In the morning they set out for Rivendell. They did not return to the Road immediately but rather set out eastward into the wild, planning to pass north of the Weather Hills then return on their eastern side eventually returning to the road to cross the River Mitheithel at the Last Bridge. The Rangers and the sons of Elrond had an errand in the wild, seeking something that they did not think they would find near the road. In truth, Aragorn had begun to doubt that they would find it in the North at all. This they did not share with Maglor.

Indeed, they did not speak much with him at all and he did note invite conversation. He stalked behind them like a shadow and lurked at the fringes of their campfire, wordless but ever watchful. Halbarad was one who was used to silence and solitude but he was still unsettled by it, oft looking over his shoulder and startling each time that he found himself caught by Maglor's gaze, at once bright and dark as the night sky.

They were crossing a fenny land, now bleak and barren with winter when Halbarad noticed the tracks. They weren't recent and they weren't clear but he thought, and Aragorn agreed, that they could have been the marks of something that wore no shoes, yet walked on wide flat feet. Gandalf had asked them to keep a watch for such a creature, though Halbarad had yet to hear why he sought it. Nevertheless, this discovery was a relief to Halbarad for he had begun to feel like a jailer and he wearied of it.

It was agreed that Elladan and Elrohir would proceed along their planned track, making for Rivendell with Maglor, while the Men followed the tracks directly southward to see whether anything more clear might be found. As Halbarad and Aragorn bent close to the ground to examine a bent stick or to sniff at a pile of scat or a little tumulus of fish bones, he felt more at ease.

"Do you know why Gandalf is so concerned with this creature?"

Aragorn was bent over, cheek almost to the ground as he laid his fingers gently into depressions in the ground that may have been a track, but may not. Halbarad scanned the horizon and saw nought but a hawk hovering on an updraft. "It concerns his Halfling friend. It seems that he met the creature during their travels with the Dwarves. He believes that this creature has something or knows something."

"He would tell you no more?" The hawk dropped to the ground and Halbarad could hear the cry of a rabbit.

Aragorn looked up. "I know a bit more of the story, but no more of his suspicions." He stood and brushed a piece of grass from his beard. "This is fruitless. If the creature came this way, it was long ago. I think he has gone east."

"Back to the mountains, maybe?"

"Perhaps." He looked to the sky where the sun was the merest hint of brightness behind the thick clouds. "We'll have snow tonight."

"Aye. Let us find somewhere that we can be out of the wind."

In the lee of a small hillock, they built a bivouac of their cloaks and took shelter within. The snow came before they were able to build a fire, so they contented themselves with the nuts and cured meat that they carried with them. Aragorn had a small dram of miruvor remaining. Having nothing else to do, they shared the remaining sips of the liqueur and talked.

The conversation was mostly of small things, the things that they had seen on their travels, those they had met. Halbarad told a bawdy story that he had heard from the Men of Dale. Aragorn sang a song that he had learned during his travels in far Harad. As oft happened, their conversation soon turned to their current concerns.

"Where will you go now?" asked Halbarad.

"For now, I think we should go on to Rivendell. It may be that we will continue east from there, although it will be some months before we can attempt to cross the mountains."

"Well, I suppose we shall learn what is to be done with Maglor."

"I suppose. You don't sound eager to see our new friend again."

"He is not precisely cheerful company, is he?"

Aragorn laughed at that. "I don't believe he has spent much time in company of any sort for a great many years."

"I only think it is a bit queer. If he is who we believe him to be and he has stayed hidden for all this time, then why should he show himself now?"

"I think I'd say he was found, rather than that he revealed himself."

"Are you so certain that he didn't intend it that way? Maybe he found us rather than the other way around. If that's the case, I think we should ask why."

Aragorn considered this. "Whatever the truth, I shall be interested to see what he and Elrond have to say to each other."

"Yes, what was it Elrohir said? 'Are you so afraid of one who was once as a son to you?'" He folded his arms against the cold and passed the bottle back to Aragorn. "Do you know the story?" Aragorn could usually be relied upon for a tale.

"Parts of it, at least." Halbarad settled in his seat, content to listen. He knew parts of the story himself but he had never given the attention to the old songs that some did. They were long, and more often than not, Halbarad's attention would wander. "Feanor, eldest son of Finwe, was a great craftsman. At the dawn of the world, he created three great jewels, the Silmarils, wherein was captured the light of the two trees of Valinor. The stones were stolen by the great Enemy. Feanor and his children swore an oath that they would recover the SIlmarils from any that would seek to keep them, be they kinsman or foe. They pursued him to Middle Earth. Many evils were done along the way, even unto the slaying of kin. One of the stones was eventually taken from him by Beren and Luthien, a tale that you well know.

"When word reached the sons of Feanor that a Silmaril was in Doriath, they attacked the city, but failed to retake the stone. Elwing, daughter to Dior, fled to the Arvernien where she wedded Earendil and bore to him the sons Elrond and Elros. The sons of Feanor again attacked, killing many of those who had fled there. Elwing cast herself into the sea, leaving her sons behind. Of the sons of Feanor, only Maedhros and Maglor remained. Maglor took the boys Elrond and Elros into his own dwelling. It is said that he loved them as his children and that they grew to love him in return, however unlikely that may be."

Halbarad made a sound of disbelief. "It is said?"

Aragorn shrugged. "I know not the truth of it, and it is not a question that I wish to ask of the lord of Rivendell.

"The other stones were recovered in the War of Wrath when the great Enemy was destroyed and Beleriand was lost beneath the waves. Still bound by their Oath, the two remaining sons of Feanor stole the stones. It was the nature of the stones that any unclean hand would be burnt by the stones. When the remaining sons of Feanor laid hands upon the stones, they were burnt and they understood that through their foul deeds, they had relinquished their claim upon the stones and that their Oath was doomed to remain unfilled. Maedhros, the eldest son of Feanor, threw himself into a chasm of fire, and the stone was lost with him. Maglor, it is said, cast the Silmaril that he took into the Sea, but his fate was unknown, until now."

"This tale does not make me feel more trusting. It is as Elladan and Elrohir said: he is a thief and a fiend."

"Indeed. Perhaps he has been moved to make recompense for his actions. Forget not what he said about redemption."

Halbarad settled himself into as comfortable a spot as he could and close his eyes. "I hope that you are correct."

It was full night when the sons of Elrond reached Rivendell. They had spent the recent days scrambling through snow and mud in the pathless lands and rued the decision to continue through the wild. They found their father in his library where he and the Hobbit, Bilbo, were deep in conversation. The Hobbit had taken up residence in Rivendell some years ago and seemed well-pleased to spend his retirement translating old tales into the Common Tongue.

"Nay, 'curse' is not quite the word. It should be more ambiguous. I think 'fate' conveys the sentiment better."

"Ah, but I've already used 'fate' in this quatrain, Master Elrond. What about 'destiny?' Does that convey enough ambiguity for you?"

Elladan felt Maglor stir behind him. Elrond looked up then, smiling at the sight of his sons. His gladness faded as he took note of the dark figure behind them.

"A moment please, Mr. Baggins."

"Yes, of course, of course." Bilbo hastily gathered his papers.

As the old hobbit bustled past them, Maglor spoke up, "Have you considered 'doom?'"

Bilbo snapped his fingers, "that's it, exactly! My thanks, sir." He peered at the newcomer.

"Bilbo," Elrond prompted.

"Right. Good night Master Elrond." Bilbo disappeared down the hall with many a curious glance over his shoulder.

The door was closed and firmly latched before any dared to speak.

"I am glad to see you both well. I see you have brought news from the North?" His eyes strayed to Maglor, still hooded.

"Indeed," said Elladan. "We met with Aragorn and one of his kindred. They had come upon a harper in the village of Bree and thought that we would wish to meet him." The fire in the room crackled. "They were not wrong."

Elrond studied the faces of his sons. "Very well. I suppose that I, too, should meet this mysterious individual." He stood and gestured at one of the chairs. "Be welcome, guest."

Through all this introduction, Maglor had made no movement. He stepped forward now and drew back his hood with a hand that shook. "Well met, Lord of Imladris," he said.

At the sight of his face, Elrond blanched. It seemed for a moment that he would be unable to speak. "You look well," he said at last.

Maglor smiled at that. The expression sat uneasily on his lips. "You should not lie to me. You were never very good at it."

Elrond laughed at that but the sound was something other than mirthful. "We have much to say to each other, but the hour is late and you all must be weary."

Elladan moved as if he would speak, but Elrond held up a hand.

"My sons, please show our guest to where he may refresh himself and rest. We have much to discuss and haste will not lead us to wisdom. We shall speak of this on the morrow."

Halbarad and Aragorn reached Rivendell with no further delay and with no sign of the creature. Having veered south in their search, they decided to return to the road. The weather had continued foul and the going would be easier than in the fens and woody places. Despite their detour, they reached Rivendell only a day after the rest of their party. It was twilight as they rode into the valley. At long last the snow was passing and as the sun set, her rays escaped beneath the heavy blanket of clouds to paint the columns of Rivendell with red light and turn the many windows to gold.

They were greeted by the curious figure of a Halfling, bundled up in warm robes. Halbarad had heard about Gandalf's friend who had recently taken up residence in the house of Elrond. Indeed, the little fellow already seemed to regard himself an integral part of the household. He was sitting on one of the porches, with a cup of something steaming near at hand and a brazier near his feet.

"Dunadan! What a delight to see you. Elladan and Elrohir said that you were traveling this way, but we did not expect to see you so early."

"Ah, we had hoped to meet with a friend, but it seems that we missed our chance," said Aragorn.

Bilbo looked up at him and tapped the side of his nose. "You are a poor liar, Dunadan. Very well, keep your secrets, but introduce me to your friend. I don't think I've met this one yet."

Aragorn gestured and Halbarad stepped forward. "This is Halbarad son of Halbaron, one of my kinsmen."

Halbarad bent slightly to offer his hand, but Bilbo surprised him, jumping down from his seat to give him a short but serious bow. "Bilbo Baggins, son of Bungo."

"I am honored," said Halbarad.

"What of the others?" asked Aragorn.

"Ah, the twins went straight to their father with your ominous looking friend in tow. It all seemed dreadfully serious. Wherever did you stumble across him?"

"I'm sure you'll hear enough to content even you, in time."

"I rather doubt it. They were keeping awfully close about it all." If Bilbo had been less polite, he would perhaps have grumbled. "But, of course, I am delaying you. I expect Master Elrond will want to know that you have arrived. I could take you to him." Bilbo's eyes twinkled with mischief.

"Are you feeling left out of secret councils, Bilbo?" Aragorn chuckled. "I'm certain we can find the way."

"Oh, very well. They were in his study the last I saw them."

Halbarad followed close behind Aragorn almost treading on his heels lest he become lost in the halls and passages of Rivendell. He had been a guest in the Last Homely House before, but had rarely spoken to the Lord himself and had certainly never presumed to intrude upon his personal chambers. Halbarad would have been well-contented to have been excluded from the summons. Perhaps he could have spent more time on the porch, and shared a pipe with the Halfling. He had seemed to be a jolly enough fellow.

Instead they were greeted by a host of somber faces. It seemed that the others had already spent many hours in speech and over the whole room lay a pall of exhaustion and disappointment. Maglor, unhooded and clad in fresh garments, though he had not shed the gloves, seemed to be ill-at-ease and Halbarad looked on him with sudden pity. For his part, Maglor stared steadfastly through the window, not acknowledging the arrival of the Rangers. The sons of Elrond watched their father with grave concern as he greeted Aragorn and Halbarad.

"Men of the West, welcome! Did you find that which you sought?"

Aragorn answered for them. "Not yet, Master Elrond. If it was ever in the North, it is there no more."

"Please, rest here awhile before you continue your journey," Elrond paused. "Now to the matter at hand: I know what my heart bids, but I fear that I shall be a poor judge in this matter. Oft love and loyalty are twisted by the Enemy to suit his own designs." He spoke to Maglor. "Indeed, who should know this better than you and I?"

Maglor made no reply.

Elrond continued, "Therefore, I have summoned the members of my Council to determine what is to be done with Maglor son of Feanor. Whether they will respond, I do not know, but I think that all will find it difficult to travel before spring. Until then, I must rely on my own discernment." He addressed the unmoving figure at the window. "Maglor, much as my heart is glad to learn that you still live, I cannot forgive the grievous hurt that you have given to myself, to my family, to all of our people. It is my decision that you shall not walk free until the council may render their verdict. Neither shall you be detained. You may remain in Rivendell and the lands between the rivers and the mountains. If you wish to leave those lands, you may only do so in the company of the Dunedain or of my sons."

"Aragorn, Halbarad, do you accept this charge, both for yourselves and for the Dunedain?"

"Yes," they said.

Elrond turned back to Maglor. "Son of Feanor, will you abide by these terms?"

"If I say no?"

"Then you would be kept here, behind locks and under guard, if necessary."

"Very well, then. I accept these terms."

"Will you abide by the decision of the Council? Even if they call for your death?"

At long last, he turned from the window. "Eagerly."

"And if they call for you to return to the West to face the judgement of the Valar?"

At that Maglor paused. "I cannot pass over the sea."

"That is no longer certain."

Maglor scoffed, "Ah, perhaps the lord of Rivendell has gained power even over the will of Mandos. If one with such mastery commands it, who then am I to question?"

Elrond ignored the mockery in the words. "It is decided. "

And so it was settled. Elrond would send messages to the Lady Galadriel in Lothlorien, to Cirdan the Shipwright at the Grey Havens, to Glorfindel, to Saruman, to Radagast, and to Gandalf the Grey. Together, they would take council and decide what was to be done with Maglor, son of Feanor, who was thought to be lost.

Meanwhile, Halbarad harbored a great and secret hope that he would not be summoned to that meeting.