Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, settings and even most of the ideas in this fic, JRR Tolkien did.
A/N: Besides The Silmarillion being like a summary to me, I reckon that the it's rather insufficient in details, so I just decided to expand this part of the story by how I see its full account, because it's my favorite part among all Tolkien's work. If you find this rather ugly, mediocre, or even obnoxious, feel free to submit reviews (questions, encouraging words, flames, corrections, you name it); you are entitled to your opinion. Have a pleasant read.
And so it came to pass that Angbad, the Iron Prison, fell. No longer would the realm of darkness and destruction exercise its power. The underground fortress had come to naught.
The elves had gathered upon the shores to sail to the West, for great was the aftermath of the War of Wrath. It took all the power that the host of Valar could muster to finally cast Melkor into the void. In the end of all, his minions were crushed, chasms swallowed land and seas, and Beleriand was no more.
Many voices were lifted in lamentation, but Maedhros and Maglor sat in silence. Great loss had swept the air, vapours of death stinging their breath. Fire was rekindled in their hearts, and an unwavering longing to claim what was rightfully theirs awakened. For what hope did they still hold when everything they held dear had gone beyond the Circles of the World? Only one deed remained: the fulfillment of the accursed oath.
And so the elves of Beleriand departed from Middle Earth under the summons of Manwe. Truest of all was that to hearken would mean to cast their father's last words into oblivion. And Feanor was the mightiest among the Children of the World. Alas, the brothers would not listen even as Eonwe had come to move them.
"In despair you shall sunder your ways from the Eldar, for the right to what your father once owned has passed from existence. The merciless deeds you and your brothers inflicted earned you the banishment of this right. Sail, and you may be healed of the blindness that this oath purposed. And the Silmarils will fall under the keeping of the Holy and will forever be unmolested. The judgment of the Valar awaits you." Eonwe, the Manwe's herald, said.
"It was never said that the oath was to be fulfilled at a certain time. Thus had it been delayed, nothing would ensue, especially now that the one who lusted for the Jewels is no more. And in Aman we may be condoned and all the evil deeds our hands wrought may be forgotten. I am weary of dark days, brother, so let us unburden ourselves." Maglor said to Maedhros.
"Your heart desires to submit, but what of your conscience? If we chose to return to Aman and the Valar demanded or exile, our oath would remain. What may we become if we return evil for their decisions? Fell creatures we shall be, and in darkness we will abide time eternal. And together we will fulfill the oath against the entire world, against all hope, knowing that no elf will mourn for us." Maedhros said.
"As witnesses they saw to it that we took the oath, and to deny its fulfillment will render their approval fraudulent in the beginning. Such is unbecoming of them. Even so, what is to be gained by disobeying their powers in their own land?"
"But who shall hear us now if that will stray our path? By Iluvatar's name we swore before the Valar that if we failed to accomplish the will we had pursued, indeed we would be consumed. We had chosen to reside in Everlasting Darkness the moment we took the oath. As such, who has the power to erase what dreadful doom we had called upon ourselves? Only Iluvatar. But how are we to reach him if the gods would not permit it?"
"Then indeed Everlasting Darkness is upon us. And it would not matter how much evil we weaved in our hands and whatever great and valiant deeds we might accomplish."
"And whatever good we do will not earn us salvation. Prayers are now so faint for the heavens to hear, and hope is too vague to wager."
They were silent for awhile until,
The day waned, "Night has fallen. I shall leave you for now and return to the camp." Eonwe informed them and left. Needless to be said, his heart had grown sorrowful in knowing the brothers' despair.
Maglor spoke, "Too much blood has been shed, and unnumbered tears had nurtured the ground; such pain was wrought by the oath. It may no longer matter if we purpose to be apart from our kin or assault everything that is holy. But such is not our nature; less evil we will do if we break the oath"
"And thence nothing we shall be, aimless lives are what we have led, and worse than darkness we have called. In the end, it has to be done no matter how much tears, sweat, and blood have been shed. How far we have come, how many lives were lost, how dreadful is the punishment we deserve, and how many realms were destroyed shall not count even granted that this oath has taken our lives away. Indeed it is inevitable that our tale will never grace songs or poems and our names will be forgotten by our people's tongue. We need not to be in a journey or a flight for the most wonderful thing that has ever been created or ever will be, by anyone who walked the land, be it holy or mundane, or attain the most renowned deed ever to come at hand. All there has to be is a purpose until our last, for our bodies are to vanish and be one with the lifeless winds and our spirits will abide in the Halls of Mandos till Iluvatar has come to naught. What can there be to await us? Nothing. But to achieve something before we are disabled from accomplishing even the simplest of tasks is contentment beyond redemption. "
Maglor looked away and did not speak. But nothing was to be said, for he was not awaken nor was his belief altered. For all he knew, Maedhros had voiced out what was lurking in the deepest confines of his heart.
Indeed he submitted, and together they assaulted Eonwe's camp, where the Silmarils were heavily guarded. The camp had all the power to assail the last two sons of Feanor,
"Together we now stand, and undivided we will fall. And we shall fight till our lives are robbed from us, till the Silmarils meet their last." Maedhros said.
Eonwe, by honor and on principle, would not permit the slaying of the Noldorin princes, whom only death alone could've dissuaded. When the Silmarils finally fell in their hands,
"Since two of the Jewels now remain and we alone of our brothers live still, it has been fated in the beginning that we keep these after all." Maedhros announced, but even as their eyes shone before the Silmarils and immense satisfaction filled their hearts, the jewels burned their hands and caused them pain beyond endurable.
Too late had they realized that the right they had to the Silmaril had passed the world, just as certain as ashes would turn to dust.
And the beauty and strength of the body of Maedhros was cast into a chasm, for the unbearable agony that the Jewel had occasioned him was no longer his to contain. There beneath the earth, where fire devoured anything it touched, Maedhros had ended, and the Silmaril he bore would thrive peacefully for all time.
It was said that Maglor could not suffer the torment that the Silmaril had served him hence he finally cast it into the sea, and there it found its final abode. And the last son of Feanor that lived wandered along the nameless shores, where his mighty and sorrowful voice could be heard singing against the roar of the waves in lament for his pain and what he and his brothers had gone through, ever awaiting for his end, for it seemed that even the oceans mourned for Maglor. So great and unconquerable was his regret that he could not face another, for who shall ease him in his most grievous woe? Never again did he return to his people, and where he dwelt till his end none could say.
And when the last of the Silmarils had found its home deep within the waters of old, an end was put to the Oath of the Silmaril.
--END--