Full Circle

Buffy’s abrupt disappearance startled Maglor. After everything that had happened, he had given no thought to his wife’s sacred duties in Folkvang. He gasped in surprise when she returned only a second later, fully recovered from her paralysis, with huge bulky sacks hanging from either shoulder. The sweet smell of honey emitted from her now clean, braided hair.

“I still find it disconcerting when you disappear suddenly like that,” he said, half-amused.

“Sorry, honey, but duty calls,” she answered. “I’ve brought back some medical supplies from Istahiro.” The Slayer repositioned her bags, as they were beating against her husband with the footfalls of their steed.

Maglor wrapped his arms around his wife, keeping her close to himself. “I don’t think we should stop until we at least reach Nan Elmoth. The woods will shelter us from the eye of the enemy.”

“Unless it’s infested with the enemy,” she countered. “It’s so dark in there; it’s an ideal habitat for yrch and trolls.”

“As long as we do not go too deeply into the woods, we should be fine. I’d rather we not stop on the plains.”

“But you’re hurt,” she said, looking over her shoulder. “I need to tend to your injury.”

“It’s already scabbing over. There’s no need to fuss.”

“Okay, Káno, if you say so,” Buffy answered, easing back against her husband, not caring that he was covered in blood, grime and guts. “I’ll do whatever you want, my knight in shining armor.”

The Noldo chuckled at her comment, and planted a kiss on the top of her head.

She liked Maglor’s take-charge attitude. Since Morgoth’s minions had ravaged the Gap, forcing them to dwell in Himring, he had become second-in-command to Maedhros, the eldest brother, therefore making him the rightful Lord of the House of Fëanor. It was a nice change of pace to see her husband calling the shots. He had always been a gentle ruler, and had seldom acted rashly or made hasty decisions. That, in itself, was a rare quality for any son of Fëanor. Even Maedhros had made the mistake of parleying with Morgoth after his father’s death in Middle-earth, resulting in the loss of the Noldo’s right hand. Regardless, once they had reached Ossir, Buffy would appoint Maglor to a higher position of authority whilst in her realm, giving him a greater status than Maedhros.

The Slayer was thankful that her pain had been eased by her visit to Folkvang. Unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said for those in her company. They rode on in relative silence, each person suffering from the grief and anguish of their defeat. She glanced over to Maedhros, whose expression had remained grim since seeing Himring aflame. Her heart ached for him, especially since she knew that one of his dearest friends had perished in battle. She knew that she’d have to be the one to break the news to the eldest son of Fëanor about Fingon’s death, but wanted to wait until they had reached the safety of Ossir’s borders first. Undoubtedly, the spies of the enemy were out and about, now having free rein in most of Beleriand, and she sure didn’t want any to overhear anything she had to say.

Upon reaching the southwestern eaves of Nan Elmoth, the company halted. Those few healers that had survived the conflict, including Hweston and Amdir, helped Buffy tend to the injured. Most suffered from burns in varying degrees. A few, like Maglor, had received superficial flesh wounds. The most serious were those that still had arrows protruding from the vulnerable parts of their body where their armor had offered no protection. Those injuries concerned the Slayer the greatest, as the enemy was notorious for poisoning the barbs of their flying projectiles. Unfortunately, those noble men and women would never make it to Ossir’s borders. They would die before sunrise.

After a few hours rest, at first light, the group continued on, making their way to the Dwarf-Road, which was only a few miles away. Following the roadway, they encountered none of the enemy until late afternoon when a band of yrch riding atop wargs attempted to assail the survivors. Still reeling from their losses, the elves and the few Edain that accompanied them managed to destroy the minions of Morgoth. In their fury, they impaled the yrch and wolves on spears as a warning to other evil creatures that might be lurking in the area.

When they reached Lindon, it was obvious to the Green-elves that had stayed behind that things had gone badly during the war. Seeing so many Noldor and so few of their kindred filled their hearts with sorrow. Buffy planned to address her people, telling them of what had happened, after she met with her councilors. But first, she needed her people to ready accommodations for the newly arrived Noldor. Clean garments needed to be found and some would have to offer their dwellings to them until more houses could be built.

The women who rode into battle were given first dibs on the hot springs, where all the elves in Lindon bathed.

Nestor came dashing out of Lindon Hall, and pulled Buffy into a bear hug. “Oh, Bella,” he cried out, “it does my heart good to see you again. Dark dreams plagued my sleep, and I feared the worst.” He pulled out of the embrace, his eyes surveying her appearance before looking to her companions. “Orchal?” he queried, his brows raised in question.

“He’s fine,” she answered. “We became separated. He’ll be here soon.”

The healer let out a sigh of relief. “I must speak with you, alone,” he said, sounding more business-like.

“It’ll have to wait, Nestor,” she said, glancing to the sons of Fëanor. “Will you show my brothers-in-law to their lodgings? I’ll meet you in my study. Gather those councilors that are here. We have important business to discuss.”

“Right away,” he answered with a nod.

The Slayer turned to her husband and his kinfolk. “You’re in good hands,” she smiled. “After you all get settled in and bathed, we’ll get a hot meal in you.” She kissed her husband before disappearing into her house in the treetops. It was time to step into her role as ruler, and already, she was struggling with many conflicting thoughts. With Beren and Lúthien dwelling on Tol Galen, and with the sons of Fëanor, especially Celegorm and Curufin newly arrived in Ossir, the fear that the two C-brothers might retaliate against the doomed lovers seemed a very real possibility to her. That was something she would not allow, and called for her to take drastic measures to prevent.

Buffy went straight through her Halls until she reached her favorite porch that overlooked the Gelion. There, she sat in one of the rocking chairs, deep in thought. No matter how much she wanted to run from the Oath that the sons of Fëanor had sworn, she knew Sargon was right, that she had to confront and deal with it. Despite what her mortal lover had said, she still believed that love could conquer all. She had seen it so many times in the past, and refused to believe that it would fail to work with Maglor and his brothers.

No one disturbed the Slayer while she remained seated there. After a couple of hours had passed, she heard several quick blasts from a horn, which brought her out of her reverie. She recognized the sound immediately, knowing that those that had become separated during the battle had finally returned. Leaping to her feet, she ran along the many walkways until she reached the lifts. Peering over the side down below, she saw the remnants of her House. Luthor was there with the lions, as was Olofin, Thranduil, Orchal and the rest of her armies. Far too few of her warriors had returned. She would later learn that sixty-five percent of her forces had perished in battle, a number she found staggering, and one that left Ossir quite vulnerable to attack.

When she reached the ground, she threw her arms around Olofin, before inspecting her son for any apparent injuries.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Just a few burns,” he answered. “Nothing life-threatening.”

“How ‘bout you, little man?” she queried, turning her attention to Thranduil. Her eyes scanned the Green-elf as thoroughly as her own son.

“Same as Fin. Just a few burns. I’ll live,” he replied with a smile. “I’ll feel better after a dip in the spring.”

“The women have already bathed, so have at it,” Buffy said, stepping back onto the platform. “Dinner will be ready soon, so hurry.” She glanced at her lions, who were now unharnessed from the chariot. “Come on, babies. Come with mommy and we’ll get that mail off.”

The kitties leapt onto the lift as the Slayer’s maidens handed towels, robes and slippers to those that had just returned. Once the platform had reached the top, Nestor was standing there with his arms folded, tapping his foot impatiently on the wooden planks of the walkway.

“Where have you been?” he asked somewhat agitatedly. “I need to speak with you, Bella.”

“Hold your horses, Nestor,” she answered. “I’ve got to get the armor off my babies… ”

“For the love of Eru, surely you can entrust such a simple task to someone else.”

“What’s the urgency?”

Nestor linked his arm with hers. “You received a letter whilst you were away,” he said, as he led her down the walkway.

“From the twins?” she asked, turning her hopeful gaze to the Green-elf.

“No, not the twins.”

“Then from who?” she queried, narrowing her eyes at the healer. Buffy nodded in greeting to a group of Noldor passing by.

“I’d rather not say,” Nestor said in a hushed voice. He cast a nervous glance over his shoulder at the surviving warriors from Himring. “At least, not where any from the House of Fëanor can overhear.”

“What’s with the secrecy?”

“Oh, just wait and see,” the healer answered, his tone revealing his frustration. He grabbed her hand and quickly pulled her along.

“Hey!” yelled Barathalion. “What about us? Aren’t you going to remove our mithril mail?”

Buffy looked over her shoulder as Nestor hastened their pace. “Just get one of my maidens to help you.” She glanced up at her dear old friend. “Obviously, my Regent has something important to share with me.”

“But you said you’d help us,” whined Noeriel.

“Just get one of my ladies to help,” she answered, looking back at her kitties. “I’ll let you guys forego a bath as a reward… But you’ll have to sleep in Olofin or Thranduil’s room.” She snickered. “There’s no way I’m about to let two stinky lions in my bedchamber,” she mumbled to her companion.

“We can hear you, you know,” replied Barathalion sarcastically.

Buffy chuckled as Nestor continued to drag her along. He led her to her study where several of her councilors had already assembled, some fresh from combat, and looking and smelling the part too.

“I swear, I didn’t mean to open it,” said Nestor, handing her an envelope from the desk drawer.

“I’ve got no secrets, Nestor. It’s no biggie.”

“Well, I didn’t recognize the name, so I thought… ”

“Isis,” said the Slayer, reading the name on the envelope. She looked up at the healer with a bewildered expression on her face. “Who the hell is Isis?”

“Apparently, you are,” replied Nestor.

“So, who’s bestowed me with yet another name?” she chortled, flipping over the envelope. The green, waxy seal resembling a ram had been broken.

“Osiris.”

“Osiris,” she repeated, furrowing her brows. “Why do I know that name? Osiris.” The name sounded so familiar, but she had no recollection of who he was or where she had heard the name before.

“He’s Marduk’s son.”

“Huh?”

“Just read the letter!”

Buffy pulled out the many pages of papyrus and took a seat in one of the wing-backed chairs. Quiet murmurings broke out amongst her councilors as she perused the letter with great interest. Even though Marduk had granted his son the lordship of Egypt, he had written the letter in Sumerian. She could only assume he had done so because she was quite familiar with the language.

When she had nearly finished reading the letter, Maglor and his brothers entered the chamber, causing the Slayer to ball up the letter guiltily. With her face flushing, she tossed the crinkled ball across the room.

“What’s that?” asked her husband, his eyes following the flying ball of papyrus until it came to a standstill next to the wall.

Buffy crossed her legs, placing her arms on the rests of the chair. “Just a letter of warning from Osiris,” she answered matter-of-factly.

“Who’s Osiris?” asked the Noldo, his face wrinkled in confusion.

Her eyes quickly shifted to Nestor, who, in turn, looked to the wood floor.

“He’s Marduk’s son, or Ra, I should say, since that’s the name the renegade Vala goes by in Egypt nowadays,” she answered, trying to seem indifferent to the correspondence. “It appears that my nemesis’ son attempted to warn me about the traitorous Easterlings.” She snorted before adding, “It’s unfortunate that his timing was off by a good many years.”

Caranthir picked up the wadded ball of papyrus, unfolded it, and pressed out the creases. The Noldo could not read the language of the East, thankfully. The letter actually contained a great deal of information, but Buffy wasn’t about to discuss its contents with any from the House of Fëanor. She thought that it would be most inappropriate, considering some of the content. Osiris appeared to be an admirer, and the wording of the letter revealed his apparent fondness of her.

“Isis,” said the fourth son of Fëanor, cocking his brow at his sister-in-law. “Is this yet another name that you go by?” he asked with a sly grin.

“As the world changes, so does the tongue of Man,” she smiled, fixing her gaze on her favorite C-brother. “Besides, Osiris thought it best not to send any letter using my well-known names in case dear old Marduk intercepted his mail.”

“And all these pages tell only of the evil Easterlings,” he continued, looking through the many sheets of papyrus.

“Not… exactly,” the Slayer replied hesitantly. “Osiris also warned me that his father has no intention of releasing Anno and Mirë from captivity… ”

“Oh, Bella,” said Maglor, running to his wife’s side. “I’m so sorry. Is there anything we can do?” He crouched beside her, caressing her arm consolingly.

Buffy took a deep breath. “I don’t want to sound heartless or anything, but… ” she paused. “The twins aren’t in any immediate danger. In fact, Marduk loves them dearly and holds them in high esteem. Their letters have stated so. Hell, they dwell in Eanna, my favorite temple in Eridu.” She looked deeply into the eyes of her husband. “Right now, my priority is us, and our family. The twins will have to wait until I figure out what I’m gonna do. A thousand years haven’t passed yet. I’ll show Marduk that I’m willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, for now.”

“Are you sure?” asked Maglor, looking at her with deep concern.

“I’m sure,” she answered, patting his hand with her own. “We actually have some business to discuss. Why don’t you guys take a seat?”

Caranthir eyed the letter in his hand one more time before balling it up and tossing it nonchalantly over his shoulder. He shrugged before taking a seat.

“What is it that you want to discuss, Muinthel?” asked Maedhros, resuming his position once again as the eldest in the line of Fëanor.

When everybody had sat down, the Slayer gazed at each brother before answering. “Beren and Lúthien have made Ossir their home.”

Celegorm and Curufin shifted uneasily on the couch, warily eyeing one another.

“Let me start out by saying that I love each and every one of you dearly. I mean that from the bottom of my heart. Don’t ever doubt that, not for a single moment. But, I have granted Beren and Lúthien the right to live out their mortal lives in my lands, and they are to do so without threat by any, including you two,” she said, locking her eyes on Celegorm and Curufin. “I may forgive, but I don’t forget. While I abhor your past actions against them, I’m willing to give you a home here.”

“And we’re very grateful for that,” spoke up Maedhros with a nod of his head.

“Let me just cut to the chase,” Buffy continued, leaning forward in her chair. “No Noldo is permitted to travel beyond the River Duilwen to our south. I will place my men along that river as well as the Gelion. They will be instructed to kill any of your kindred that dare violate my orders. None are exempt from that law except Olofin, as he has proven his virtuousness in every aspect of the word.”

“Are you saying that you would have us killed if we pass the Duilwen, even if we are pursuing game?” asked Caranthir, narrowing his eyes at his sister-in-law.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” she replied firmly. “Even my beloved Káno is not exempt, which brings me to another matter that needs to be addressed - Thingol.” She eyed each brother again, perceiving their minds. “The same applies to him. He succored me in my hour of need and I will do the same for him… ”

“But he has turned his back on you,” protested Celegorm, leaping from his seat. “Why should you remain loyal to one that detests you as much as Morgoth? He has in his possession a Silmaril of Fëanor. No one has the right to keep from us the heirloom of our father… ”

“I don’t want to hear it, Celegorm,” said Buffy calmly. “Don’t go there.”

He cursed the Lord of Doriath.

The Slayer rose to her feet, and walked up to the third son of Fëanor. She turned her gaze upward, her green eyes boring into the grey eyes of the Noldo. “I will not tolerate any assault against Thingol. I will kill you personally, if you try.” She turned to his brothers. “That goes for all of you. I love you, as I said before, but I won’t let you lay a finger on him or Melian. That includes you, Káno.” Her eyes welled with tears as she fixed them on her husband. “I love you more than life itself, but if you force my hand, I will follow through. I can’t let you do something as evil as that. And you know, my love, that I will do it.”

Taking a deep breath, she turned her gaze back to Celegorm. “I may not be at my strongest, but I can still beat you to a bloody pulp. You know that! I beg of you, Celegorm, don’t do anything stupid. Let me try to help you free yourself from the Doom placed upon you and your brothers. That’s all I want. I don’t want to see anything bad happen to you guys. I really don’t.”

The Noldo turned his back to the Slayer, but said nothing.

“We will heed your counsel, Muinthel,” answered Maedhros. “None of us want to cause you any pain.”

“Thanks, Russandol. That means a lot to me,” she said, forcing a smile.

The dinner bells then rang out throughout Lindon Hall.

“Ah, meal time,” said Nestor, getting to his feet. “Are we through here, Bella? I’m famished.”

“For now,” she answered, folding her arms across her chest. “Go eat.”

One by one, the elves got up and left the room. Both Maedhros and Maglor stayed behind.

“If you don’t mind, honey, I’d like to speak with Russandol, alone,” she said to her husband.

Maglor cast a quick glance to his brother before nodding in reply. “Of course. Take your time.”

“Thanks, Káno.” She gave him a kiss. “We won’t be long.”

“Alright,” he answered, as he made his way to the door. He gave another quick look over his shoulder before he left the room, closing the door behind him.

“What is it, Muinthel?” asked the curious copper-headed Noldo.

Buffy took a seat on one of the couches. “Sit with me,” she said, patting the cushion beside her.

Maedhros took a seat next to her. “Is something wrong?” he asked with a puzzled expression on his face.

“I’m afraid so,” she sighed.

The Slayer took the elf’s only hand in her own, caressing it gently. She then recounted what she had seen in her vision while sitting upon her throne in Sussrúmnir, telling the Noldo about Fingon’s grisly demise. Maedhros sobbed at hearing that news. Buffy pulled him into her arms, trying her best to console her grief-stricken brother-in-law. He wrapped his arms around her, his tears spilling on her shoulder.

“I’m so sorry, Russandol,” she kept saying over and over, rubbing his back sympathetically.

After several minutes, Maedhros pulled out of the embrace, yet his face remained inches away from Buffy’s. She dried his tears with her fingertips. The Noldo held her hands to the smooth skin of his face.

“Though my heart aches at losing one whom I love greatly, I appreciate your telling me in private. You must think I’m a fool for weeping so.”

“No, of course not,” she answered, giving him a warm smile. “Believe me, I cried my fair share of tears too. That’s why Nirnaeth Arnoediad seems such an appropriate name for the war. Our defeat was bitter in more ways than you know. Which reminds me, Russandol, there’s something you need to know… ”

“Shh,” he sounded, pressing his finger to her lips. “No more talk of the war. That’s behind us now. It’s time to move on, to look to the future.”

“But… ”

Maedhros stopped her from speaking yet again, as his hand slid to her cheek, caressing her skin softly. She could feel the roughness of the calluses on his fingers and palm.

“I love you, Bella,” he whispered.

“Well, I love you too, Russandol,” she answered lightheartedly.

Maedhros then did something that she didn’t expect. He kissed her. While she had received a peck on the lips from her brother-in-law in the past, this was totally different. For one, it immediately made her feel highly uncomfortable, something that had never happened before. She felt that there were sexual connotations to the kiss.

Buffy eased back, putting a little bit more distance between her and Maedhros. Yet the Noldo maintained his hold on her, his massive hand covered not only her cheek but also part of her neck.

Clearing her throat, she asked, “What was that for?” as her face reddened.

“You’re always there for me, and my brothers,” he answered softly, his eyes searching hers. “You’ve taken us into your home… ”

“Well, you did the same for me and Káno, and our Households,” she interjected, wanting to mention her husband’s name in hope that it would snap Maedhros back to his senses. She didn’t like the glint in his eyes. It seemed quite inappropriate, and not the way the Noldo should be looking at his brother’s wife.

Unfortunately, her comment did not deter the eldest son of Fëanor in the slightest. He went to kiss her again, this time throwing his body into it, so that the Slayer was forced backwards against the armrest of the sofa. As she tried to say his name, Maedhros attempted to slide his tongue into her mouth, which freaked her out even more.

“Stop! Stop it!” she said, her voice muffled by his mouth. She tried to turn her head to the side, but the Noldo’s grip on her face constrained her movements. Buffy didn’t want to hurt Maedhros physically, but there was no way she could tolerate such brutish behavior from one who normally conducted himself quite honorably.

“Stop it, Russandol!” she scolded, keeping her jaw clenched closed. Mustering her slayer strength, she pushed him off, flinging him backwards to the other side of the couch. She jumped to her feet, pushing the stray hairs off her face. “What the hell’s wrong with you?” Buffy barked, narrowing her angry eyes at her brother-in-law.

Maedhros sat there, breathless. He kept his grey eyes on her. “I… I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“What I wanted?” she repeated, a look of disgust on her face. “What ever gave you that idea?”

“You said you loved me,” said the Noldo defensively.

“And I do - as a brother! And quite frankly, I‘m not into the incest thing. That’s what your kiss felt like to me. I find your conduct disgraceful.”

Maedhros face turned beet red. He bowed his head in shame. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Well, you did. I’m married to your brother, for Eru’s sake! Get a grip, man!”

The eldest son of Fëanor then began to cry.

Buffy stood there, flabbergasted. She remained glued to her spot watching the weeping Noldo. She felt bad for him; there was no denying that. Even after what he had just done, a part of her wanted to run to his side and comfort him, as he had done for her numerous times in the past. She could only surmise that his actions were triggered by the grief of losing not only Fingon, but also the one place in Middle-earth he had called home.

“I know you’re in pain,” she started, folding her arms across her chest. “And sometimes that pain has a way of manifesting itself in… well, unpleasant or inappropriate ways. Believe me, I know that well enough,” she added with a chuckle, attempting to lighten the mood. “Let’s just forget this ever happened. I don’t hold any ill will toward you, and I hope you can say the same for me… ”

Maedhros raised his head, the tears continued to stream down his face. “How can I feel any enmity toward you when you’ve done nothing but help me and my people?” the elf sniffled. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to us. I’m grateful for your friendship and appreciate your kindness. I mean that sincerely, Luinil.”

“Okay, then,” she said, slapping her hands together. “Pull yourself together, Russandol. Dinner’s getting cold.” She offered the Noldo a quick smile before hastily leaving the study. As she made her way down the corridor, she tried to recall anything she could have possibly done to lead Maedhros on. She couldn’t think of a single thing, but made a mental note to watch her P’s and Q’s while in the Noldo Lord’s presence.

After dinner, the Slayer called a meeting with her councilors in her Great Hall. She reaffirmed her orders concerning where the Noldor were permitted to travel within her kingdom. It was up to her advisors to inform the Captains, and have them remove some of their soldiers to the southern parts of Ossir. She wanted the Rivers Gelion and Ascar under heavy surveillance. Not only did she fear a possible strike against Beren and Lúthien, but she was also concerned about Morgoth’s minions. With nearly all the northern realms destroyed, she knew that the wicked creatures of Angband would become bolder in upcoming days, and right now, she wasn’t ready for another confrontation with Melkor’s forces. Her people needed time to recover from the pain and sorrow of warfare.

“I screwed up by letting so many of our forces go into battle,” she said during the meeting. “We’ve lost a great number of our people, and, unfortunately, you elves don’t procreate like mortals. I don’t see us replenishing our armies any time soon.”

“That wasn’t your fault, Bella,” stated Gúrchim in her defense. “How were you to know that Uldor would turn out to be a traitorous scumbag?”

“Gúrchim’s right,” agreed Orchal. “None of us foresaw what was going to happen. But, I must say, my heart tells me many that survived the battle will find their way here, far from the threat of Morgoth… ”

“Or to Nargothrond,” suggested Nestor. “I’m sure Orodreth will take in some of his kin.”

“Don’t count on that, Nestor,” commented Buffy. “Orodreth has lost his mind, and will kill any that enter his realm - Noldor included. But, Orchal makes a good point. Maybe those that survived the war will find their way here. I don’t care who they are, as long as they’re not Easterlings. I don’t trust them any more. We can’t afford to allow any more spies in our realm.”

“What do you mean by ‘any more spies’?” queried Orchal, narrowing his eyes. “Are you saying there are spies in our midst?”

Her councilors gasped at the prospect of that being true.

“We have four that I know of,” she answered grimly.

“Four?” repeated a shocked Thranduil. “Who are they?”

“Gúrvel, Ovoron, Tincdan and Aeron,” she replied, mentioning one of their own last.

“Aeron?! Aeron is a spy of Morgoth!” shouted the heir to the throne of Ossir. “How can that be? He was fighting the enemy along with us! I saw him.”

“Well, isn’t that part of being a spy, Thranduil?” asked Buffy. “It sure didn’t make him suspicious, did it? Morgoth doesn’t care if he loses some yrch, not when it comes to the bigger picture.”

“How do you know this?” queried Olofin, stunned as everyone else to hear the news.

“It was something I saw when I passed my judgments on those evil Easterlings slain in battle,” the Slayer replied. “The elvish Lords had been conspiring with the people of Uldor the whole time. Apparently, our dear old friends have been Morgoth’s thralls since Dagor Bragollach. Remember when they suddenly came to Himring long after the battle was over?”

Her son nodded his head.

“Well, apparently, they weren’t hiding in Dorthonion as they had claimed; they were in Angband with none other than Melkor Bauglir. That’s how Morgoth learned of our strategies. He fucking knew every move we intended to make in the war. They ratted us out.”

“That’s treason!” barked Orchal in his fury. “That demands a death sentence, Bella! Make no mistake about that.”

Angry rumblings broke out in the room.

“Calm down, everyone,” said Olofin, rising from his seat.

The men spoke even louder, suggesting various methods of painful execution.

The half-elf slammed his fists on the table, silencing the men once and for all. “Enough talk about slaying the traitors!” he declared before turning his gaze to his mother. “Does father know? And my uncles? Do they know about their traitorous kinfolk?”

“No,” Buffy answered. “I haven’t had the chance to talk to them about it. I only found out myself early this morning.”

“Then why are we still sitting here doing nothing?” cried out Gúrchim, his pale face red from rage. “Let us kill them for all to see in case there are others. They may flee our lands if they see what’s coming to them.”

“You don’t mean that, Gúrchim,” said the Slayer, shaking her head.

“Yes, I do. Look how many lives have been lost because of their betrayal! I say they die a slow, painful death. The more excruciating, the better.”

“Wouldn’t that make us just like Morgoth? We’re better than that, Gúrchim. We’re not savages,” said Olofin, disheartened by the Green-elf’s eagerness to execute the traitors.

All eyes turned to Buffy. They recalled the way she had punished traitors in the past, and assumed the same would apply now.

“Then what would you suggest, Fin?” asked Thranduil, disturbed by all that he had heard.

The half-elf glanced from face to face before answering. “I think we should banish them from our lands,” he proposed, unfazed by the looks of shock on the other councilors’ faces.

“That’s asinine!” protested Gúrchim angrily. The Green-elf turned his blazing eyes to the Slayer. “Surely, you don’t agree with this, Bella. Those elves brought about our downfall. They should be punished accordingly.”

The Slayer rubbed her temples. The loud outbursts from her councilors were giving her a headache.

“I don’t think we should do anything until we speak with Káno and his brothers,” she answered with a sigh. “They have a say-so in this matter too.”

Thranduil was chosen to be the one to summon the sons of Fëanor to the council. In the mean time, Olofin had managed to calm down the fuming advisors, a feat for which Buffy was extremely grateful.

Once the sons of Fëanor had joined the others congregated in the Great Hall, Buffy revealed to them that there were traitors in their Households. They were greatly dismayed to learn who they were.

“Alas, I deem that the Doom of Mandos is at work here,” said Maglor sadly. “Kin will turn upon kin, isn’t that what he prophesied?”

“That doesn’t matter,” stated the Slayer. “What matter’s is how we deal with this? If we execute them, then we are surely fulfilling my dear brother’s words.”

Of course, her comment incensed some of her councilors. Arguing broke out once again.

Trying to be democratic, she asked for a vote. A showing of hands would determine the fate of the traitorous elves. Buffy was disappointed to see that most wanted the betrayers executed. Only she, Olofin, Maglor, Maedhros, Orchal and Thranduil were against it.

“Those in favor of execution outnumber those opposed by three votes,” stated Gúrchim, delighted with the outcome.

Buffy bowed her head in defeat, saddened by the results.

“Why are you dismayed by the vote, Bellaseth?” queried Gúrchim in stunned disbelief. “Those elves are responsible for the deaths of tens of thousands of people. Come on now, surely they deserve death. You wouldn’t have hesitated in the past to grant death sentences to those that committed such atrocities.”

The Slayer lifted her head, revealing her tear-filled eyes. “I’m not the same woman I once was, Gúrchim,” she said in a pained voice. “I regret what I have done. Don’t you see that. I don’t want to repeat the same mistakes. It was wrong for me to…”

“Yet you are allowing those traitorous Easterlings to be tortured in Folkvang as we speak, are you not?” interrupted Nimrod, who was for the slaying of the elves.

“My job is to judge mankind after they perish. That’s totally different.”

“No, it’s not!” countered Gúrchim angrily. “You’re doing the right thing with Uldor and the rest of his clan. The same should be done to those elves… ”

“But they are thralls!” interjected Olofin. “They were true to us until they were ensnared by the Dark Lord. Who here can contest the might of Morgoth?” he asked, looking at each face of those councilors that demanded retribution. “The Easterlings were swayed by false promises. They deserve what they got, but our kinfolk,” he paused, slowly shaking his head, “they were beguiled by Bauglir. He constrained their will. He controls them. It’s not their fault. That could’ve happened to any one of us, and by the blessings of Eru, be thankful that it hasn’t.”

“Luinil has contested his will,” said Gúrchim defiantly. “She is Morgoth’s bane.”

Buffy laughed. “Are you kidding me? I was his thrall. The only difference is that I was able to successfully break free from his yoke. There’s hope that the same can be true of the others.”

“You were not responsible for the massacre of thousands upon thousands of people,” declared Arachas loudly.

“Are you people out of your freakin’ minds?” she shot back in disgust. “I helped create beastly creatures that, to this day, carry out Morgoth’s will. They’ve killed thousands upon thousands of people. Do you think I don’t feel guilty about that? I’m responsible for unleashing the most nefarious monsters into this world, and that’s something that I have to live with for the rest of my life. I’m not some innocent, righteous Vala Queen. I’m flawed. I’m not perfect. And neither are they. If you think that they deserve death, then I do to. So, if you still feel they should be executed, then I shall be executed along with them.”

The room fell quiet. Many of the councilors sat there with their jaws dropped, shocked by Buffy’s words. None of them wanted to see her dead.

“Well, that puts things into perspective, doesn’t it?” said Orchal with a chuckle. “Let us take another vote then, shall we? All in favor of execution - raise your hands.”

Only Celegorm and Curufin lifted their hands into the air.

“That settles it,” continued Orchal, casting a look of disgust at the two C-brothers. “The foursome will be banished from our lands to live a nomadic life in the wilds of Middle-earth. Sounds just to me,” he nodded.

“Olofin,” started Buffy, turning to her son. “Can you mark them in some way, so that others know of their treachery? I’d hate to see them cause anybody else the same grief that they brought upon us.”

“Of course,” he answered.

The people of Lindon were then summoned to the Great Hall, as all knew that the Blue Lady of Ossir planned to speak about the tragic events that had transpired during the war. The four traitors entered the chamber separately, oblivious to the fact that she, the many Lords of Ossir, and those from the House of Fëanor knew of their part in the treachery to the Union.

Buffy recounted what had happened in the war, telling of the things that had transpired on both the western and eastern fronts. Many wept upon hearing of the tragic events. She saved the exposing of the traitors for last, knowing how angry her people would become. And she was right. The four elves were brought forth from the crowd, trembling in fear, thinking that they would surely die a horrific death for their acts of betrayal. The Slayer then pronounced her judgment, banishing those four elves from ever setting foot in Ossir again. Olofin cast a spell about them, so that any that came across them, merely had to look into their eyes and see them for who they really were - unwitting moles of Morgoth.

The traitorous elves were then escorted out of Lindon Hall amidst the jeers of their kinsmen. They would be taken to the northern borders of Ossir and left to their own devices. In times to come, the foursome would deem that Buffy had given them a sentence worse than death. They would find themselves ostracized from all the good peoples in Middle-earth, vagabonds left to wander the vast lands without hope…