So now that Maglor and Elrond are reunited, everything will surely be smooth sailing…if only it were that easy.
Chapter 2
Elrond straightened up and stepped back a few paces as he regained his composure. "What will you do now?"
"I…I do not know," Maglor answered, looking puzzled. "I feel as if the Valar have called me to return to Aman to face judgement."
"And judgement you shall face," a familiar voice said resolutely, and Elrond prevented himself from rolling his eyes at Glorfindel's dramatic entrance into the glade. "Either by my hand or by theirs."
"Laurefindil," Maglor murmured, giving him a small, respectful bow. "I did not expect to see you on this side of the Sea. You have returned."
"Indeed I have, Kanafinwë," Glorfindel said softly, but danger was simmering under the casual tone of his voice. "Or would you prefer Makalaurë? Káno?"
Maglor smirked, "I have not heard those names in many yéni." He boldly met Glorfindel's eyes. "Maglor is fine."
"It is too bad the world was changed after the War, at the end of the 1st age," Glorfindel said mockingly. "A boat to Aman is too good for you. You deserve no better than the Helcaraxë (Grinding Ice) to be your route." Elrond shivered. The Crossing of the Helcaraxë to get from Aman to Beleriand had happened many years before his birth, but he had heard of the pain and suffering his people faced from those who were there, Glorfindel included. It was a bitter event which would make any acceptance of Maglor by the Noldor nearly impossible. Most would call for his execution, should he come to Valinor, and it might very well be what the Valar would sentence.
Maglor's fists were clenched and his head was bowed. Elrond knew how much he regretted the Kin-slaying at Alqualonde, and the treachery of burning the ships after they were used to cross by his father Feanor. It was a burden he carried even now, and Elrond could see how it almost physically weighed him down by how his shoulders were hunched. He did not respond, although Elrond could see his teeth were gritted tight with the effort to remain silent.
Glorfindel smirked, looking at Maglor's diminished form scornfully. "You may not even make it to a boat alive," he drawled. "There are many traveling with us who would see you slain, not even counting Cirdan and those in Mithlond."
"Glorfindel, that is enough," Elrond ordered. "It is not your decision to make." The Ellon gave Elrond a hard look, but nodded tightly. He was taut as Lindir's bowstring, and ready for a fight. Elrond focused his attention on Maglor, who's gaze was directed to the pine needle-covered forest floor. "You say you believe the Valar wish for you to come with us?" He needed to clarify that this was what Maglor was told, or he could be leading his people to death in the Seas. The Valar would not permit those they deemed unwelcome to pass by the Straight Road, and a ship with Maglor on it could drown by Ossë's hand.
Maglor nodded, "It was the impression I was given, although there was no direct command in dreams or when awake."
"Hir nin, it is too risky!" Lindir argued. "He could be the cause of the deaths of our people!"
Elrond was thinking hard. Lindir was right, but would it not be worse to deny Maglor's passage, if the Valar indeed summoned him for judgement? Standing tall, he made a decision, "You will travel with us to the Havens. Once there, we will reevaluate. It is my hope the Valar will provide you with more clarity."
"What if I do not receive it?" Maglor asked softly.
"We will cross that bridge if we come to it," Elrond said, sounding more decisive than he felt.
Lindir gave a frustrated sigh, and Glorfindel spat, "Very well. You will come with us, Kin-slayer." He looked to Elrond. "I must bind him, hir nin. It is not safe for him to remain undetained."
"Bind me?" Maglor asked warily.
Glorfindel nodded, "You say the Valar have summoned you to face judgment for your crimes, which include murder. This makes you a criminal, and we will take up the duty of putting you under guard in their stead."
Both Ellyn turned to Elrond, who now felt uncomfortable under their gazes. After a tense moment of deliberation, he nodded reluctantly. "I am sorry Maglor, but his words are sound. We will treat you fairly and without cruelty." He hoped Maglor would not hold it against him, and felt reassured by the gentle half-smile he received.
"Now that is settled, I will take your weapons," Glorfindel said brusquely.
"I carry no weapons, but search me if you must," Maglor muttered, and it was done. In this, he spoke the truth, and not even the smallest dagger was found. Elrond was surprised by this; how did he hunt, or cut anything without even a small knife? Maglor answered his unasked question, "I left my weapons behind when I heard Lindir singing. I knew it was the sign I was looking for."
"What of your other belongings?" Elrond asked, puzzled.
Maglor pointed behind him to a nearby rock. "My pack is just over yonder, but there are no weapons within. You may search it, if you like." Lindir quickly retrieved it, and rifled through it before reluctantly confirming Maglor's claim.
"I must go on ahead to prepare everyone," Elrond said tiredly. This would be quite the spectacle, and one he hoped would not deteriorate into violence. Would his word be enough?
It was, but only just.
Unsurprisingly, despite Elrond's calm, even tone, and assurance that he felt completely safe, there was plenty of outrage and anger to go around, and even some tears. It broke his heart to see the damage Maglor and his brothers (not to mention their cursed father Feanor) had done, which lingered even Ages later. Elves are immortal, and some things which happened millennia ago felt like only yesterday at times.
There was a thick tension in the air as Maglor emerged from the trees. Glorfindel had him securely restrained, and Lindir had his sword gripped tightly in his hand, ready to strike if Maglor even made the slightest wrong move. "What shall we do with him, hir nin?" Glorfindel asked, eyeing his prisoner with disdain.
It was a question he had reflected on at length, and he said with a sigh, "We must tie a rope to his hands, and the other end to the saddle strap of your horse. We are moving at a slow walk, and he should be able to keep pace with us without trouble. A guard of three Elves will stand beside him; I defer the selection of those to you." Part of him had a wild desire to pull Maglor up into the saddle with him, but knew how unrealistic it was. There was no way Glorfindel (or anyone, really) would allow it, even if ordered to the contrary, and he understood their caution. He held some of his own, despite his secret desire to pretend Maglor was not a threat, for he was. In fact, Maglor was probably one of the best warriors he had ever seen, despite never wishing to be one in the first place. He could do much damage even without a weapon, and it would only be too easy for him to steal one. However, Elrond did not believe he would do such a thing. He could see the honesty in Maglor's eyes at his determination to go to Aman and face the consequences of his actions, no matter what they amounted to.
They did not have much further to go, but they were moving at a leisurely pace. There were many Elves, and even a few Elflings along, as well as carts full of belongings people brought with them, so they could not move quickly. It would take perhaps a week to reach Mithlond. Hopefully it would be enough time for the Valar to deign Maglor with a message.
A cynical part of him wondered if Maglor was playing him for a fool. The Ellon was a wonderful storyteller from what Elrond remembered of his childhood, making fantasy seem so convincingly real that one could almost believe the events really happened. He knew how to play on Elrond's emotions, although he had never done so in a cruel way. Rather, he could read Elrond's body language and treat him accordingly, choosing his actions and responses to things carefully.
Yet, deep down in his soul, he believed what Maglor said. It would be right for the Valar to call upon him to answer for his crimes. He had wandered for a long time, facing thousands of years of isolation and loneliness. Perhaps they would treat this as a punishment in itself, and be more lenient? Maglor was the only one of his brothers to survive, and Elrond was fairly sure the others would still be in the Halls of Mandos, possibly denied the chance to be returned to their bodies. He could not be certain until he arrived in Valinor. Maglor would certainly be pleased to see them, should they be there, but Elrond thought it likely that Maglor did not expect to see them either. It made him sad to think on it, for he knew he would give almost anything to see Elros again, no matter what he had done in life.
An unfortunate consequence of Maglor's presence was that it set the party of Elves on edge. There was less pleasant chatter, and the music had ceased, due to the discomfort they were feeling. Many glares were thrown Maglor's way, and he kept his head down. Elrond could see the shame he felt in his body language, but the Ellon never complained or react negatively to their ire.
Thankfully, things improved after the first couple of days. Maglor was always good at keeping a low profile, and people seemed to notice him less, or at least pretended to, as time went on. Ignoring Maglor seemed to suit the others well enough, and Elrond let them. If it made things easier for everyone, that was more important than his personal feelings. As long as he was the leader of these people, he would do what was best for them. You won't be for much longer.
It was true; once they arrived in Valinor, the rulership would be altered. How it would look was the big question. Would there be a King of the Noldor? Finwë, if he was reimbodied, would likely be the King, or Finarfin his son. If so, would his people deign to follow them, or would they rather elevate Elrond to be their leader? Politics were never easy, and it was not something he was looking forward to dealing with.
At the campfire on the third night since Maglor's reappearance, Elrond was sitting near him. The Ellon was leaning against a tree, the rope looped around it and tied securely. However, he did not look uncomfortable, which made Elrond feel a bit better.
"Tell me of your wife," Maglor said softly. Elrond looked up and raised his eyebrows. "I can tell you yearn to see her, and will be reunited soon." He smiled, clearly picking up on Elrond's excitement.
Elrond sighed dreamily, "She is beautiful, although the word does not begin to describe how much. Her hair shines like the finest silver, and her blue eyes sparkle like diamonds, especially when she is happy. I remember when her and Arwen would sing, and they sounded so well together." He felt a jolt of pain at the realization this would never happen again, but pressed on. "She was obsessive over her small garden, just outside our window. Now, Imladris is full of vast, extensive gardens, with a wide variety of flowers and plants. However, she insisted on claiming a small patch for herself, and grew not only flowers, but also many herbs. The scent of her roses would fill the air pleasantly, and she insisted on cooking us meals many times, proud of what she had grown and determined to use it."
"Was she a skilled cook?" Maglor asked, amused.
Elrond smirked, "I would not call her 'skilled', but she tried her best to make something I and the children would be proud of." He smiled fondly. "We always ate it, even if it was burned a bit or didn't turn out quite right. She would scowl at me suspiciously if this happened, but the twins would always distract her with some wild story or another."
"Did they like to cause mischief?" When Elrond nodded, Maglor said with a quirk of his lips, "You and Elros were just the same, if you remember." He winked, and it made Elrond chuckle under his breath.
"Oh yes, we brought you and Maedhros to the ends of your ropes many times," Elrond murmured with a smile. "Although I will not apologize for it, as it was quite amusing to see how frustrated we could make you."
"You certainly did, Ionneg," he whispered, almost too soft for Elrond to hear. Clearly, he did not want others to overhear the endearment and take offense, as Lindir did. "Those times seem so far away now, almost like a dream." He was right; the memories were preserved like a fine wine in Elrond's heart, and he had treasured them, even when they caused him pain.
"Get some rest, for we still have several days travel, and you have been doing much walking," Elrond implored, and Maglor nodded tiredly. He had been trying to hide his exhaustion, but Elrond knew his tells too well to be fooled.
Elrond had taken to sleeping nearby Maglor, although he was completely surrounded by guards. Elrond understood their caution, and did not begrudge them for it, but it still chafed at him. As they settled down, Elrond surprised himself and whispered, "Goodnight, A-Adar." It was a bold thing to say, and Glorfindel looked at him disapprovingly. Elrond met his gaze evenly, daring him to say something, which he knew became harder when Maglor replied with a quiet, "Goodnight, penneth." Glorfindel huffed in annoyance, and determinedly paid even closer attention to Maglor, his hand always on the hilt of his sword. There would never be trust between him and Maglor, understandably.
It was that night a strange, vivid dream came to Elrond. He found himself standing on an unfamiliar coast full of white sand, watching as an elegant ship approached. It was full of people he recognized from Imladris, and knew instinctively that he was seeing the future. Sure enough, he watched himself disembark after the rest of them had, his eyes locking on someone he could not see but knew had to be Celebrian as they lit up with joy. However, Elrond was not himself in this dream; in fact, he noticed he had no body at all, but was unconcerned by this. He was just an observer.
The last to place his feet on the beach was Maglor, and he was instantly arrested by soldiers in shining armor. It was of the design Glorfindel had once worn, and he realized it was the Gondolindhrim who must live under the rule of Turgon, here in Aman. An Ellon with hair which was dark as night, said firmly, "You are to be escorted directly to the Circle of Doom to face trial for your crimes." Elrond's heart lurched as Maglor nodded grimly, but he admired him for his bravery and stoicism. It was probable Maglor would be walking to his death, and the Ellon had made it clear he was ready to face it.
The vision blurred, and he knew he was waking up. It was as clear a sign as he would get that Maglor was meant to journey with them to Valinor.
He blinked up at the sky, which was still dark, but he could tell dawn was not far off. He turned on his side and startled as he saw Maglor staring back at him, a haunted look in his eye. "Did you dream, penneth?" Elrond swallowed and nodded. "As did I." Did he see the same thing, on the shores of Aman?
"It is clear to me that your message from the Valar was the truth," Elrond whispered. "They wish for you to come with us on the Straight Road, across the Sea."
"Do you think they will give us safe passage?" Maglor asked, eyes glittering with concern. "I would hate for any to perish because of my presence."
"They have clearly summoned you; we will get there safely, I am sure of it." Maglor nodded slowly, the same stoic look from the dream crossing his face. He did not feel comfortable speaking of what he saw to anyone, even Maglor. Perhaps it was because he was afraid of it coming true; would they arrest Maglor in such an abrupt way, in front of everyone on the docks? It was distressing enough to view it in a dream; it would be much worse in reality. At least he would have Celebrian at his side.
"Try to get some more rest, Ionneg," Maglor whispered. "It will be another long day of travel."
"You as well…A-Adar," Elrond stammered, the word strange on his tongue, even the second time. Yet, it felt right to say. He could barely remember Earendil, and despite all of the heroic and selfless deeds his sire had done, it was difficult to pretend he hadn't felt abandoned. His mother, Elwing, tried to care for and give both of her children the love she had to offer, but she was always hurting as she waited for her husband to return from his voyages on the Sea. He remembered how frustrated and jealous he had felt at his Ada, for leaving all of them behind to go on adventures. Perhaps it was why he was so receptive to Maglor's love. Elrond and Elros had needed a father, and Maglor stepped into that role, at first reluctantly, but eventually with gladness.
Maglor's lips curved in a delighted smile, but it was subdued by current events. "Do not worry about my rest; I will watch over you, as I once did." The words warmed Elrond's heart, and made him feel like a child again, despite his roughly 6500 years of age.
It seemed as if only a moment had gone by before Glorfindel was gently shaking him awake. "Arduil, mellon nin," he said with a smile. "Time to rise."
Elrond sighed, wishing he could rest a little longer, but rose and readied himself for the day. He was the leader of his people, and needed to act accordingly. He looked to where Maglor had been sleeping, but found he was not there. Sure enough, one of the members of his guard was tying him up again to the horse which he would walk beside. He was saying something which made Maglor's face tighten, and Elrond knew it was an insult of some kind. He debated stepping in, but felt Maglor might not appreciate it, so he continued moving through the crowd, checking in with his fellow citizens to make sure they had what they needed. There were looks of relief and peace on their faces, and he knew they were glad to be near to Mithlond, to be reunited with those they loved across the Sea.
It began to rain lightly, and it sounded pleasant as it fell upon the trees and the path below them. His cloak did well to keep the water out, and he closed his eyes and let the nature around him bring him some peace. Elrond had always felt connected to the woods; it was what drew him to construct Imladris as he did. The Trollshaws were a beautiful, peaceful land for the most part, and when he came upon the place where Rivendell would be built, exhausted and heartsick from the sack of Eregion, he knew instinctively that it was where he would make his home and provide for his people. When he reached Valinor, he would make it a point to choose a dwelling surrounded by a similar atmosphere. As beautiful as he heard the glittering streets of Tirion were, city dwelling was not something which interested him.
Maglor began to sing something very softly, but Elrond could hear it clear as day. Lindir, who rode beside him, had his lips pressed tightly together, but he was fidgeting. Elrond was amused to see how his hands twitched toward his harp, which was hanging in a bag off of his horse, but then he would clench them together, trying to resist the urge to join in. Then, ever so faintly, Lindir began to hum, almost against his own will, going by the expression on his face. "Lindir, you are a musician, and they say Maglor is the second most talented Bard ever to walk in Arda," Elrond said dryly. "Set aside your disagreements and enjoy the making of music." He smirked. "I know you want to."
Lindir grumbled, but began to sing along. Maglor turned his face in their direction, and his eyes sparkled in delight. It made his face seem younger; there were many scars upon it from countless battles and years spent wandering, but those could not diminish his happiness when he made music. Elrond was spellbound by the sound of their voices in harmony, and he could tell the others felt the same. As the chorus swelled, he smiled as the Elves around him began to join in. While his people were a little more reserved, in music they found the most joy. The Hall of Fire was always full of songs and performances, from the most accomplished to the least.
Despite the awkwardness of Maglor's presence among their company, music was a universal language, and Maglor was very talented. If this was what it took to bring a measure of calm to the group, Elrond was glad of it.
Perhaps the rest of this journey would go well after all.
Thank you for reading!