time is fast approaching when the Doom that is upon my kindred ensnares me in its clutches. Minas Tirith is just another realm added to those already taken by the Dark Lord.” He looked deeply into the Slayer’s eyes. “He will take us out, one by one, Bella. He’s already taken Dorthonion, Maglor’s Gap, Thargelion… ”

“But Barad Eithel still stands, and so does Himring,” countered Buffy abruptly. “And Nargothrond, Nargothrond still stands. Not to mention Gondolin. He doesn’t know where your kingdom is Finrod, and the lands under your command are vast. You’ve only lost an isle.”

“The Sirion has always been the gateway for my people to the northern kingdoms. We can no longer travel by ship.”

“There are other roads that lead north, you know that, Finrod. We can’t give up. We have to hold our own the best that we can.”

“How can you say that when your lands have also fallen? Your people were forced to flee their homes.”

That cold chill swept over Buffy again. She leaned back against the cushions of the couch, having no reply for the Noldo. It felt like that shadow that had grabbed hold of him was moving its way into her, swiftly changing her mood to one of gloom and doom.

“I’m sorry, Bella, I’m not much for company right now,” he said, rising to his feet. “You’re welcome to stay in Nargothrond as long as you like. You will always find welcome here.” Finrod then left the chamber.

The Slayer and her husband remained in the Hidden Kingdom for a few weeks. Thankfully, Finrod’s bout of melancholy passed after several days, and he appeared to be his old self once more.

They would’ve stayed longer, but Buffy encountered other problems during her stay in Nargothrond. So many elves had come up to her, pleading with her to confront Sauron and take back Minas Tirith, something that she couldn’t do. And of course, there were the ones asking her to beg Morgoth to release the captives that he took during Dagor Bragollach. Most persistent was Gwindor, whose brother, Gelmir was taken by the servants of Morgoth during the war.

Buffy couldn’t take it any more. She didn’t have the strength to confront Sauron much less Morgoth, so she felt that it was best that she and Maglor leave. After bidding farewell to Finrod and his kinfolk, she and her husband departed Finrod’s Hidden Halls. As they rode south, avoiding Sauron at all costs, she knew in her heart that that was the last time she’d ever see the son of Finarfin. And she was right.

When the couple crossed over Andram, they were met by messengers sent by Caranthir. Apparently, more mortals had entered Beleriand in their search for the Vala Queen. Buffy was elated by the tidings and immediately they all set out to the Dwarf-Road where the newcomers were waiting.

Caranthir, Amrod, and Amras and many of their people were already with the waiting Easterlings, whose numbers tallied ten thousand strong. In the tongue of the Eldar, the lords of those people were Uldor, Ulfast and Ulwarth, but their father Ulfang, was overlord of all of them. They were very similar to the other Easterlings that Buffy had encountered, except for Uldor. That mortal, in particular, looked at her in such a way that it gave her the heebie-jeebies. It was almost as if he was undressing her with his dark eyes, something she found sickening, especially since he supposedly “worshipped the ground she walked on.” His words, not hers.

Maglor immediately noticed his wife’s discomfort, and counseled her to let those mortals join the forces of Caranthir. To that, she readily agreed.

Yet, once again, as she and her beloved began the journey north, she felt that shadow fall upon her heart. She did her best to put it out of her mind, as her marriage to Maglor had been mended and she had high hopes for the future. She never gave thought to the subtle warning she was given by those that loved her in the West, bringing an even greater doom upon herself…