Full Circle

Maglor informed his wife that Maedhros wished to hold a council that morning with her and her chieftains together with those from the House of Fëanor, the House of Bór, and those Edain that had taken refuge in Himring. Buffy felt like crap, and was not too keen on attending any meeting, but she had promised to aid the brothers in their war so she resigned herself to attend.

At her husband’s urging, she returned to the citadel, although she was still suffering from the emotional vicissitudes from the past twenty-four hours. She felt both physically and mentally drained.

Maglor suggested that they take a bath together, as that always seemed to pick up the Slayer’s spirits when she was feeling down. As they soaked in the tub, the Noldo washed her hair, careful not to injure the spot on her head where Morgoth had pulled out a handful. He spoke sweetly to her, telling her how enriched their lives would become once they had regained the Silmarils and that their love was greater than any love between husband and wife in all of Arda.

Buffy was desperate to believe those words and took them to heart, vowing to let nothing come between her and Maglor again, including the Jewels of Fëanor. Sadly, she was oblivious to the fact that her husband was still withholding vital information from her. Though the Noldo loved her greatly, his love was constrained by the Oath, and no matter what he said or did, inevitably, the Oath would come before his love for his wife and only son.

As she leisurely readied herself, munching on dry toast and downing cupfuls of steamy black coffee, numerous men and women waited impatiently in the Great Hall for the council to begin. Maedhros refused to discuss the prospect of war until his brother and sister-in-law arrived, however late they may be. Most of the people made small talk or gossiped about the news of Beren and Lúthien, which was spreading throughout the land like wildfire.

It was during that waiting period that two Noldor entered the hall, motioning to the sons of Fëanor. Maedhros, Celegorm, and Curufin excused themselves as they followed the men into the corridor. Not one spoke a word until they had entered the eldest son of Fëanor’s study where they could all speak in private.

“What news do you bring?” asked Maedhros, leaning against his desk with his arms folded across his chest.

“Thingol says he will not surrender the Silmaril as both Lúthien and Beren had suffered greatly in retrieving it. He said that the sons of Fëanor have become overly proud and found your words haughty, in spite of the misdeeds of Celegorm and Curufin. Name him an enemy if you must, but he will not part with the Jewel and will fight the Noldor with all his might if it should come to that.”

“That is what I thought,” mumbled Maedhros, his grey eyes glinting with hatred.

“Then we name him enemy!” proclaimed an outraged Celegorm. “As soon as we defeat Morgoth, we shall assail Thingol and take back our greatest treasure.”

“I agree wholeheartedly, Brother,” said Curufin, nodding his head. “The Dark Elf won’t be able to withstand our forces or our ire.”

“What of Maglor?” asked Celegorm, looking to his older brother. “Do we trust him to keep this secret from Luinil?”

“His is a son of Fëanor. He’ll speak of it to no one unless we tell him to.”

“Do you really think she’ll defend Thingol from an assault?” queried Curufin, a tinge of doubt in his tone. “You here know her best, Russandol.”

“Only if she knows about it,” Maedhros sighed. “Any attack we plan on Menegroth needs to be kept from her.” He locked his grey eyes on Curufin. “But yes, she would defend him. She has great love for both Thingol and Melian and a need to do what’s right. I blame that on her misadventures in the East. Muinthel is still seeking redemption for the sins she committed in Sumer.”

“She’s nothing but a whore!” spat Celegorm distastefully.

“Don’t say that!” barked Maedhros in reply. He stood to his full height, towering over his younger brother. He waved his finger in Celegorm’s face. “If I ever hear you call her that again, I will give you a thrashing myself! Don’t you ever speak ill of her again. You have no idea what Muinthel has been through, what she’s still going through… ”

“Oh, my brother,” answered Celegorm slowly, his voice full of dismay, “you have fallen under the Vala’s spell. You’re in love with her!”

“I have said no such thing,” refuted the eldest son of Fëanor.

“Not so much in words. But your eyes reveal it’s true,” countered Celegorm, as he carefully scrutinized the copper-headed Noldo.

“Curse her!” shouted Curufin. “This is one son of Fëanor she will not beguile.”

“Add me to that as well, Curufin. Bellaseth holds no sway over my heart, not after last evening.”

“I will hear no more of this. You will not speak of this conversation with any or you will contend with my wrath!” said Maedhros with an air of finality. “That goes for all of you.” He eyed the messengers as well before leaving the room in haste, slightly unnerved by his brother’s perceptiveness.

No one said anything when Buffy and Maglor finally entered the Great Hall an hour and a half after the council was scheduled. While she apologized for her tardiness, she was hoping that the others would have begun the discussion before she had arrived. She still wanted the sons of Fëanor to take the lead in planning the battle. However, the Green-elves especially would hear none of that.

“You’re the Vala of War!” cried out Aeron, taken aback by the Slayer’s lack of enthusiasm for planning the intricate details of battle. “There are none here better equipped to strategize than you, my Lady. You have fought in more battles than all of us. Your knowledge is imperative to our achieving a victory over Morgoth!”

The others in the room voiced their agreement.

“I really don’t see the point in discussing this right now,” said the Slayer with a sigh. “We’re jumping the gun here.”

“What do you mean?” asked Maedhros, his narrowed eyes fixed on his sister-in-law. “Are saying that you won’t help us?”

“No, of course not,” she answered. “But we’ve got bigger problems still, Russandol. We need more forces for one thing! Morgoth’s armies outnumber ours considerably, and if we can’t unite all the peoples of Beleriand to aid us, then we’re not gonna get very far.”

“Fingon will fight with us, and the Edain,” replied the eldest son of Fëanor.

“I’m sure Círdan will also send what forces he has,” added Maglor.

“That’s good and all, but it’s gonna take some time for us to prepare if we’re gonna do this thing right,” said a grim-faced Buffy.

Everyone stared blankly at her.

“Hello, people! We need weapons! We lost most of ours during Dagor Bragollach and don’t have nearly enough to arm everyone in this city,” she continued, annoyed that the elves hadn’t seen that simple fact from the get-go.

“Why not use the Trident?” suggested Thranduil. “Isn’t that the only weapon we need?”

“No way, uh-uh,” she answered, shaking her head. “Using the Trident in Beleriand would be disastrous, for us all.”

“How so?” queried her husband. “You were able to destroy the cities, Bâb-edh-Dhrâ and Numeira in the East with it. Surely, that weapon is the answer to our prayers.”

Buffy really didn’t want to answer that question, as it would show her in an unfavorable light to those who had no knowledge of her ‘secret’ past life with Morgoth. She knew how many Hellmouths were in Beleriand and feared that by using the Trident in Angband, it might set off a chain reaction throughout the western portion of Middle-earth, thus sinking all the lands into an abyss.

Before the Slayer would even contemplate the strategizing for the upcoming battle, she and the Noldor would have to meet with the Lords of the other lands. It was of the utmost importance that they rallied as many people under one banner as possible. Since it was at Maedhros instigation that they go to war, the future battle (during the planning stages) was referred to as the Union of Maedhros. It would be the eldest son of Fëanor’s task to speak with the Lords of the northern realms, while Buffy met with Thingol and Orodreth, since it seemed rather obvious that those two Kings wouldn’t give the brothers the time of day after all that Celegorm and Curufin had done.

But first, Buffy wanted to go to Amon Ereb and meet with the twins, Caranthir and the sons of Ulfang and have them begin their preparations. She also debated with herself over bringing more armies up from Ossir even though it would leave her own lands vulnerable to attack should Morgoth unexpectedly send any companies through the pass in the Blue Mountains. She’d need to consult with her councilors on that one.

Knowing that Glaurung would be unleashed once again, and after learning how deadly that Dragon was in the last war, the Slayer turned her thoughts to the Naugrim. If any could withstand the fires of that beast, it would be the dwarves. Luckily, she was on friendly terms with the Lords of Belegost and Nogrod, although she was closest in friendship with Azaghâl, the Lord of Belegost, and grandson of her dear old friend Drór.

Since they were in the preliminary stages of planning the war, she and Maglor set out for Amon Ereb the following morning in her chariot. When they reached the lands of Amrod and Amras, Buffy was quite impressed with how well trained the armies of mortals had become under the direction of Caranthir. Not only that, but Uldor said that he could bring more of his kin into Beleriand, as some of them dwelled east of Ered Luin. That alone made the Slayer more hopeful.

From Amon Ereb, she and Maglor traveled to Nogrod, as it was the closer of the two dwarvish kingdoms. On the journey, Buffy made it perfectly clear to her husband that he was not to mention the Silmarils.

“The Naugrim aren’t about to wage war with Morgoth so you guys can reclaim the heirlooms of your House, make no mistake about that. For the love of Eru, do not mention anything about the Jewels. Anyone that’s not a Noldo has to believe that this war is about ousting Morgoth from his throne. Nothing else! You let me do the talking.”

“Fine,” answered her husband with a scowl. Maglor was a bit perturbed by the manner in which his wife was talking to him. He wasn’t an idiot.

Buffy, on the other hand, had heard too much talk of the Silmarils of late. While she was willing to keep peace in her Household by helping the brothers, the recovering of the Jewels wasn’t her motivation for starting a war against Morgoth, not by a long shot. All the anger and bitterness that had been accumulating within her over the past few weeks was screaming for release, and what better place to direct that wrath than at the Dark Lord himself. The Slayer was tired of playing games, and if she and the Noldor were successful at gathering the peoples of Beleriand together in battle, then they stood a damn good chance of taking Melkor Bauglir down. And right now, nothing would make her happier than doing just that, to take all that pent-up fury and apply to the one who was at the root of everyone’s misery and misfortune.

When the lions landed outside the gates of Nogrod, the couple met with Avadmir, the Lord of that realm. Buffy spoke long with the dwarf and his many councilors. Unfortunately, he wasn’t willing to let his people march into battle. Danger only found its way to his people when they journeyed across Beleriand on business. Since Morgoth had not yet struck out at Avadmir, the Dwarf Lord had no intention of incurring the Dark Lord’s wrath should the battle go ill.

Maglor attempted to sway him by telling of the tragedies that had befallen those Noldor, Green-elves and Edain that had fought the legions of the enemy in the north that had allowed the Naugrim to live in relative peace. But Avadmir wasn’t buying it.

In the end, the Dwarf Lord offered to provide weapons and armor for the northern forces, at a price, of course. Buffy gladly accepted his terms.

When she and Maglor set out for Belegost, she was slightly disappointed that the Nogrodhrim would not be joining them in the battle. She hoped beyond anything that her close friendship with Azaghâl’s grandfather had not been forgotten.

Thankfully, it had not. Azaghâl not only offered to lead several companies of dwarves into battle, but he also insisted on helping to replenish the armories in the north, at no charge. To this, Buffy was ever grateful, as was her husband. Liking the Dwarf Lord immensely, the couple remained in Belegost until the arrival of autumn.

From Belegost they went to Lindon where they met with Orchal and her councilors. Knowing that it would take the dwarves a few years to finish their labors, the Slayer and her husband sent word to those in the north, and remained in Ossir on holiday until spring of the following year.

On the trip back to Himring, Buffy insisted that they travel through Western Beleriand so that she could stop by Finrod’s grave. Maglor found that to be strange, but did not attempt to dissuade his wife. The Slayer was pleased to see clusters of luinil, elanor and niphredil blossoms amid the blanket of green grass that covered Felagund’s mound. Even though his fey was long gone to Mandos, she sat beside the grave and spoke of the upcoming war. She then vowed to avenge Finrod’s death.

By the time that they arrived back at Himring, many of the Lords from the northern realms had arrived for a council. Among those present were the High King of the Noldor, Fingon, along with many of his people, Húrin and Huor with their chieftains from Dor-lómin, and Halmir and those from Brethil.

Buffy and Maglor informed the elves and mortals that when the first shipment of goods was ready, Caranthir and his kin would haul them to Himring.

The council revolved around the evil still lurking within Dorthonion. Since the Union’s main strategy in the impending battle was to attack Morgoth’s minions simultaneously from the east and west, it was imperative that they destroy the yrch and menacing creatures that dwelled in the wood, before the war started. There was no way they could risk an enemy attack from the south, as that could be devastating to their numbers.

Over the next couple of years, they hunted the woods from west and east, killing all the evil creatures that inhabited the once fair wood of Dorthonion. The yrch were easy enough to slay, but it took much more effort to destroy those twisted and deformed creatures that Sauron had unleashed years earlier. Yet, with the goodly races working together, they were able to successfully kill those monsters and capture their wraiths in the Orbs of Thezula that Buffy had brought back with her from Ossir.

One of the last councils was held during the final days of Yr 472. There would be one more in the following spring, as Maedhros had decided to attack on Midsummer’s Day, Yr 473. The eldest son of Fëanor had been badgering the Slayer over the past year to seek the aid of those from Doriath and Nargothrond, but she argued that she wanted to wait until all was readied.

“The time for war fast approaches, Muinthel,” Maedhros said at the council. “We are running out of time. We must know now if we are to have additional forces from Thingol and Orodreth so that we may finalize our plans.”

“We still have six months, Russandol,” countered Buffy. “My hope is that by appealing to them at the last minute, they’ll be more apt to join the Union. I really don’t want Thingol and Orodreth to think long over this whole thing, especially after what Celegorm and Curufin have done.”

Surprisingly, the two C-brothers readily agreed with her. They knew that once she had met with Thingol, the Slayer would learn that the sons of Fëanor had demanded that the Lord of Doriath surrender the Silmaril under threat of war. If she waited until the last minute, learning of these things later rather than sooner, chances were, she wouldn’t pull her own forces from battle.

As luck would have it, the bells rang indicating that it was time for the noon meal, which brought a halt to the meeting. Buffy exited the Great Hall engrossed in conversation with both Húrin and Huor while the sons of Fëanor lingered behind, waiting for the chamber to empty.

It was then that Celegorm and Curufin convinced their older brothers to follow the counsel of their sister-in-law, to let her wait until the waning of spring to visit the Lords of Doriath and Nargothrond, who were undoubtedly estranged from the House of Fëanor. The siblings relented, and no longer pressed the Slayer to act quickly.

The last council was held a month before Midsummer’s Day. Once again, everyone met in Himring. All the eastern forces had now been mustered, including all the Noldor from the House of Fëanor (save for Amrod and Amras and some of their people, who refused to come north for the battle), the Green-elves, the Edain, and those from the Houses of Bór and Ulfang. Unfortunately, both Bór and Ulfang had passed away before the battle was to begin, but their eldest sons now ruled their people and had no intention to dishonor their fathers’ last wishes to fight alongside the Noldorin forces. Uldor, who had succeeded his father as lord of the southern based Easterlings, had also marshaled additional men from east of Ered Luin to join their ranks. All these armies were under the command of Maedhros and were to march under the standard of Fëanor.

Under the banner of Fingon would fight those Noldor in Western Beleriand, including many of the Sindar. Halmir, lord of Brethil had also passed away, and his son Haldir would lead their people into battle. Both Húrin and Huor also attended with their chieftains from Dor-lómin. Unfortunately, Círdan decided to sit this battle out, a mistake he would realize soon afterward.

Their strategy hadn’t changed from the start. Their goal was to lure the minions of Morgoth from Angband and attack them on the sandy plains of Anfauglith. Fingon and his forces would descend upon the enemy from the hills of Hithlum while Maedhros lead his cavalry at the vanguard from the hills of Himring. The Union hoped to trap the legions of Morgoth between the hammer and anvil, thus annihilating them all. While the plan seemed well laid out, it would prove more advantageous if Buffy could persuade both Thingol and Orodreth to provide additional forces.

When the council ended, she took off for Doriath, taking both Olofin and Thranduil with her. Neither had ever set foot in Menegroth and they were both anxious to meet with Thingol and Melian. Even though the trio was traveling in her chariot, the lions did not fly toward the eastern fences of Doriath, but instead flew west, crossing Himlad for the northern boundary of Thingol’s land. There, Beleg Strongbow was marchwarden, and was ever a good friend to the Slayer in times past. After the debacle with the C-brothers, she knew that she could play to her old friendship with Beleg, as he was the first elf she had ever met and had shown her much kindness from day one. She hoped that that alone was enough to gain her entry into Doriath.

Barathalion and Noeriel touched down on Iant Iaur, the old bridge that crossed the Esgalduin River just north of Doriath’s borders. As they made their way off the stone road, Olofin sounded his trumpet, the sweet sounding notes echoing across the plains and into the Forest of Neldoreth. Only a few moments later, a call came in answer and many armed elves came out of the eaves of the wood.

Buffy was taken aback when she saw so many weapons pointed in her direction. She jumped from the chariot, holding her empty hands above her head and slowly walked toward the edge of the forest.

“I come seeking Beleg Cúthalion, marchwarden of Thingol!” she shouted, her eyes scanning the edge of the wood. “I am Bellaseth Dagnir, friend of Thingol and Melian and the good elves of this land.”

“Halt right there!” yelled someone sharply in reply.

She did.

Dozens upon dozens, possibly even a hundred elves suddenly came out of the woods. All of them armed, eyeing Buffy with suspicion. She didn’t lower her arms until a familiar looking dark-haired elf came from behind his comrades-in-arms, the elf, Beleg.

“I see that you guys have tightened your watch on the northern fences,” she smiled.

“Can’t be too careful nowadays,” responded the marchwarden as he came to a stop before Buffy. He gave her the once over before looking at her companions. “What brings you here, Dagnir?” he asked, his tone a little too cool to her liking. “And who are your companions? Your personal guard, perhaps?”

“Come here, boys,” she said over her shoulder, motioning to the two young men.

Olofin and Thranduil stepped off the chariot and quickly made their way to the Slayer’s side. The lions pulled the cart forward, not wanting to be left behind. The elves eyed the kitties warily, as they had never seen beasts of that kind before.

“This is my son, Olofin,” she said, grabbing hold of her son’s arm. “And this young man is like my son,” she continued, taking hold of the other’s arm as well. “This is Thranduil, son of Oropher, heir of the Green-elves.” Buffy smiled proudly at her two “boys”. “And those are my babies, Barathalion and Noeriel,” she added, motioning toward her lions with her head.

Beleg glanced at Thranduil, but his gaze lingered on Olofin. “So you are from the proud line of Fëanor,” he uttered in a low, unfriendly voice. He was about to speak again, but the Slayer cut him off.

“He is my son, as well, Beleg. You best not forget that.” She let go of the young men’s arms, placing her hands on her hips. “Why the cold welcome? I haven’t seen you in ages. I thought that you’d be a bit more friendly.”

The marchwarden turned his eyes to Buffy. After giving one last quick glance to her son, he said, “I’m sorry, Bellaseth. I’m afraid that no son of Fëanor will find welcome in these lands, especially after… ”

“My son played no part in that, Beleg!” interjected the Slayer, somewhat angrily. “I was most certainly not pleased by the antics of Celegorm and Curufin. And believe me, I gave them a good beating for it too! I’ve come to speak with Thingol… ”

“Is this about the Silmaril?” he asked, cutting her words off this time.

“No!” she answered with a shake of her head. She was tired of hearing about those damned Jewels of Fëanor. “I’ve come on my own accord and wish to speak with Thingol. It has nothing to do with the Silmaril.”

With those words, Beleg motioned for his men to lower their weapons. A smile then came to the elf’s face. “That is good to hear. We fear that the sons of Fëanor are planning to attack us… ”

“That’s absurd!” she said, her voice revealing how annoyed she was becoming. “I promise you, Beleg, we’re not here for the Silmaril nor will my husband and his brothers attack Doriath. I’ll see to that myself!”

The marchwarden’s smile widened upon hearing that. “Thingol will be glad to hear that.” He locked his eyes on her, the smile not leaving his face. With a shake of his head he continued, “It has been many long years since we’ve last spoken. We still talk about the incident with the vampires in Brethil.” He turned his gaze to the west. “That seems so long ago, yet I remember it clearly, as though it had happened only yesterday.” Beleg let out a heavy sigh before fixing his grey eyes on Buffy. “The fair woods of Doriath isn’t the same without you.”

“That’s more like it,” she chuckled. “I like knowing that I’ve been missed.”

Beleg laughed. “Come, now,” he said, taking the Slayer by the hand. “I will personally escort you and your companions to Menegroth.” He linked his arm with hers, as Olofin and Thranduil followed with the lions. “So, tell me, my old friend, what is this I hear about your being a Vala? The Vala of Love and War, I’ve been told.”

“Well, I see now that secrets are hard to keep in Beleriand,” the Slayer replied with a grin. “I know how you damn elves love to gossip.”

“Ah, and you are very elf-like yourself, my dear Bellaseth,” he chuckled. “I remember many rumors that you yourself enjoyed spreading… ”

“Only ones that didn’t involve me!”

The tension that Buffy had felt melted away as she and Beleg spoke of old times. She made a point to keep both the sons of Fëanor and the Silmaril out of the conversation. She considered those topics off limits. And knowing Thingol the way she did, she knew damn well that the Elf Lord would bring it up himself. She’d rather wait and deal with it at that time.

Thankfully, Beleg warmed up to Olofin during the trek to Menegroth. After engaging the half-elf in conversation, the marchwarden saw that he was unlike his kinfolk from the House of Fëanor. He liked the young man’s calm and thoughtful disposition, and his fondness for him grew with each passing hour.

The Slayer waved and chatted with the many elves that they encountered along the way. She felt good knowing that she still had friends in Doriath and they had not forgotten her. Of course, she told all whom she encountered that they were welcome to come to Ossir any time, whether Buffy was there or not. The alliance between those two lands went way back to the days of Denethor, some ages before.

When they crossed the bridge over the Esgalduin that lead to the gates of Menegroth, the guards there told the trio that they had to leave their weapons at the gates. While Buffy wasn’t too pleased about that, she understood Thingol’s rationale after the misdeeds of her brothers-in-law. The Lord of Doriath did not want any type of physical confrontation within his Halls. As Olofin and Thranduil laid aside their weapons, the Slayer showed the Sindar that she was weaponless. The guards of Menegroth had no idea that an arsenal of weapons hung from the belt clasped about her waist, and she wasn’t about to tell them otherwise.

Buffy freed her kitties from the chariot so that they could stretch their legs and frolic in the woods while she met with Thingol. She instructed her babies to remain on their best behavior and not to stray too far from the main gates.

Once disarmed, the trio entered through the mammoth gates of Menegroth with a train of elves following behind. Both Olofin and Thranduil were in awe. They walked slowly down the passageways, their wide eyes scanning the many wonders of the Halls of Thingol. Beleg continued to walk with them, chatting with Buffy as they made the many turns that took them to the Great Hall.

“Hello, Nimros,” greeted the Slayer to the guard standing outside the double wooden doors to Thingol’s chamber. “Long time, no see.”

“Bellaseth,” the elf nodded in acknowledgement. “You are expected.” He motioned her and her companions forward.

“Good to see you again,” she smiled.

“And you,” he answered succinctly.

Immediately upon entering that Great Hall, Buffy noticed that there were a number of guards present, more so than she had ever seen before. Hordes of people filled the room. When the Sindar had heard that Bellaseth Dagnir had returned accompanied by her son and the heir of Ossiriand, they had to be there, for curiosity’s sake more than anything else.

Just like the first time she had come through those doors, many people whispered and pointed. The trio made their way toward the dais. The closer they got to the King and Queen, the more faces Buffy recognized. She noticed many of Thingol’s own kin, but none stood out more than her former lover, Mablung, whose eyes remained fixed on her from the moment she crossed the threshold.

When they reached the dais, Buffy heard Thranduil let out a small gasp as he looked upon the splendor of the King and Queen of Doriath. Following protocol, both he and Olofin fell on bended knee, leaving Buffy standing. Her son cleared his throat, gesturing to his mother with his eyes that she needed to show Thingol some respect.

With a roll of her eyes, she begrudgingly followed suit, showing the King his due respect.

“Thingol,” she said, rising to her feet. She gave the Elf Lord a nod before turning to his wife, and doing the same. “Melian.”

Melian nodded curtly in reply, but did not speak. She looked somber. The Slayer wasn’t sure if she was still suffering the agony of her only child’s fate or if it had to do with the King’s mood.

Buffy turned her gaze back on Thingol. “You look well… all things considered,” she said in an attempt to make small talk.

“What brings you to Menegroth after all these long years, Dagnir?” asked the King, speaking as coolly as Beleg had at their first meeting. His long silver hair glimmered in the flickering flames of the torches as his narrowed grey eyes scrutinized her every movement. “Am I to find your unexpected arrival a mere coincidence? It seems strange to me that I have seen neither hide nor hair of you in centuries, and now that I possess one of the coveted Jewels of Fëanor - here you are, at my doorstep!” He looked at her icily. “What am I to make of that?”

“I have not come for a Silmaril nor am I here to make any demands from you, Thingol,” she answered as calmly as she could. “I come in friendship, and seek your counsel… ”

The King laughed, a chilling sort of laugh that cut Buffy to the bone. None of his kinfolk joined in his mirth. All remained deadly silent.

“Seek my counsel!” he repeated with a snigger, his face a mask of amazement. “None have sought my counsel over these many years save Finrod and his brothers, even though I am Lord of all Beleriand!” he spat angrily.

“That may be so,” she answered, “but Middle-earth is a big place, Thingol. I’m still the Slayer, and I’ve spent many years fighting in the far East with my people. Evil does not only dwell in Beleriand, I’m afraid. It’s like a plague that has spread throughout all the lands.”

“Not… in… my… lands!” he replied slowly, emphasizing each word as he spoke them.

“Well, I hear otherwise,” she answered. “If Carcharoth wasn’t evil, then I don’t know evil.”

Now, Buffy did not mean for those words to be offensive, but somehow Thingol took it that way. His nostrils flared at the mere mention of the wolf’s name and his scowl deepened.

Yet the King refrained from speaking his mind, having been warned against doing so by Melian shortly before Buffy, Olofin and Thranduil had set foot in Menegroth. The Queen placed her hand atop his, which was a reminder of that promise he had made to her.

“What is it you want, Bellaseth? What is it that brought you to my Halls?” he asked in a slightly calmer tone.

The Slayer glanced at the young men that flanked her on either side, catching a glimpse of Mablung out of the corner of her eye.

“We are planning to wage war against Morgoth,” she started.

Immediately, hushed whisperings broke out in the chamber. Thingol raised his hand, a gesture that brought silence within the chamber.

“For too long Morgoth has had the freedom to torment those of us that dwell in these lands, and quite frankly, I’m tired of it. I’m tired of playing his games. I’m tired of my people and my friends dying or being taken captive as thralls or worse. The time has come to bring an end to Melkor Bauglir’s reign of tyranny. We are taking the battle to him, for once. We can’t afford to lose any more people than we already have. That is why I have come.

“The success of Beren and Lúthien has renewed hope in the Noldor. Angband is not impenetrable, as the Dark Lord would have us think! Beren and Lúthien proved that. He can be assailed! The greater our numbers, the better chance we have for taking him out once and for all. We take him out, and peace will be restored, not only to Beleriand, but all of Middle-earth.” Buffy paused, hoping beyond anything that her words had hit the mark with the King of Doriath. “What do you say, Thingol? Will you join us? Will you aid us in battle?”

Thingol glared at Buffy, shocked by her audacity. “You have some nerve, Dagnir. I’ll say that much about you! You dare enter my Halls, with a son of Fëanor no less, and wish for me to aid those that had slain my kinfolk in Valinor! You expect me to overlook the atrocities committed by the sons of Fëanor and those that follow them!”

“Olofin is my son too,” she said defensively. “He had no part in anything that his father and uncles had done. He wasn’t even alive when the tragedy at Alqualondë occurred… ”

“Tragedy!” exclaimed Thingol. “Is that what you call it? Tell me, Dagnir, does it make it easier for you to sleep at night by calling it that? A tragedy? Your beloved husband and his kin ruthlessly slaughtered my people! My own flesh and blood! And you call that a tragedy! How dare you insult me! ”

Buffy turned her gaze toward her booted feet, as a feeling of shame overcame her. Over the years, she had convinced herself that the killing of the Teleri was a tragedy, a tragedy brought about by Morgoth, not Fëanor and the Noldor. She had overlooked what they had done for so many years that she had never given any thought of Thingol confronting her with the Kinslaying when she came to Menegroth seeking his help.

She took a deep breath before raising her head. She fixed her eyes on Thingol and with a last desperate attempt said, “My husband’s kin seek redemption for the evil they have committed in the Blessed Realm. Even the wisest know that Morgoth was behind that. He’s the instigator of all evil in this world.”

“Redemption, eh?” the King cackled, his tone full of contempt. “Not but a few years ago, your beloved sons of Fëanor threatened me with war unless I relinquished my Silmaril to them. No, Bellaseth, the sons of Fëanor do not seek redemption. They are bound by their Oath, which will bring about their own self-destruction. It will not be long before the Curse takes them all.”

The Slayer was blindsided by Thingol’s words. She quickly averted her gaze, shifting her eyes to her feet. Her eyes burned with tears as the King’s statement, “the sons of Fëanor threatened me with war unless I relinquished my Silmaril,” echoed in her mind. She had no idea the brothers had done that.

They lied to me. Káno lied to me.

“I didn’t know,” she whispered, her voice breaking as she spoke.

Thingol didn’t care whether she knew or not, not at this point anyway. While Buffy was nearly ready to throw herself at the feet of the King and beg for his help, he then said something that caused something inside her to snap.

“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, does it?” he said, turning his wrathful gaze to Olofin. “You are the spawn of evil. No good comes from any son of Fëanor.”

“Don’t you ever speak to my son like that!” barked Buffy, her blood boiling at Thingol’s comments. She could deal with his verbal thrashing of the sons of Fëanor and even herself, but there was no way she was going to allow him to speak of her innocent and virtuous son in such a manner.

“How dare you raise your voice in my company!” shouted the Lord of Doriath, leaning forward on his throne.

“I dare! I sure the hell dare!” she shot back, her body beginning to tremble with rage. “You’re the last person to pass judgment on any. You can speak of my husband and his kin with disdain, I don’t blame you there. But you know absolutely nothing about my son, and have no right to show him such disrespect.”

“Yet I should accept your insolence because you are a Vala! Isn’t that what you mean, Luinil?” retorted the King, his face reddening with his ire.

“You know what, this was a mistake,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “I see that now. I thought that the bonds of friendship still existed between your House and mine. I would think that the fact that your own daughter came to my lands, asking to live out the rest of her mortal years there would strengthen the goodwill between our people.” She shook her head in disgust. Stepping forward, she placed her foot on the bottommost step of the dais. “But what can I expect from a man whose greed and lust for the Silmaril led to the death of his own daughter. You’re a sick, selfish man, Elwë Sindacollo,” she sneered, calling the Elf Lord by his Quenya name. “May Mandos show you mercy when you find your way to his Halls.”

“How dare you speak that forbidden tongue in my presence! Seize her!” shouted the King to his guards.

Before any could take a step, Buffy pulled a sword charm from her belt. When it turned into a full sized weapon before the elves very eyes, they stopped, and took a couple of steps backward, unsure of what powers the Vala of War’s weapon possessed.

“No, Mother,” cried out Olofin, grabbing hold of her arm and lowering the weapon to the floor. “Do not spill any blood.” The half-elf kept his grip tightly on Buffy’s arm as he turned his gaze to Thingol. “We came out of friendship and mother’s love for you and your kindred. It saddens me that you’d let the actions of others, however deplorable, come between the House of Thingol and the House of Luinil.

“It was I that suggested to my father and his brothers to seek the Silmarils from Morgoth, thus staying their hand against you. Both mother and I feel that your House has earned the right to keep the Silmaril that Beren and Lúthien retrieved from Morgoth’s crown. We had vowed to our kin that should they attempt to regain that Silmaril, we would stand between them, that we would fight them to the death if it came down to that. We do not forget old friendships and alliances that easily, and long to do what is right.

“I can only hope that in time you realize that those Jewels curse any that name them in desire. Already, your beloved daughter has paid the ultimate price by losing her immortality. Who’s next? Will it be Melian the Wise? Or perhaps some of these good elves will be sacrificed as a direct result of your lust,” he continued, motioning to Thingol’s kinfolk with his free hand. “This is a sad day indeed, for it seems to me that Morgoth has achieved yet another victory by dividing our Houses further.

“I wish you peace, Lord.” He turned to his mother. “Put your weapon away, Mother. We have wasted enough time in Doriath. Let us be on our way.”

Thingol was livid. “You, Bellaseth Dagnir are hereby banned from ever setting foot in Doriath as long as my reign lasts! You are the company you keep! I account you amongst the slayers of my kin! No love does Thingol have for you or your House. Get thee gone from my Halls before I demonstrate my prowess with Aranrúth in recompense to your haughty outburst!”

“I’d love to see you try,” the Slayer hissed, her eyes blazing with fury.

“Mother!” said her son, still clutching her by the arm. “Enough! Let’s go.” Olofin started to pull her away from the dais, but stopped when Thranduil remained motionless before the thrones of Thingol and Melian.

“I used to respect you, Thingol,” the Green-elf said stiffly to the Lord of Doriath. “My father and his kin always spoke highly of the mighty Lord of Doriath. But after meeting you, and witnessing your hostile treatment of Olofin and Bella, I’m amazed that you’re able to cling onto your lordship.” He glanced at the half-elf before facing Thingol again. “Olofin is the most righteous man I have ever had the pleasure of meeting and I love him as if he were my own blood kin. To hear you speak of him as the spawn of evil is a sin in itself.

“I can now see for myself that one filled with such unbridled hatred for one so virtuous and holy can easily be mistaken for a minion of Morgoth. Let us hope that Mandos shows you more mercy than you have shown us. For sooner or later, doom shall come to Doriath, and know this Thingol King, that you yourself have brought it about. Farewell!”

As they exited the chamber, Thingol ordered his men to see to it that the trio was escorted to the borders. Many of the Sindar were filled with dismay, for they saw some truth in the words spoken by all three visitors. Though they loved their Lord greatly, there were many that loved the Slayer as well, some Thingol’s own kin. Next to the fate of Beren and Lúthien, they looked upon that heated exchange as one of the darkest hours in Menegroth’s history to that point.

“That went well,” chortled Thranduil in an attempt to lighten the mood. “At least, we now know where Thingol stands.”

“The problem is how long will he be able to stand,” added Olofin. “My heart aches bitterly at this moment.” He looked at his mother, whose face was flush, her mood sullen. “How are you holding up, Nana?”

Buffy shook her head, not wanting to speak. The rage she had felt was quickly turning into sorrow. If she attempted to speak, she’d break down. Not only had she learned that Maglor and his brothers had threatened Thingol, but also her friendship with the Lord of Doriath was no more. Even though Thingol proclaimed loudly his hate for her, she’d still honor her promise to protect him from the sons of Fëanor.

As they continued down the passageways, she sadly realized that Thingol would never set foot in her lands, which meant that he’d never see or hold his beloved grandson, Dior, who had been born in Ossir only a few years before. That, in itself, she deemed a tragedy.

Once they had exited the gates and collected their weapons, the trio made their way to the chariot parked on the other side of the bridge. Barathalion and Noeriel were nowhere to be seen, so both Olofin and Thranduil set out in search of them. While Buffy waited, she sat on the back of the chariot, staring at the earth beneath her feet. The pain of her confrontation with Thingol had taken its toll. She broke down and wept, burying her face in her hands.

She now understood that she was a victim, a victim of both the Oath and the Doom attached to it. She feared what the future had in store for her, for it seemed that no matter which way she turned, some new grief would find her. While life had always had its ups and downs, the Slayer was experiencing one of the lowest moments of her life. At this point, she couldn’t see the light at the end of the dark tunnel she found herself in. All hope for a happy and blissful future was diminishing with each sob.

Buffy then felt a hand rubbing her back comfortingly. She lifted her head. Through her tears she saw the bleary form of Mablung crouched before her, his handsome face a mask of anguish…