Author's note: This is the second part, hopefully it's a little more cheerful than the previous one, which is a first for me. I'm sorry if you're unhappy with the ending, feel free to review/email with your own views . Thanks to Maeve for useful thoughts.

The white bird

The elf stirred. The day was just about to rise, it was the time when it was neither night or day, a time when the light of Two Trees would have mingled, he thought to himself. The waves still lapped at the shores, a deep blue colour, but the clouds were already tinged slightly pink; the vessel of Arien was approaching.

The night had not been pleasant, for many strange dreams had plagued him incessantly; voices from Sirion, Doriath and even Alqualondë that he thought were behind him now, buried deep in a past he was trying to forget, but that were as much a part of him as they had always been.

As the sun rose, he saw more clearly, including the tracks left by two small feet in the sand, that trailed back towards the wilder land.

'What is your name, fair elf maiden?'

'Nellas.'

Was that but a mere figment of his imagination? Had he dreamt up this fair elf maiden named Nellas?

He looked down at his hand. She had touched it, now he was certain of that.

Would she come back? He had craved tranquillity, to be alone with his thoughts, but this maiden, she was not like any proud Noldorin princess, or any angry Teleri. She had seemed gentle, kind, and pure. Would she come back?

There he was, looking at the sea, as always, scanning the horizon for an invisible ship, but lo! Now he turned and scoured the shoreline. 'No ships to be found there, to be sure,' she thought, 'perhaps he is looking for me?'

She had crept away the night before, leaving the elf in a confused state, and sought sanctity in her trees, but now she was drawn inexplicably to him again. As his gaze turned in her direction, she saw once more the pain and hurt residing deep inside his eyes, and her heart went out to him.

"This time it shall be different. I will not stay in the woodland, looking down at his suffering, like I did with Túrin, I will help him if I can, now."

Slowly she came out, and the dappled early morning, sunlight on her skin turned it rose, peach and cream. She looked Maglor directly in the eyes, returned his look, unflinching, and smiled. He too smiled cautiously, not sure how happy he should be about her reappearance; did he not want to remain alone now until the ending of Arda?

They approached each other hesitantly and then walked silently, parallel to the sea, in silence.

All sorts of ideas went through her mind. Where was he leading her? Should she speak, breaking the gentle silence between them? A bird called out, ending the silence, before settling on a low branch and looking inquisitively at the two Elves. He cocked his head, and his eyes gleamed intelligently at her, seemingly urging her mouth to open, and words to spill out. But how could she? It had been so very long since her last conversation with elf or man. She had been awed even in front of Beleg the huntsman, but this…Maglor seemed taller, more elegant, even for his simple clothes, and definitely one of the noble elves.

They were walking in the direction he desired, that is, farther along the coast, towards a new horizon. His arm brushed her shoulder, and he gazed sideways, nearly embarrassed by the touch; but a small bird on a nearby branch twittered impatiently, urging him to overcome his new feelings of discomfort. It was a white bird, a colour so pure and precious…He looked again at the creature, but suddenly it swooped upwards, huge and powerful, the Silmaril bound to its breast. He rubbed his eyes, no the bird still was perched on the branch, hopping from one leg to another. Nellas had stopped, she too was mesmerized by the bird, and bent over to stroke it.

"No!" The cry left his lips, slipping out involuntarily.

She froze, pale hand in mid air.

"Why?" She whispered.

"I…I am sorry," he muttered weakly, "please, we should leave." He grasped her hand rather more roughly than he had intended, but a pain throbbed in his chest and only eased as they gradually left the bird behind.

He shivered, even though the sun had nearly reached its zenith. Why had he seen in that harmless bird Elwing bearing the Silmaril?

His action had frightened her, but his grip on her hand had loosened, in fact his arm was now slack and she felt she was the one leading him on. When was the last time she had done that? Leading a young boy through the maze of trees, his usual grave expression giving way to wonderment and delight…

He walked in a daze, lost in thoughts of his actions during the third Kinslaying; the continuous fighting, cries of innocent elves loosing their possessions, their homes, their loved ones, themselves.

Slowly though, the cries subsided and he was in Sirion no longer, but walking alongside a pretty elf maiden named Nellas, and it suddenly dawned on him that he knew nothing of her…

She had known who the boy was, and why and where she was leading him, but this elf was a stranger to her. She stopped. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed a vague form waddling not far behind them, a white bird, surely not the same white bird?

"Let us sit here." His voice was soft, soothing after his previous outburst.

She sat down in the sand, and studied the vast sea. Powerful it looked, roaring, thunderous, bringer of joy or misery.

"I am very curious about you. You did not recoil from me, or run away, or stare at me with hatred. Who are you?"

"An elf of Doriath."

At the name, Maglor winced, closed his eyes.

Nellas took a deep breath before speaking again.

"I have seen you briefly before…"

"When?"

"I…I was in my tree. There was fire in Menegroth."

"Yes indeed, fire, too much fire."

"You ran through the trees."

"I did." He was intrigued. So she knew what he had done, yet still did not despise him.

"I looked down, and saw you running."

"How can you be so sure it was me?"

She looked abashed, and did not answer.

"I am sorry, please continue. You must forgive my tone, I haven't spoken with any for so long…"

Surprised at the coincidence between them, Nellas spoke:

"Your hair."

Both looked now at his shiny locks.

"The other one," she whispered, "the one who searched the forest, his hair was copper coloured."

"Maedhros is -was- his name."

"Oh." She looked at the ground, watching the white bird, who left small marks in the sand as he turned circles, nearer and nearer, then darting away again, just out of Maglor's sight.

"Tell me. Does my name really mean nothing to you? Do you not know of my past?"

"I have heard your name once before, but it was a long time ago. The minstrel of Doriath, Daeron, spoke of you, saying you were a mighty singer, but not so great as himself."

Maglor smiled despite himself.

"Ay, I have heard his name too."

"So you can sing?"

"Indeed. I will sing my lament, Noldolantë for you, if you wish."

Nellas' eyes sparkled.

"I would be honoured. But please, tell me something of yourself, your kin."

Maglor's voice grew strained.

"I am Maglor, son of Fëanor, son of Finwë. I was born in Aman, the Blessed Realm." He stopped.

'My father made three great jewels, radiant beautiful powerful jewels, they held the light of the Two Trees, even though they have long since withered. The Silmarils. They were hallowed, and the fate of Arda lay interlocked with them. The Dark Lord stole them, and my father then my brothers and I made an oath that none could break…" His voice trailed off.

"Did you break it?"

He paused. She really was ignorant in the matter.

"We swore to wage war on any who withheld a Silmaril from us. Any, even elf or man. The oath pursued us, we could not sleep while someone possessed the jewels."

It was not an answer, but he hoped she understood the meaning of his words.

"A man there was, named Beren, and together with Luthien the fair they penetrated the fortress of Morgoth and wrested a Silmaril from his crown. That is when it spiralled out of control."

"The Tinuviel walked often in the forest of Neldoreth," murmured Nellas, her voice tinged with sadness, "she was so beautiful to behold; long dark hair, grey eyes, clothed all in blue."

Was she really listening? She seemed lost in thought again, but he felt soothed suddenly. As Nellas was paying little heed to the meaning of his words, so they lost their importance; after all, those concerned were gone now.

"Is that why Menegroth was destroyed?"

How could he say that his brothers slew the son of Luthien Tinuviel, whom she admired and honoured? But…he did not want lies to come between them. Bracing himself, he uttered slowly:

"Yes. Dior son of Luthien and Beren would not yield the Silmaril. Driven by the oath we launched an attack on Doriath…he and his family were slain." He waited for her to gasp, cry, sprint away, but she did none of those.

"The oath, the oath, it was your doom, your curse."

He was astonished by her insight.

"It is, or was."

"I knew one similarly afflicted, it seemed. He marred all the works of his own hand, and was wronged by none other than King Thingol."

He smiled. Once again Nellas had given her simple, childish interpretation of the situation. But he hadn't told all.

"The Silmaril bearer escaped down to the Mouths of Sirion, so we bided our time, then launched a final assault there. But fortune is not on the side of kinslayers, and the bearer escaped us yet again. Only my elder brother and I remained, but two Silmarils still lay locked in Morgoth's crown, so the oath couldn't sleep. Finally was launched an almighty assault against the powers of the Dark Lord, and his fortress was thrown down and the Silmarils taken."

He swallowed, this was the longest he had spoken in a long time. "My brother and I crept into the camp where they were guarded, and took them. The elves were awoken, and we were prepared to die then, a Silmaril in our hands, clutched to our breasts, but we were denied that chance. We were not slain, but once far away we separated, each taking a Silmaril. But the pain of the jewel was unbearable, I threw it in the sea."

She was shocked, she hadn't realised what a tumultuous life the elf had led, but it explained the weariness in his eyes.

"If the jewel lies in the sea, surely also the oath is no more, and you, be freed from it."

So she had listened, and he heard finally the words he had wanted desperately to hear.

"That is what I hope. But dreams still torment me, and…"

He was cut off as Nellas leaned towards him, and her lips brushed against his; she felt like she was touching rose petals and he, a fruit of the golden Laurelin.

A small white bird rose into the sky, uttering a raucous cry, then circled the two elves before departing over the seas.

~Fin