Alrighty, this is my newest fanfiction I've written! About our dear Maglor Feanorian earning a chance to make things right again! I'll be honest right now and admit that I have yet to finish reading The Silmarillion, but I have gotten started it and am reading about Feanor's greatest invention, but I've heard a lot about it so...if I happen to get anything wrong, just tell me and I'll do my best to correct it! Thanks! Anywho, here we go! Please, enjoy. Constructive criticism most welcome!


~Duplicity~

Soft notes drifted through the air as a wordless melody was eerily carried further down the coast by the wind. There was an undercurrent of overwhelming grief, pain, and guilt skillfully woven together in the tune as it was sung by the unseen minstrel.

If there were any who happened to be passing by, they would have been affected by the amount of emotion poured into the mournful melody. The wandering minstrel sung of events long-forgotten by mortals but forever remembered by the Elves. Events that caused much heart-break, pain, and sorrow to the Elven race and that had destroyed many nations. He sang of the Kin-slayings, of the Oath, of the accursed jewels, and of the Mad Elf that started it all.

He sang of the fallen, of the afflicted, and those who were lost during those horrifying days.

He sang, but there was no one there to listen. No one who would understand his pain and the guilt burdening his shoulders. He was utterly alone. There wasn't anyone to accompany him- to comfort him. But he didn't care. He couldn't bring himself to care. This was what he deserved. He deserved to live a life of loneliness, reflecting on his past deeds...He refused to allow himself to give into his grief for to him, death meant happiness.

He most certainly did not deserve happiness, no matter what anyone told him. He may have been the most reluctant of his family who wished to partake of such foul deeds, but he still committed them nonetheless. He was guilty of choosing to follow, even if it was out of love and loyalty. There was still blood that stained his hands, and a mark that would never fade away regardless of how much time had passed.

The dark-haired Elf continued to sing, gliding along the shoreline of the open sea, his eyes closed as he allowed his feet to take him wherever they pleased. He knew these lands better than most, seeing as he had been wandering along their boundaries for thousands of years. Over four thousand years had past since Feanor had created the Silmarils, and he was still wandering along the shores of Middle-Earth.

Distantly, he wondered if his brothers had been released from the Halls, or if the Valar had refused to forgive them and allow them another chance for a more pleasant life in Valinor.

Valinor...

If he wanted, he could travel to Valinor and stand before the Valar for judgement. He could be tried before the Gods and forgiven, possibly, as some of his extended family members had been, but the minstrel couldn't bring himself to go.

And so he remained, traveling the lands lining the sea, singing songs to himself, as he often did.

'Atar...' The harpist thought to himself, tilting his head up and opening his deep blue eyes to stare at the darkening sky. It was going to storm- again. 'Why did you do it?' He silently wondered, feeling empty. 'Why did you have to create them? Were we not enough?'

Along with those jewels, Curufinwë Fëanáro had created a world of terror and had destroyed a family. One by one, the Fëanorions were cut down and slain. Only he remained.

Macalaurë Fëanorion.

But, he no longer went by that name. He was called Maglor now. The only living Fëanorion left in Arda. Macalaurë had died the moment those Silmarils had been created. Maglor was all that remained.

With another sigh, Maglor continued on, listening to the waves lapping at the shore. He remembered the day Nerdanel, their beloved Naneth, had left. He admired his mother for her courage and strength. She was able to do what they could not. He knew Nerdanel was safe and sound in Valinor, and would hopefully be there when his brothers were reborn- If they were ever reborn. How he missed her.

How he missed everyone.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Maglor willed away the tears that threatened to spill.

He would not cry! Not again! He had already shed so many tears... Besides, what would be the use of crying?

Deciding it was time to retire for the night, Maglor turned away from the shore and vanished into the shadows of the forest nearby. Stealthily creeping along, Maglor strode deeper into the forested area, searching for some sort of shelter that would provide some protection from the storm brewing on the horizon.

Not too long into his journey did Maglor discover a small cave hidden by a small group of trees. Deciding that was all he would find, Maglor slipped inside the cave, settling the few items he had down onto the ground before preparing a fire. Even though he was an Elf, he still needed warmth. The grief he still clung to caused Maglor to feel cold every so often. It also caused him to become ill for a few days, inhibiting him from traveling until he had regained his strength. It was during those times that Maglor would remember how he had cared for Elrond and Elros when they would fall ill. He remembered the techniques human healers had taught him in caring for an ailing child. He would feel some warmth return when he thought over the many bright and cheerful memories he had of his foster sons and Maedhros. The time they had spent together as a small family had been the best few decades of Maglor's life.

Elrond...

He wondered how his child was doing now. He knew, from one of his rare visits to Imladris, that Elrond had become Lord of Rivendell and that Elros had long-since passed away. He also knew that Elrond had married and now had two twin sons, Elladan and Elrohir.

Speaking of Elrond... Maglor frowned as he recalled the words Elrond had spoken to him during his last visit to Imladris. The Peredhel had appeared rather worried and confused, and when confronted by Maglor, Elrond finally confided in him what he'd been troubled with.

'I had a vision, Atto.' Elrond had said, blue clashing with deep grey as the Peredhel met his foster father's gaze. 'One that revolved around you.'

'Am I in danger?' Maglor had asked, unconcerned for his own safety. He knew many still sought after his life, and he could hardly blame them. Elrond had shaken his head, though his brow furrowed.

'I'm not certain.' Elrond had admitted, looking even more troubled. 'I only know there is something in store for you. Something that cannot be taken lightly.'

Maglor had grinned in amusement at this. 'Only something?' He then frowned at the serious expression Elrond had pinned him with as the Peredhel spoke again,

'Atto...Whatever it is, it is important that you move forward with caution. You will be treading on thin ice. One wrong move can cause everything to spiral out of control. I have a feeling that you have the lives of thousands in your hands. Arda will be depending on you.'

Maglor had merely raised an eyebrow at this. 'Surely you are exaggerating, iónya.'

'Nay.' Elrond firmly shook his head, raising his head to look at Elendil's star. 'I do not jest. This is not a matter to take lightly. What she revealed to me-'

'She?'

Elrond's grey eyes swiveled over to meet Maglor's. 'Din...Din Amarth was her name. She visited me in the vision; spoke to me of a journey you must partake of- if you so choose.'

'Din Amarth?' Maglor had repeated, frowning deeply. The name was a rather daunting one.

'She did not say anymore.' Elrond was deeply disturbed, and Maglor had a feeling he had kept some things he'd seen in the vision to himself. He sensed there was more to it than just what Elrond had told him. 'A chance...' He had caught Elrond mumbling under his breath. 'She is giving you a chance.'

'A chance?'

'She did not clarify her meaning. She only said that she was allowing you to have one chance. One, and if you should fail...' Elrond had trailed off, leaving Maglor wonder what he had wanted to say.

He had a good idea what Elrond would have said, but Maglor still was unable to understand exactly what Elrond had been trying to say to him. It had been several weeks since the conversation, and nothing had happened, leaving Maglor to wonder if Elrond had, perhaps, misinterpreted the vision.

Almost immediately, the thought was banished from his mind. For some reason, Maglor had a strong feeling that the words Elrond had spoken were true, and it worried him. Frightened him even. Even though it had been three years since then, Maglor thought over the words Elrond had said to him daily. Almost every night. He sensed that the time for Elrond's vision to come to pass was drawing near.

Even though his thoughts were crammed with these worries, Maglor eventually began to fall asleep. His eyes glazed over as his breathing steadied and it wasn't long until he was lost in the worlds of dreams.


~Duplicity~

"Maglor." A quiet voice whispered.

The minstrel stirred at the soft voice but did not wake.

"Maglor." The voice came again, a little louder, but not too loud.

The Elf remained in deep reverie, much to the hidden being's irritation. "Maglor!" A small orb of light danced in the midst of the darkness of the cave, gradually brightening as it tried to wake the sleeping Elf.

Thankfully, Maglor awoke on the third try, causing the light to still and wait for him to become aware of his surroundings.

The dark Elf blearily blinked several times, trying to clear his vision. Confusion was etched in his features as he slowly sat up, wondering what had woken him.

"Thank the Valar!"

Maglor started, startled by the voice and snapped his head towards the light flickering in front of him. Shifting until his back hit the wall of the cave, he watched as the light grew larger and larger.

"It is about time! I have been trying to get you to wake for a while!" The voice impatiently huffed.

Maglor could only stare, wondering if he had finally lost his mind. It was the only logical reason he could use to explain this... odd occurrence. The light had transformed into a beautiful woman with black hair that fell just past her shoulders and sharp, lavender, orbs that seemed to pierce right through him. He moved uncomfortably under the stare, feeling as if she was reading his very soul, but for some reason, he relaxed. The woman, he seemed to know, didn't pose any danger to him.

The woman had her hands on her hips, looking down at him as if she had caught him being a naughty elfling and were about to lecture him. Distantly, it reminded him of his own Naneth when she'd caught Maglor and Maedhros stealing snacks from the kitchen late at night. "I've been searching for you for several weeks, you know." The woman told him, tsking. "If it hadn't been for the milady finally having mercy on me, I would probably still be wandering who-knows-where."

"Forgive me," Maglor finally seemed to find his voice and leisurely stood, his gaze never wavering from the strange woman. "But may I ask who you are?"

"Oh!" The woman blinked and took a step back in the air. "Right, introductions. Sorry." She apologized. "I am called Din. Din Amarth. A Messenger."

That name...

Immediately, Maglor's mind thrust him back to when he and Elrond had talked about the Peredhel's vision. Elrond had mentioned the name Din Amarth, claiming that he had met the woman in the vision. The supposed woman who was apparently going to give him a 'chance.'

'Well, Elrond...' Maglor thought to himself. 'You were not lying about the vision.'

"No, he wasn't. You knew that already." The woman said, crossing her arms and tapping her fingers. Maglor sharply looked to her, his dark blue eyes widening marginally.

The woman smirked at this. "That isn't important right now." She waved a hand dismissively in the air, then growing serious, added, "I came here to offer you something. A chance, as I told your foster son."

"I remember." Maglor slowly nodded, wondering where this was headed.

"Right. So, you can choose whether or not you want to risk it. If you choose to, good for you. If you choose not to," She made a face. "Well, that's on you."

Maglor quirked an eyebrow at this. So, technically...He did not really have a choice? From what he understood, she was urging him to take this chance and persuading him not to brush it aside.

"What is this... chance you are to give me?"

Din Amarth pinned him with a solemn look. "The chance to make things right." She vaguely declared.

The minstrel frowned, not quite understanding what she meant. "To make things right?" He repeated in a questioning tone, hoping she would clarify her meaning.

"I will make this brief." Din nodded to herself then faced him. "Basically, you are being given a chance, by one of the Valar, to right some wrongs. There were many grievous sins that were committed in Arda Marred." In a grave tone, she pointedly stated, "Some of which, you participated in."

Almost at once, the meaning behind her vague words hit Maglor with such force that the minstrel nearly stumbled back in surprise. Memories of Arda Marred swarmed in his mind. The Kinslayings, the Silmarils, their banishment... his mind was plagued with those horrifying memories as they danced across his vision. He no longer saw the woman, even though he was staring right at her, the heart-breaking and dark events of the past coming to life around him.

He could see the fire, the blood, and the bodies that littered the battlefields. He could see the Silmarils in all their glory blindly radiating their light from where they were embedded in a dark crown, a stark contrast between black and white. He also saw his family. His brothers following after their Father and their Mother, grieving over the loss of her loved ones. Pained, Maglor could feel his heart being ripped apart as he recalled everything he had shoved in the darkest corners of his mind.

"If you were to accept this chance," Din's voice broke through his warring thoughts, smooth and calm but laced with a hint of warning, "You could change everything. You could save them."

The word 'them' held such heavy meaning to Maglor, for he knew exactly of whom the woman spoke of.

"Elrond did not exaggerate when he proclaimed that you had thousands of lives in your hands. Arda would be depending on you if you were to do this."

Maglor hesitated. This choice was not one to make lightly, yet, there was one thing he needed to know. "Would I-" He began, speaking with caution, "-if I were to go, would I still be bound to the Oath?"

A haunting chill enveloped the entire cave, chilling Maglor to the bone as silence encased them.

Din pursed her lips tightly at the mention of the Oath, and even Maglor felt a shiver spiral down his spine. After what felt, to Maglor, to be a long while, the woman parted her lips to speak,

"Yes and no." She uttered quietly, bewildering Maglor. That was not the answer he had been hoping for. "It would depend on you."

"I see." Maglor murmured to himself, averting his gaze to the stone ground of the cave. If he were to take this chance, Maglor would bear the weight of the world upon his shoulders... Could he do it?

Was he willing to?

Did he even have to ask that question? Maglor wanted to do it. He wanted to change everything! He had wanted this for so long... Too long, it would seem.

"You will not be alone." Din abruptly spoke up, snatching Maglor's attention once again. She mysteriously smiled, her eyes shimmering. "There will be others... Others who are just like you."

"Like me?" Maglor tilted his head, wondering what she meant.

"You will see later. Time is running short." Din glanced around the cave, as if expecting for something to be there. "I have little time left. What is your decision?"

Maglor parted his lips to speak then snapped his jaw shut. He had to make this decision now?

"You were given a forewarning." Din cheekily reminded him. "And don't worry! If you were to go, I would become your Guide."

"Why you?" Maglor inquired, curious as to why she was giving him this chance.

"Because I was the one who accepted this task- willingly, I might add."

"That does not answer my question." Maglor bluntly stated, and Din shrugged.

"That is all you will get for now. Everything will be explained in due time." She nonchalantly said. "So, your decision?"

So much for buying time.

"I will go." The words tumbled from his lips before Maglor had even thought about them and Din visibly brightened.

"Marvelous!"

Before he could say anything, Maglor was overcome by a wave of dizziness. Staggering, the Elf fought to keep his balance as his vision went berserk. The world tilted in so many odd angles that the harpist squeezed his eyes shut in order not to become nauseous.

"Don't worry about a thing, Maglor," He heard Din saying, and he clung to her voice as if it were his lifeline, "Just let yourself go." She advised.

"And remember, She will be watching over you. If you need anything, call my name and I will come."

Those were the last words Maglor heard before the Elf fell forward, giving into the pull of the darkness overwhelming him. His body never once hit the ground, and Maglor felt himself falling through nothing but air. Keeping his eyes tightly shut, the minstrel clutched his harp close to his chest before allowing himself to succumb to unconsciousness.


~Duplicity~

When Maglor came to, it was to find himself surrounded by hundreds of trees. He was not in his cave and he was definitely no where near the shores of Middle Earth. The very air was different to him, and everywhere he looked, Maglor was struck by a sense of déjà vu. Raising himself to his knees, Maglor sharply analysed his surroundings, hardly daring to believe it.

It hadn't been a dream... He surmised as he slowly raised himself up onto his feet, turning himself around in circles as if trying to convince himself that he wasn't dreaming. He was truly there... He was truly back in Valinor! He knew these forests! He knew these very trees!

He knew he knew them!

"I cannot believe it..." Maglor breathed in disbelief, his tone akin to awe and reverence. "I cannot be here..." Spinning sharply on his heel, Maglor darted into the shadows of the forest, his heart beating rapidly in his chest. He continued to run without stopping, searching for proof. Proof that he was truly there.

The sound of roaring waters was nearly drowned out by the sound of his heart beating in his ears, but Maglor heard it nonetheless.

Skidding to a stop at the edge of the forest, Maglor stared, wide-eyed, at the view before him. It was the same waterfall he and his brothers, including Feanor and Nerdanel, used to visit and play in thousands of years ago, when he and his brothers were but elflings.

The crystal blue water sailed over the edge of the rocky cliff, tumbling down into the pool below, creating a white foam at the bottom of the waterfall. He remembered every little detail. It was etched into his mind as though he'd visited the waterfall only yesterday.

"Hmph," He bitterly smiled, "Thousands of years, and yet I still remember every cursed detail of this land." He grimaced as he turned away and located the path that would lead him to the bottom of the cliff. "I wonder what the year is." He murmured to himself, rolling his head back to stare up into the sky. It was cloudy, and he could smell that rain was on the way.

Fantastic.

All he wanted to do was find shelter, curl up, and sleep the night away. Maybe if he went home-

Maglor jerked to a stop, snapping his head up.

Home.

He could go home. He could see his brothers! His brothers were alive! Their Naneth was home... Maglor could feel hope blossoming in his heart as he thought about the home he had missed for so long. Since he was back in Valinor, he could see Maedhros, Celegorm, Caranthir, and even little Amrod and Amras! He would see Daeradar Finwe and possibly his cousins and uncles-

"No." He immediately growled, shaking his head and banishing the thoughts from his mind. "I can't. This place is no longer home. I have no home." He reminded himself, sorrow latching onto the ends of his words. "I am no longer Macalaurë..." Pained, Maglor bowed his head in grief. How he wished to be Macalaurë again. He yearned to be the naive, innocent, young elfling he once was.

Before the Silmarils were ever created.

"Curse you, Atar." Maglor muttered darkly, remembering the Silmarils vividly. Subconsciously, he curled the fingers of his burned hand. Eyeing the wounded appendage, Maglor carefully tugged off the black glove he wore over the hand. Turning it over so that his palm was facing upwards, Maglor stared at the burn the Silmaril had inflicted upon him. There was a red circle in the center of his hand where he had held the jewel, and a large crack that ran across his hand from the skin having split open because of the heat.

The wound had never healed.

Thankfully, it had been his left hand that Maglor had chosen to pick the Silmaril up with. It still incapacitated him, however. Anytime he wished to play an instrument, he couldn't play as long as he used to. His left hand would ache tremendously, and even freeze up if he used it too much.

Slipping the glove back over his hand, disgusted by the burn, Maglor continued his journey. He knew he would need to return 'home' sooner or later. If he wanted to change everything for the better, he would need to face everyone again. He would need to find a way to keep his Father from forging the Silmarils and protect his family.

He wanted his family, mainly his brothers, to live a better life. One without pain, grief, or agony. One where they could live happily together, without scorn or any animosity directed towards them because of their Father. He would save them, and he would save the thousands of innocent lives that had been claimed by the kinslayings and wars.

But...How would he do it? How could he perform such a grand deed?

The Silmarils.

That is what is always came down to.

Destroying those Silmarils was Maglor's top priority.

And he would do it... No matter what the cost.


~Duplicity~

Having reached the bottom of the path a few moments later, Maglor leaped off the edge of a large boulder and quietly landed on the ground below. His harp, however, decided to slip from his hands and skid down the rocky ledge towards the pool.

"Rhaich!" Maglor exclaimed, lunging after his beloved instrument without a thought. He managed to snatch the silver harp up before it had a chance to vanish beneath the surface of the clear water, much to his relief. Straightening, Maglor quickly put his harp into the small pack he carried, ensuring that he wouldn't drop it again. "Valar, that would have been terrible." He told himself, patting his pack.

"What was that?"

Maglor's ear twitched, having heard the low, but musical, voice coming from the trees behind him. Sharply turning his head in the direction of the voice, Maglor narrowed his eyes, his hand resting on one of his knives resting against his hip.

"Not sure, but it came in the direction of the waterfall." Another voice replied.

Maglor froze in shock, his expression morphing into one of stunned disbelief. Those voices... It couldn't be! It was too soon!

Slowly backing away, Maglor waited for the voices to speak again so as to convince himself that he wasn't imagining them.

"Only we know of that waterfall." A third voice chimed in, this one darker than the others, and Maglor immediately recognized it.

Oh no... Maglor raised a hand to cradle his head, as though he were in pain. It was impossible!

"Clearly, we're not the only ones."

They were getting closer.

Maglor frantically tried to think of what to do. Should he stay there and allow himself to be discovered? Should he run?

Wait, run? Why would he run?

He was unable to make his decision when a dark haired Ellon emerged from the darkness of the forest. Instinctively, Maglor unsheathed his knife and expertly cast it in the Ellon's direction. The thin, but lethal, blade flew straight and true, slicing through the Ellon's tunic sleeve and pinning it to the tree behind him.

"What in Eru's name-?!" The Ellon sputtered, staring at the knife. Another Ellon burst from the trees, having heard his brother's cry and barely avoided being struck by another knife.

"Valar!" The golden-haired Elf staggered back, crashing into a third, dark-haired, Ellon.

"What is going on here?" The third demanded to know, taking in the sight of his brother stuck to a tree and helping his other brother regain his balance. Jerking their heads in Maglor's direction, the two newcomers, who'd been reaching for their weapons, paused in surprise, their eyes widening. "Wha..?"

Maglor returned the stare, watching them closely, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that this was truly happening.

The first Ellon he'd pinned to the tree growled in frustration as he tried to loosen the knife, and, upon hearing his brothers' abrupt silence, raised his head to see what had caught their attention. His dark expression immediately melted away into shock as the golden-haired Ellon cautiously stepped forwards and called,

"Macalaurë?"

Without warning, a glint of bright light flashed through the air towards the golden-haired Ellon.

"Tyelkormo!" The third Ellon exclaimed, watching as 'Tyelkormo' jerked to a stop. The golden Ellon stared down at the sword barely touching his chin then his blue orbs flickered up to meet Maglor's in confusion.

"Macalaurë?" He questioned, not daring to move an inch. There was something wrong, he could sense it. Something was very wrong with Macalaurë. He was different. Why would his own brother raise his blade against him?

"What are you doing, Macalaurë!?" The Ellon, who had managed to free himself from the tree, growled, menacingly moving forward to flank the second Ellon. "Put your blade down, muindor!"

"Who are you?" Maglor demanded to know, narrowing his eyes on the three, never once relinquishing his hold on the blade he held.

"What?!" The third gaped at him, gesturing towards himself and the other two. "What do you mean 'Who are we?!' It is I, Curufinwë! Surely you remember Tyelkormo and Morifinwë! We're your brothers!"

Maglor shook his head, his dark hair swaying from the movement, his hand wavering slightly. Tyelkormo, Morifinwë, and Curufinwë. The very Ellons Maglor knew the voices did truly belong to. But, was it truly possible? There was still some doubt in Maglor as he examined his supposed 'brothers.' He had no reason not to believe them, and yet... It was still difficult for him to accept this.

Before he could ask any more questions, a voice hollered,

"Tyelkormo! Curufinwë! Morifinwë!"

Maglor felt his heart come to a complete stop at the voice, standing stock still. That voice... He would never forget that voice. It was one he knew well. One he had missed greatly, and yet, felt bitter towards.

Neither of the three Ellons responded as a taller, more imposing, Ellon wandered into the small clearing where the waterfall was located. Maglor felt as though his world had come crashing down as he turned his head to face the newcomer.

The Ellon had a unique shade of red hair that cascaded over his shoulders and down his back, two braids woven together at the back of his head so that they fell as one, and deep blue eyes that regarded the scene before him with astonishment.

Maglor studied him intensely, hardly daring to breathe. The same red hair Maedhros had been well-known for, the same warm blue eyes, the same crimson colored clothes his brother always wore... And of course, he was tall. Several inches taller than Maglor.

There was a tense silence that fell over the clearing as Maglor and the red-haired Ellon regarded one another, one with suspicion, and the other with disbelief and hope.

It was the tall Ellon who shattered the silence first, calling out Maglor's childhood name quietly.

"Macalaurë?"

Maglor shook his head, blinking several times as he tried, but failed, to convince himself that this wasn't happening. "No. No, no, no." He hissed to himself, closing his eyes. He knew it was true. Deep down, Maglor knew. Then, why was it so hard to believe in it?

Shock. He must still be in shock.

Yes, he was in shock. That was what it was.

"Macalaure?" Maedhros called again, making his way towards the Elf. Maglor took a step back when he saw Maedhros coming his way, panic seizing his being. He didn't realize he had dropped his blade and didn't even think before turning tail and fleeing from the clearing. "Macalaurë!"


~Duplicity~

Alrighty. There you have it. I hope it was interesting! The second chapter should be up soon.