A/N ...What happened? Alright...so it may be self advertising, but since I may not get to my "Songs are Fairer Elsewhere" in a while...I will simply say, for those who might be reading that story, that writer's block hit hard, and the months have been a bit on a loop/stress :P I am not even in school yet, so that is not even an excuse. I WILL get to it, I know that much.

Thank you to those who have tagged along for this drama. Rushed this chapter will be (written in about two hours with brief skimming), hopefully it is alright.


'…It is with mixed feelings that I send this to you, Elrond, that Maglor is at the Haven's under our care. His condition is very poor, and I know not when or if he will finally disappear. I have already attempted to get him to see reason of his folly, yet it may be too late. Eru knows his suffering, and his mercies may be the only way.

I will not prevent you from coming on your own volition, but I advise coming alone, if for the sake of Maglor. You know well the effects of succumbing to this mortal world.'

There. He finally gave into the urge. Círdan now stared with a faint pink color on his face at the parchment. Now, will he toss it into the fire or actually send it? There are so many things that could go wrong if he sends it. Maglor really going insane or finally keeling over…Well, most the bad factors involve Maglor's condition. Elrond, Círdan was sure that he could handle this, as long as it does not remind him of Celebrían. Or Elros. Or…

Probably too many people, or Círdan really does not trust Elrond to not slip into those depressive states.

The old elf heaved a big sigh and slouched back into his seat in a very un-elvish matter. The stress was finally getting to him. Oh, how much he wished things could be easy to deal with. No stubborn people, no dying people…The list could go on for quite a while.

…All the stress came from dealing with Maglor.

Círdan really did not want to keep thinking about the Noldo every second of the day, but he could not help but think about the poor elf. He was not cold hearted when it came to Maglor, but even in these difficult circumstances, there really needs to be some limits in order to retain one's own sanity and ability to continue pushing through. The Teler briefly wondered if that was part of fading also: getting everyone wrapped around your finger. Círdan knew those elves could not help that part, yet…maybe it was intentional, so they could get help. That would be fair enough for them, if it were not for a lot of cases where they got themselves in that mess, by delaying their departure. Maglor…

Stop it.

Círdan rubbed his forehead with one hand. Yes, most definitely it is the stress. Then the door knocked.

'I am going to lose my mind also. At least Maglor would not be alone in that…'

"Enter." Círdan answered wearily, and an elf-maid entered looking a bit lost and even startled. The elf-lord put on an even mask and gave her a certain look that meant for her to speak.

"M-maglor…he…he seemed to lose his grasp on reality or, everything, rather, and collapsed onto the ground and started saying things. And then…he went slack."

Círdan straightened up a bit at this. Was this what he was hoping for? The elf's heart lifted slightly, while at the same time dropped. It had to be in a dramatic way too. Without even saying anything he stood up and was to walk past the other elf.

"M-my lord?' She stammered. The stress was getting to her also.

"I must see." Círdan answered readily. He then stopped suddenly and turned back to the desk, grabbing the letter he had just written, "Attach this to a messenger bird for Imladris. And take a couple days for yourself." He just gave the poor elf the paper before moving down the hall.

The elleth just stood there for a moment, trying to understand what just happened. Oh…this job can take much from someone, but she was used to it. She went to do what her lord bid her to do with the parchment; not even reading the contents of it.


It did not take long for Círdan to reach the Noldo's room and came in unannounced, which surprised the ones who were awake. Three were, and Maglor again was listless and asleep on the bed.

"Hir Círdan," another elf-maid said quickly, recovering from the abrupt entry, "We did not expect…"

"You may take a few days off, but one I will need a word with before then. This has been difficult for all of us." Círdan came over to the side of the bed. He looked back up to see the still-shocked elves, "Two of you may go now." Looking at the elleth that addressed him earlier meant that she was to stay.

The two that were dismissed did not leave immediately, but they did eventually. The she-elf slowly came to the opposite side of where Círdan stood, who by now was looking at the withered husk of Maglor. It was quiet during that time, and the healer was beginning to become uneasy with it.

"I only received a small summary of what happened…" The Telerin lord broke the silence finally, "What lead to this collapse?"

Inwardly the elf-maid felt relieved at sound being present, "We gave him the harp…and he showed sadness to it. We let him be while being discreetly watchful. He did strum one string a little bit. Without even expecting it he became restless and headed to the railing." She paused, remembering her temporary panic about thinking Maglor leaping over the edge, "…we kept him from jumping if he was to attempt that, but he simply fell on his knees and seemed to plead for something…Even with elvish hearing, we could not discern the words."

Círdan silently took this in. Near the end of the small tale he pulled the blanket back to reveal the Noldo's face. Maglor looked peaceful, more so than the last few times he slept. Maglor did seem more worn and exhausted though, if it were even possible. He did not even look distressed.

The elf-maid in the room stood in tense silence, gauging for any reactions. When her lord moved the sheet from the dying elf, she looked at the Teler's expression. What she saw surprised her. A whole lot of relief, maybe even happiness, yet there was a bit of glistening in the elder's eyes. When Círdan seemed satisfied with what he saw, he gave a sad and somewhat happy smile in her direction.

"He finally let all those burdens go." Círdan simply said.

The elleth's heart lifted, but she looked concerned at the lingering sadness.

Círdan caught on with this. He gave a soft sigh, "If this were done earlier, then he would have a greater chance to live. But this is really late in the process, yes?"

"It is…"

Then there was still a good chance that Maglor could die before reaching Valinor, let alone even get on a ship. If Maglor finally accepted what is supposed to come, he likely has nothing else to live for. Oh, but there is. So much to live for…

The elf-maid spoke again, tentatively, "Should…we not get him on a ship as soon as possible?"

They should…but they should when Maglor was more stable and less in this near-death-state. He may stay that way until he could be healed in the West, but they could try to improve his health until then. It was all timing, and time was something little they had. Even the people, it would make it less stressful on his part to be with people he knew, or thought he knew. But the only ship that would contain such people would sail in two months.

Even when the path is the right one, it still will have its own trials. If not more difficult ones.

Círdan let out another exhale and turned to get another seat, "We will wait, and try and get him prepared to endure such a taxing trip. I may need to confirm that he has let go of his guilt also…" The elf-lord glanced at the other awake occupant, "You may leave now, and thank you for all you have done."

The elleth's heart warmed a bit, but she could not simply leave her lord and charge alone, "Let me stay and assist. You intend to stay with him more, my lord?" An affirming nod, "…please, you may need some help in this."

Círdan offered a wry smile, "I raised an elf-king. Yet even that I had help with…But, I insist you take a break. You may return in a day, if that suits well."

The elleth nodded. That would work alright. She offered a light bow to take her leave and left the room.

Círdan watched before he turned to grab a chair and placed it next to the head of the bed, and sat down again. Things could only turn for the worse or get better, but one thing is probably certain: Maglor may return whole, in one way or another. For now, he could only wait and see. There was Elrond to consider, but that could wait…

Círdan placed a hand gently on Maglor's forehead, and to his slight surprise the Noldo flinched in response. The Teler was hopeful the fading elf would do more than that, and the wish was granted.


Maglor opened his eyes to mere slits; not really seeing except a lot of blurs. He knew there was someone close by, but could not pinpoint who. Then it happened; there it was again…likely the only way he could actually 'hear' being spoken to.

'Do not leave us now, Maca…you got over one hurdle, the biggest one yet, but there is still more to overcome; they may be the easiest. Do not leave yet.'

But it was over, he did it, finally. But if they say it was not over…he will remain for a while yet. Yes, he would be going home soon. That was certain. Maglor closed his eyes again and drifted from the waking world. Círdan then began his silent vigil.


A/N The drama continues...