Maedhros: The Union must act, Maglor! Morgoth rises again, and his Orcs and Balrogs double in strength. There is no time left!
Maglor: We do not have the strength or numbers, yet. Morgoth will crush us, and who knows what will happen then? He would not take kindly to us, especially to one who escaped him before. (At this, Maedhros half draws his sword, but Maglor gently guides Maedhros' hand so the sword is resheathed.) Nay, I do not mean to offend you, Maedhros. But it is true. (Maedhros sighs and lets go of his sword.)
Maedhros: You are right. But I feel helpless, and I sense something is about to happen.
Maglor: Only the Valar can help us now.
Maedhros: (Disdainful, he gestures with his hand impatiently.) Pah! What do the Valar care for us? They severed their link with the Noldor when we left Valinor for Middle-Earth. They will not help. (Both Maedhros and Maglor freeze as the scene shifts elsewhere.)
Iluvatar: (enters SR.) But it is not entirely so... (exits SR.)
Eärendil: (enters SL, along with Elwing.) So this is Valinor, the home of the Valar. Come, Elwing. I must find them.
Elwing: Why, though, Eärendil? Now that we are safe from that dreadful Maedhros... But he has our sons, Eärendil, our sons! (She turns towards SL, face in hands.)
Eärendil: All for this jewel... (he reaches up to touch the Silmaril on his brow.) I go to the Valar for Middle-Earth. Morgoth indeed rises again, and the peoples will need aid. Much aid. (Turns and walks a few paces towards SR. Elwing follows. Manwë enters SR.)
Manwë: Why have you come here, Eärendil Halfeven? For what reason do you come to Valinor?
Eärendil: (a bit nervously.) I seek aid for Middle-Earth. The Union of Maedhros is failing, Morgoth grows in power and strength. Will the Valar please come and defend us? I beg this of you. (kneels before Manwë.)
Manwë: The Union of Maedhros? He is one of the Noldor, Maedhros, and a son of Fëanor at that. I send no aid to the Noldorian Elves; least of all to him. We will not come.
Eärendil: (rising) I care not for Maedhros; indeed, I hate him much, for he raided my lands for the Silmaril.
Manwë: A Silmaril? (He sees the jewel on Earandil's brow and takes a step back) You have one. This is certainly unexpected. (Sounds slightly calculating. As Manwë reaches to touch it, Eärendil steps back warily. Manwë withdraws his hand.) Fear not, I have no wish for it. (He clears his throat.) So you have not come for Maedhros. For whom, then, are you here?
Eärendil: For all the peoples of Middle-Earth, Great Lord. We shall all fall into the darkness and oblivion of Morgoth unless you come to our aid. Please (looks beseechingly at Manwë.)
Manwë: We shall see. Meanwhile, you shall dwell here in comfort. I will consult with the other Valar. (pauses.) Oh... I have heard that you have a great love for sailing. Here in Valinor, your ship shall sail in the skies, if you wish it.
Earndil: Thank you, Great Lord. (He bows and starts to exit SL, then stops and turns back to Manwë.) And, Great Lord...(He pauses and Manwë nods encouragingly.) Please hurry. (Exits SL, Manwë exits SR. Maedhros and Maglor unfreeze.)
Maglor: I would not be so sure. They may come yet. (Maedhros snorts at this.)
Maedhros: I doubt it. I will make my plans for war, and I will make them now. The Valar care for nothing but themselves. (He whirls around to exit SR. Maglor, however, grabs his shoulder and pulls him back, turning him so they are face-to-face.)
Maglor: Do you truly believe that, Maedhros? (He stares hard at Maedhros, who drops his eyes and turns away.)
Maedhros: (roughly) I do not know what I believe. What does it matter to you? (He starts to walk out, but Maglor darts around in front of him, blocking his way. Maedhros sighs.)
Maglor: (softly) What is the matter with you, Maedhros? This is
not the Elf of old. What has happened to the wise Elf who used to be? What
has happened to my brother? (Maedhros flinches slightly.)
Maedhros: (puts a hand wearily to his face before answering.) I do not know. I do not know so many things. My Oath. The Silmarils. Especially those cursed Silmarils. They haunt me, Maglor, I swear they do. I want the Silmarils, I hate the Silmarils, I must have the Silmarils. It makes me sick. But what can I do? What can I do? (He leans his head on Maglor's shoulder, and his shoulders shake as if crying.)
Maglor: (pats Maedhros consolingly.) You have never been like this, brother. But I will see you through this. I promise. I will see you through, to the very end. (Maedhros lifts his head up.)
Maedhros: You are more valuable to me than any Silmaril, Maglor. Or any other earthly jewel or glory. (Maglor smiles. Maedhros pats him on the shoulder and smiles back.) And I would keep you alive. Come. We make plans now. (Maglor rolls his eyes and shakes his head. Running after Maedhros, who is exiting SR, he makes feeble protests.)
Maglor: But... (all other protests are lost under Maedhros' ideas.)
Maedhros: We can divide the army into three groups; the first will be... (Lights dim, then come back on. The council of the Valar sits on stage, Manwë stands before them.)
Manwë: The war is started; even as we speak the Elves and Men fight Morgoth; but they will not last long. Eärendil Halfelven has just come to Valinor, after Maedhros son of Fëanor raided his lands. He begs for us to come to the aid of Middle-Earth. What would you advise us to do?
Yavanna: (rising) Maedhros, Maglor, and indeed, all the Noldor who left Valinor, are certainly not our friends. But would we let all the life of Middle-Earth die or become enslaved for hatred of a few? I say we go to them. (she sits.)
Manwë: Do any here disagree?
Varda: I think none do.
Manwë: (sighs, as if resigned) Well, then. Go arm yourselves, and be quick about it! (But his next statement belies his outer feelings.) Maybe we shall defeat Morgoth once and for all! (all exit. The scene shifts to the battle for Middle-Earth. Maedhros has drawn sword in hand. He enters backwards, running slightly, sword raised as if to fend something off. He is closely followed by a Balrog. U to him runs Maglor, much the same, with a Balrog of his own. Two other Elves run in SR, followed by 2 more Balrogs.
Maedhros: (to Maglor, while trying desperately to fend off the Balrog.) They are too strong! (As he speaks, one of the Balrogs on the right spears his Elf, who falls dead. He then turns his efforts on Maedhros, who already has more than he can handle with the other Balrog. Maedhros stops attacking and simply defends, now.)
Maglor: (sees Maedhros' trouble.) Hold on, I'm coming to you! (Tries to pass the two Balrogs, which have forced Maedhros to the front of the stage, but his own Balrog prevents him. Meanwhile, one of the two Balrogs grabs Maedhros' sword and hurls it aside. The other Balrog pushes Maedhros forward, places a foot on the back of his neck, and raises his sword to stab it into Maedhros' back.)
Maedhros: (Desperately.) Maglor! (to Balrog) Get off me you dirty, dark-spawned- (a clear blowing of a horn cuts him off. All action stops.)
Maglor: (wonderingly) The horn of Valinor! (The Valar enter grandly.)
Manwë: (to Balrogs) Out of my way, Balrogs! Do so, and you shall not be harmed. (Balrogs back off. Maedhros stands slowly up, brushing himself off.)
Maedhros: Oh yes, they will! (He takes up his sword from where the Balrog threw it, and stabs the Balrog, who falls. Maedhros bows to Manwë.) Great Lord, I thank you for coming. My life is indebted to you.
Manwë: (snorts at this) You get out of my way too. I will deal with you later, Maedhros. (He makes the name sound like an insult. The Valar follow him off SL. Maedhros stares after them in a mixture of indignation and surprise.)
Maedhros: Well, he's friendly. (Maglor comes to stand next to him, trying not to laugh.)
Maglor: Considering what you've done, I'm surprised he didn't have your head off your body.
Maedhros: (shoves him playfully.) You left Valinor too; you're as much a Noldor as I. But the battle's not over yet; let's go help the Valar! (Runs off SL.)
Maglor: (follows.) Help the Valar? More like hinder them, with you around!
Maedhros: Oh, stop it. (Lights dim, then come back on. Morgoth sits on a fancy throne, SL, sneering at the Valar who stand before him, SR. Maedhros and Maglor run in behind the Valar.
Morgoth: So, Manwë. My brothers and sisters finally unite again to oppose me.
Manwë: We have reviled you, Morgoth. You are no longer one of us.
Morgoth: Deny it as you will, bloodlines cannot be broken. (sighs and rises.) But you are too strong for me. I submit myself to you. (He draws his sword and is about to place it at Manwë's feet, then swings it at Manwë with a cry. The blade, however, merely bounces off. Morgoth looks surprised.) You are stronger than I thought, Manwë. But still... (he starts to mutter something under his breath, but Manwë pushes his hand forcefully forward and Morgoth falls to the floor.)
Manwë: You are off your guard today, brother. (Keeps his hand out, as if he is trapping Morgoth to the floor. Morgoth struggles to rise.) I have had enough of your foolishness. Valar, remove the Silmarils from his crown and take him away! (He pauses as Maedhros whispers something to him.) Why should I grant a wish to you? Oh, all right. (Turns to Morgoth, who no longer has a crown.) You remember Maedhros? (Morgoth shoots a look at Maedhros.) He would speak with you. (Maedhros steps forward.)
Maedhros: Many years ago, you hung me from the top of your dark tower. I lost my hand to you then. Now you will feel the same! (smiles slowly). The Great Lord Manwë has promised me to do the same to you. May that do you well! (turns to Manwë) Thank you, Great Lord. Long have I wanted to do that. (bows deeply.)
Manwë: (To the other Valar.) Give me the Silmarils. (Maedhros's face lights up as he sees them, he had not noticed them before.) Take Morgoth and leave. (Valar exists. Manwë stares at the jewels in his hands and moves slowly to CR.)
Maedhros: Great Lord... (bowing) I would remind you of my Oath.
Manwë: Yes, Maedhros? (pause. Maedhros licks his lips nervously.)
Maedhros: I need the Silmarils in my hand, or try as hard as I can to get them. Please, Great Lord, may I have the Silmarils? (We hear a sharp intake of breath from Maglor and Manwë.)
Manwë: You ask much, Elf. I must refuse you. These jewels go to Valinor.
Maedhros: But I must fulfill my Oath. (His voice has taken on a dangerous tone.)
Manwë: You cannot have them.
Maedhros: (takes a step forward.) Give them to me, Manwë.
Manwë: (sounding slightly amused; he does not regard Maedhros as a threat.) No more "Great Lord?" No, Maedhros, you cannot have them.
Maedhros: (Definitely growing angry, he stamps his foot.) I have more right to them than you! I need those jewels, and I will have them now! (takes a step toward Manwë.)
Maglor: Maedhros! Stop it! You will be hurt! (Maedhros ignores his brother.)
Manwë: Stay, Maedhros! I have no wish to hurt you, but the Silmarils are not for you.
Maedhros: No, I will not stay. No one commands me, especially where the Silmarils are concerned. (He starts running towards Manwë, a growl rising in his throat. His face is distorted with hate, and yes, with fear. But suddenly Manwë moves his hand forward, palm out, and Maedhros' head jerks back as if he has been struck. Manwë moves his hand from left to right, swiftly, and Maedhros' head jerks again and he is sent spinning to the floor where he lies, unconscious. Maglor stares at Manwë with mixed horror and apprehension.)
Maglor: (quavering voice, he sounds confused.) What was that magic you just worked? You killed him! (He rushes over to where his brother lies limply and tries to wake him.) Maedhros! Maedhros!
Manwë: He is not dead, Maglor. That was not really magic, either; more of a creation. I simply solidified the air in front of Maedhros then guided it to hit him, though I think I have struck him too hard, certainly harder than I intended. (He walks over to Maedhros and kneels down. He places his hand on Maedhros's forehead.) He will live. I only meant to knock some sense into him.
Maglor: I will admit, he does need that. I do not know what has gotten into him. Ever since the raids, he has been like this. Can you help him?
Manwë: Only time can help him. (He rises.) Come. We cannot leave him here. Help me to carry him. (He reaches down and grabs Maedhros's wrists. Maglor, following suit, grabs his ankles, and they struggle off stage with him SR. Lights go out then come back on. Maglor and Maedhros enter. Maedhros is obviously angry, and trying to convince Maglor to go along with another plan. Maglor looks somewhere between wanting to hit Maedhros to knock him to his senses, and wanting to cry.)