Disclaimer: I do not own anything except a lot of student debt which you are welcome to. This is only written for personal enjoyment and the enjoyment of my readers.

AN: This is the Third and final instalment in my maia series (Wrath's Recompense and then Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy). Unlike in TTSS, the maia children which were the main characters of TTSS will be referred to by their Quenya names in this story as they are now in Valinor though they will still be referred to by their Sindarin names depending on the point of view (characters from ME will use sindarin, the ones in Valinor will use Quenya). If you have forgotten, Meriliel is Arallë and Galadhion is Elanon. Fea is actually Quenya already, it is a shortening of her full name (Russëfea) that she used when she first met Elrond as she couldn't pronounce her full name because she was only a little child at the time. This version is going to stay since a) Gilgalad calls her that and b) it is a lot easier to type.

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Part Three of the Maia Trilogy.

Chapter 1

Gilgalad blinked in surprise as he woke up. He hadn't expected the halls of Mandos to look like Imladris at all. The confused contemplations were ended by a tinkling laugh to his side and the elf king turned to see who was sitting there. It was Fea, though not as he'd ever seen his betrothed before.

Fea seemed rather more otherworldly than he remembered and the delicate elfin points to her ears had gone, though her glow had strengthened significantly. Many other things had changed, including the fact that her hair was more obviously red and there was stunning glow about her dark green eyes which was somewhat reminiscent of the Caliquendi. There were many other smaller changes about her that the brunette couldn't quite specify but there was no doubt that Fea was more beautiful than ever.

She smiled at him softly as he regarded her with wonder in his eyes.

"Welcome to Valinor Orenya, for real this time." Well, that sort of explained things, this was obviously Fea's home.

"How long have I been in Mandos?" He asked, somewhat hoarsely. Before answering, Fea busied herself with getting him water with which to wet his throat.

"You never went there, Elanon called Arallë and I and we brought you to Valinor and we, with our family's help, healed you." It took a moment for the shocked elf to comprehend what she had just told him. When it had sunk in a whole stream of questions fell from his mouth, only stopped by Fea laughing a bell like laugh.

Before she could answer any of them though, the door opened and about the last person he expected to see put his head round the door.

"Is he awake yet?" Asked Fingon quietly. Fea raised an eyebrow and looked pointedly at the bed. Fingon followed her gaze and grinned at his son. Ereinion didn't know why he was so surprised to see his father there; though considering he hadn't seen the older elf since he had been a tiny child it was impressive that he even recognised his father. All the same, his father seemed immensely pleased that he was awake. The dead giveaway was the way the elf bounced over to his son and hugged him enthusiastically, which resulted in a cry of pain.

"Fingon, be careful! He is far from recovered yet!" Fea snapped, sounding rather motherly. Fingon just grinned up at her boyishly and carefully let his son go. Fea just rolled his eyes. "I'll leave you to terrorise your poor son for the moments. Try not to put back his recovery too far."

Gilgalad watched her leave as his father turned to him and start an enthusiastic commentary, apparently delighted to have the opportunity to speak to his son for the first time in over 3000 years.

XXX

Thranduil returned to his realm is low spirits. Elrond had told him about Fea and Galadhion leaving for Valinor at Gilgalad's death. Most had assumed the maia had died in the fighting and Thranduil had been too busy to correct them but what depressed him most was that he strongly expected that his step mother had also gone which meant he only had Losmeril left to lean on as he rebuilt the Greenwood after the huge losses of the male population due to the war, presuming she hadn't gone with her mother as a half maia herself.

When he reached the palace, the sight that greeted him was bittersweet. Losmeril was still there but her mother had left. The strawberry blond princess was pale as she awaited him, an attendant waiting beside her with the crown of the Greenwood, woven of the plants of the season, on a cushion. When he reached her, he knelt down as she formally welcomed him back and crowned him with the living wreath.

The Greenwood had never really developed a coronation ceremony, and this little ceremony was about as close as it got. Thranduil couldn't help feeling that it should be his father here receiving the crown of the new season.

As soon as they were in private, Losmeril threw herself into his lap and sobbed out her heart as they shared the grief of both now being orphaned. Thranduil wasn't sure whether it was better that Meriliel had gone to Valinor and left her child to such grief or to have stayed and potentially risk her life to her grief for her late husband. He didn't know whether maia received new bodies as elves did and in that realisation he knew the answer. At least this way he knew Losmeril would see both her parents again some time.

XXX

Elrond wasn't really looking forward to returning to Imladris right now. It had always been a haven he co-ruled with Fea and it just wasn't going to be the same now she was gone. Imladris had very much been her brain child – a replica of sorts of her home in Valinor. When he reached the courtyard he and Fea had greeted so many guests in he was met by the remaining steward who presumably had taken over charge of Imladris now Fea had gone.

"My Lord! Well met." He called, looking worried. When Elrond reached him and took his hand in greeting, he leant forward. "My lord, I must report that the Lady Fea..."

Elrond did not let him finish.

"Is gone, I know. She and the other two maia, Galadhion and Meriliel left for Valinor magically with the High King's body just as Sauron was defeated. She is back home." It took some effort for his voice not to break on that note – he still thought of Imladris as her home. The realms of Lindon and Imladris had been her home for 3000 years.

The next day found him pacing through his hall restlessly trying to forget both the last seven years of horror and that his ward was no long around. Absently he noted she had done an excellent job of restoring the city to the state it had been before the armies of the west had mustered there. Apparently she had hated the warlike remembrances their muster had brought as much as he had.

Eventually he came to a distant hall with a balcony over the extensive gardens the Fea had loved so much. Elrond spent some time grasping the banister tightly as he examined the gardens which were just beginning to come back into bloom before turning round, trying to pull himself from his grief at the joint loss of Fea and his king. That loss was too painful to even brood on. As he examined the hall he noted that the wall was a rare example of a plainly plastered and whitewashed wall with no decorations whatsoever. Absently, he considered what it could be used for.

XXX

Arallë sat in the parlour of her parents' house, pale and staring. Though in the seven years after Oropher's death at Dagorlad she had to some degree got over the pain of loss of her husband but she had mostly done it by burying her grief.

Now though she was back in Valinor and had nothing to distract herself with and in the few weeks since leaving the Greenwood she was already missing Losmeril intensely. The remains of her family, particularly her daughter, were her main regret about leaving the dark wood that was intensely laden with memories of Oropher.

It didn't take long for her brother to turn up. Elanon was far better than many of the others round here, at least amongst the maia. He had been through the war, he had suffered, he had been the one to find the body of her beloved. He understood her grief at the loss better than just about anyone. Fea may have understood but she had pretty much exclusively spent her time looking after her own beloved who had come incredibly close to death. From the few times Arallë could bear to drop by, hoping to be distracted by the visits, she knew that he would be terribly scarred even with the combined efforts of the entire maia family to heal him.

Elanon was stroking her hair gently.

"Shall we try tonight for a dream vision? You really need to be able to get in touch with Losmeril – you're falling apart." Mutely, Arallë nodded.

"Yes, I suppose we should." There was silence for a few minutes. "I hope neither Losmeril nor Thranduil are angry at us leaving." Elanon held her a little tighter, hoping to comfort his sister, knowing she hurt incredibly. Mentally he cursed Sauron and his army for having caused so much pain. He did not doubt he was the only one in this position, hurting yet comforting the hurt at the same time. How many had lost everything to this thrice damned war?

The anger and pain probably engulfed the entire continent and everyone suffered for one megalomaniac fallen maia. The young maia (relatively) could not fathom such evil as to want to cause such pain to so many.

Though he recommended that they try to contact Thranduil and Losmeril, Elanon worried also. Since their leaving Arda, none of them had any new of what had happened in Arda, the last any of the three knew was that Sauron had been defeated and that all the armies were returning home – homes that were hopefully undamaged. Elanon was not sure he wanted to know how things were going, yet it was a nagging worry in the side of his mind.

XXX

Cirdan went pale as he read the first missive from the front that he had received since hearing the battle was won. That missive had contained no details, just that they had won.

This letter was infinitely worse. Elrond had written it and had tried to be delicate about the painful news but the peredhil had been grieving as well, not to mention having to deal with getting the combined armies of Lindon and Imladris back to their homes and doing what little they could do for the vast number of dead left over.

Cirdan sat down and watched the sea for some time before lifting the letter again and reading through it. Ancient as he was, Cirdan was used to grieving the loss of those he loved but this particular grief hurt very much. He had brought Ereinion Gilgalad up as his own son after King Fingon had sent the tiny child to him for protection. Silently the oldest elf in Arda sat and remembered the vibrant, bright child he had cared for and then the energetic young king he had guided throughout his life and mourned the loss to Arda that had befallen them when Sauron had laid his burning hand upon the elf's shoulder.

At least there wasn't a body left to be buried in that vile wasteland that was Mordor – his little prince deserved better than that.